Buried Evidence (4 page)

Lily rolled her head around to release the tension. “We’ve got to find a way to have the IRS freeze his assets.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that yesterday,” Lenora Wells said, arching an eyebrow. Formerly a homicide detective with the Los Angeles police department, she was now the chief investigator for the Santa Barbara D.A.’s office. Due to the fact that they were close in age and both divorced, the two women had struck up a friendship.

“Weren’t you scheduled to interview witnesses on that child-molest case this afternoon?”

“Done,” Wells told her. “I just stopped by to see how things were going.” She picked up a file folder and began fanning herself.
“Everyone says you don’t need air conditioning in this city. What’s wrong with these people? Are they nuts?”

“It’s only a heat wave,” Lily told her. “The weather report says it’s supposed to cool down by tomorrow. Someone said it might even rain. Maybe that’s why it’s so humid.”

“Where’s Matt?”

Lily acted as if she hadn’t heard the woman’s question. Once she’d learned that Richard Fowler had signed on as Middleton’s attorney, she’d stopped by the office of the elected D.A., Allan Brennan, telling him she couldn’t work with an unreliable and incompetent attorney on such a complex case. Brennan had been thrilled to have her on board, but he refused to give her preferential treatment or allow her to think she could take over the agency. Either tolerate Kingsley, he’d told her, or she would have to try the Middleton case alone. Brennan had also pointed out that even though Kingsley was inexperienced, he was far from ignorant, since he held a law degree from Harvard.

“Hey,” Wells said, “what’s with you? Am I talking to myself? I just asked you a question. You act like you’re in another world or something.”

Lily rubbed her forehead. “Matt’s going over some reports at the crime lab.”

“I see,” Wells answered, tilting her head to one side. “You two didn’t butt heads again, did you? Usually one of my investigators does the legwork, not the trial attorney.”

“Look,” Lily said, grabbing her briefcase from the floor and slapping it down on top of the table, “when I ask a person to do something, I expect him to do it. This kid turns around and hands off everything to someone else.”

Wells rubbed the side of her face. “Isn’t there a word for what you just mentioned?” she said. “You know, like delegating authority.”

“You’re impossible,” Lily told her. “And Kingsley’s a spoiled brat.”

“Oh, yeah,” the other woman said, swinging a leg back and forth under the table. “Matt’s not exactly a kid, you know. He’s almost thirty. Are you certain you don’t have a crush on him?”

“Don’t be asinine,” Lily said, annoyed that her friend would even mention something so ridiculous. “I’m forty-two, Lenora. When I start chasing young guys like Kingsley, do me a favor and shoot me. He still lives at home with his parents. He doesn’t even write checks. He has an accountant who pays all his bills for him.”

“My Julian might live at home until he’s forty,” Wells told her, tapping her fingernails on the table. “That wouldn’t necessarily make him a spoiled brat. My sister still lives with my mother and she has three kids.”

“We’re not in the same ballpark,” Lily told her. “Matt’s parents own a seven-million-dollar estate. He only decided to enroll in law school after he was thrown from his horse and had to stop playing polo. One of these days I’m going to call Harvard and make certain he didn’t print that diploma on his computer. Either that, or his daddy could have given it to him as a Christmas present. A big endowment goes a long way.”

“Money talks.”

“He hands off assignments like he hands over his dirty underwear to the maid,” Lily continued. “Now, do you still feel sorry for him?”

“Humph,” the investigator said. “Guess you won this argument hands down.” She smiled, causing two deep dimples to appear in her cheeks. “Let’s not call him a spoiled brat, though. I prefer the term ‘rich little prick.’ It’s far more demeaning, don’t you think?”

Lily felt the warmth of a person’s hand on her shoulder. She knew instantly that it was Richard. She stood, then braced herself against the counsel table. Her friend waited for an introduction, then decided to handle the situation herself.

“Lenora Wells,” she said, certain they’d met before. “I’m in charge of the investigative unit.”

“Richard Fowler,” he said, shaking her hand.

