Broken Promises (14 page)

“Why not?” Stanley asked.

“Because I entered his house without a warrant,” Bradley explained, gathering Mary in his arms. “Not that I would have done anything differently.”

She laid her head on his chest. “Yes, I’m not sure if I would still be here if you waited around for a warrant.”

“But, you were able to mention them?” Rosie asked, pulling a stack of plates from Mary’s cabinet.

Mary slipped out of Bradley’s arms and took the plates from Rosie, walking over to the table and setting it.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ian said, walking over to the silverware drawer and pulling out forks and knives. “The jury’s made up of humans. They can’t erase information like that, as much as the judge would like them to. They might disregard the testimony, but that bit of information is going to color the way they look at Copper.”

“Why the hell don’t Mary just get up there and tell it like it is?” Stanley asked, strolling to the table and sitting down. “Surely in this day and age people understand we have more than our five senses to work with. Don’t the government use psychics as spies?”

Ian leaned back against the counter and pulled out another slice of bread. “Well, it’s said they used to use them during the Cold War,” Ian said. “But the government has never confirmed that information. And, unfortunately, because there are so many charlatans out there who claim they have psychic ability, the entire group has been labeled as frauds.”

“But you and Mary are the real thing,” Rosie insisted, “can’t you demonstrate your skills in the courtroom?”

He took another bite of the bread. “Aye, we could have Jeannine testify in court through Mary and state something only she would know,” he said. “But the problem with that is only Jeannine, and perhaps Gary, know it to be true. There’s no way to prove what we’re saying.”

Bradley reached past Ian and took a piece of bread for himself. Biting it, he smiled at Rosie. “Thank you,” he said. “I needed this. And to echo Ian’s point, psychic testimony is inadmissible in court. So, even if Mary convinced the judge and jury, and I have no doubt she could do it, the law would not allow it and Gary could get a mistrial.”

“Well, I guess my moment of truth comes tomorrow,” Mary said, placing water cups next to the plates. “And after watching what happened today on the stand, I can tell you I’m not looking forward to it.”

“But they know you were kidnapped by him, right?” Rosie asked.

“They know Bradley and Sean found me at his office,” she said. “They know that I’d been fighting with him and that I showed trace elements of drugs in my system when they tested my blood.”

“Well that should be enough,” Stanley said. “That should get him locked up nice and tight for a while.”

“I certainly hope so,” Bradley said. “But whatever happens, I know that Mary will do her best on the stand.”

Mary felt her stomach tighten. She just prayed her best would be good enough.

The oven timer went off. Rosie picked up some oven mitts, walked across the kitchen and pulled a steaming casserole dish of lasagna out of the oven. She placed it on a waiting trivet, slipped the mitts off and looked up at the group of adults staring ravenously at the dish. Laughing, she picked up the salad bowl and brought it to the table. “We have to let it sit for at least ten minutes,” she said. “Or when it’s cut it will be runny.”

“I don’t mind runny,” Ian said, following her to the table, but looking longingly over his shoulder. “Runny is fine.”

Stanley adjusted the waistband on his pants and nodded. “Can’t say I argue with Ian,” he said. “Ten minutes seems like an awful long time to wait.”

Shaking her finger at them, she walked back and entered ten minutes into the oven timer. “You will both wait for ten minutes,” she said. “And no one will starve in the meantime because we can eat the salad and garlic bread.”

Bradley reached over and picked up the bowl of bread. “Where would you like me to put this, Rosie?” he asked.

Smiling at him, she nodded happily. “See, that’s how it should be,” she said. “Over there, next to the salad, Bradley.”

He put the bowl down and sat in a chair next to Ian.

“Kiss up,” Ian whispered.

Bradley grinned at him. “Just wait and see who gets the first serving of lasagna,” he whispered back.

A few hours later, Bradley and Mary stood on her back porch looking up at the hundreds of stars in the night sky. With his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her closer and gently kissed the top of her head. “You were amazing today in court,” he said. “I meant to mention that to you earlier, but with the testimony and everything, it slipped my mind.”

She looked up at him, confused. “I was great?” she asked. “But I didn’t do anything.”

