Just Cause (9 page)

She eyed it warily. “Come on. I’m making spaghetti.”

They went through the dining room, where the table was set for three, with delicate, iris-sprigged white dishes. In the spacious kitchen, she went to the stove, lifted the lid on a kettle and stirred the sauce.

Dan watched her, glad just to be in the same room with her again. He wanted to give her hope, but it wouldn’t be fair to have her hope if he couldn’t deliver.

“Did you tell Judy about your case?”

“Not yet.” She turned toward him, holding the wooden spoon out away from her clothing. “I really like her, but I didn’t want to just dump it on her.”

“We’ll tell her over supper.” He moved in closer to her.

“Do you really think we ought to?”

“Laurel, you live with her. I think she ought to know. You trust her, don’t you?”

Her eyelashes flickered as he touched her shoulder. “Well, yes, but I hardly know her. I mean…what if she’s upset and wants me to leave?”

“Then you go.”

She swallowed. “I couldn’t tell her that first night. It’s too personal. And Monday night she was late and I had to go right to work.”

“I know, and if things were going to continue as they are, I wouldn’t push it. But if we’re going to tear into this investigation and spend every waking minute trying to find a way to help you, she’s got to know. It wouldn’t be fair not to tell her.”

Laurel looked deep into his eyes. “Is that what you intend to do? I’m…not sure it’s worth it. What could we possibly find?”

“I don’t know yet, but I couldn’t live with myself if I don’t give it everything I’ve got. I couldn’t stand by and watch them take you off to jail again.”

He slid his arm around her and their undeniable attraction crackled between them. Dan hoped she would give in to it and nestle down on his shoulder. If she would let him, he could comfort her and perhaps renew the faith she’d lost during her incarceration. Deep down, he believed he would find something that would sway a different jury.

But she stood stiff as she watched him. Was she thinking about the possibility of a life prison sentence? If she let him care for her the way he wanted to, what would happen when the verdict came in? Would she be torn from his arms in the courtroom?

He decided he’d better close the distance fast, before she followed the train of thought that far. He took the spoon from her hand, laid it on the edge of the range and gently pulled her toward him. Her dark eyes swam with emotion as her hands landed lightly on his shirt, just below his collarbone, and slid ever so slowly toward his shoulders. Everything in her seemed to soften, even as she tried to keep her resolve. Dan’s heart pounded.

The garage door went up with a creak and a rattle, causing Laurel to jump back.

Judy appeared in the kitchen doorway. “It smells great in here.”

“Hi.” Dan stepped away from Laurel.

Judy’s eyes widened in pleasure. “We have a guest tonight?”

“Yes.” Laurel laughed. “I hope you like spaghetti, because I cooked too much, even with Dan here.” He found it hard to look away from her blushing face.

“Just let me wash up, and I’ll be right back,” Judy said.

“Let me tell her,” Laurel said, when Judy had left the kitchen. Avoiding his gaze, she grabbed the colander and put it in the sink to strain the spaghetti.

“All right.” He leaned back against the counter. Clearly, there were still obstacles to overcome. There was Bob Hatcher’s memory, and an uncertain future. Laurel was leery of commitment—even of caring—until she was free from the threat of life imprisonment. He’d checked the legal database to be sure Maine had no death penalty, but it was bad enough. She had reason to be cautious. Patience, he told himself.

Laurel waited until they were well into the meal, and Dan followed her lead, keeping the conversation on pleasant topics. She helped Judy clear the dishes and bring ice cream and coffee to the table. As she sat down again, Laurel turned to her hostess.

“Judy, Dan and I have something to tell you.”

Judy took a sip of coffee and gave them her full attention. “I’m listening.”

Laurel swallowed hard. “I’m on bail,” she said quietly.

Judy stared at Laurel, obviously waiting for the punch line. There was none. She turned to Dan, her eyebrows drawn tightly together. “That’s what this is about? All this secrecy? I mean, you told me Laurel was in danger, but…”

Dan flexed his shoulders. “She was accused of a crime two years ago. She went to court a few months back, and the judge declared a mistrial. There’s a possibility they could recall her for another trial.”

“Oh.” Judy studied Laurel’s face, then Dan’s.