In heels, Lily stood almost six feet. Fowler had to be at least six-five, Wells decided, staring up at his face. But his height seemed incidental to his overall appeal. His dark eyes danced with mischief, a sharp contrast against his fair skin. Nice lips, she
thought, not too thin. Although his hair was sprinkled with gray, he had a youthful physique and moved like a highly trained athlete. As an African American, Lenora found Santa Barbara slightly too vanilla. The majority of the men strutted around in moth-eaten cashmere sweaters or their ten-year-old Brooks Brothers suits. She appreciated a man who knew how to dress. Fowler’s pinstripe suit was beautifully tailored, the cuffs of his shirt were emblazoned with his initials, and the leather on his belt was the same exact shade as his shoes. She placed her hand on the side of her neck. Kingsley might be good-looking enough to get her juices flowing, but this was a
man
. “Didn’t you used to be a D.A. in Ventura several years back?”

“Yes,” he said. “Lily and I used to work together.”

Wells fell silent.

“Are you finished here?” Richard asked Lily. “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

Lily checked the time. She’d told Kingsley to report to her office at five to brief him on the events of the day. “I can’t,” she said. “I have to meet someone in my office.”

“I see,” he said, disappointment etched on his face. “I could take a walk and come back. That is, if you’re not going to be tied up that long.”

Lily faced the table, tossing papers and files into her briefcase. Instead of jumping at the chance to be with him, part of her wished he would simply disappear.

“Tell me who you have to meet,” Wells said. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

“No, no,” Lily said, strands of hair tumbling onto her forehead. “I have to meet Matt.”

“Excuse us,” Wells told Richard. She cupped her hand over her mouth as she whispered to Lily. “Matt can wait until tomorrow, sugar. You can’t let this man just stand here. I bet you haven’t been out of the house in weeks.”

Lily squeezed her forearm. Still, Lenora didn’t get the message. All she knew was a handsome man was offering to buy her friend a drink. She had no idea she was speaking with Henry Middleton’s attorney, let alone Lily’s former lover.

“Everything’s under control,” Wells said, her throaty voice echoing in the empty courtroom. When Lily glared at her, the woman placed her hand on her back and pushed her, almost causing her to fall into Richard’s arms. “You guys go on now.”

“Fine,” Lily said, her teeth clenched. “I’ll meet you in front of the building.”

As soon as Richard left the courtroom, Lily opened her purse and pulled out her brush, running it quickly through her hair. Then she yanked out her lipstick, her car keys, a small container of breath spray.

“If you want to primp,” her friend said, watching as Lily tried to apply lipstick without a mirror, “there’s a bathroom right down the hall. And why is your hand shaking?”

“Tell Kingsley that Middleton made bail, okay?” she said. “I’ll go over the lab reports with him in the morning. I’ve already read them anyway. I only wanted to get him out of my hair for a few hours.” She jerked her head around. “I look awful, don’t I?”

“Here,” the investigator said, using her finger to wipe a smudge of lipstick off the side of Lily’s mouth. “What’s the deal with this guy? I’ve never seen you so… “

Before Wells could finish her sentence, Lily had swept all her personal items back into her purse and raced out of the courtroom.

R
ICHARD FOWLER
stood on the sidewalk, inhaling the freshly mowed grass, the salty scent of the ocean, admiring the magnificent Spanish architecture of the historical courthouse. When Lily came bounding down the steps, the people milling around her disappeared. Time stood still for her, he told himself. Not everyone might agree, but in his eyes she was as lovely and captivating as ever. She reminded him of a female Einstein, not strictly on the merits of her intellect, but also due to her personality and mannerisms. She lived so completely inside her thoughts that it shouldn’t have surprised him that she failed to notice him
that morning. Her ability to focus on her work was mind-boggling, though, and he had been pleased when he’d heard she’d taken a position as a prosecutor again.

“Where are you parked?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Down the street,” he said. “We could walk somewhere. There’s a nice little bar about three blocks away. I haven’t been there in a few years, but I’m certain it’s still there.”

“I don’t want to go to a bar,” Lily said crisply. “Get your car and follow me.”

A troubled expression appeared on his face. “I don’t have that much time. I’m supposed to see Greg tonight. And the traffic—”

Lily felt her stomach churning. Was she nothing more than an old acquaintance, someone to share a drink with before embarking on a long drive? “Maybe we should just forget it, then,” she said, taking off down the sidewalk.