“You stood up to your fears, you faced down Gary Copper and you let him know he couldn’t intimidate you anymore,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “You were amazing.”

She smiled and shrugged. “Well, with all the support I had from you, Sean and Ian,” she said, “I realized Gary really couldn’t do anything to hurt me and we were finally going to have our day in court and take him down.”

The smile on Bradley’s face dropped. “If we can take him down,” he finally said.

“You don’t think there’s enough evidence to lock him away?” she asked. “Even if the prosecution can’t use the frozen bodies, she can certainly use the fact that he lied about Jeannine and buried him under his wife’s name. And he falsely signed a death certificate. There has to be something there.”

He nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “But I’d like to be able to put him away for more than forgery.”

“I agree,” she said. “I’d like to see him locked up in a dark place for a long, long time.”

He slipped his hand to her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Here I am, standing with the most beautiful woman in the world in a dark private place with stars glistening overhead and I’m not kissing her senseless,” he said, his voice low and his eyes searching her face. “What would Stanley say?”

Giggling, she reached down and pretended to adjust the waistband of her slacks. “Well, I ain’t saying I know what he’d say, and I ain’t saying I don’t know what he’d say,” she said, trying to mimic Stanley’s voice. “But I can tell you fer sure…”

She paused and the grin left her face as she met his eyes. “I can tell you,” she repeated in her own voice. “That being kissed senseless is something that she would enjoy very much.”

He pulled her to him and lowered his head slowly. “Did I mention how much I love you?” he asked, his voice husky.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Show me.”

He crushed his lips against her and tightened his embrace, molding her body against his. He wanted to show her, needed to show her, how much he loved her and how essential she was to his life.

She sighed with pleasure as he deepened their kiss and buried her hands in his hair, to pull him even closer. This was where she belonged, in his arms, in his embrace and she never wanted to leave.

He slid one hand up her shoulder, along her neck and finally cradled her face in his palm. Barely lifting his head from her lips, he looked down on the face he’d come to love more than life itself. Her eyes shining with her love for him. Her lips swollen from their kisses. And her smile, tender, sexy and uniquely Mary. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he asked softly.

Her smile widened. “Obviously you’ve led an exceptional life,” she purred, and then pulled his head down to indulge in another heart-pounding series of kisses.

A few minutes later, Mary laid her head on his chest, her breath coming out in puffs of steam in the below freezing temperatures. “Wow,” she whispered. “Just wow.”

He laid his cheek on her head and just held her in his arms. “You pack quite a punch, Mary O’Reilly,” he murmured.

She nuzzled closer. “I do?” she asked, pleased with herself.

She could feel him nod. “Oh, yes, you certainly do,” he replied. “Are you sure we have to wait until June?”

She laughed softly and punched him gently in his side. “Yes, and stop tempting me,” she said, leaning back to meet his eyes. “Besides, I want Clarissa as my flower girl.”

He inhaled sharply, nodded and waited a moment before he answered. “That would be…,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “That would be perfect.”

“But Stanley, I was sure you said it was Ian who was snoring,” Rosie was saying as Mary and Bradley came back inside the house.

“Well, I didn’t say he did and I didn’t say he didn’t,” they both heard Stanley respond.

Mary turned and muffled her laughter against Bradley’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her and looked down at her, smiling at the same joke. “If nothing else, he’s consistant,” Bradley whispered.

Mary nodded. “Yes, he is.”

Mary stepped back and took Bradley’s hand. “Well, let’s get back into the real world.”

They entered the front room, their hands clasped together. “What’s this I hear about snoring?” Bradley asked.

Stanley growled. “Ain’t nothing,” he grumbled. “A man can’t make a little noise while he sleeps without the whole world making a federal case about it.”

“Oh, it was a federal case,” Ian teased. “Didn’t we tell you Homeland Security stopped by this morning because they thought we were using explosive devices in the house?”

Stanley glared at Ian. “Aye, and once we invited them in and they witnessed your amazing ability, they said they were going to Congress and see if they can get permission to use you as a national weapon,” he continued.

“You ain’t funny,” Stanley said, folding his arms over his chest. “You ain’t funny t’all.”

Ian chuckled. “Rosie, you wouldn’t mind honeymooning in Washington, D.C., would you?”

