Buried Evidence (5 page)

“Do you remember the first night we were together?” he asked as a flock of seagulls swooped past them.

“How could I forget?” Lily’s coworkers had all gathered at the Elephant Bar in Ventura to celebrate her promotion to chief of the sex crimes division, a position Richard had held before her. “I don’t know what possessed me to start chugging down shooters of tequila. I don’t even like tequila.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been intoxicated,” he said, giving her a knowing glance, “you would have never gone home with me.”

“True,” Lily said, impressed with the simplicity of his analysis. In her opinion, Richard Fowler possessed two terrific attributes. He was a brilliant attorney, and he understood the opposite sex. Of course, this sounded strange for a man whose wife had left him for another woman.

“Weren’t you celebrating something other than your promotion?” he asked, attempting to reconstruct the details of that night. “It was your birthday, right?”

“Yes,” she answered. “No one remembered but my mother. Maybe that’s why I decided to get smashed.”

“I didn’t know it was your birthday,” Richard said wistfully. “If I had, I would have flown you to the moon.”

Lily bent over and picked up a piece of driftwood. “You did fly me to the moon,” she said, recalling their torrid lovemaking. The alcohol had lowered her inhibitions, but it was Richard himself who had brought her out of her shell, taught her that sex could be a delightful experience. “The only problem is, John found out and asked me to move out. I would have never been in that house alone with Shana if—”

Richard’s back stiffened. “What did he see? All we were doing was saying goodbye in the parking lot. Does that mean I’m responsible for what happened?”

“Of course not,” she said, tossing the driftwood into the water, “but I’d never had an affair before. Actions have consequences. Maybe the terrible things that happened were a form of punishment.”

“Your marriage was over, Lily,” he said. “Your husband was already dipping his wand at the office.”

“I guess having an affair could be classified as one of my lesser sins,” she said, her voice low and pensive. “Some of the things I’ve done are so despicable I feel as if I can’t stand up under the weight of them, like I’m carrying around this three-hundred-pound sack of bricks.”

“Life has kicked us both below the belt,” Richard said, his voice rising several octaves. “Because I accidentally walked in and caught Judge Fisher snorting cocaine in his chambers, Butler demoted me. The same week I came home and found half the furniture had been moved out of my house, along with a note from Claire that said she was divorcing me.”

“Butler’s a bastard,” Lily said, referring to the Ventura County district attorney. “You should have gone public with the cocaine allegation. Then both Fisher and Butler could have flushed their careers down the toilet. No one who snorts cocaine should sit on the bench. To this day, I don’t understand why you let them railroad you.”

“I didn’t stand a chance,” Richard said. “It was Butler’s word against mine.”

She removed his jacket and handed it back to him. “You should have a fairly easy drive if you leave now.”

When they reached her Audi, Lily discovered it had a flat tire. Richard offered to change it, but she didn’t want to impose on him. “I’ll call Triple A,” she said. “I could even walk home and come back for the car tomorrow. My place is only a few blocks away.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said, opening the door to his car for her. “I’ll drive you home. Then I’ll get a chance to see your new house.”

N
ESTLED IN
an area of exclusive estates, the house was a sprawling Tudor with magnificent grounds. Practically every specimen of tree, shrub, and flower had been artistically arranged around a manicured expanse of greenery. Orange, lime, and lemon trees, their leafy branches heavy with ripe fruit, filled the air with their fragrant aroma. A waterfall had been constructed
adjacent to the backyard patio, and birds gathered daily to bathe in the reflecting pool.

Once they pulled into the driveway, Lily climbed out of the passenger seat of Richard’s blue Lexus, then walked around to speak to him through the driver’s window. “Thanks for the ride,” she said. “I’m glad we got to talk. Since you’re representing Middleton, we’ll have to maintain our distance from now on.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Richard said, opening the car door and forcing her to step aside. “I told you I only took his case so I could spend time with you. We’ll just have to be careful, keep a low profile.”

Before she knew it, he was standing at the door. She’d forgotten how strong-willed he was, how he couldn’t take no for an answer.

