The Shadows Fall: Chapter 38

McBain sauntered up to the door of Mayor Finn's office.  It had taken him a good twenty minutes to get past her secretary, but he assured her that it was a matter that she'd be very interested in.  When The Break Bar was mentioned the mayor had agreed.  Pursing his lips, he knocked.

"Police."

The door opened.  There was a dark and very tall man in a suit.  "Come in, Lieutenant.  Mayor Finn will see you momentarily."

John sat on the large leather couch, and spied the rich decor.  The office clearly was decorated in a way that did not spare expense.  She walked in from an adjoining sitting area.  "John McBain," she put her hand out.

He took it, standing. "Mayor."

"What can I do for you?  Mac, get the Lieutenant a drink."

"I'll pass.  I'm here about your establishment."

"My establishment?  Whatever do you mean?"  She went behind her desk and sat in the tall, reddish leather chair.

"Can we dispense with the pretenses?  Your establishment, Mayor Finn."  She remained silent, stolid.  He continued, "There was a murder at The Break Bar, which you are at least 20% in ownership of."

"Hmm.  Indiscriminate holdings.  Not something I'm really in tune with.  Old dealings, and such."

"Old dealings.  Well, wanted you to know that there's been a death there.  A murder, to be exact."

"I saw the news broadcast.  Terrible.  Such a pity what these drug infected people will do today."

He ignored her deflection.  "We have reason to think that someone, possibly a silent partner, is responsible or at least aware of the reasons behind it."

She did not respond to that.  Instead, she folded her hands in her lap and sat back.  "That's an odd assumption to make.  Any reason in particular why you would assume that?  It's not the best area, Lieutenant."

"Oh just a hunch, I guess,"  he fingered a silver letter opener on her desk.  Then he continued, "just a feeling I've got."  

He looked directly into her eyes with his piercing blue ones and did not flinch.  They were the color of cornflowers, she noted.  "Well, he was outside when found, wasn't he?"  John paused.  He just continued to look at her, and she added, "And I understand it was a robbery."

"A robbery.  Well, I thought in coming here you might provide us with the names of the two silent partners?  I mean, you are in the middle of a campaign, and would want to avoid any bad press.  For example, if you had to be brought in to the station for questioning.  That kind of thing.  It would go a lot easier on everyone if you cooperated by giving me those names.  Think of all the tax payer's dollars it would save if I did not have to investigate this and you simply cooperated."

"I don't have anything to say about that.  I'm not the only owner, and I don't have that information."

"Thank you for your time."  He made his way to the door.  "I'm sure we'll be speaking again.  Soon."  He was gone.  Mac closed the door after him.  

Finn grabbed a crystal paper weight and threw it against the stone work on one side of the door.  "Damn him!" she screamed.  "Damn him, and that little runt Rudy.  If I find out that little worm talked, he won't be talking any longer."

"Calm yourself, Kath, it's not worth all this,"  Mac said, holding her by the shoulders.

"Let go of me!"  she shouted, looking for something else to smash.  He kept his grip on her.

In her anger, she began to thrash herself loose from his hands, and not finding the ability to do so, she began to pound on his chest, at one moment accidentally scratching his face in her attempt to get loose.  Then, he shook her, heavily, until she froze, looking at him with a wild fire burning in her eyes.  Staring at him in disbelief at first, she found herself next throwing herself onto him, and assaulting his mouth with kisses.  He lifted her, both her legs wrapped around his waist, and after locking the door behind him, carried her to the desk.

Later, as they lay, spent, on the couch with nothing but a chemise throw beneath them, his scratches had bled lightly, leaving dark red marks on his cheek.  By the time they'd collapsed onto the sofa, he had them on his shoulders as well.

She lifted her head off his muscular chest.  "You're a good body guard and a sufficient assistant, but you're an outstanding lover."

"I have my moments."

"You're not just pissed off.  You're afraid."

She sat halfway up.  "Afraid?  You misjudge me."

"No, I don't.  I know exactly what you're thinking."

"Because you can predict what will make me howl in bed, does not mean you know me all that well, Mr. Jameson."

He looked at her, staring into her with his almost black eyes.  "You know I'm right, Ms. Finn.  You're afraid.  Of him."  She put her head back on his chest, not admitting, and shuddered slightly, causing him to pull her closer.  He said softly, in his rich, bass voice, "It's all right.  Tell me what exactly what you're afraid of, then."

"He's a killer.  A maniac."

"Clearly.  And you're working with him."

"No, I work for him.  I work under him.  I don't do this by choice.  This you know."

"If you give up this dream of being the governor, you won't have to ever deal with him again."

"He'll ruin me.  He has secrets.  He knows things."

"He may.  You can still live with secrets out."

"Not the way I've clawed and scratched my way to the top to.  I won't give it up.  It's taken me years to get where I am.  I made a promise to myself, years back."

"What does he know about you that is so terrible?  That you can't recover from?"

She sighed against him.  "Too many things.  More than I realized, at first."

"Those things don't matter to me."