Rosie laughed. “Well, I’d be married to a national hero,” she said. “That would be exciting.”

Mary and Bradley sat down on the couch. “More than a national hero,” Mary added. “A superhero with amazing powers.”

“Ah, you have it right there, Mary,” Ian said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “During the day he’s mild-mannered Stanley Wagner, salesman of pens and paperclips. But once darkness falls and the people of Freeport take to their beds, he turns into Snoreman.”

Stanley bit back a smile. “T’ain’t funny, at all.”

“Does he have a costume?” Bradley asked.

Ian nodded. “Aye, a nightshirt and cap,” he said. “Like Wee Willy Winkie.”

“Who?” Mary asked.

Turning to her, shock evident on his face, he shook his head. “No, you can’t be telling me you’ve never heard of Wee Willy Winkie?” he asked. “And what did your mother read to you at bedtime?”

She shrugged. “
One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish?”

“Ah, you’ve missed a bit of great literature,” he said. “Now, let me see if I can remember it. Wee Willie Winkie rins through the toon, Up stairs an' doon stairs in his nicht-gown, Tirlin' at the window, crying at the lock, Are the weans in their bed, for it's now ten o'clock?”

“Why don’t you repeat it so we can understand it?” Stanley grumbled. “You’re in America now, we speak American.”

“Stanley, we don’t speak American,” Rosie corrected him gently. “We speak English.”

“Whatever,” Stanley grumbled. “It ain’t what he just said.”

Bradley chuckled. “Well, it just so happens that I have an extra guest room at my house,” he said. “And I’d be happy to have Stanley stay with me tonight. If that’s alright with all of you.”

“Aye, it’s fine with me,” Ian said. “And, if you don’t mind, I’ll come along and take your couch. I’d like to do a quick visit to Stanley’s house tonight and see if we can’t meet his charming first wife.”

He turned to Mary. “You don’t mind if all of the menfolk desert you, do you?”

“No, I think Rosie and I would like some girl-time anyway,” she said. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

In a few minutes, they had all said their good-byes and the men were pulling their cars away from the curb.

“Mary,” Rosie said tentatively. “I was wondering if we could take a little drive tonight too?”

Mary nodded. “Rosie, I was hoping you’d say that.”

Stanley unlocked his front door and the three men entered together. Stanley walked in first, followed by Ian and finally Bradley.

“So, where did you see her?” Ian asked, his voice low.

Stanley motioned with his head. “Over here,” he said and they followed him through the living room and into the kitchen. “I was heating up some milk to have with some of Rosie’s strawberry rhubarb pie...”

“Strawberry rhubarb pie,” Ian interrupted, turning towards the refrigerator. “Do you have any left?”

“I don’t know,” Stanley grumbled. “Can you just concentrate on what we’re trying to do here?”

Nodding, Ian turned back towards Stanley. “Sorry, you were saying...”

“So, I cut myself a piece of pie and out of the corner of my eye I see something,” he said. “Something glowing, walking from my office to my bedroom.”

Bradley walked to the hall and peered down it both ways. “Well, there isn’t a window nearby that would be able to cast a reflection from a passing car. So, that can be ruled out.”

“Yeah, I was looking for that on the second night,” he said, “looking for a reasonable explanation. But when I saw her again, I knew there tweren’t no explanation, there was just a ghost.”

Walking into his office, they could see the oversized black trash bag in the middle of the room. “Rosie’s making me clean it out,” he explained. “I have to throw most of my stuff away.”

“Now, that’s scary,” Ian said. “Why is she making you do it?”

Leaning against the doorjamb, Stanley sighed. “After tossing my stuff out of my bedroom drawer, Verda turned to me and said, ‘Don’t forget.’ Rosie figures she was looking for something I couldn’t remember and Verda couldn’t find because of the mess. She figured if I cleaned things up, it would help me remember.”

Bradley stepped inside the room and looked at all of the piles. He picked up a newspaper dated November 1999 and nodded. “When did Verda die?” he asked.

“About fifteen years ago,” Stanley replied.

He picked up the next paper in the pile, dated December 1999. “And when was the last time you cleaned this room out?” he continued.