A Tine To Live, A Tine To Die Part 16

Cam didn't remember the last time someone cleared the table for her, but decided to sit back and enjoy being waited on. Jake's big hands made short work of it. He wandered into the living room.

"Need help with the stereo?" Cam called.

"Nah, I was an AV geek back in the old country," Jake called. He had told Cam during dinner that he'd come to the States from Sweden with his family when he was sixteen. His parents and younger brother had gone back after two years, but Jake had stayed.

The house was suddenly filled with music that sounded both Caribbean and African. The beat was catchy and regular. Jake reemerged from the living room. Bowing to Cam, he took her hand.

"May I have this dance, miss?" He pulled her to her feet.

"Wait a minute. I told you I don't dance." Cam pulled her hand back, but he didn't let go.

"Ah, but you agreed to dance in private. I don't see anyone else here, do you?"

"You win. But don't complain if I step on your toe." Cam shook her head in mock frustration. "Wait one second." She blew out the candles. "Never leave a room with a lit candle in it" was one of her mantras.

Cam let Jake lead her into the living room. He'd pushed aside the coffee table and the easy chair so they had an open s.p.a.ce. A small lamp was the only light. It washed the room in a warm glow that didn't quite reach into the dark corners.

Jake put Cam's left hand on his shoulder, placed his right hand deliciously on her waist, and took her right hand lightly in his left. Before she could blink, they were dancing. Somehow he managed to steer her around, so it even seemed like she was following his lead, a skill she'd never been particularly good at.

The song changed, but it was the same upbeat kind of music, and Cam made it through another dance without kicking Jake in the shin or otherwise harming him. It was a magical feeling for a tall woman like Cam to feel light on her feet and in perfect sync with an even taller man, one she'd never experienced before.

The next song was much slower. Jake pulled her in close. His feet slowed. It was even easier to follow him now. The smooth silk of his shirt cooled Cam's now burning cheek. His own cheek pressed lightly on her head. They swayed and turned. Cam's body came alive and was exquisitely sensitive from the top of her head all the way down to her gaudily painted toes. But especially in the middle.

When the song ended, Jake pulled apart just enough to see her face. "See? You can dance." His voice was husky.

Cam reached her left hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face close to hers. "I guess I've never danced with a man who knew what he was doing." She was angling up to kiss him when the phone's shrill ring broke their bubble.

"Ignore it," he whispered, his lips an inch from hers. His heart beat fast next to hers.

The phone kept ringing. It was the house phone, not her cell. Few people knew the number. Cam looked into Jake's eyes. She let go of his neck and slid out of his embrace.

"I'm sorry," Cam said over her shoulder on her way into the kitchen. "Almost n.o.body knows my number. It's got to be important."

"Yeah. Or a Monday night telemarketer," Jake muttered.

Cam picked up the phone and said h.e.l.lo. She listened. Her eyes shifted to Jake. "Arrested? That's crazy!"

Jake's eyes widened. He walked over to Cam and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Sure, I'll find a lawyer for you. I'll be over soon. Hang in there. We'll get you out. They can't hold you if you didn't do it." Cam listened. "Okay. Don't worry." She slammed the phone on the counter.

Jake gave Cam's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Who's been arrested? What can I do to help?"

Cam faced Jake. "It's Lucinda. They arrested her for Mike's murder!"

Chapter 15.

Jake froze. His face paled. "I have to find her a lawyer," Cam said, frowning. "Poor Lucinda. This is just what she was afraid of. She's not exactly here legally, and she thinks if she even talks to the police, she'll be deported." Cam had a quick moment of remorse, wondering if she should be sharing Lucinda's status and fears with Jake.

"She probably will be." Jake's voice was low, ominous.

"That's ridiculous. She hasn't done anything wrong. This is all a big mistake." Cam turned back to the phone. "I'll call Uncle Albert. He'll know a lawyer." She pressed his number. "Poor Lucinda," Cam repeated as she waited. "Come on, Albert. Pick up." Cam paced into the kitchen and back.

"Uncle Albert. Hi. Do you know of a good lawyer?"

Albert asked her if she was in trouble.

"No, not for me. My friend, my customer Lucinda, she's been arrested for Mike Montgomery's murder."

"Well, isn't that something. Wait a minute while I find my address book."

When he came back on the line, Cam wrote down the number and thanked him, then hung up. She looked around. Where was Jake?

He emerged from the living room, closing the case on his CD. "I have to go, Cam."

Cam frowned. "You do? Just like that?"

"I need to. Tomorrow I have to . . ." Jake spread his hands open. "You've got a lot to do. I don't want you to have to worry about me, too." His expression was stern, but his eyes shifted around the room like a trapped animal's. "Call me later to tell me how it went."

Cam sighed. "Okay." She shrugged. The entire universe had changed course. They'd been a millimeter and a millisecond away from becoming intimate, and now he was running off. So be it.

