Cat

by Carolina Mac

  “Thanks,” said Blaine.”

  Jesse raised an eyebrow. “You write it, Blacky?”

  Blaine shrugged. “Somebody had to.”

  Annie giggled. “Doesn’t she have a speech writer?”

  “She needs a better one,” said Blaine.

  “I’m following the crowd,” said Farrell, “Hope they know where they’re going.” He grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her closer. “Don’t get caught in the stampede, Miss Mary.”

  Mary Polito, Farrell’s ex was a petite dark-haired girl who worked as a journalist for the Austin paper. Pretty, smart and serious about her career, she loved Farrell madly, but she played the marriage card too soon and Farrell bolted right out of the relationship.

  Farrell found their table in the dining room and pointed to the bar in the corner of the room. “I’m getting a beer. What can I get you, Miss Mary?”

  Mary smiled sweetly at Farrell like she always did. “White wine, please. I’m wearing a dress so I’m in my refined mode.”

  “I’m not,” said Annie, “I’ll come with you, sugar pop and carry beer.”

  “You look gorgeous, Mom.” Farrell slipped an arm around her waist. “You’re the most beautiful woman in this building.” He stopped and chuckled. “I should have said in all of Texas, because all the important people from all over Texas are here now, at this moment.”

  Annie leaned up and kissed him. “You are my sweet baby boy. Do you know how much I love you?”

  “The feeling is mutual, Mom.” He tilted his head to the right, “The Governor is circulating. Should we say howdy?”

  “Sure,” said Annie, “let’s do it.”

  Cat was engaged in conversation with a handsome man in a tuxedo when they approached. She was speaking in low tones, and the conversation might have been personal. She looked up and smiled. “Donovan. Don’t you look handsome in a tux.”

  “Congrats, Governor.” He tugged Annie forward. “You know my Mom?”

  Cat nodded, and the green eyes flashed. “Mrs. Powell.”

  Annie offered her hand, “Congratulations, Governor Campbell. I hope you have a productive and successful four years in office.”

  “Thank you so much, Mrs. Powell. Nice of you to come, and may I say that is a gorgeous suit.”

  “Thank you for noticing.”

  Cat moved on and Farrell escorted Annie to the bar. “Why did she sound like she didn’t like you?” he asked. “I could hear the edge in her voice and she doesn’t even know you, does she?”

  “Nope, but I’m betting she will soon.”

  “Oh, shit, Mom. Is it going to be one of those cat fights where two women scratch each other’s eyes out?”

  “It will be if she tries to use you or Blaine for her own purposes while she’s in office. Her four years will be cut short. Very short.”

  “Fuck, let’s get a beer and get back to the table.”

  “Don’t forget Mary’s white wine.”

  Annie returned to the table with Farrell on her heels carrying the drinks.

  Jesse took one look at her and asked, “Everything all right, Ace? You look a little flushed.”

  “Sure, cowboy. Just gave my congratulations to the woman of the hour. I’m ready to party now.”

  Blaine raised a black eyebrow and looked to Farrell for some insight. Farrell shook his head.

  “I haven’t done that yet,” said Ginny. “I guess it would be the polite thing to do.”

  Travis shook his head. “Plenty of time for that, Gin. You might need a drink before you take that task on.”

  Doctor Rodriguez laughed. “You might be right, Travis.” She patted his arm and Annie glared.

  Declan noticed and smiled at his date.

  Jesse noticed Declan paying attention to Annie and stood up. “I’m going out for a smoke before the food comes. Anybody with me?”

  Blaine, Farrell and Travis were on their feet.

  AFTER the soup, salad, and pasta, came the main course. Farrell was going strong, but the ladies’ appetites were dwindling before the Cornish game hens arrived.

  Carm leaned over and asked Blaine in Spanish about the main course and he tried to tell her what it was.

  “Si,” she smiled and nodded. “the recipe is in Martha’s cookbook.”

  Blaine nodded. Annie had gifted Carm with a half dozen popular cookbooks translated into Spanish at Christmas. “Are you having fun?” He reached for the table wine and refilled Carm’s glass and Misty’s too.

