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- 03/01/2017
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The Dame - 15. Chapter 15
The next morning David stretched an arm across my chest with a yawn. After he conceded defeat in the kitchen last night, we’d gone for a late supper before we returned to stay up late watching an old movie and necking like teenagers. It was a luxury to spend the night with this man in my arms, one to which I was trying not to get too attached. Still I found myself desperately wanting to make it a more permanent arrangement.
He pluck at a nipple and gently bit into my shoulder throwing a wicked smile my way.
“Good morning, Mr. Graham, I was hoping you were up.”
That it was Dorothy’s voice might have surprised me but given the way David’s hands were moving I wasn’t going to question it. His legs entwined with mine their smooth skin rubbing deliciously over my thighs. Still foggy from sleep deprivation, the movement lulled me into closing my eyes and allowing him take control.
“Hmmm, it appears I’m always up for you, Miss James.”
He rolled on top of me running his hands down to my hips, kissing me deeply. I reached for his silky locks but kept my grip light. David pushed himself against me, his movements picking up speed, I could feel his breath against my lips.
“Seth, I love you.”
A sharp ringing resounded from the front parlor like a thunderclap on a clear day. David’s body tightened; his gaze on the wall frozen in a grimace no doubt believing no good news comes this early in the morning. Somewhere beneath the bed sheets beat my heart needing to love him back.
“Probably just a wrong number. Want me to get it?”
David shook his head while rising and donning a robe as he went to answer the telephone. It took several minutes before he returned but the look of shock on his face told me too much. Sometimes life can sucker punch you into taking a fall and just when you think you can deal with the view from the sidewalk, it kicks you to the gutter.
“Danny’s been arrested for Senator Metcalf’s murder.”
“When did this happen?” I went to him, pulled him into my arms, felt him trembling.
“Last night. Will you come to the police station with me to see him?”
The police.
The combination of fear and dread in his voice was more than I could stand.
“Sure, sweetheart, whatever you want.”
Danny was waiting for us in a small, windowless room with a table and a few uncomfortable-looking chairs. Wearing only slacks and a dress shirt, he appeared disheveled slumped in one of the chairs. He also looked a lot less angry than the last time I’d seen him but that didn’t mean I felt much pity for the guy either. He jumped up from his seat when we entered but waited for the police escort to leave before speaking.
“I swear I didn’t do it, David. You’ve gotta believe me.”
Dorothy was quick to reassure him, “Of course you didn’t. I’ve already called Mr. Spencer. I’m sure he’ll have you out of here soon enough.”
She approached him warily and it took most of my will not to pull her back to me. If Danny so much as squinted at her, I was ready to administer a bit of my own justice. To his credit he did manage not to flinch too badly when she reached out to touch his arm. She was wearing a pale blue suit and matching hat looking small and delicate. Her white gloves stood out against his wrinkled and stained shirt.
“While we wait, why don’t you tell us what happened?” I’m sure he heard the ice in my voice. Danny stared at me wordlessly until Dorothy spoke up with more warmth, “Please, Danny, tell us.”
She pulled a chair up close to the one he’d been sitting in and sat down. I kept my distance by leaning against the wall by the door. Danny returned to pacing, running his fingers through his hair looking more and more agitated.
“Last night, Mr. Rutherford ask me to drop off some papers for the Senator at his home. I’ve been there before so I went in figuring I’d just leave them with a note. The lights were on in the study. That’s where I found the – the Senator. He was dead just lying there by the desk.” Danny’s voice sounded lost like he was recalling a bad dream. “Then the police showed up and arrested me.”
“Did you call them?” Dorothy asked in a soft, reassuring voice.
“No, dammit! They just showed up saying I must have done it.” His fists tightened but he kept pacing as if he’d been speaking more to himself than to her.
She continued softly, “So if you didn’t call them, why were they there?”
Danny stopped and stared at her, his mouth dropping open while he tried to puzzle it out. I interrupted, “Who else knew you’d be there?”
“No one. Mr. Rutherford called me late to...”
“You think he set you up?” It wasn’t really a question. I just wanted him to recognize the trap he was in.
After a few tense minutes, I told Dorothy I’d see if the lawyer had arrived. Glaring at Danny only made him sneer back so I left and promised myself I’d go easier on the guy if only for Dorothy’s sake.
I practically ran into Detective Cavanaugh who seemed as surprised to see me as I him although he likely thought it was a stroke of luck.
He looked at the door I’d just left and put two and two together. “You know the suspect?” The calm patience I’d recalled from our last meeting set steady on his shoulders while he waited for my reply.
“Yeah. I know him. His lawyer here yet?”
“How do you know him?”
“My girl’s brother. He didn’t do it.”
The detective paused, “Will he talk to me?”
About an hour and a half later, the lawyer, Danny, Dorothy and myself were seated in a much more comfortable room. Once I’d gotten an eyeful of Mr. Carlton Spencer it dawned on me that the James family had money. His kind didn’t come cheap so when they showed up the police treated their clients with class.
Detective Cavanaugh strode in shutting the door behind him. He was alone which I assumed meant he either had enough evidence for a conviction or had none and needed a confession. He sat across the table from Danny and Mr. Spencer placing a folder thick with papers on the top.
Dorothy and I took chairs by the window behind Danny. The detective’s gaze wandered from me to her where it rested. I clenched my jaw to keep from standing between him and my gal - no good would come it. Returning his attention to Danny, the detective spoke.
“You attended the hospital benefit at the Belmonte Hotel where Mr. Guisti was found murdered. You claim to have left before the murder, to not have known the victim. We’ve since gotten eyewitness accounts of you in a heated argument where you threatened him. Even going so far as to assault a young woman who interceded.”
At this point the detective eyed Dorothy again but Danny didn’t reply or turn back to look at us.
“Last night, Mr. James, you were found with the body of Senator Metcalf in his home.” He took a deep breath, “I find all this highly suspicious.”
Mr. Spencer put up a hand, “My client has given his statement on the events of last night. He was doing his job when he went there. “
“I believe him, Mr. Spencer. What I don’t believe in is coincidences. The night of the first murder, we had no murder weapon, no motive and no real suspects. Mr. Graham identified the victim but seemed more concerned with protecting someone else than himself. The senator denied all knowledge of the victim - his alibi was strangely identical to your client’s own story.
“It wasn’t until I understood the argument between the victim and your client involved his sister, Miss James, here that I began to see my list of suspects. There was also an account of the victim seen with the Senator. Since that night I’ve had an opportunity to follow Mr. Graham who seems intent on interfering with my investigation. His recent visit to the Senator’s office had me wondering if he had something on the man.
“You were following me?!” I’d half risen out of my chair but the detective stayed me with a hand.
“May I ask you a question, Miss James?”
Dorothy’s eyes darted from the detective to Danny and then back to me. I reached out for her hand and murmured, “You don’t have to answer him.” She squeezed my hand then nodded to him.
“Were you wearing gloves the evening of the benefit?” He stared again at her white cotton covered hands.
I found my voice first, “No, she didn’t wear any gloves that evening. Why?”
“We found a pair of blood-stained ladies’ evening gloves stashed in a waste bin. We believe it is the victim’s blood.”
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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