Chapter 6
Why do they call it hump day
The sound of his phone alarm woke Ben at 5:30 a.m. He dressed and quietly walked to the bed. He reached out with his right hand and stroked Lane’s cheek as he bent to kiss the top of her head. She opened one eye and squinted at him.
“Red, I’m leaving now. I have to go home, workout and shower. I have an appointment at 9:00 a.m.”
He handed her a bottle of water and the BC Powder he’d put on the nightstand the night before. “Here, take this and go back to sleep. I’ll call you around 8:00 a.m. to make sure you’re awake.”
Lane was silent as she obediently poured the white powder on her tongue and chased it with water. She lay back down and closed her eyes. Ben kissed her forehead and left; he drove the few blocks to his house. He changed and went out for his run. It was his usual morning routine. In the summer, he got up at 5:30 a.m., ran five miles, swam 50 laps, did his strength training workout, showered, dressed, had a protein shake, and drove to his office in downtown Kansas City. He was always in the office no later than seven-thirty, often earlier if he was preparing for a trial. He was running a little late this morning, so he skipped the swim.
He hadn’t been in the office since yesterday morning because he’d gone straight from court to the Leawood police station. He glanced at the clock as he pulled into the parking lot. It was 7:45. He’d promised to call Lane around 8:00 a.m. and he wanted to talk to Mickey before his appointment. He parked the car and instead of taking the stairs to his office on the ninth floor, he took the elevator to save time.
As he unlocked his office door, his cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Bellini.”
“Ben, Mick. How’s she doing?”
“I don’t really know. She staved off her headache with alcohol last night. She really isn’t much of a drinker. I’m afraid she’s going to have a hangover this morning, and she’s got a 9:00 a.m. with Telco’s CEO today.”
“Oh boy. Well, I hope to have something back from the lab this afternoon. And, there’s something that I think you might find interesting. Have you got some time today?”
Ben looked at his calendar.
“I’m scheduled for a preliminary hearing today, but I should have some time this afternoon.”
“Great. Give me a call on my cell when you break free.”
Ben hung up and dialed Lane’s home number. She answered on the fourth ring.
“Hey, Red, you up?”
“Yes and dripping all over the place. You caught me just stepping out of the shower.”
He wished. “How’s your head”
“Surprisingly clear and headache free.”
“Glad to hear it. Go get dry and have a peach of a day.”
“Thanks. Hey, good luck in court. I’ll talk to you later.”
Lane smiled as she walked back to the bathroom, retrieved, and donned her red chenille robe. She shook her head slightly. Wet droplets fell from her hair.
“Benito Giovanni Bellini, ‘have a peach of a day,’” she said aloud. “Where on earth did you come up with that,” she said as she sat down at her dressing table and combed her hair.
With the local Fox affiliate morning show in the background, she began drying her hair. She rarely had the time to dry her hair completely. It was so thick and heavy that to completely dry and style it would take at least forty-five minutes. She always wore her long strawberry blonde hair up for work. She would dry it to slightly damp then put it up, either in a French braid, French twist, or a bun. She looked at the time displayed at the bottom of the TV. Eight-ten. Time to quit putzing around and get dressed. She put the finishing touches on her make-up and went to the closet. She was glad that she was in the habit of working her way from left to right through the suits in her closet. She spent no time worrying about what to wear. She pulled a sage green silk suit from the left side of the bottom rod in her closet, and a creamy white silk, sleeveless shell from the top rod. She pulled a plastic grocery bag from the top drawer of the nightstand, put it over her head to protect both her clothes from her make-up, and her hair and make-up from her clothes, and pulled the shell on over her head. She removed the bag and walked to the dresser where she pulled out a new pair of ivory panty hose. She went to her shoe closet and selected a pair of sage and cream Susan Lucci pumps. She bent down and pulled a matching hobo style purse from the bottom shelf. She checked the time display on the TV again and quickly transferred the necessities from her Coach bag. She paused at her jewelry armoire and pulled out a peridot cross pendant, earrings, her father’s Elgin watch, and the diamond tennis bracelet from Ben. She took a quick assessment in the full-length mirror, glanced one last time at the clock, turned off the TV, grabbed her purse, and headed toward the garage. She thanked God that she lived only fifteen minutes from the office, and that she had reserved parking.
It was fifteen minutes before nine o’clock when she walked by Meg’s empty desk and into her office. She pulled out her laptop and pushed it into the docking station. She pushed the start button, and unlocked her desk. She pulled out a file folder, stuck it into her portfolio, and headed for the door. Meg had returned and handed Lane a cup of tea with one hand a small stack of messages and a print out of her Wednesday schedule with the other.
“There’s nothing urgent; mostly vendors trying to get appointments to do dog and pony shows. You’re with Mr. Edwards until eleven o’clock. You have a lunch meeting with Mick McGuire at eleven-thirty at Kennedy’s. You have a one-thirty this afternoon with Craig Turner and Murder Mayhem and Merlot meets at seven tonight at Ronda Gilmore’s.”
To Lane’s amazement, Meg had done the whole spiel without taking a single breath. She took the tea, messages, and calendar and headed down the hall to the big corner office occupied by Telco Unlimited CEO Albert Edwards.
Lane wasn’t worried about the meeting. She had them every month. But, she was a little concerned because she hadn’t been able to reach him to let him know about the murder investigation she’d gotten herself involved in. He’d been out of the office for two weeks on a sort of working vacation. She’d called his cell and gotten voice mail. She didn’t think it was the kind of message one should leave on voice mail, especially to a new bridegroom, so she just left a message for him to call her as soon as he got a chance. He hadn’t called back, but given the circumstances, she wasn’t surprised. Al had been in Las Vegas for a trade show where he’d surprised friends, family, and colleagues by getting married.
Al’s first wife, Michelle, had died in a skiing accident in Vail, Colorado the first year Lane was in Kansas City. Friends had introduced him to Barbara about a year ago. Barbara, Babs to her friends, herself a widow was an attorney who specialized in estate planning. Al had sent an e-mail message to his Executive team after the nuptials saying he was taking a few extra days for a honeymoon.
Al’s door was closed. His administrative assistant, Gayle, told Lane to go on in. She opened the door and found Al sitting behind his desk; his chair was turned to face the window. He was just ending a phone conversation with whom Lane assumed to be his new bride. Lane hung close to the door to allow Al his privacy. No matter how old they get, she mused, newlyweds are lovebirds.
Al hung up and turned to face Lane.
“Al, I think congratulations are in order,” Lane said as she approached him and extended her hand. “Good to have you back in the office.”
“It’s good to be back,” he replied as he gestured toward the visitor chairs.
“Well, I hope you still feel that way after we’ve talked.” Lane smiled and told Al about the nightmare she’d been living for the past four days.
“Lane, how awful for you.” Al had moved from behind his desk and sat in the chair next to her. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I think you should take a few days off.”