Drop Dead, Gorgeous Part 18

From their meeting, he could tell that most of what she said to him was her just p.i.s.sing in the wind. She didn't know the details, but she had a theory and put it to the test. She had her finger on the big picture and it was the big picture that mattered. So what would she do with what she knew about Edgar, or what she suspected she knew? Would she go to the press and resurrect Dominga? And if she did, would they believe her enough to even be curious? Edgar was an old man. Did he really care anymore?

He picked up the slip of paper she'd casually left him with her number on it, and dialed it.

"h.e.l.lo?" she answered.

Edgar had played these types of games for longer than she'd been alive, so he knew the rules. He knew them well.

"What do you want from me?" he reluctantly asked.

It was a simple question. That's all it needed to be.

"Proof."

"Of what?"

"Desi Green's lineage."

"Why?" he asked curtly.

"Do you really care?"

Edgar thought about it. "No."

Like the Cat That Collared Me "We've got you on the camera in the parking lot of the supermarket where you and Colette met up, leaving your car and climbing into hers the evening that Ed Brewer and Jake Boston were shot, Frank, corroborating Colette's version of what happened."

They'd caught Frank coming out of San Antonio, driving down Highway 35 headed toward Laredo. He'd taken what was left in his bank account and filled up his gas tank, hoping to make it across the border before they caught up with him.

"She said that you and she were taking money from Reggie Rodriguez, in exchange for letting his people deal without being arrested."

Chuck Baldwin was the detective questioning Frank. Frank remembered when Baldwin first came on the force. He was young and scared-now look at him, all large and in charge and s.h.i.t.

"Ed and Jake wanted a piece of the action? Is that true?"

Frank had the right to remain silent. So, he did.

"According to Colette, the two of you weren't getting all that much from Reggie. Maybe Ed and Jake thought you were cleaning up more than you were?"

Reggie gave them a grand a week, which was change considering how much he was bringing in, but Chuck didn't need to know that.

"Maybe it's just me, but if the two of you weren't getting much from Reggie, then why bother to shoot Ed and Jake at all?"

Because Jake was a hothead, who pulled his gun first. And Colette was a methhead who pulled her gun next. Ed was looking out for Jake, and Frank was looking out for Colette. One thing led to another, and all of a sudden, the whole world turned upside down. Chuck didn't need to know all of that either.

"I'll be honest, Frank," he said with a sigh. "This isn't looking too good for you, man. Colette's adamant about her side of the story, and the only reason she's telling it at all is because she knows she's going down for Reggie, and she figures that she might as well take you with her. Now, if I were you, I'd speak up now. Say something to help yourself out here, Frank. Don't let her take you down with that sinking ship without a fight, man. It ain't worth it."

Chuck Baldwin was a good man, a good cop. He had Frank almost convinced right now that he really did care about what happened to him. If Frank hadn't seen this ploy so many times before in the past, he might've fallen for it, but he knew better than to say s.h.i.t. If they wanted to prove he shot those men then they'd have to do it in court. Frank made up his mind to do all his talking through his public defender.

A few days later, Frank and Colette appeared together in the courtroom, awaiting their bail hearings. She looked at him as the two were brought into the courtroom together. They locked on to each other, and Colette's eyes filled with tears. She mouthed "I'm sorry" to him. Frank turned away.

His hands and ankles were cuffed. Frank was a f.u.c.kin' criminal. A year ago, they were giving him a plaque and pats on the back. "It's been good working with you, Frank. Man, you are going to be missed around here. If you ever change your mind and want to come back, just give us a call. We'll keep your locker warm."

Colette was led up to stand in front of the judge first. Some vague-looking public defender appeared like a rabbit out of a hat next to her. The district attorney rattled off the charges, making Colette sound like a regular ma.s.s murderer. Then her defense lawyer mumbled some kind of half-a.s.sed plea for leniency and bail, which the judge revoked. Colette broke down crying, and two police officers scooped her up, and dragged her out of the room.

It was Frank's turn, and with each step, his stomach turned. It was almost over. Frank had been living in denial for so long that now he was starting to feel a sense of relief that this whole thing was coming to an end. It reminded him of having a bad tooth that needed to come out. His knees threatened to give out from under him as the realization was finally setting in that he was going to prison for killing those men. And when it was all said and done, Frank stood to lose his life.

He fixed his eyes on the gavel sitting in front of that judge. Frank barely even noticed his lawyer sidling up next to him. He heard the shuffling of papers, and the nauseating sound of that judge's voice as he read off the charges in front of everyone in that courtroom. He was numb and detached from this whole scene, because he already knew how it was going to end.

"Your Honor, my client is charged with this crime based only on the heresay of another defendant," he heard his lawyer say, loud and clear. This one didn't mutter under his breath. Frank looked at him. This one looked like he was wearing a million dollars.

