think we're that stupid do you?"
I sighed. "No, you're right. She's a lot more than an intern, but I'd appreciate it if you cut me a little slack with her. With everything that's happened I need her right now."
She stiffened with anger. "Stan, you know I'm here for you. I've always been here. I'd do anything."
I nodded. "I know that, but it's complicated and I can't put you in danger. You'll have to trust me and, whatever you do, don't stir things up with Rebekah. You have no idea what's going on, so tread lightly, please."
Her eyes narrowed then she shook her head. "There was a time that we could talk about anything, a time when you trusted me—"
I took her hand and looked her in the eyes. "I do trust you, Paula, but this isn't about trust. It's about survival."
She frowned, pulled her hand away, and stood up. "Okay. Whatever is going on, I guess you'll fill me in when the time is right," she said sarcastically.
I nodded and she left. I hated not being able to confide in Paula. She was right. In the past we'd always told each other everything. I wondered if she had any clue what was going on. I suspected she did, but hoped she wouldn't undertake any investigation on her own. If she did, there would be no way I could protect her.
20
A Missing Steak
Paula Waters
When Jodie told me she caught Tehra giving Stan a back rub, I was concerned. I felt my worst suspicions had been confirmed. Tehra had sunk her claws into Stan and in his delicate state he was too weak to resist her. What had happened to the incorruptible man I'd fallen in love with? He was a different man since Peter had died and Rebekah had turned away from him. He'd lost his zest for life and no longer seemed to care about his integrity and honor.
As I thought back over the years, I blamed some of what had happened to Stan on myself. He never cared about money until I came along and convinced him the practice of law was a business. I'd been wrong, I knew that now, but it was too late. Stan had changed. He was no longer the independent soul I'd grown to love and cherish. Someone had gotten to him and was jerking him around like a puppet on a string. I could see it, although whoever it was kept cleverly in the background. But who could be doing this to him? Who was so rich and powerful that they could corrupt Stan Turner and turn him into a docile pawn that’d be happy with a pocket full of money and a willing wench at his beck and call?
After I'd learned my suspicions were correct, I confronted Stan and he denied nothing. He told me the situation was complicated and dangerous. He asked me to stay out of his way and warned me that there would be dire consequences if I told Rebekah what I'd learned. He asked me to trust him.
Trust him? How could he expect me to trust him, when he didn't have enough trust in me to tell me what was going on. Why was he working for a man who was afraid to step out and let the world see him? It made no sense, unless the man was Mo. Was Stan working on some secret CIA project? That had to be it. That would explain a lot, but it wouldn't explain Tehra. Who the hell was she and why was she shadowing Stan so closely? Could she be watching him to make sure he did the CIA's bidding? But if they didn't trust Stan to do the job, why would they have assigned it to him? Nothing made sense.
Stan warned me not to look too closely into what he was doing. He said it would be dangerous for him and for me. I had no reason to believe he was lying on that point, so I decided to turn my head and look the other way, for now anyway. But I wasn't sure how long I could stomach that course of action. I cared too much for Stan and feared he might not be able to extricate himself from whatever nasty business he'd gotten himself into.
After a while I turned my thoughts to the day's tasks. I looked on my calendar and saw that Bart and I had an appointment with Detective Riley Rhodes and Assistant District Attorney Richard Francis. We were told to meet them in the 299th District Court's jury room on the fourth floor of the Collin County Courthouse. Apparently they were in trial and the jury was taking a late lunch. We shook hands and then sat across from each other at a long conference table.
"So, to what do we owe this pleasure?" Francis asked
I smiled politely and then told them about our investigation into Chester Brown and the CEO of Almatech, T. Robert Stout. They listened attentively, breaking in occasionally for a clarification, until I was finished. When I was done they shook their heads. Rhodes spoke first.
"That's all very imaginative," he said, "but according to your theory not only is Mr. Stout a suspect but so is every one of TI's competitors, not to mention a dozen national governments around the world."
"Yes, a very ingenious way to create reasonable doubt," Francis chimed in. I've got to hand it to you Paula, that's one hell of a strategy."
