Redress of Grievances (19 page)

"Unless
you can find a peeping Tom who might have seen what happened."

"You
think your client's crazy?" Nick asked.

"I
don't know if she's crazy, but I know she's guilty. The only chance she'll have
is an insanity plea and a change of venue. Either way, we need the change of
venue. How much press is the case getting in Dallas?"

"Not
too bad."

"I
need for it to pick up before I make my motion, Wayne."

"Okay.
Give me a call at the Hyatt tomorrow about what you're planning on doing about
the change of plea," Wayne said as he sat up and rubbed his face.

"And
keep an eye on Riley and what he's doing. I don't want anymore of that 'it's
just come to our attention' crap. If Lassiter and Riley are holding out on us,
I want to know about it."

"When
are you going to be back in Dallas?"

"Book
me a room at the Hyatt for Wednesday through Friday, will you?"

Harriett
was in the kitchen opening a Diet Coke when Nick joined her. She smiled when
she saw him. Despite Nick's professorial look, she liked having him around. He
always had a clear head about the law and was absolutely incorruptible.

"How's
your case load, Nick?" she asked.

"I
can see the light at the end of the tunnel, thank God," he said as he
retrieved a soft drink from the refrigerator.

"I
might need your help. I'm requesting a change of venue for the Taggart
case."

"To
Travis County?"

"Uh-huh."

"Publicity
problems, I suppose."

"If
Wayne does his job right, there will be soon."

"Want
to put something together this evening?"

"If
you don't have other plans."

"Well,
I was planning to water my plants tonight, but I guess they can survive one
more day," Nick smiled. "Listen, have you thought any more about
speaking to my class at the law school?"

"I'm
not that good a lecturer, Nick."

"You're
the best criminal attorney I know. With your experience you have a lot of
valuable things to tell them. They all think they're Matlock."

"If
we get a change of venue, I guess I'll owe you."

"I'll
see how that comes out before I set a date for you. Let's get busy. When do you
want to file the motion?"

"In
a few days. Probably Thursday. I'm going back to Dallas Wednesday afternoon."

"Tell
you what. I'm winding up my last pending case tomorrow. Maybe I'll go with you.
Haven't ever been to Big D."

"I'll
have Wayne book you a room."

Chapter
Eighteen

"I
DON'T KNOW why I let you talk me into this, Helen," Harriett said.

"Because
you need to get out and socialize at least once a year," Helen said with a
smile.

"I'm
not sure cruising the club scene qualifies as socializing," Harriett
responded. "I'm leaving town tomorrow, and I haven't even packed
yet."

"What
the hell, Harriett," Helen shrugged. "We won't be out that late.
Besides, I'm your shrink, and I'm telling you that you need to relax a little
before you get any deeper into this new case you've taken on."

"I
can't stay out too late, or I'll be a menace on the highway tomorrow."
Harriett knew that Helen enjoyed going out to the clubs while Erik was
perfectly content sitting at home with a good book. She hated that she might
have to cut the evening short.

"This
is the best gay country-western club in the city," Helen said as they
approached The Corral on Austin's famous, or infamous, Sixth Street. "And
I know how much you love to dance."

"Not
that I get many chances to do that any more," Harriett replied. Her single
status had never worried Harriett as much as it had Helen. She had chosen to
let her life revolve around raising Lacey and establishing her legal practice
to the virtual exclusion of her own personal life.

"Didn't
get to dance with Alex while you were in Dallas, I'd guess," Helen said
knowingly.

"Alex
is the past," Harriett said quietly.

"Yeah,
right," Helen said as she pulled open the front door to The Corral.

The
loud beats of a song by Brooks and Dunn crashed into the two women as they
stood for a moment to let their eyes adjust to the dim lighting inside the
club.

"IDs,
ladies," a cowboy with a large dark bushy moustache said loudly.

Both
women pulled driver's licenses from the pockets of their jeans and held them
out for the man to examine.

"Good
to see you again, Dr. Mortensen," he smiled, with amazingly white teeth
showing beneath his moustache.

"Looks
like a pretty good crowd for a Tuesday night, Tommy," Helen smiled back.

"Not
bad, but give it an hour, and all the dykes comin' from the ladies basketball
game will show up. Then things will really be jumpin'. Enjoy yourselves
ladies," he said before stopping the next group coming through the doors.

An
hour passed quickly as Harriett and Helen danced two or three dances with each
other as well as other women. Finally, they sat at a table to catch their
breath and enjoy a much needed drink. Harriett wasn't much of a drinker, but
dancing and a cold beer seemed to go together like a good meal and fine wine.

"See
any interesting possibilities?" Helen asked, between sips of her beer.

"Not
likely anyone would find a meaningful relationship in a bar," Harriett
laughed.

Placing
her hand over Harriett's, Helen said, "Sometimes a passing fancy is better
than nothing."

Harriett
frowned at her friend's implication. "Is that what you think I need,
Helen? A quick lay?"

"I
didn't say that. But now that you mention it, it couldn't hurt. "

"Some
psychologist you are," Harriett smiled.

"Sex
relieves tension, and you're wound pretty tight right now. How long has it been
since you were with someone, Harriett?"

"Longer
than I care to think about, but tonight I plan to relieve my tension by
dancing."