  “Si.”

  Carm was wearing a new black dress that fit her perfectly, and she’d worn her gorgeous black hair down long. Around her neck she wore the filigreed gold cross Blaine had given her for her birthday. She’d never looked lovelier.

  The head table was in plain view and Annie, sitting between Carm and Declan, tried to identify the guests. “Do you like the new Lieutenant Governor?” she asked Blaine. “What’s his name?”

  “Templeton Stokes,” said Blaine. “Seems okay, but I’ve only met him once before.”

  “Maybe he’ll be what the red-head needs to keep her straight,” said Annie.

  Blaine tipped up his beer and finished it. “Hope so.”

  Governor’s Mansion.

  “HOW long do we have to stay at the party, boss?” asked Travis as they approached the front door of the historic residence. “I’m about done for today. Not back to full power yet.”

  They stood in a long line of guests while security checked the invitations. A cold January evening to be standing around outside. Blaine wore only a tux and sorely missed his leather jacket.

  “You and Ginny go home if you want to, Trav. I thought Ginny would be keen to go to the private party because so many of these people are her friends. She travels in the political circle and knows all the guests.”

  “She hasn’t enjoyed much of the day.” Travis leaned closer and whispered, “Knowing it should have been her the people of Texas elected and not Judge Campbell could have something to do with it.”

  Blaine nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I’ll stay for an hour if she wants to, but I’m ready to call it a night.”

  The women had gone in ahead while the men parked the vehicles and in the interim the line had grown longer. Once past security at the door they stepped into the expansive foyer.

  Emily, one of the housekeepers greeted Blaine with a smile. “Mr. Blackmore, nice to see you again.”

  “Hi, Emily, it’s been a while.”

  “I still miss Governor Richardson,” she whispered.

  Blaine nodded. “Me too. Let me know if your new boss doesn’t treat you right.”

  Emily giggled. “I will.”

  Blaine stopped to shake hands with Chief Calhoun and say hello to the Chief’s wife. Calhoun was in the middle of an update from Travis on his gunshot wound when Blaine noticed a familiar face working his way through the crowd. One of the attorneys from Powell and Associates, his law firm downtown—Reg Bromwell.

  What’s he doing here?

  Blaine made eye contact, Reg nodded that he’d seen him, and made his way through the throng to shake hands with his boss. “Blaine, nice to see you. Exciting day, isn’t it?”

  Reg Bromwell was a well-tailored attorney in his early fifties, dark hair with a little silver showing, slim and fit with a dark golfer’s tan. At the office, he specialized in tax matters and tax shelters. He’d brought a lot of new business to the firm and was well respected. Blaine had been given only the best reports on Reg Bromwell.

  “You here alone?” asked Blaine when he didn’t notice a woman with him.

  “Actually, could I have a minute? I want to get something out of the way.”

  “Sure. Is it private?”

  Reg nodded. “Yes, it is. Let’s step into the sitting room across the way, it looks less crowded.” Reg entered through the open French doors and crossed the spacious room to the windows that overlooked Colorado Street.

  Blaine followed and waited for it.

 
“I don’t know how you’ll feel about this, Blaine, and I realize Catherine wanted to speak to you first.” He paused, then went for it. “I’ve been seeing Judge Campbell for several months and I’ve asked her to marry me.”

  Blaine raised an eyebrow wondering what other gems Cat was keeping from him. “Has she given you an answer?”

  “No, we’ve barely had time to discuss it. I should have waited. There’s too much happening for her at the moment. The wedding won’t happen anytime soon, I’m afraid we’ll have to wait.”

  “But you sound anxious for it to happen,” said Blaine. He offered his hand. “Congratulations, Reg. Whatever you two decide has little to do with me.”

  Reg flashed a perfect set of teeth and gave a little laugh. “You’re kidding me, right? Catherine would never make a major move without running it by you first. You are the be all and end all to her. You must know that. And by the way, her speech today—mind blowing. I’ve heard a lot of positive remarks about it and I’m guessing I’m one of the few people aware of who wrote it for her.”

