“My husband, Jack, will be here shortly. I phoned him at work and told him you were coming. He suggested inviting you to have dinner with us.”
I glanced at my watch: twelve-thirty. “I’d love to, Bonnie, but I have to be back at the airport by five.”
Her smile flickered for a moment. “Oh, dinner is our mid-day meal. We have supper in the evening.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’d be delighted to have dinner with you.”
“I’ll finish setting the table.” She pointed to a door. “You can wash up in there.”
I finished washing my face and hands and returned to the kitchen. Jack had just arrived. He stood six feet tall, had a sturdy build, a ruddy complexion, and red, thick hair. We shook hands. His grip was strong. His hands were callused like a man who spent his life doing physical labor.
As anxious as I was to find out what Jack and Bonnie knew that might help my client, I felt I’d have to go slow. Jack said we would talk after dinner and I didn’t push it.
We sat at the table. Bonnie and Jack rested their folded hands on the edge. I waited. They looked at each other and nodded. Bonnie bowed her head and Jack glanced at me. “Mr. O’Brien, we say grace before meals. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” I followed suit.
“Heavenly Father, we thank thee for the food we are about to receive and we beseech you to bless our home, our family, and the visitor from California who is with us today. We beg thee to protect us from the evil that befell your servant, Gloria. And please grant courage and hope to the man who is wrongly accused of her murder. Amen.”
I snapped my head up. Jack nodded. “Yes, Mr. O’Brien, we know he’s innocent. Your client didn’t murder Gloria.”
C H A P T E R 28
After we finished the meal, I offered to help with the dishes, but Jack said the dishes could wait. We all moved into the living room. Bonnie sat in a straight-backed antique chair next to an upright piano. Jack eased into an old overstuffed armchair, then reached for his pipe resting on an end table.
He filled the bowl with tobacco, tamped it down, and lit it with a lighter he held at an angle. Bonnie coughed and waved her hands slightly. Jack pretended not to notice. I sat on one end of a blue davenport. As I sank into it, I wondered if I would ever be able to get up again.
“Do you want to ask questions or shall we just tell you what we know about Gloria?” Jack asked.
“I’ll ask questions later, if that’s all right.”
“Bonnie, go ahead and tell him. And, honey, tell Mr.
O’Brien everything.”
“Everything?” Bonnie asked with a concerned look on her face.
“Yes, just as we discussed on the phone. Bonnie, we knew someday it’d have to come out. We can’t keep the truth locked up when a man is in prison. It’s time to clear our conscience.”
Bonnie took a deep breath, exhaled, and turned to me. “Gloria and I were very close, best friends all the way through school.” She stood and went to a framed photograph resting on the piano. “Come here please, Mr. O’Brien.”
She handed me the picture. I stared at a teenage girl dressed in a cheerleader outfit, a pretty girl. Her eyes were alive and sparkling, not at all like the eyes that stared back at me from the crime scene photos.
“Gloria and I were cheerleaders,” Bonnie said. “That’s how Jack and I got together. Jack was the Tigers’ quarterback, the team captain. Oh, he was handsome-”
“Bonnie,” Jack said, “just talk about Gloria, not me. Okay?”
“Yes, dear, of course.” She replaced the photograph and moved back to her chair. “Gloria was not only pretty, but smart.” Bonnie paused, struggling to keep her emotions under control. “She loved history and politics, wanted a career in that field, thought she could make a difference. She graduated and won a full scholarship to UCLA.”
“Yes, I know this part, poly-sci, had a boyfriend at UCLA.” I wanted to speed this along. “Did she talk about him?”
“Yes, but she wasn’t very serious about the guy. She set her sights higher. Wanted someone who was going places. That’s what she said. But then when the guy dumped her, she became terribly upset. I saw a new side of her, a darker side.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“She said, ‘he’ll never get away with it. I’ll get even,’ that sort of thing. I just thought it was the pressure of living in L.A. But finally, she put the guy behind her. Then later, she somehow got involved with a married man. She was working for Senator Welch by that time, and her new boyfriend supposedly had a promising career. The only trouble was he had a wife. She didn’t tell me it was Welch; she promised him she’d keep it a secret. But friends know.”
“Did he make promises to her, leave his wife-you know what I mean?”
“He’s running for re-election, told her after the election he’d get a divorce and marry her. She helped him with his campaign.” Bonnie glanced at Jack. He nodded. “Gloria was naive. She actually thought he’d leave his wife, and to make it worse, she fell deeply in love with him.”
“We tried to talk her out of it,” Jack added. “I spoke with her a few times myself, gave her the man’s point of view.”
“Gloria wanted a touch of the high life. That was the expression she’d used.” Bonnie looked at Jack. He just shook his head slowly.
“A touch of the high life,” Bonnie repeated, looking at the rug. She twisted her wedding ring as she spoke. “Gloria could’ve been a big success. If she stayed, Mr. Ferguson would’ve hired her at the bank. But she had that scholarship.”
“Bonnie,” Jack said. “Gloria was on a collision course with ruin from the moment she left Manhattan. Her life was out of control in L.A.”
“Not in the beginning. It was Welch who got her on that track-the lies, the deceit, and all that money.”
“What money?” I asked. “The police report said she had less than $300 in the bank when she died.”
“About six months ago, she started sending us money,” Jack said. “We were supposed to hide it for her. Said if anything happened to her, we should just keep it. I told her not to talk nonsense.” He set his pipe down and left the room.
Bonnie kept talking. “She told us that she had some kind of problem with the IRS, and until she could solve it, she needed to hide her savings. She was my best friend. What could I do? It started small, but then the amounts got bigger. Once or twice, I asked her about it. She was reluctant to discuss the matter. I didn’t want to pry, but we had to know what was going on.”
Oh, my God! I realized what Bonnie was telling me.
Gloria had stolen money from Welch and Karadimos and because of that, she’d been murdered. I leaned forward and sat on the edge of the davenport. “What did she say after you confronted her?”
“She always had some tall tale. Finally, I got upset and told her not to insult my intelligence any longer. Then the truth started to come out. She learned that her boyfriend was not only unfaithful to his wife, but he also cheated on her.”
“That’s not all she found out.” Jack returned with an aluminum briefcase.
“I was getting to that, Jack,” Bonnie said. “Anyway, she must’ve found out Welch was a crook and involved with some very vile people. She seemed frightened.”
Jack put the case on the coffee table. “She was scared because she was stealing his money.” He shook his head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Bonnie’s face grew stormy. “We don’t know she stole it. Here’s what she’d said: ‘The bastard owes me.’ Please excuse my language, but that’s what she’d said.”
“Either she stole it or this was her share of the loot.” Jack opened the case and stepped aside.
I took a deep breath. It was full of currency. I stared at the hard cash arranged neatly in rows. “Did you count it?”
“Sixty-seven thousand and change,” Jack said.
Bonnie stood and paced the room. She stopped and looked at me, her eyes pleading. “You’re a lawyer, Mr.
O’Brien. Are we in trouble? Are we going to jail? What should we do?”