Laurel stared down at her melting ice cream. “If you don’t want me to live here, I’ll understand. I should have told you sooner, but—” She broke off and grabbed her napkin, chasing a tear with it.

Judy turned a quizzical look on Dan, her eyebrows arched and her lips parted.

“I think she’s trying to say she didn’t mean to deceive you,” Dan explained. “It’s just time you knew. Especially since Laurel and I are going to try to find some new evidence that will clear her.”

“I guess I can cope with that.” Judy picked up her spoon and took a bite of ice cream. “You didn’t poison your last roommate, did you?”

Laurel began to giggle, and Judy laughed, too.

“So, tell me everything.”

“Are you sure?” Laurel asked.

“Absolutely.”

“In a nutshell, my husband was shot…and they thought I did it.”

Judy kept on eating the ice cream in silence. When the ice cream was gone, she laid down her spoon.

“You’re full of surprises. I had no idea you’d been married.”

Laurel looked away, unsure of what to say.

Judy gazed at her compassionately. “You’re not the only one with a gruesome past. I made a poor choice, and the guy turned out to be a real heel. He left me after fifteen years of marriage.”

“Oh, Judy, I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “I was miserable at the time, but since then I’ve learned I can have a life again. And God—” her eyes grew softer “—God showed me He could take me as I was and make something worthwhile.”

Laurel nodded gravely. “I hope someday I can have a life again. But until this mess is settled, everything is sort of dangling.”

“So I take it you didn’t kill him?”

“No,” Laurel said with a faint smile. “Dan is hoping to find some new evidence, but…” She glanced toward him, then dropped her gaze. “I don’t have a lot of expectations right now.”

“You wouldn’t kill him.” Judy picked up her coffee cup. “Now I
felt
like killing Paul, but I restrained myself. His new wife can do that if she wants to.”

Dan smiled and sipped his coffee. Judy was coming through for Laurel, as he’d hoped she would.

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in looking at the autopsy report from the homicide,” he said. “I don’t have much experience in medicine, and it’s pretty technical.”

Judy’s brows went up. “I’d be honored. That is, if Laurel doesn’t mind.”

Tears welled in Laurel’s eyes and spilled over. “I can’t believe you want to get involved in this. First Dan, now you.”

“I love mysteries. Bring it on.”

Dan got up to retrieve the briefcase.

For two hours they sat at the table, going over the data he had collected. Judy read the autopsy report with interest and explained some of the medical terms, but she found nothing that contradicted the court testimony given by the medical examiner. The time of death was placed at between 1:00 and 2:00 p.m., the last hour before Laurel said she had arrived home.

The story caught Judy’s interest, and she read the clippings and police reports avidly. Laurel hesitated, but then she, too, began to examine the papers.

“It’s like it happened to somebody else,” she said at last. “They were so sure I did it, and no one would listen to me. Reading this stuff, I’m beginning to understand why. If I hadn’t been there, I’d probably believe I did it, too.”

“There’s got to be more,” Dan insisted. “We’ve got your statement to the police, but there had to be other witnesses they questioned. I mean, it says right here—” he held up the thick court transcript and pointed “—the officers questioned all the close neighbors and came up with nothing. I want to see the original reports they made when they did that questioning.”

He tossed the transcript onto the table and stood up to pace. “I wonder what would happen if I called this investigator with the Maine State Police, Lieutenant Dryer. I don’t want to stir things up if it won’t help, but I want to know if they’re still looking for clues, or if they’ve stuffed this thing in a file cabinet and forgotten about it.”

“You could talk to my lawyer,” Laurel suggested.

“Good idea,” Dan said.

“Laurel will have to talk to the attorney and authorize him to discuss the case with you,” Judy pointed out.

“Are you willing to do that?” Dan asked.

Laurel shrugged. “Sure. But I doubt it will do any good.”

“It would be a start,” Dan said.

Laurel glanced at her watch. “I have to leave for work now. I could call him tomorrow.”

“Great. Call me when you’ve talked to him.” Dan began to gather up the papers. “By the way, your car was sold today. I’ll pick up your check tomorrow.”

“Should I buy another one?”

