Truly Married (10 page)

Snap out of it, you idiot,
she told herself.
You’re nothing to him but a big load of guilt, and don’t ever lose sight of that fact. His emotions are not to be trusted. Nobody knows that better than you!

* * *

Anna and Tracey cleaned up the kitchen and put the dishes in the dishwasher, since Sharon and Fergus had fixed dinner, but Sharon noticed that Tracey was quieter than usual and again seemed uneasy and preoccupied the way she had been when she’d arrived home earlier.

She excused herself and went to her room as soon as they were finished, and that puzzled Sharon, too. Usually Tracey was the last one to turn in at night. But Sharon was still too bemused by the fleeting kiss Fergus had given her to keep her mind on anything else.

The following morning Sharon was awake early as usual, but stayed in bed until the other two were through in the bathrooms, since she didn’t have to leave the house as early as they did. When she did get up she dressed carefully in her softly tailored mauve business suit. This time when she was interrogated by the police she was damn well going to be treated with dignity, and the best way to assure that was to dress the part of the successful businesswoman. Last time she’d been questioned she’d been almost incoherent, and the front of her dress had been stained with blood!

As she walked up the hall she heard Anna and Tracey talking in the kitchen and was on her way to join them, when she heard her name mentioned. Instinctively she stopped a few feet short of the door and listened.

Anna was speaking and she sounded cross. “Tracey, I don’t understand you. How could you possibly be afraid of Sharon? Surely you don’t think she murdered Floyd Vancleave!”

Sharon gasped and put her hand across her mouth to keep from crying out.

“No...not really.” It was Tracey, petulant and uncertain. “That is... Oh, I don’t know. She sure had good reason to. I don’t think any jury with working women on it would convict her, but how do we know that if she got mad enough to do it once she wouldn’t do it again the next time someone upset her?”

Sharon’s head began to spin, and she leaned against the wall to steady herself.
Tracey actually thought she’d killed Floyd!

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” Anna said angrily. “Sharon wouldn’t even let us set a trap for that mouse we had a while back. For heaven’s sake, Tracey, get a grip on yourself. She’s no more capable of killing someone than you are or I am.”

Sharon felt a little better knowing that Anna didn’t share Tracey’s uncertainty.

“But we can’t be sure of that,” Tracey wailed. “How can you feel safe in the house with her here? I didn’t sleep hardly at all last night, even though I propped a chair under the doorknob. I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. The possibility that I’m sharing a house with a murderer scares me to death!”

Sharon had heard enough. She wasn’t going to force her presence on Tracey if Tracey was afraid of her.

But, dear God, if her housemate, who knew her so well, could believe she was capable of cold-blooded murder, how many other people would believe it, too?

Sharon pushed away from the wall, then realized that her knees were shaking so badly she could hardly stand. She steadied herself with her hand for a minute, then walked into the kitchen.

The two women were sitting at the table, eating breakfast, and when they looked up and saw her standing in the doorway they stopped their argument in midsentence.

Sharon’s anguish must have been evident in her expression, because Anna’s eyes widened with concern. “Sharon! Oh my God...” She pushed back her chair and hurried across the room. “Here, let me help you,” she said, and put her arm around Sharon, but Sharon shrugged it off.

“How long have you been standing there?” Anna asked anxiously.

“Long enough,” Sharon answered, and watched as Tracey’s stricken face turned several shades of red.

“I...I didn’t mean...” Tracey’s words trailed away into an uncomfortable silence.

Sharon took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. “Don’t lie to spare my feelings,” she said coldly. “You obviously meant every word of what you said. You actually believe I’m guilty as charged.”

“She’s just confused,” Anna interjected as she shot Tracey a quelling look. “When she’s had time to think about it she’ll know you couldn’t have done it.”

“It’s... It’s not as if I blamed you,” Tracey stammered.

“Dammit, Tracey, shut up,” Anna ordered. “You’re only making things worse.”

Tracey’s face crumpled and tears gushed forth. “I’m sorry....”