  “Glad to help out.”

  “Help out, boss?” Reg shook his head. “You took her to a different level today. Raised her up in the eyes of those who were non-believers in Judge Campbell as Governor of Texas.”

  “Thank you for saying so,” said Blaine.

  Misty entered the sitting room searching for Blaine and he gave her a wave. “Misty, over here.”

  She floated across the thick carpet, smiled and stood close to him, linking her arm through his. In her high-heeled boots and with her mass of curly hair, she was a couple inches taller than Blaine.

  Blaine introduced her. “This is Misty. Reg Bromwell is one of the attorneys at Powell and Associates.”

  “Nice to meet you, sir,” drawled Misty in her Louisiana twang.

  “You look beautiful tonight, Misty,” said Reg. “Blaine is a lucky man.”

  Misty colored slightly and thanked him for the compliment.

  Blaine watched Misty’s face change expression as she studied Reg and knew she was picking up a vibe of some sort from the attorney. Blaine had been with Misty long enough to recognize the signs.

  Reg took his leave and crossed the room to mingle with the other guests. As soon as he was out of earshot, Blaine asked, “What was it, sweetheart? What’s up with Reg?”

  “Are there security people outside?”

  “Tons of them. Lots of extras for the occasion.”

  Misty spoke in a whisper. “I don’t know why, but Mr. Bromwell is carrying a lot of cash and I had a flash of him getting mugged.”

  Always surprised by Misty’s gift, Blaine took a moment to think about it. “I’ll have Farrell keep an eye on him.”

  Misty took his hand. “Farrell’s at the buffet with Carm.”

  “Jeeze, how can he eat again?”

  Misty giggled. “Declan’s eating again too.”

  Blaine had almost made it to the dining room to round up his people when Cat waylaid him and introduced him to a bunch of people he had no interest in meeting. Or at first, thought he didn’t want to meet them.

  “This is my long time associate and friend, Davis Raney, heading up U.S. Marshall Services here in Texas,” she said with a big smile.

  Raney was fiftyish, tall and ramrod straight. He was tanned and had the build of a marathon runner.

  Blaine felt his heart pound out an extra beat as he offered his hand. “Fantastic to meet you, sir,” said Blaine.

  Raney smiled at Blaine’s enthusiasm. “It is?”

  “Absolutely. May I have a card?”

  “Of course. We haven’t crossed paths up until now, but I’ve always wanted to meet you, and who knows what the future will bring.”

  “I’ll be in touch this week,” said Blaine.

  Raney raised an eyebrow. “Looking forward to it.”

  FARRELL watched Reg Bromwell with interest the rest of the evening. After Blaine had filled him in on Cat’s secret boyfriend, Farrell enjoyed observing the secret little chats Bromwell had with Cat every chance he got—when he thought nobody was looking.

  After gallons of alcohol and tons of food were consumed, the festivities wound down and most of the guests headed home to their beds. Farrell followed Reg Bromwell to his car to insure he got there safely—the flash Misty had seen was outside in the street.

  Parked a couple of blocks away from the mansion, Bromwell walked at a steady pace, looking behind him several times as if he expected somebody to be following him. Farrell was a cop and he knew the signs—Bromwell was guilty of something.

  Pitch dark except for the streetlights along Colorado, Farrell didn’t see a single soul. He kept far enough back in the shadows of the massive oaks so Bromwell didn’t see him.

  Bromwell approached a black Beemer and pressed the key fob. He stopped and as he reached for the door handle, out of a space between two buildings on the same side of the street stepped two men dressed in black. They grabbed Bromwell, one on each arm, and dragged him backwards towards the alleyway.

  Farrell broke into a run and hollered, “Stop. Police officer. Get your hands in the air. Let go of him, or I’ll shoot you both.”

  Farrell pointed his SW as he closed the gap. He was almost there.

  Bromwell yelled and hollered as he struggled to get loose from his captors. One of the guys in black pushed Bromwell out of the way, pulled a gun from his waistband, turned and fired at Farrell. Farrell returned fire and shot him in the head.