He shook his head. “Better wait and see what develops.”

“I don’t mind if you use mine in the evenings a little longer,” Judy said.

“Thanks so much,” Laurel told her. “For everything, Judy. I didn’t know how you’d react when you heard the whole story.”

Judy smiled. “You kind of threw me in the ocean with my clothes on, but if there’s any way I can help, just tell me.”

Laurel nodded soberly.

“They should let you work at home soon, anyway,” Judy said. “I spoke to the CEO about it yesterday.”

Dan closed the briefcase. “Come on, Laurel. I’ll walk you to the car.”

They went out into the garage, and Laurel stopped next to Judy’s car.

“Thank you, Dan.”

“We’ve got to find something, that’s all.” He stroked her glossy hair.

“If God wills,” she whispered.

“How could He want you to go to prison?”

“I don’t know, but it has happened to innocent people before.”

Dan shuddered. “I don’t want to stir things up and make them decide to send you back to trial unless we find something positive.”

“I know. But anything would be better than just waiting. I can’t go on indefinitely, knowing they could call me any day. I can’t move on with my life, Dan. Do you understand?”

He took a deep, ragged breath. She was pleading with him to realize she couldn’t fall in love with him, couldn’t share a life with him, knowing it might be shattered in an instant. He held her look, but the ache in his chest intensified. “You’ve agreed to let me try to help you.”

“I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t fair.”

“It’s too late, sweetheart.” He pulled her against him, and just for a moment she let him hold her. Then she pushed away and got in the car. He stood looking after her as she drove away.

“H
e’s a police officer,” Laurel told her attorney on the phone the next morning.

“In Ohio.”

“Yes.”

“Ohio cops have no jurisdiction here, Laurel,” Jim Hight said.

“I know that. And he knows that. He just wants to go over the records and see if anything was overlooked during the original investigation.”

“I did everything I could.”

“I know you did. I’m not suggesting otherwise,” Laurel said softly.

“If some cop starts poking around, someone in Augusta might remember that the prime suspect in this case is walking free.”

Laurel held her ground. “Jim, a few months ago you told me you believed I was innocent. I want to be done with this. I want a new life, and I can’t have that unless the case is resolved.”

He sighed. “You probably won’t have to wait much longer. They can’t put this off forever, and I expect to hear from the court any day. Does this guy have a private investigator’s license in Ohio?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, if he had one and you hired him as a P.I., it might be useful. He could do some work on this end, get at some records and things.”

“He can’t just get them as a police officer?”

“If for some reason the Ohio police were investigating you, yes, but there’s no reason for that. Is there?”

“Of course not,” she snapped.

“Okay. I’ll give Ryan what we have, but I doubt he’ll get very far with the state police. If he’s not officially investigating…you see what I mean? I’m surprised he’s already got as much data as you tell me he’s got.”

Not truly satisfied, Laurel called Dan at the police station.

“Don’t be upset,” he counseled. “I’ve been praying all morning that he’d just be willing to talk to me. It’s a start. And I’ll ask Lieutenant Powers about applying for a P.I.’s license. I’m sure I could get one, but it would take time. Maybe he could cut through some red tape for me.”

“You think Jim is right, that you’d have more access as a P.I. than as a police officer?”

“Not more access, but anonymity. I don’t want to draw attention to your case at this point.”

Dan had several conversations with Jim Hight over the next few days, and the lawyer mailed him a packet of photocopied documents. There wasn’t anything there that Dan didn’t know already, and Hight seemed a little disgruntled that Laurel had turned to him for support. Dan called him again on his lunch hour on Friday.

“We put on a good defense,” Hight said stiffly, his pride clearly hurt.

“I read the transcript.”

“You think we could have done more?”

“I don’t know,” Dan admitted. “I wasn’t there. It seems to me you made all the pertinent points, based on what you had to work with. But I can’t help wondering if there was more that you never got a chance to work with.”

“Such as?”

“Interviews with neighbors. Clues. Anything that would point to someone else. Once they settled on Laurel as their target, the prosecution ignored everything else.”

“And just what is
everything else?
” Hight asked. “I followed up every single lead.”

“What were some of them?” Dan asked.