"Thanks for dinner." Jake leaned in and kissed her on the cheek as if she was his sister. "I'll call you soon. Good luck with Lucinda."

And then he was gone.

Cam shook her head to clear it. She pictured Lucinda in a jail cell and shuddered. She dialed the lawyer, a Susan Lee. This woman had better be a magician.

Cam knocked on the gla.s.s door of the Westbury Public Safety Complex fifteen minutes later. She tried the handle again. It was still locked. She swore. Stepping back a few paces, she scanned the front of the building with its two matching gabled roofs that mimicked the neighboring antique colonial homes along Main Street. Why a little town like Westbury thought it needed an edifice with an exalted name like the Public Safety Complex was beyond her. People used to just call them police stations and fire stations. And the public wasn't very safe when a citizen couldn't even gain access at nine o'clock on a Monday night.

She approached the door again and pressed her nose against the gla.s.s. All she could see was a long hall illuminated only by ceiling-mounted red exit signs every few yards.

"Please come around to the back door," a tinny, disembodied voice said.

Cam yelped and jumped back. Where had it come from? Then she noticed a speaker set into the stone facade. Under it was a small unlit bra.s.s sign. Cam peered at it. AFTER 8:00 PM VISITORS ARE REQUIRED TO ENTER BY THE BACK DOOR.

Nice. She'd missed it completely.

Cam waved at the hidden camera, wherever it was, and trudged around the left side of the building. The right side housed the fire engine bays. Just in case an alarm sounded, she did not intend to be run down as they sped to their firefighting duties.

She rounded the second corner of the complex. Now she was getting somewhere. The back of the building featured a spotlight and a window set into the wall next to a door. Half a dozen navy blue Westbury squad cars were lined up in a neat row. Cam peered in the window. A s.p.a.ce of several feet separated her from an inner window that led to a lit office. Another disembodied voice spoke, but this one seemed to correspond to the seated person behind the second window.

"Can I help you?"

Cam didn't see any particular place where she should direct her voice, so she just stood in place and spoke. "I'm Cameron Flaherty of Attic Hill Road. My friend has been arrested. Lucinda DaSilva. It's all a mistake. I'd like to see her, please. Her lawyer is on her way."

There was no answer. Cam saw the person who had spoken to her turn and consult with another officer in the room.

A car peeled into the driveway and screeched to a stop. Cam turned to look. Out of a white Jaguar unfolded a woman as tall as Cam, in a gray suit jacket and a tight pencil skirt. Her hair was platinum and flouncy. A red leather case swung from her shoulder as she strode toward Cam on red three-inch heels that would have looked right at home on a glamorous 1930s movie star.

If this was Susan Lee, Cam was glad she didn't have to oppose her.

"Cameron Flaherty?" the woman said in a deep, throaty voice as she approached.

Cam nodded.

"Susan Lee, attorney. I got here as soon as I could." She extended her hand toward Cam.

Cam shook it. "Thanks so much for coming. I know it's just a mistake. Lucinda would never hurt anyone." She gazed at Susan, who was taller than Cam with those heels, and realized with a shock that the lawyer had to be in her sixties. Her big hair surrounded big features, with a full mouth accentuated by lipstick matching her bag and shoes. Cam didn't see a blouse under the jacket, the top b.u.t.ton of which just covered Susan's cleavage. Still, her skin had the quality of parchment, and deep lines around her mouth and eyes gave away her age.

"Listen. Your friend isn't in good shape, being accused of murder. But I'm going to do what I can. And any friend of Al's is a friend of mine."

"Al? My great-uncle Albert?" Cam had never known Albert to put up with anyone calling him Al. "He doesn't really know Lucinda."

"Doesn't matter. You're her friend, and you're his great-niece. That's good enough for me."

"How do you know Albert?"

Susan laughed heartily. "Our mothers were good friends. He used to babysit me. He'd sneak Marie in when they were courting, and I'd feel like I was their little daughter for the evening."

Cam had trouble imagining Susan Lee ever being little.

"Al's a good man. I'd do anything for him." She cleared her throat. "Now, they might not even let you into the station, and if they do, they probably won't let you see your friend. But let's give it a try."

With that, she rapped on the window. "Susan A. Lee, attorney at law. Here about the DaSilva arrest," she declared in a loud and clear voice.

Almost instantly the door buzzed. "Just follow me," Susan said as she pulled the door open. "Once you're in, it's harder for them to get rid of you."

Cam followed. She stood behind Susan at an inner door in a lobby, glad the lawyer knew where to go and how to get what she wanted. The door buzzed, and Cam pushed through it behind Susan.

Facing them was a four-foot-high part.i.tion with a flat countertop. Cam realized this was the inner room she'd seen from the double window. A row of benches lined the wall opposite the counter, with a man and a woman the only occupants. The woman's eyes were red-lined. Tiny shreds of the tissue she worked between her fingers floated to the linoleum floor. The man scowled, arms crossed over his chest. Cam looked closely. It was Howard Fisher, the farmer from the market.