“I’m sure you are,” Sharon said, feeling too betrayed to accept the apology, “but don’t worry, I’ve no intention of staying where I’m not wanted. I’ll pack up and leave before you get home from work.”

“No!” Anna cried. “This is your home and you have a right to be here. I won’t allow you to be forced out because of Tracey’s wild imaginings.”

Tracey wailed loudly into her napkin, but it was Sharon who spoke. “I appreciate your loyalty, Anna. More than I can say. But I couldn’t stay here knowing Tracey’s afraid to come home for fear I’ll kill her while she sleeps.”

Tracey continued to cry, while Anna muttered a few well-chosen oaths. “Promise me that you won’t do anything until we’ve talked to Fergus,” she insisted. “He should have a say in this. After all, you were released in his custody.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to get permission from him—”

“Yes, I’m afraid it does,” Anna interrupted. “Almost anything you do now has possible legal ramifications. It’s not fair to either of you not to check out any sudden decision with him first.”

Sharon shrugged. “I suppose you’re right,” she admitted. “I’ll bring him home with me after the hearing this afternoon. Who knows, maybe the judge will find that there’s not enough evidence against me to charge me with anything.”

She didn’t really believe that, and even if, by some miracle, it did happen she couldn’t share a house, or a friendship, with Tracey again, now that she knew how shallow the young woman’s loyalty was.

* * *

Sharon arrived at Fergus’s hotel suite at eight-thirty and knocked on the door. He opened it, then just stood there staring at her. “You look...” He cleared his throat and started over. “I’ve never seen you looking more beautiful, but it wasn’t necessary for you to dress up to be questioned by the police.”

Just seeing him made her feel better, and she smiled and walked past him as he stood back to let her enter. “It was necessary for my own morale,” she told him as she sat down on the couch. “Wednesday when they interrogated me I was an emotional and visual wreck. My clothes were spattered with blood, and I was so shocked that I could barely function. I looked like a killer and they treated me like trash.”

Fergus had been about to sit down in the chair, but now he straightened up again and eyed her. “If you were mistreated by any of the police officers I want to know it,” he said grimly. “I’ll file complaints all the way from the local chief to the attorney general.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant,” she assured him. “No one laid a hand on me. It was their attitude I’m talking about, and I’m going to insist on being treated with a reasonable amount of respect today.”

Fergus appeared relieved and sank back down into the chair. “They won’t harass you today,” he promised. “I’ll be there, and I won’t let them.”

Again she smiled. “I know. You were always there to fight my battles for me, but I’m not a teenager anymore. I want them to know I’m a woman to be treated with consideration even when my lawyer’s not around.”

* * *

The interrogation didn’t exactly go smoothly, but neither was it as horrendous as before. Fergus was a force to be reckoned with, and he severely limited its scope. He never left her side, and he wouldn’t allow her to answer questions that might remotely intimidate her, although they were mainly a rehash of actions and events she’d already admitted to before she’d had the protection of an attorney.

They were finished in time for a leisurely lunch at her favorite Greek restaurant in the University City loop area, far enough away from downtown that they eluded the persistent reporters and photographers who were becoming a nuisance.

Sharon had known all morning that she should apprise Fergus of the scene with Tracey at breakfast, but she kept putting it off, telling herself she’d do it later, after the police questioned her, after lunch, and now, after the arraignment. There were just too many things happening to her all at once. She needed a respite, however short, before she could face this last heartbreak.

* * *

The arraignment was short and to the point. The judge informed her that she was being charged with murder in the first degree and asked if she would plead guilty or not guilty. Fergus answered for her. “My client pleads not guilty, Your Honor.”

Since she was represented by an attorney, the judge merely noted the plea and dismissed them without advising her of her rights under the law. A preliminary hearing was scheduled for Wednesday of the following week.

Although Fergus had acquainted Sharon with the various steps in a criminal-court procedure, she was still confused, and when they got back to his hotel she asked him to explain once more what happened during a preliminary hearing.