  The body fell at Bromwell’s feet. He yelped in fear and ran for his car as the other guy in black took off running away. Farrell fired one more shot, hit the guy in the leg and he bit the dirt.

  Farrell caught up to Bromwell as he was slipping behind the wheel of the Beemer to make his getaway. “You’ll have to stay here, sir. Until you give a statement, I’d like you to remain at the scene.”

  “But I don’t want any of this shedding a bad light on Catherine,” he said.

  “Somebody tried to mug you,” said Farrell. “Not your fault and not hers no matter how it looks.”

  “Guess not,” he mumbled.

  “Did you know those men?” asked Farrell.

  “Why would I know thugs like that?”

  “Just a question I had to ask.”

  “No, I don’t know them.”

  He’s lying.

  Sirens sounded, and the ambulance arrived five minutes later. Farrell pointed to the guy shot in the back of his thigh. “I’ll need the medical examiner for the other guy,” he said. “He’s beyond help.”

  As soon as shots were fired, media people covering the party at the Governor’s mansion swarmed to the other end of the street to see what they were missing.

  “Get back,” hollered Farrell, “and I mean every one of y’all.” He pressed Blacky’s number and requested his presence outside.

  BLAINE received the call from Farrell at the end of Colorado Street, listened to what had gone down, and went straight to Cat. She was holding court in the foyer bidding goodbye to several guests at the same time. Blaine tilted his head and she excused herself.

  “What is it, sweetie?”

  “Your man, Reg, was attacked by muggers. There’s a mess down the street. Farrell shot them.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, fuck,” said Blaine, “but your boyfriend ain’t dead.”

  Visibly shaking, she asked, “What would be the right thing to do?”

  “Stay away from it. Get rid of the rest of the guests and I’ll have Farrell bring Reg in here for his statement.”

  “How do you know about Reggie?”

  “He unburdened himself to me.” Blaine winked at her.

  She didn’t smile, and color showed on her pale skin. “I’ll finish the goodbyes right now.”

  “Stay inside,” he whispered, “I mean it.”

  She nodded and hurried to the door.

  “What’s happening?” asked Misty.

  “You were right about the mugging.” Blaine poin
ted to the dining room. “Make tea for you and Carm and relax until I’m finished.”

  “Okay, baby.” She kissed his neck before he tore out the door.

  THE FAR END of Colorado Street was gridlocked with police vehicles that had arrived from the east and mashed in with media vehicles that had come from the mansion end of the street.

  First response was trying to mark off a scene, but Blaine could see at a glance where they were having a ton of trouble. The dead guy was near Bromwell’s Beamer and the other guy had run away from Farrell and ended up a fair distance from his buddy—asshole number one. While the two uniforms marked off an area around the dead body, looky-loos and media people crowded in close to the wounded guy who was howling on the ground.

  “Back up,” hollered Blaine. “Step back and give the paramedics room to work. Way back.” He waved his arms. “Other side of the street.” Cameras rolled, and questions were shouted at him, but he turned his back and focused on the thug on the ground.

  Farrell had shot the second man running away. Had to be done if there was any hope of finding out what the hell was going on with Reg Bromwell. If Bromwell was dirty, Blaine had to find out all the details immediately and keep him miles away from Cat.

  Day one and shit was already swirling around the new Governor. Not a good sign.

  “Any ID on the wounded guy?” Blaine asked one of the uniforms. The guy was rolling on the ground screaming about the bullet in his leg and the paramedics were having a difficult time getting him onto the gurney, so they could treat him.

  “No wallet when I disarmed him. I asked him his name, but he spit at me and wouldn’t answer.”

  “Nice. Go with him to the hospital and print him first chance you get. Find out all you can and read him his rights when he’s in a better place. And make sure he’s cuffed to the bed after they treat him.”

  “Will do, Mr. B.” He grinned at Blaine. “Looking good in a tux, boss.”

  Blaine smiled. “I try not to use the f-word when I’m dressed up.”

  THE GUESTS had all departed by the time Blaine and Farrell escorted Reg Bromwell back to the Governor’s mansion to give his statement.