“It’s all in what I sent you. A kid at the golf course said Bob took a call during the golf match. I spent some time on that. Turns out his father called him about something connected with work.”

“Yes, I saw that.”

“The golf game ended early, so I interviewed Bob’s golf buddy. The guy had a headache, so they called it an early day.”

“There’s got to be something else,” Dan insisted.

“If there is, it never got to my office. I had the trial postponed last year, and again this spring, hoping for a break, but…”

Dan sighed.

“Look, if you can turn up something new, I’d love to hear it,” Hight said. “I believe in Laurel, but she made it difficult to defend her. She was pretty shell-shocked when it happened. I still believe that was because she loved her husband. Jail was tough on her, too. I don’t have anything new that will help her case, though.”

“I have to try,” Dan said resolutely.

“Well, if it’s that way, of course. I’ll do anything I can on this end.”

Dan felt slightly better about Laurel’s choice of lawyers, but he knew it was up to him alone to find the crucial evidence they needed.

By the weekend, Laurel had accepted Dan’s tenacity. He had attended the string quartet’s two rehearsals, but had warned the others that he needed a hiatus from their rigorous schedule after Saturday’s benefit concert.

“He committed to the concert with the rest of us a long time ago,” Judy told her as they cleaned up the kitchen Friday evening. “We’ll be helping raise money for the community college’s music program. But I’d say Dan’s found a critical cause now.”

“I don’t want to take him away from his music,” Laurel said.

Judy smiled. “I don’t think you have a choice. He’s decided to put all his energy into your case, so the quartet will have to work around that.”

“Can I go to the concert?”

“If Dan thinks it’s safe. I’d love for you to meet the others.”

Laurel nodded pensively. It might be her only chance to hear Dan play with the quartet.

Judy poured the soap into the dishwasher. “Dan seems to be spending all his lunch hours and evenings on your case.”

“Sometimes I feel helpless,” Laurel said. “I want to help him find something, so I answer his questions and read through reams of reports. But I don’t know what we’re looking for, and I think after a while he’ll do what my lawyer did and give up looking.”

“Be patient. It’s a labor of love for him.”

Laurel grasped Judy’s arm. “I can’t encourage him too much right now. If nothing comes of all his hard work, I can’t allow him to get too attached.” She picked up the dishcloth and scrubbed at the counter that was already clean. Judy watched her in silence. At last she tossed the cloth into the sink. “It would be so easy.”

“What would?” Judy asked.

“To love him. But I can’t,” Laurel replied.

“I would laugh at you, but this isn’t funny.”

Laurel bit her lip as tears filled her eyes. “No, it’s not funny at all.”

“This thing about you and Bob fighting,” Dan said on Saturday morning. “We need to talk about it.”

They sat in lawn chairs on Judy’s patio. Dan had scouted the neighborhood first, to be sure there were no strangers lurking about. Laurel felt lazy in the warm sunshine. She kicked off her sandals and stretched out in the chaise lounge. Judy sat nearby, leafing through a medical journal while Dan pulled files out of the briefcase.

“What do you want to know?” Little white clouds scudded about high in the sky. Laurel would rather think about anything other than the Hatcher family.

“How did you meet Bob?” Dan asked.

Judy laid the medical journal on her lap and made no pretense of disinterest.

“At school,” Laurel said.

“Tell me more.”

It’s for the investigation,
she told herself.
He has to know everything, even if it has no bearing on the case.

“We met through a Christian organization on campus. They held Bible studies and sponsored activities.” She looked over at Dan, and he gestured for her to continue. “Bob started coming to the Bible study with his roommate. He asked the group to pray for him because he had to decide whether to go to work for his father after graduation or cut loose from the family business. I put him on my prayer list and kept praying for him for weeks. He kept coming to the group. I could see that he was interested in me, but I tried not to encourage him. Until one day—”

“What?”

The memories of those days deluged her. “His friend told me Bob wanted to take me to a play, but was too shy to ask me. Then I…”

“Quit not encouraging him?” Judy asked with one raised eyebrow.

“Well, yes.”

“Was Bob Hatcher an honest man?” Dan asked.

