He stopped short. It wasn’t Christina. The woman who followed the guard into the cell was small and very well proportioned, with a glistening complexion and platinum blond hair that reached well below the shoulder blades.
“Keri! What are you doing here?”
Keri Dalcanton walked directly to him and clasped both his hands. “I had to come, Ben. I’m so sorry.”
The guard looked particularly surly, and Ben could guess why. He knew who the visitor was. “I’ll be just outside,” he growled, closing the door behind him.
“Did they give you any trouble?” Ben asked.
Keri’s eyes gave him the answer, but at the same time, they showed a steely toughness he had to admire. “What do you think?”
“Keri, you shouldn’t have come.”
“I had to, Ben. This is all my fault.” She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” After a moment, he placed his hand gently on the back of her neck. “You’re not the one who planted that knife in my file cabinet.”
“But it’s still my fault. This only happened because of me. It’s me they want. And now, since they can’t get me, they’re going after you.”
Ben didn’t say anything, although that was pretty much his evaluation of the situation, too.
“Is there anything I can do, Ben?” She pressed all the closer.
“Keri, who might want to frame you—or me—for this murder?”
“I’ve told you already. Andrea McNaughton. You saw how she acted in the courtroom. And Joe’s police buddies. They made up their minds I was guilty ten seconds after the body was found.”
“Why?”
“Because they didn’t approve of me. I worked in a strip joint. I wasn’t one of the gang. I wasn’t the nice housewife at home. I was the home wrecker. Never mind that Joe never told me he was married—until he used it as an excuse to break it off with me. Never mind that I only met Joe because he and his sanctimonious buddies came to the club to get drunk and shout obscenities at naked women. After he was killed, in such a horrible way, getting me became a crusade for them.”
“I’m sure this has been hard for McNaughton’s widow. Finding out about her husband’s”—he stopped before he got to the word “affair”—“unfaithfulness. And having it exposed so publicly.”
“I think she was the one who got the police worked up. At least initially.”
“You think she wanted them to go after you?”
“Of course. What better revenge could there be against the ‘other woman’ than to sic a pack of ravenous cops—and the D.A.—on her trail? She hates me, Ben. She’ll do anything to cause me pain.”
A sobering thought. “Do you have any idea where that knife came from?”
Her shoulders heaved. “How could I? Knives are everywhere.”
“I know. But it did have caked blood on it.”
“Joe’s blood?”
“I don’t know yet. But I expect we both will soon.”
“I just had a horrible thought. If that knife really is the murder weapon—and the police were able to produce it—what does that tell you?”
Ben looked at her wordlessly.
“Ben—is it possible they have another reason for wanting to frame me? At least some of them?”
“You mean—” Ben’s brain raced a thousand miles a minute. He had never even considered that possibility. But it made perfect sense. It explained everything—even this current irrational desire to persecute and prosecute him. “But why would cops want to take out Joe? He was their friend. Their partner.”
“That’s what they say. But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true.”
“Didn’t you tell me Joe was working on a mob investigation just before he was killed?”
“That’s right. He didn’t like to talk about his work much—at least not when he was with me—but he told me a little. Said he was investigating Tony Catrona. Digging around in his past. Seeing what he could come up with.”
Ben frowned. If only half the rumors he’d heard over the years were true, Catrona was a seriously bad news character. He’d swept into Oklahoma with the onset of pari-mutuel betting, but reportedly had expanded his operations well beyond the horse races—into drugs, prostitution, and murder for hire.
“Is it possible this could’ve been a mob hit?”
Keri shivered; Ben could feel her trembling softness against his chest. “I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about it. Poor Joe.”
Poor Joe indeed. It seemed incredible—but it might explain some of the more extreme aspects of the killing. Like the humiliating public manner in which the body was strung up. And the severed penis in the mouth. Wasn’t that something the mob did to squealers? People who talked too much? Or perhaps people they didn’t want to talk at all.
“You’ve done so much for me,” Keri said. “Back when this nightmare began, you were the only one who believed me. You were the only one who could get past the fact that I worked in a strip bar and see that I wasn’t a murderer. And you were the only one who would help me. You were so kind. All my heart and—and—my love—for you—” She hugged him tighter. Ben could feel her heartbeat. “And now to see how they’re making you pay for your kindness. I just can’t stand it. Isn’t there something I can do?”
“I don’t think so. My legal—” Ben stopped himself. “My partner is working on the case. I’m hoping she’ll be able to get these trumped-up charges dismissed.”
“Christina?” He felt Keri’s body stiffen slightly. “Has she graduated?”
“Yes. With flying colors.”
“But—she’s new, right? Maybe she should have co-counsel. Someone with more experience.”
“She’ll do fine. I trust her completely.”
Keri tilted her head back. Ben could see her face was red and streaked with tears. “Maybe I should just confess. Tell them what they want. Tell them I killed Joe.”
“Please don’t do that.”
“Why not? They’d have to let you go. And you said I can’t be prosecuted again.”
“I’m not sure they would let me go. They might try me as an accessory before or after the fact. And I’m not so sure about the last part, either.”
“What?”
He hesitated. “Keri, I think they’re going to try to use the discovery of the knife as a means of reopening the case against you. They’ll claim one or both of us committed fraud—hid the murder weapon. They’ll try to get a new trial. In fact, they’re probably already at the Court of Appeals working on it.”
Keri’s eyes widened. The horror on her face was unmistakable. “But you told me about double jeopardy. You said that was impossible—”
Ben’s chin lowered. “I know. I was wrong.”
“You mean—it could start all over again? The whole—the—the trial and the publicity and—” Her voice cracked. “Oh, God, Ben. God. I don’t think I could take that. I—I don’t think I could survive it.”
Ben tried to comfort her. “You’ll survive it, Keri. You’re tough.” He felt her tears trickling onto his arm. “We’ll survive it together.”
“If—if you say so.”
“I do. You didn’t commit this crime. And I’m not going to let them railroad you—or me. We’ll fight these people—and we’ll win.” He placed his thumb under her chin and tilted it upward. “I won’t let them continue persecuting you, destroying your life. I won’t allow it. And that’s a promise.”
10
“SO,” CHRISTINA SAID, “YOU’VE got the general picture?”
“I guess,” her friend Karen said, scanning the seemingly endless pages bound in a loose-leaf notebook. “How do you keep track of all this stuff?”