"A defendant who was also arrested for taking the life of another victim in a crime of which, according to the CTPD (Cotton, Texas Police Department), my client had no involvement whatsoever. Until recently, Mr. Ross was a decorated officer with said police department, with exemplary annual performance reviews and a spotless record."

"He's accused of killing two other exemplary police officers, Your Honor," the prosecuting attorney retorted.

"Ah, yes," Frank's attorney said pompously, holding up a doc.u.ment in his hand. "A Mr. Edward Brewer, placed on disciplinary suspension twice for citizen complaints of unnecessary roughness, and Jake Boston, who transferred to the Cotton Police Department from the El Paso Police Department, where he was also placed on a leave of absence pending investigation for domestic violence against his then girlfriend."

"Your honor, the victims are not on trial here," the DA argued.

"Neither is my client."

"Not yet," the DA's representative snapped.

"That's enough," the judge commanded. He took his time considering Frank, and then made the decision. "Bail set at one million." He raised his gavel and struck it down on the bench.

Frank's heart sank into his stomach. "A million f.u.c.kin' dollars?" he murmured.

"The angels are on your side today, Ross." his expensive-looking lawyer said matter-of-factly, packing up his briefcase. "You'll be out within the hour." He glanced at Frank, and then followed him as he was led out by the uniformed officers.

Like the Devil in the Church "But you canceled the last board meeting, Jordan," June said, taking two steps to every one of his to try and keep up with him as he walked back toward his office. "We're all anxious to get this over with, and by the numbers, if we're going to do this, then we have to do it now, before someone else comes in and s.n.a.t.c.hes Anton right out from under our noses."

His patience with her was running thin. "This isn't up for debate, June," he snapped. "Reschedule the meeting for next week, after I've had a chance to take a look at some things." She followed him into his office and closed the door behind them.

"June." He spun around and glared at her.

She put her hand on her hip. "Jordan."

Jordan glanced at his watch. He didn't have time for this s.h.i.t now. He'd agreed to meet with Edgar for lunch. "We'll talk about this later. I have a meeting."

"Just tell me what it is that's keeping you from wanting to move on this now? Anton is in a prime spot for us to come in and sweep it out from under Jorgensen's feet. It's done, and it's going at a bargain price," she said, sounding like a used-car salesman on late-night television.

"I have my reasons," he said simply.

"Why can't you share them with me? Why can't you share them with the board? Maybe if you did then they'd be willing to take a step back and do it your way, but because you don't, and with everything I've shown them..."

"Numbers!" he said, suddenly snapping. June and her d.a.m.n numbers were starting to get to him in the worst way. "This business isn't just about numbers, June! How many times do I have to tell you that? And how many more times do I have to tell you to respect me and my position and to stop selling that s.h.i.t to my board members?"

"Your board members, Jordan? How about our board members? This is my company too, and I have every right to be here as you."

"But you haven't been here, baby sister," he retorted. "You've been in Atlanta, with your husband and your kids, running your little nonprofit," he said condescendingly. "I've been here, June!" He drove his finger down on top of his desk. "For d.a.m.n near thirty years, I have been here, carrying this d.a.m.n company on my back to where it is now! These people have seen what I can do! They have trusted what I can do until you came along and started to undermine that!"

"I'm not undermining anything, Jordan! I'm just-"

"Forgetting your G.o.dd.a.m.ned place, June. That's what you're doing." Jordan was. .h.i.tting some serious nerves in his sister, and he could see from the look in her eyes that he'd crossed a line. He quickly composed himself. "There is an order to things, June. You've got to know that. You're a smart woman, and I know you understand what I'm saying. I've headed up this company since before you graduated high school, and it's taken me a very long time, but I think I've figured out what I'm doing. A corporation this size needs good, strong, and unshakable leadership. We both can't go around pounding our chests and acting like each one of us, in our own right, is in charge. We do that and we'll rip this company apart from the inside out, June."

"You know that's not what I'm trying to do," she said defensively, folding her arms across her chest. "But I'm also not trying to let the opportunity to grow GII into one of the largest and most profitable oil companies in the world pa.s.s us by, either." She paused. "You've been preoccupied, Jordan. I can see it. We all can. I don't know what's going on with you, but something is, and I'm just worried that you might not be your usual, clear-thinking self. That's all."

Now, she'd offended him. "There's nothing going on with me that I would ever allow to get in the way of me running this company."

"Are you and Claire alright?" she asked, concerned. "I've spoken to her a few times, even tried to get her to go out for a drink or lunch. Seems she's good at avoiding people."

"Claire's fine," he said dismissively.

"Are you fine, big brother?" She was pushing, and he didn't appreciate it. "I know you, Jordan. I've studied you my whole life." June smiled. "I know when something's bothering you, and something is."