“This place is fabulous,” he said. “Aren’t you going to invite me in for that drink?”

“Please, Richard,” she said, her face flushing, “we’re going to be seeing each other every day once the trial begins.”

He extended his hand. “Give me the key.”

“Damn you,” she said, “don’t you know how much an estate like this is worth? I’m only leasing the guest house. Even that’s a stretch on my budget.”

“Oh,” he said, realizing he had embarrassed her. “Then let’s go to the guest house.”

Lily was too tired to resist. She led him down a winding path to a small stone cottage located on the back portion of the property, surrounded by rosebushes. Bugs swarmed around the exterior light fixture. Richard swatted them away as she dug in her purse for the key, finally unlocking the door and motioning for him to come inside. “I don’t think you have to worry about anyone bothering you here,” he said. “Looks like you’ve found yourself a nice little hideaway.”

He pulled her into his arms as she was reaching for the light switch.

Lily twisted away. “I enjoyed seeing you, but I don’t think we should take it any further.”

Richard slapped his arms against his thighs in frustration. On
the drive to Santa Barbara that morning, he had fantasized that they would pick up where they left off. During the early days of their affair, Lily had been like a young girl experiencing sex for the first time. He could still hear her delightful giggle, feel her amazingly soft skin, imagine her breasts pressed against his naked chest. They’d made love on the sofa in his living room, their long legs sticking off the end. Their passion for each other had been insatiable; they’d even had sex at the D.A.’s office in an interview room, undaunted by the fact that they were placing both of their reputations on the line.

The guest cottage was charming, almost a scaled-down model of the main house. Spacious and tastefully decorated, the living room contained an overstuffed floral print sofa and two side chairs upholstered in a lime green fabric, one with a matching ottoman. Satin throw pillows were tossed here and there, and a crystal vase filled with fresh flowers was set on one of the end tables. An enormous carved bookcase with beveled glass doors took up an entire wall, and there was a small kitchen, large enough for a table and two chairs.

“I—I don’t really need much,” Lily stammered, her hands behind her back at the door.

Although the cottage was attractively decorated, Richard felt an overwhelming sense of despair. He spotted dozens of pictures of Shana on the walls, beginning at infancy and working their way to what must be a fairly recent shot. The image Lily presented in public differed greatly from the person who resided within these walls. She was still punishing herself, coming home alone every night, depriving herself of any chance of finding happiness.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Lily pointed toward the door.

After he had relieved himself, Richard shook his fists in the air. He blamed himself for staying away this long, for not helping her. Now that he’d seen her, he realized he had to take action, but he also knew he had to do it without frightening her. When he exited the bathroom, she was standing in front of a mirror in the living area, staring at her reflection. “You’re beautiful.”

“Not hardly,” Lily said, patting down her windblown hair. She hung up her jacket in the closet. Underneath, she was wearing a beige blouse and a matching skirt. The fabric of her blouse was thin, a silk and cotton blend. Without her jacket, her breasts were visible through her lightweight nylon bra. Because of her shape, finding clothes was difficult. If the skirt wasn’t several inches too large in the waist, then it pulled across her hips. She solved the problem by wearing long jackets, unaware how provocative she looked without them.

“I wanted to buy a house,” she told him, “but the real estate is too expensive.”

“I grew up here, remember?” Richard said. “Of course, the market has skyrocketed since those days. The beach you took me to tonight is where I taught Greg how to surf. My parents’ house was over by the railroad tracks.” He paused, fond memories surfacing. “The train used to wake me up every morning. Small price to pay for living near the beach, don’t you think? I was never late to school.”

“How is your mother?”

“She’s gone, Lily,” he replied. “Mother passed away around this time last year. I guess you could say both of my parents are still residents of Santa Barbara, though, for whatever that’s worth.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They’re buried in that beautiful cemetery behind the music academy,” Richard told her. “Before Middleton’s arraignment I drove over and visited their graves. My father purchased the family plots twenty years ago, or I wouldn’t have been able to bury my mother next to him. Trust me, even the underground real estate is expensive up here. Of course, most cemeteries don’t overlook the ocean.”