They were having drinks in the lounge, and he put his hand over hers where it lay on the table. “It’s the procedure to determine whether there is sufficient evidence to bind you over for trial.”

He kept his voice low, but she heard a slight tremor. “The district attorney will present his case against you, and I will cross-examine his witnesses and challenge his evidence. It won’t take long, but again I have to warn you, from what I’ve heard so far he has a strong case.”

Fergus squeezed her hand. “Unless we find a witness who saw you during the time you were away from the hotel on that day, you’ll almost certainly be indicted.”

Sharon had already known this, but hearing Fergus say it again still sent a wave of terror through her and made her moan.

He held up his other hand for silence.
“But,”
he continued, “if necessary, I’ll fight for you to be allowed to remain free on bail, and we’ll have at least three months before the trial starts to find a way to prove your innocence. You’re entitled to a speedy trial, but if that’s not enough time we can ask for a continuance.”

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm, almost making her forget how bleak her future looked.

“Believe me, love, I’m not going to let you be convicted of murder.”

Sharon didn’t doubt but that he’d do everything in his power to prove her innocent, but she also knew he was taking on an almost impossible task.

They finished their drinks, and she realized she could no longer delay wrestling with the latest impediment to her freedom and peace of mind. Was there no end to the problems that confronted her? They just kept popping up, one after the other, with frightening regularity.

When the waiter came to replenish their piña coladas Sharon declined, saying she wanted to get home before the late-afternoon traffic crunch got any worse. They left the lounge, but in the lobby she took a deep breath, then stopped and turned to Fergus. “I...I promised Anna I’d invite you to dinner again tonight. Some—something has come up that she says you need to be consulted about.”

A flash of apprehension darkened his face. “What’s happened?” he asked anxiously. “Dammit, Sharon, are you keeping something from me? How in hell can I defend you if—”

“It’s nothing like that,” she quickly assured him. “It’s something I’m perfectly capable of handling myself, but Anna insists—”

“I’ll be the judge of what you can handle,” he grated, and took her arm. “Let’s go up to my suite, where we can talk in private.”

He tried to turn her toward the elevators, but she dug in her heels and resisted. “No. This involves Anna and Tracey, too, and they need to be there when we discuss it. If you’d like to come about six, we’ll have dinner and then—”

“I’ll follow you home now,” he interrupted impatiently, “and forget about dinner. Nobody eats until I find out what happened between the time I left you last night and when you showed up here at the hotel this morning. Honestly, Sharon, I’d hoped you’d outgrown that stubborn independent streak. There are times when you could try the patience of a stone.”

His hand still on her arm, he led her to the parking garage and asked the attendant to bring their cars around.

While they waited in silence Sharon cast a furtive glance at Fergus. He was really ticked off with her this time. She could feel the anger radiating from him, and see it in the harsh set of his mouth and the storm gathering in his green eyes.

She hadn’t meant to upset him. Once more she’d been overly dramatic. Maybe she should go ahead and tell him now what had happened so he could see for himself that it had no bearing on her case and not worry about it all the way home.

She was thinking about how to phrase the matter, when the attendants drove up with their cars and the opportunity was lost as Fergus hustled her into hers, then got into his own and waved her ahead.

It was rush hour on a Friday, and traffic out of the downtown area was frustratingly slow. By the time they got to the house both Anna’s car and Tracey’s were parked in the driveway. Sharon breathed a sigh of relief. They were all there and could get this over with.

As she unlocked the door and walked inside with Fergus she sniffed the redolent aroma of Tracey’s tuna-and-noodle casserole bubbling gently in the oven, and knew she wouldn’t be able to eat. All she wanted to do was get this confrontation over with and leave. The home she’d lived in and loved for the past four years now seemed stark and forbidding.

A feeling of dread stole over her. Was this a portent of what her life was going to be like from now on?

Chapter Six

T
he house was quiet, with no immediate sign of either Anna or Tracey, but Sharon spotted several envelopes scattered on the small, marble-topped maple chest in the foyer and picked them up as she led Fergus into the living room. She knew they’d all be for her, since she was the last one home.