Susan laid an elbow on the counter. "Evening, Ottie. How are you, Officer Dodge?"

Cam looked up. Officer Dodge? "Hi, Ruth." Cam waved. She thought it prudent to leave the nickname Ruthie for when her friend was off duty.

Ruth gave a little wave back and nodded at Susan.

The woman Susan had addressed as Ottie sat at a bank of monitors and a microphone. She nodded at Susan but kept her eyes on her screens. A well-padded woman of about Susan's age, she also wore a headset. Her uniform looked different from Ruth's, with a white blouse, black slacks, and some insignia on the breast pocket. Ruth wore the full navy blue officer outfit Cam had seen her in the night of the murder.

Ruth approached the counter. "Good evening, Counselor. What can I help you with?"

Clearly Susan was known here. Cam hoped that was good.

"I have been retained to represent Lucinda DaSilva. I believe you are holding her here. I'd like to see her as soon as possible. Her friend, Ms. Flaherty, would also like to pay her a visit."

Strain pulled at the edges of Ruth's eyes. "Ms. Lee, Ms. DaSilva is being questioned at present. I'll contact Detective Pappas and let him know you are here." She turned to Cam. "I'm sorry. I can't let you see Lucinda now, Cam."

It looked to Cam like Ruth was torn between her duty to her job and her wish to help out an old friend. Cam knew which would win out but thought she'd push just a little. "If I wait, can I see her when all this is done?"

Just then an inner door opened. Chief Frost walked through it with his arm around the shoulders of a thin young man, a boy, really. Cam did a double take. It was Vince, the kid who had delivered the manure a few days earlier. He looked both miserable and sullen. Cam hadn't realized he was Howard Fisher's son when he delivered the manure from Howard's Green Spring Farm.

"Here he is. I had to ticket him, and it's going to have an impact on his insurance. You can pick up the car at the tow lot tomorrow. They only take cash, mind you."

Howard stood and stuck his face in his son's. "What do you think you were doing, speeding in that wreck of yours?" His voice boomed in the enclosed s.p.a.ce.

"The fact that the vehicle was unregistered is very serious, too," Chief Frost added.

"I'm going to . . . ," Howard sputtered.

The woman stood and grabbed her husband's arm. "Howard, this is no time for that. Vince, sweetie, we're very disappointed. But we're all going home now, and we'll decide as a family what to do." She ushered out the men in her family, one on each side, obviously experienced at keeping them apart.

Susan turned to Cam. "Why don't you go home? I'm expecting to have Lucinda out of here within an hour or two, but if I don't, it could be a long wait. I'll call you to come and get her then, shall I?"

Cam nodded. "Tell her I was here. And that I'll come get her no matter what time it is."

Susan agreed, then greeted Chief Frost. After Ruth updated him, Susan followed Ruth into the interior of the station.

"So, looks like we finally caught the farm killer, Ms. Flaherty." Chief Frost leaned on the counter. "Doesn't that make you feel safer?"

"Lucinda didn't kill anyone, Chief. You totally have the wrong person in there."

"Evidence suggests the contrary, ma'am."

"What evidence?"

"Sorry. I'm not at liberty to say."

"But it's my farm!" Cam laid both hands on her side of the counter.

"Can't help you there. It will all come out in due time."

She sighed and turned to leave.

"Oh, by the way, Detective Pappas is going to want to ask you more questions. But it's getting late tonight. You go on home. He'll call you in the morning."

Cam reversed her steps slowly, giving the Fisher family plenty of time to leave. She was suddenly drained, and not just because she'd been up and working since five thirty in the morning. The vision of Lucinda being grilled by Pappas, or alone in a jail cell, filled Cam with trepidation. She pictured the INS speeding here to start Lucinda's deportation, her friend's worst fear. Could Susan really get Lucinda out? Chief Frost had sounded so certain about the evidence. If only Cam could find out what it was, she might have a chance to save her friend.

Out in the cool night air, she took a deep breath. It wasn't going to help Lucinda for her to be feeling sad and helpless. She strode to her truck. Climbing in, she slammed the door with a satisfying thunk. Take that, you real killer, wherever you are. Cam was going to find him, or her, if it was the last thing she did. Not only Lucinda's honor, but also that of the farm, was at stake. She'd already lost two shareholders' business and likely the confidence of more.

An insistent mockingbird woke Cam with its calls through the open window. She was in the middle of a dream having something to do with a Thai opera and a scrumptious buffet luncheon presided over by Johnny Depp. She had just helped herself to a plate of pad thai and delectable-looking spring rolls, and Johnny Depp had invited her to sit next to him. She desperately wanted to stay asleep and in the dream.

The bird kept on singing all the tunes in its repertoire. "Show-off." Cam groaned, dragging the extra pillow over her head. The dream had escaped her.