"It's not a strategy," I argued. "It's the truth. Don't you see it. Stout wanted that contract and now with Chester Brown out of the way, he's going to get it."
"Well, we've looked at Mr. Stout and some of TI's other competitors, but we're having trouble getting over one thing."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Remember the dog . . . the German Shepard . . . what's his name?" Rhodes asked.
"Pretty Boy," Francis replied.
"Oh, right. Pretty Boy. Well, the thing is, Pretty Boy's been missing since the fire. Of course, you know about the feud that was going on over Pretty Boy."
I nodded. This wasn't sounding good. What did Pretty Boy have to do with anything? I braced myself for the worst. "Yes, our client told us about Pretty Boy."
"Well, Pretty Boy finally showed up," Rhodes continued. "It seems the arsonist lured him out the back gate with a big juicy steak. There was blood found on the stones in front of the gate. It's been analyzed and it is definitely blood from raw beef. It seems the killer didn't want Pretty Boy around to get in the way when he was wiring the place to go up in flames."
"So, that doesn't prove Stanley did it. Anyone could have bought a steak and lured the dog away with it," Bart argued.
"True enough, except as you will remember Stanley told us he ate alone the night of the fire. So we did some checking over at the Tom Thumb where he shops. The butcher remembers him coming in and buying two big 12 ounce steaks. There's even a record of it. So, the question is, who ate the second steak?"
"Maybe he froze it," I suggested.
"Yeah, well we thought of that so we checked his freezer."
"You've searched his house?"
"Yes, a few hours ago. But don't worry. We got a warrant."
"So, let me guess. No steak in the freezer."
"That's right," Rhodes said gleefully.
I shook my head in disgust. We'd walked right into an ambush. They sat there grinning at us like we were a couple of idiots. I stood up. "Well, it all sounds pretty lame to me," I said. "If you're so sure Walter Stanley is the perp, why haven't you arrested him?"
Rhodes smiled. "Well, it's funny you ask, because there's a squad car on the way to his townhouse right now."
Bart stood up and took my hand, "Come on, Paula. Let's go find Roger. We're going to need to arrange bond."
We left quickly without looking back. I had never been so humiliated in my life. I vowed right then to prove Rhodes wrong. I knew Stanley couldn't have killed Chester Brown and his family over a fence or a barking dog. Whoever was responsible for all those deaths had no conscience and I knew Walter Stanley had one—a very strong one. I saw it in his eyes and the way he talked. He was no killer. Unfortunately my gut feeling didn't mean anything in court.
As a precaution we had previously arranged for Stanley to meet with Roger Rand just in case a bond became necessary. Unfortunately, Stanley had limited assets and if his bond were set over a quarter million dollars, he wouldn't be able to meet it. That would mean he'd have to sit in the county jail until his case came to trial. The county jail was better than Huntsville or one of the other state prisons, but it was no piece of cake either. The jail was old and dirty and the inmates were often hostile, especially to the white colla
r inmates being held there. It would be a dangerous place for Walter Stanley, particularly since he was accused of killing three innocent children.
Unfortunately, it was nearly six-thirty before they got Stanley to the county jail. The delay was no doubt intentional to make it harder for us to get him out on bail that evening. There weren't usually any judges on duty after five and unless you wanted to disturb one of them at home, your client would have to stay in jail until morning. Normally it was possible to run a writ at night and get a client out, but not when the charge was capital murder. It seemed Walter Stanley would be forced to spend the night in jail until there could be a bail hearing.
After we met with Rand, we headed for the county courthouse. Even if we couldn't get him out, we had a right to visit him. I was anxious to find out what he had to say about the two steaks he bought at Tom Thumb on the day of the murder. How could anyone be so stupid as to buy something like that where people knew him? It almost made me think it was a coincidence. While I waited to talk to Stanley, Bart got on the telephone to call a couple of judges he knew. If he could get in touch with one of them, they might agree to set a temporary bond.
About twenty minutes later the desk sergeant told me they were bringing Stanley into the interview booth and that I should go to room three. I rushed over to it, opened the door, and took a seat. It was a small room about the size of two telephone booths. I would be separated from