She lifted her head and looked at him again.  Almost twenty years her junior, she was starting to believe he might actually care about her.  In the early days, she knew he was just pleasing her; their physical relationship had started long before there was any intimacy.  But now...

"They may not matter to you, but they would when I lost everything," she said.

"Try me," he said, getting very quiet.  He waited, not speaking, just holding her and his hand was in her hair now, petting her with encouragement.

"Must you make me feel like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like a....like a girl."

He smiled.  "You are a girl."

"No," she corrected, "I'm a woman. Feeling like a girl is what has done me in my whole life.  Feeling like I could be taken care of, or protected.  The biggest mistakes I've made."

"Mistakes are paths to corrections."

"Maybe.  These are large ones."

"I won't change my mind about you.  I won't desert you."

She wondered if it were true.  Why hope for this?

"I can't."

He wrapped his arms tighter around her and kissed the top of her head.  "All right.  Maybe someday you will trust me enough."

"Is that what you think?  That I don't trust you?  I can't think of anyone else I'd trust more, to tell the truth."

He whispered, "Then, share it with me.  Maybe I can help assure you that everything will be all right, or that you're not such a terrible person."

She just stayed, head on his heart, and closed her eyes, listening.  After a few minutes, she mustered up her spirit.  "I don't care if I am a terrible person.  Being a nice one never gets anyone anywhere.  You have to live cutthroat to get ahead."

He didn't answer or move.  He just held her.

She continued, "Do you know how I got where I am today?"

"A lot of hard study, hard times and hard choices.  Your words."

"How did I pay for all that hard study?"

"What does it matter?"

"Oh it matters, believe me, it does.  I've paid monetarily and emotionally.  I've paid dear."  There was a tiny crack in her voice that she patched immediately.  "I had to do something to earn the money for my education.  Otherwise, I'd never reach my goals.  So I sold the only thing I had."

"Yourself,"  he surprised her.

She looked at him, partially in amazement as his knowledge and partially in hopes he was not disgusted with her.  But then, how could he be?  That was how they started...

"Yes, myself," she admitted.

He tapped her chin with his thumb.  "Go on.  I'm listening.  I'm right here."

She continued to relay the times of the past.  She had been a young college girl without money for tuition.  Her only recourse, in her mind, was to become an escort for older, rich men, and make the money the only way she knew how.  In doing this, she had met and serviced none other than Carlo Hesser.

"So that's how you met him?"

"That's how I met him."  She got very quiet.  "There's more."

"I'm sure there is.  I've got plenty of time."

"I can't."  She sat up.  "I've said enough already.  He knows what I was.  He can ruin me.  This is why I do what I do.  At this point, there's no going back for me."

He thought for a moment.  "Then don't."

She was impressed by his coolness and assurance.  He was right.  It didn't matter to him, at all.  "I'm not.  I don't plan to falter until this whole thing is behind me."

"Then move forward,  what's next?"

"I suppose I stop dwelling on McBain and get to the more important things."

"Jessica Buchanan?"

"Exactly.  She's got to be out of the way, today.  If she talks, all that blackmail will be traced back to me, and the money I've used for the campaign."

"Then what's the plan?"

"If Devon has not gotten her to talk to him or share what she does and does not know, we're just going to have send someone to pay a little visit to her.  She has to be eliminated.  She's in the way, and I'm too close now."

"I'll do whatever you ask,"  he said, kissing her.  His soft, strong lips surrounded her whole mouth, and moved to her neck.

"Wait, I have to call him.  This can't go on longer than today."  He watched as she dialed.

Devon picked up the phone.  "Hello."

"Have you found out what she knows?"

He stopped, thinking.  He said aloud, "Oh, hey, how are you?" To someone else, "Excuse me a moment."  He feigned walking away from someone and then said, "I'm just about there, but I'm actually involved in talking with her right now."

"Has she reverted to Tess?"

"Not yet.  But I can tell it's coming.  Let's say I've appealed to her inner extrovert."

Finn was proud of herself.  She had chosen him well.  Physically stunning, this young actor was just the perfect choice.  Perfect.  "I expect a full report soon."

"Give me...I don't know, a week?  I should be able to, let's say, get her deeply into this, by then."

"A few more days is too long.  I'll give you 48 hours."  She hung up.

Devon sighed.  Alone in his room, he paced, wildly, thinking, "How did I get myself into this?"  He went over his options.  He could tell Jessica the truth about what was happening.  But if he did that, she would still be in danger, and she would know he was sent there to manipulate her.  She'd be angry; she'd turn on him.  He'd lose her.  He also could call the police and tell all, and again, it required Jessica knowing and included the same dangers.  He thought back to his original deal with The Mayor.  She had once, in passing, threatened his life if he ever talked to the law.  If he did, and he was killed, Jessica would be next.  Then he thought of it; he could run.

If he ran, he could vanish, make himself disappear.  No one, including Jessica would ever know where he was.  He would head out West, Arizona or Colorado, and hide himself away, somewhere where no one could find him.  But Jessica...

Still lost in thought, he grabbed his book and went outside to think.

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