She
watched couples moving around the crowded floor and enjoyed watching the women
together. They ran the gamut of proficiency from barely able to move to
exhibitionists. She was amazed at some of the women who were together. As her
eyes scanned the crowd, she noticed one couple in particular. They seemed
comfortable together and moved gracefully around the floor, adeptly avoiding
the other couples who seemed intent on intercepting them. The taller woman was
dressed in well fitting light blue jeans and a loose fitting, long sleeved
white Oxford shirt. She was at least five nine or ten, with broad shoulders and
an athletic build. She was obviously not afraid to stand erect and didn't try
to hide her height. The lights from the spinning light ball overhead caught her
short amber hair and made it sparkle. She wore steel-rimmed glasses and had an
easy smile. The women moved so fluidly together that it seemed to Harriett that
they must have been dancing together for a long time. Her partner, a graceful,
slender blonde with long hair, was four or five inches shorter, but they both
carried themselves with an elegant flair that naturally drew attention to them.

"They're
very good, aren't they?" Helen interjected.

"They're
amazing," Harriett nodded.

"So
which one do you prefer? The femme or the butch?"

Looking
at Helen and smiling slowly, Harriett answered, "You know I have a
weakness for tall, athletic butches."

"That
would have been my guess," Helen laughed.

When
the music ended the two women on the floor hugged briefly and parted company.
Harriett watched as the shorter woman left the floor and walked to a group of
women seated near the back of the room. The taller woman made her way to the bar
and placed an order. Carrying a single bottle of water, she joined another
group at a table, talking and taking large gulps of her water.

"Well,
maybe they aren't a couple after all," Harriett said. "Hard to tell
sometimes."

"Let's
dance," Helen said as a slower song began. "Finally something more my
speed."

HE
WATCHED FROM the shadows at the far end of the front bar, nursing the same
drink he's had since he followed them inside. It was a decent enough bar and a
beer was a beer. No one had approached him and that was fine with him. It
wasn't really his scene, but he wanted a chance to observe Harriett. She had
been attractive eleven years ago, and it pissed him off that she hadn't changed
much over the years. Her life had gone on as if nothing had happened. When his
keepers had begun trusting him a little, he had followed any news he could find
about Harriett Markham. She had managed to keep a pretty low profile but wasn't
invisible. The last article he found about her included a photograph. She had
attended a political fund-raiser accompanied by her niece. In fact, he had
barely noticed Harriett at all. But the niece was definitely someone he would
like to get closer to. Much closer. He could almost feel her long legs wrapped
around him as he pictured the blonde's body moving rhythmically and sensuously
beneath his. He closed his eyes so his mind could process nothing but the
feeling of indescribable pleasure his body was experiencing. Just the thought
of the possibilities made him painfully hard.

HARRIETT
AND HELEN wove through the crowd onto the floor and joined other women who had
obviously waited for slower tunes, so they could dance closer to their chosen
partner. As they made their way easily around in the perpetual circle, Harriett
noticed the tall woman watching the dancers on the floor. For a second or two,
she seemed to be watching them, and their eyes met briefly, a slow smile making
its way across the woman's lips.

When
the music wound down, Harriett and Helen left the floor and headed back to their
table. As soon as they were seated, Harriett took another drink as she waited
for the next song to begin. The music started slowly, but she recognized it.
Shania Twain's "You've Got a Way" had been one of her favorite songs
since it first came out.

"I
love this song," she smiled.

"Then
would you like to dance?" a voice behind her asked.

She
turned and looked up at the woman she had seen dancing earlier. She looked at
Helen, who laughed. "You go, girl!"

The
woman held her hand out to Harriett, and it was warm to the touch when she took
it. Leading Harriett to the dance floor, the woman seemed to be dancing before
they blended with the other couples. As soon as they were on the floor, she
spun Harriett into her arms and moved confidently onto the steps. She was a
skillful lead and, holding Harriett close, guided her wherever she wanted her
to go. Harriett hadn't danced with anyone who could lead so well in many years
and felt comfortable being held closely by the woman, finding the light scent
of her cologne intoxicating. As the final refrain of the song faded away, the
woman smiled and held Harriett's arm up to spin her around one last time before
walking her back to her table.

"Thank
you," Harriett smiled. "I enjoyed that very much."

"My
pleasure," the woman smiled back. Nodding to Helen, the woman moved away.

"Y'all
looked great together out there," Helen beamed.

"She's
a wonderful dancer," Harriett said.

"What's
her name?"

Harriett
looked at her blankly and made a face. "I don't know. We just
danced."

"Boy,
you have been out of circulation too damn long," Helen laughed.

"She
didn't ask my name, either," Harriett shrugged. "Maybe she just likes
to dance."

"So
go ask her to dance again. Won't hurt my feelings one little bit. Unless, of
course, you don't have the guts," Helen dared.

"Maybe
I will," Harriett grinned, accepting the challenge. "Can you request
a song here?"

"If
you tip the DJ about five bucks," Helen said as she picked up her long
neck bottle.

Twenty
minutes later, Harriett approached the tall woman who was leaning against the
edge of the bar. "Excuse me, I've requested a song. Would you care for
another dance?"

The
woman smiled at Harriett and shrugged, "Sure."

"I'm
sorry, but I didn't catch your name," Harriett said.

"Jess.
And yours?"

"Harriett.
Shall we?" Harriett asked extending her hand as "Shut Up and Kiss
Me" began.

"Good
choice," Jess laughed.

Harriett
smiled. "Do you shuffle?"

"I
think I can manage," Jess said.

Harriett
and Jess made the song theirs. As Helen watched them together, she smiled to
herself. Even if Harriett never met the woman again, she was having a temporary
affair right there on the dance floor. They both seemed to be enjoying
themselves as Harriett moved gracefully through the quick spins and turns of
the dance. Helen had always known that Harriett was a sensual woman who had
managed to suppress her personal life for the sake of her niece and
professional appearances. This was the real Harriett, laughing and open,
unafraid to be herself. All she needed was someone to share her life. Helen
wasn't sure that someone was Alexis Dunne.