“What?” She tried to suppress the annoyance his question raised.

“It may be important to the case. Was Bob honest? And was he a true Christian?”

“No doubt about that. He went against his family and everything he’d been taught.”

“Tell me about that.” Dan’s voice was gentler.

She thought back to that time, trying to be objective. “Well, the Hatchers aren’t billionaires, but they own Hatcher & Brody Construction and it’s a thriving business.”

“What do they build?” Judy asked.

“Big bridges, a couple of dams, some substantial buildings, even some highway sections. Right now they’re building a prison in upstate New York.”

“But they weren’t religious,” Dan said.

“No, definitely not. And when Bob started going to church and talking about the Lord, his mother was furious. To her, religion is a social accessory.”

“What about his father?”

“Wayne was easier to get along with. He ignored spiritual matters. Whatever made Bob happy was okay with him, as long as Bob stayed with Hatcher & Brody and brought projects in under bid.”

“So Bob decided to go into the firm when he graduated.” Dan shuffled the papers in one file. “He earned an engineering degree from the University of Maine.”

“Right.”

“When did you meet the family?”

“That summer. When school got out, Bob took me home for a weekend. His mother hated me from the start.”

“Why?”

Laurel squirmed a little. “I don’t want to say jealousy, but I think it was difficult for her to lose her son’s attention to another woman. Of course, I wasn’t in their social class, and my folks were dead. Renata sort of looked down her nose at me, like Bob had brought home a filthy little orphan.”

“And Wayne?”

Laurel shrugged. “We got along better, but I was never really part of the family, except in Bob’s eyes.”

“And you were married the summer after you graduated.” Dan scanned a sheaf of papers. “Who’s the Brody in Hatcher & Brody?”

“Bob’s Uncle Jack.”

“His mother’s brother?”

“Yes.”

“Which brings us back to Renata Hatcher, the dragon lady.”

“She was furious when Bob announced our engagement.”

“That must have been rough on you.”

“She tried to break us up. She bribed him and threatened him. Threw other girls at him every time he went home for a weekend.”

“Why?” Judy asked, sitting up.

Those old feelings of inadequacy struck Laurel, and she drooped in her chair. “Renata hated everything about me. I majored in anthropology, which she considered to be a worthless field of study. Not only that, I had the gall never to use my degree. Instead I married her son and, in her view, sponged off his family. I painted mediocre acrylics. She bought old masters. I put up a badminton net in our yard. She played golf at the country club.” She grimaced at Dan. “It was more than that, though. I was too conservative. And Bob wouldn’t go along with a lot of things his family did after he became a Christian. I think she blamed me for that.”

Dan sat forward eagerly. “What kind of things?”

“Well, he wouldn’t drink anymore, even at client dinner parties, and Renata found that humiliating for some reason. And he wouldn’t fudge figures on estimates. He gave his father a lot of headaches that way. Wayne decided he could live with it, if that’s what it took to keep his straight-arrow son in the firm, but Renata wanted the old Bob back.”

“You loved him,” said Judy.

Laurel sank back into her chair and didn’t look at Dan. “Of course. Bob was my hero. He stuck to his faith, even though his family derided him. He married me against their wishes and made his mother throw us a huge wedding. I think she was afraid people would think she was cheap if they let us elope. It was scary, but I figured he’d always be there as a buffer for me, and that once they got to know me, they’d resent me less. I think Wayne got to where he liked me a little. But not Renata.”

“What about Bob’s work situation?” Dan asked.

“He told his parents and Uncle Jack he was going to do things by the book, and if they didn’t like it, he’d go work for someone else. I was so proud of him. The only thing was, they got him to stay. I hoped for a while that he’d actually go with one of their competitors.”

“Was anyone angry enough to kill him?” Judy asked.

“Oh, no, they loved him, in their twisted way. Besides, this was back when we first got married. If they were angry enough to kill him then, why wait four years?”

“Something must have happened to turn somebody against him,” Judy persisted.

“Someone hated him,” Dan agreed. “They ruled out robbery at the murder scene.”

“Yes. There was no evidence of a break-in, either.”

“It says here there were no doors or windows left unlocked that day.” Dan tapped the papers in his hand.