“Your father was a doctor, wasn’t he?”

“A surgeon,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”

“She had a good life, Lily.”

“Have you ever thought of moving back?”

“Not really,” Richard said. “I’m still living in the same house
in Ventura. I added a second story, though. It came out pretty nice.”

Lily felt some of her uneasiness abating. “I’d offer you a drink,” she said, “but all I have is Diet Coke.”

“I’m driving anyway,” he said, trailing his fingers over the top of the sofa. “Where’s Shana?”

“She moved back in with John.”

“I thought you said she was in college.”

“She is,” Lily told him, walking over to the kitchen to prepare their drinks. “Most kids would give their right arm to attend the university here.”

“And Shana?”

“She insisted on going to UCLA.” She paused, the subject of her daughter obviously a painful one. “I might not be able to afford a house in Santa Barbara, but I could have bought something in Goleta, Summerland, maybe even Carpenteria.”

“What happened?”

“Once Shana was accepted at UCLA,” Lily continued, “John talked her into sharing a duplex with him in North Hollywood. Don’t get me wrong, I understand why she didn’t want to go to college here. She wants to go to law school, so in that respect we both know UCLA is a better choice.”

“Santa Barbara is a party school, Lily,” Richard told her. “Not only that, kids are supposed to move out when they go to college. That’s how they mature.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” she said, raising her voice. “She’s living with John!”

“Well,” he said, chuckling, “from what I know about the man, that’s about the same as living with a bunch of college kids.”

Lily stopped, sucking in a deep breath. John’s irresponsibility might seem comical to Richard, but she certainly didn’t think it was funny. “At the very least, I expected her to spend the weekend with me from time to time. She’s only visited me once since the day I moved in.”

Richard saw another photo of Shana on the end table. He picked it up, having forgotten how much the girl resembled her mother. Now that she was older, people might even mistake the
two women for twins. “Wow,” he said, “you’ve got so many pictures of Shana in this place, I bet I could swipe one for Greg and you wouldn’t even notice.”

“I guess I went overboard,” Lily said, taking his remark as criticism. “I don’t entertain here, Richard. Looking at her pictures makes me feel good.”

“I was just kidding,” he said. “Setting aside her preference for universities,” he said, “why would she decide to live with her father? I thought the two of you were inseparable.”

Lily’s shoulders dropped. “Same story, you know. John acts like her houseboy. Since I work long hours, she decided to move back in with old reliable.” She paused, then changed the subject. “How’s Greg? Is he going to be upset that you’re late? Do you want to use my phone and call him?”

“Let’s skip the kid talk for tonight,” he said, focusing on a spot over her head. “We can always play catch-up another day.”

They took a seat on the sofa, both dropping down in almost the same spot. Lily felt his thigh brush up against her own. The chemistry between them was so powerful, she found herself undressing him in her mind. She coughed a few times to cover her embarrassment, similar to the way a man occasionally tossed his jacket over his lap to conceal an unexpected erection. In her eyes, Richard was everything a woman could ever want. His shoulders were naturally broad, his legs long and muscular. His buttocks weren’t flat like some men.

No matter how much she desired him, however, she couldn’t forget all the years she had suffered alone. Pushing herself to her feet, she yawned, hoping he would take the hint and leave. She stood there waiting until he did.

“Well,” he said, “I guess I’ll hit the road.”

As they walked to his car, Lily asked about his former spouse. He had listened to her rattle on about her problems with Shana and John; therefore, reciprocating seemed appropriate. “How’s Claire?”

“Good.”

“Is she still with the same person?”

“Yes,” Richard told her, scratching the top of his head.
“They’ve built a nice life for themselves. From what I can tell, Claire is genuinely happy.”

Lily was impressed with how well he had come to terms with his ex-wife’s sexual preference. “I’ll see you at Middleton’s preliminary hearing.”

“I want you,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

Lily felt dizzy, vulnerable. “I want you too,” she told him, “but I’m not going to make an impulsive decision. Those days are over, Richard.”