Mickey held up a plastic bag. “Is this the object?”
Ben squeezed, Lane answered, “It looks like the object you found.”
“Had you ever seen this item before today?”
Ben squeezed Lane’s hand. “I don’t think so.”
Mick threw the bag on to the table. “Would you like to take a closer look, Ms. Parker?”
Lane leaned toward Ben. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it, but I’ve read about this kind of thing. I say no, and the next thing I know, he produces a receipt that shows I purchased it five years ago.”
Ben smiled. Lane was a smart woman who knew how important it was to protect herself. Ben paused for a moment and wondered what Mickey’s tactic was. They might have wanted her to pick up the bag and provide them with fingerprints. It didn’t make sense, he knew that as Chief Privacy Officer, she was bonded and had fingerprints on file and readily available to the authorities.
“Pick up the bag, look at it, and just say you don’t recognize it.” Ben said giving her hand a squeeze.
Lane picked up the bag, turned it over in her hand. It was a Philips head screwdriver. It was thin, about six inches long, and had a red plastic handle
“I don’t recognize it.” She said as she placed the bag back on the table.
She rolled her head and started rubbing both temples with tense fingers. Mick looked at Ben. He recognized the signs of Lane’s headache. He’d seen first hand the toll her headaches had taken on her over the last several days, and he didn’t want to be the cause of her pain.
“Ms. Parker, Mr. Bellini, that’s all for now. We’re going to send this to the lab. We’ll be in touch if we have other questions.” Mick reached over and turned off the recorder.
Ben watched the veins in Lt. Franklin’s neck bulge. He knew Mickey had ended the interview because of Lane’s obvious headache symptoms. Lt. Franklin didn’t appear to be too happy, but Ben knew he wouldn’t berate Mickey in front of them. Ben placed his hand in the small of Lane’s back and ushered her out of the room.
He leaned down and whispered to her. “We’ll talk when we get to the car, nothing until then. Okay?”
Lane nodded as they walked.
Then Ben said aloud, “Where are your things?”
“I left my purse at Mick’s desk,” Lane replied
“It’s over here,” Mick said as he walked up behind them. Mick led them to his desk, got Lane’s purse from the bottom drawer and handed it to her. “I assume you can find your way out.”
Ben nodded, and again placed his hand firmly in the small of Lane’s back, and guided her out the front door. Neither of them said a word until they were in the car.
Lane was the first to break the silence. “Okay, what was that about? Don’t tell me Mick thinks that screwdriver is the murder weapon?” She fastened her seat belt and began massaging her temples in earnest.
“I’d say that’s exactly what Mickey is afraid of,” Ben said as he started the car. “Look, Lane, Mickey doesn’t believe you killed that guy any more than I do. But, we’ve got to assume it is the murder weapon and figure out how that thing got into your bedroom.”
He pulled out of the parking lot. “I’ll drive you to the office so you can get your car and I’ll follow you home so we can go to dinner.”
Lane looked at her watch. Seven o’clock. “I don’t think I’m up to a drive to the Plaza, but I am starving. The Hereford House is close by, do you mind?”
Ben always held Lane’s hand in the car, and gave her hand a squeeze. “Of course not, we can go where ever you want.”
Lane smiled and teased. “Are you on the clock? Am I paying you by the hour here?”
“By the hour? Red, by the hour you can’t afford me.”
“Yeah, right, Counselor. I know you’re good, but so good that I can’t afford you? Just how much does a lawyer for ‘the family’ get an hour anyway?”
Kansas City was a mob town and Ben was a first or second generation Italian American depending on whether you were looking at his mother’s side of the family or his father’s. Both sides of his family came from a little island called Sicily. He’d heard rumors about his family being connected his whole life, but it wasn’t as if he grew up living scenes from the Godfather or The Sopranos. Sure, his father owned an Italian restaurant frequented by other Italian families, but he had no reason to believe his father was “mobbed up.”
Lane’s reference made Ben laugh. “A lawyer for ‘the family’ probably wouldn’t even talk to you, Red. But don’t worry; I’ll take good care of you.” He reached over and stroked her hair.
“Okay, counselor, whatever you say. Just park the car,” Lane said playfully pushing Ben’s hand away. “Use the underground lot,” she said as she reached in her purse, pulled out her ID, and handed it to Ben.
Ben pulled into the underground Telco Unlimited lot and parked next to Lane’s BMW.
“I need go to my office so I can get my briefcase and laptop. Come up with me?”
Ben turned off the engine and patted her hand.
“You know, sometimes, you can be so patronizing,” Lane said laughingly.
“I know you’ve had a rough couple of days, Red. I just want you to know I’m here for you,” Ben said as he ran his hand down her cheek, cupped her chin, and turned her head to face him.
“No matter what you need, no matter what time of day or night. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.” He kissed her.
“I am glad you’re around.” Lane almost purred into his ear. Then she kissed him again as she thought this man does know how to kiss.
“We’d better go,” Lane said when she finally came up for air.
This time, Ben laughed. “Whatever you want, Red.”
The banter was a good sign, yet he knew she had a headache brewing and he hated feeling helpless over the stress she was going through. Ben was an excellent criminal defense attorney yet, he hoped that he wouldn’t have to prove to her just how good he really was.
Ben had never lost a case. Perhaps it was because he screened his clients carefully, and despite his family’s alleged mob connections, he’d never defended a client he knew to be guilty. He knew Lane was innocent and he knew she was aware of his record in the courtroom. He was also sure that knowledge of his legal prowess was doing little to ease her mind. Ben followed Lane into the building and into the elevator. They rode to the fifth floor in silence. He watched as Lane closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the elevator wall. It was a sure sign that her headache, although not yet in full force, was back.
“Oh, Kyle, excuse us. It’s late and I didn’t expect to see anyone,” Lane said as the elevator doors opened and they nearly walked right into the night guard.
“Sorry, Mrs. Parker, just making my rounds,” Kyle responded as he stepped aside so Ben and Lane could exit the elevator.
The guard said, “Have a good night,” as the elevator doors closed.
“The guards carry guns here,” Ben asked as they walked toward Lane’s office.
“The night guards do,” Lane replied, almost absent mindedly, as she unlocked and opened the door to her office.
Meg, the epitome of efficiency had packed Lane’s briefcase and laptop before she closed and locked the door to Lane’s office and conference room. She had left a note on top of the briefcase. Ben picked up the laptop as Lane read the note.
“You have a 9:00 a.m. with Mr. Edwards. Craig’s moved his meeting again. Check your iPhone for the update to your calendar. Hope you had a good afternoon.”
“I’ve got a nine o’clock with the CEO.” Lane said as she rubbed her temples.
Ben followed Lane home and waited while she dropped her car off. Lane hopped into the Jag.
“Let’s go. I‘m starving. Besides, I can hear Duke calling me.”
“You’re in rare form tonight, Red. Are you worried about your meeting with Al in the morning?”
Lane reached over, rubbed her hand gently on the back of Ben’s head, and stroked his neck. “It’s not that. You know that Al and I have regularly scheduled meetings. He has these meetings with all of his people once a month. It’s his way of keeping in the loop. You know.”