June thought she knew him. She knew an idea that was Jordan. He was her big brother, the one who looked out for her, took care of her, and threatened to beat up any boy that she brought home because she believed she was in love. But she didn't know that Jordan was only her half brother. That her father was the namesake for this company, and his was a broken-down old man living in some no-name town who had handed over Jordan and his mother to another man out of shame and guilt. June had no idea that Julian never gave a s.h.i.t about him. That Jordan was the part of the package he had no choice but to take when he made up his mind that he wanted Olivia Tunson. No. June didn't know any of these things. And she didn't need to know them.

She didn't have any idea that he'd nearly killed a woman with his own hands and that that woman was out for revenge now, or that death and killing were nothing new to him. She didn't know that he had brothers, and probably cousins and nieces and nephews, completely unrelated to her. June had no idea what kind of man Jordan really was. If she did, she'd have skipped her happy a.s.s out of his office and staked a claim to her father's corporation.

"Claire and I are trying to have a baby," he said, thinking that the word baby to a woman would be like kryptonite to Superman, and that it would get her off of him.

June's expression softened and a slow smile creased her cheeks. "A baby? You want a baby? I thought you hated kids, or is it just mine you hate?"

"I don't hate your kids, June. They just need a.s.s whoopings. That's all." He was teasing, but not really.

"I told you, I don't believe in spankings."

"You told me that."

"So, what brought this on?" she asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"A man can't want to have a kid with his wife?"

"Sure, but you were always quick to bring up the fact that you had one, even though she's grown now and barely knows you, and that you weren't interested in having any more."

June had a gift for doling out digs. Jordan had a daughter living in California with her mother. He sent money, and sometimes gifts. Every once in a while, she called him, or he called her. That was the extent and the nature of their relationship.

"Well, I want one now," he said.

June nodded introspectively. "Good. You need one."

He frowned. "What the h.e.l.l is that supposed to mean?"

"Kids help to keep it real, Jordan," she explained. "They put things in perspective and keep it there, especially when we get too full of ourselves and forget what's really important."

Again, he was offended. "You need to be careful," he warned.

She laughed. "Or what? I'm not twelve anymore, Jordan. All I'm saying is that I think you'd be a great father. Probably even better than you know."

June turned and started to leave.

"Don't forget to reschedule that meeting," he reminded her, relieved that this whole scene was over. But he still didn't trust June as far as he could throw her.

"Consider it canceled," she said over her shoulder, as she disappeared into the hallway.

Jordan left soon after she did, stopping at his a.s.sistant's desk. "Please follow up and make sure that each member of the board knows that the ten o'clock tomorrow morning is canceled."

"Yes, sir."

Please Fill My Gla.s.s Deep for Me As composed and polished as Jordan appeared to be, Edgar knew that this boy was a sloppy mess, a direct result of the sloppy mess that Julian had been. Both men were suckers when it came to women, and both men left behind debris dirty enough to ruin them.

"You look miserable," Jordan said, sitting down at the table across from Edgar.

The lovely brunette who had brought Edgar his drink before Jordan arrived appeared like magic at the table again. "May I get you something to drink, Mr. Gatewood?"

"It's a little early for me, Marci. I'll just have an iced tea."

Edgar's head spun around like it was on a swivel as he watched her walk away. His usually lifeless c.o.c.k pinched against his zipper.

"She's even younger than Bridgette, Edgar," Jordan reminded him.

Edgar smiled. "Is she?"

He'd been a dirty old man too long to change now.

"How's Bridgette?" Jordan asked.

"Worn out," Edgar answered roughly.

The best Jordan could do with that answer was to raise a curious brow, but it was the truth. Edgar had learned not to fall in love with a woman. He'd taught himself that after Dominga. Women were like new cars to him now, or a new pair of shoes. In the beginning, they were beautiful, but after a while, they lost their l.u.s.ter.

"How's your woman problem going?" Edgar casually asked, referring to Lonnie.

Jordan expressed a smug a.s.suredness as he thought before answering. "Not as much of a problem as I thought it'd be."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Lonnie came back here with more bark than bite. The s.h.i.t she was planning had no teeth, Edgar. Her intention was to sic Frank Ross on me in the hopes of making me sweat, but his a.s.s is useless and she is not the woman I thought she was."

Jordan sounded and looked almost sorrowful.

"I expected more," he muttered.

"You sound disappointed."

"No, I'm relieved. The last thing I need right now is drama, pending the buyout of Anton. I've got enough to worry about with that, and the fact that Claire and I have decided to have a child, finally," he admitted sheepishly.

"Claire's wanted children since the two of you were married." Edgar smiled. "You on the other hand did not."

Jordan was thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not close to my daughter. The older I get, the more I regret that. And I need an heir. I need a legacy that goes beyond just me."