Richard was flabbergasted. How could she walk away twice in one day? He turned around in a small circle, trying to decide what to do, then had to jog to catch up with her. “You’ve been living in Santa Barbara for months now,” he said. “If anyone should be hurt, it’s me. Why haven’t you called? It’s not as if Ventura is in another state.”

Lily stared down at the cracks in the sidewalk.

“When we last saw each other,” he continued, “you said the door was open, that there was still a chance for us. Then you never returned my phone calls.”

Lily slowly raised her head. “Why did you agree to represent Middleton?”

His voice was low, seductive. “Maybe because I knew it would give me a chance to see you.”

“Then you did know I was prosecuting the case,” she said, thinking he had lied to her. “You sandbagged me. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Give me a chance to explain,” he pleaded. “Just because I was aware you’d accepted a position here doesn’t mean I knew
you’d be prosecuting Middleton. It was a fluke, Lily. I have another case that falls in this jurisdiction. When Middleton started waving money in my face, it only made sense to take him on as a client.”

“What kind of case?”

“Possession with intent to distribute.”

“Now you’re not only defending someone like Middleton,” Lily said, incredulous, “you’re representing drug dealers, too. Weren’t you planning to run for judge?”

“That was years ago,” he said, frowning. “Things don’t always turn out the way we want in life.”

He was tossing the ball back in her court, making her feel guilty. She had enough guilt for the entire state. In addition, he was the one who had ended their relationship, abandoning her when she’d needed him the most. “You shouldn’t have asked me to go for a drink if you were in such a hurry to get home. God, Richard, we haven’t seen each other in years. You could have snagged Clinton Silverstein if you wanted a drinking partner. Haven’t you heard? He transferred to our office seven months ago.”

“I wasn’t looking for a drinking partner,” he said, pulling her onto the grass so people wouldn’t overhear their conversation. “My associate could have handled both of these cases, Lily. I’m here because of you. It’s the craziest thing. A few weeks ago I started having dreams about you. Since then I’ve been having trouble concentrating on my work.”

“Really?” she said, smiling coyly. “Good dreams or bad?”

He laughed. “Would I stand here and let you rake me over the coals if they were bad?”

A pleased look appeared on her face. “We could take a walk on the beach. Since you’re in a hurry, it’s better if we go in separate cars.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot of the Miramar Hotel,” Lily tossed out over her shoulder. “You know, the place with the blue roof that runs parallel to the 101 freeway.”

•  •  •

T
HE SUN
was setting and the sky was awash with rainbow colors—blue, pink, rose, aqua. Richard and Lily left their cars in the parking lot of the hotel, then walked across the railroad tracks to the beach. Once they reached the sand, she removed her heels, carrying them as they walked. “The heat wave must have broken,” she said, rubbing her arms. Several hundred yards offshore, they could see a line of surfers waiting on their boards for the next big wave.

“You’re chilled,” Richard said, noticing her shivering. He removed his jacket and tried to hand it to her. “Put this on.”

“I’m fine,” she said, pulling her green linen blazer tightly around her body. “But it’s nice of you to offer.”

“I insist.”

Lily smiled, slipping her arms into the sleeves. Now that he had removed his jacket, she spotted a small roll around his midsection. Instead of finding the extra weight unattractive, she thought it made him even more appealing. Men with bulging muscles and washboard stomachs might look good in magazines, but she’d never been attracted to them. Placing her hands in the pockets of his jacket, she touched his car keys, his wallet, his sunglasses case. Once again she inhaled the scent of lime. She felt momentarily secure, his jacket her cloak of protection.

They trudged through the sand in silence, then Lily suddenly stopped, gazing out at the frothy whitecaps. Her heart was pounding as hard as the waves. She wanted to feel his arms around her, run her hands through his hair. They shared too many painful memories, though, and she couldn’t afford to get caught up in an emotional nightmare. When the judge had granted Middleton bail, she’d almost lost it. After all these years she was still battling. She wanted to believe that the system could dispense justice, that good would triumph over evil, that the innocent would no longer have to suffer. As long as a child like Betsy Middleton spent her days in the twilight zone of respirators, unable to communicate or experience even a brief moment of pleasure, her frail body wracked by seizures, Lily knew she could not rest. Richard may
have dreamt about her, but instead of riding in on a white horse to rescue her, he’d shown up as her adversary.