Red Silk Scarf (30 page)

           
“Call my mother for the children,”
Margie blubbered into a wad of tissues.

           
“Sh, sh, the earth will adjust in a
moment, Margie, maybe then we can think logically,” Cassidy sincerely
hoped.
 

Dear God, did Sullivan
already know, Cassidy wondered.
  
The
knowledge sufficient reason why he claimed DeMarco wasn't the killer.
 
Maybe that's why he came to her, needed her
so desperately, why he told her to leave L.A.
 
Mark wouldn't kill her, would he, Dear God in Heaven.

Cassidy called
Mrs. Ryan.
 
Returning to Margie's side,
they sat as if petrified bookends while Cassidy searched for the voice that had
burrowed somewhere.
 
When strength
surfaced, “Listen to me, Margie.
 
Listen
carefully.
 
You need to trust me, believe
in me, and allow me to help.
 
Can you do
that?”
 
The shake of Margie's head was
not at all convincing.
 
“When did you
find the scarf?
 
Where?”
 

           
“Just . . . before. . . Sullivan . .
.”

           
“Slow down.
 
Take your time.”

“I was looking
out the window at the beautiful day, thanking God for saving Mark, for granting
us another chance.
 
Sullivan's knock on
the door made me turn.
 
That's when my
eyes caught a glimpse of something red behind . . . behind the . . . mirror.”
Margie collapsed into a cesspool of tears.
 
With a nightdress covering everything, she appeared so damn pure, as
though she was “Mary” embarrassed by the thought of nudity.
 
Maybe that's why Mark. . . such thoughts were
ludicrous, Cassidy snapped inwardly.

“Margie, things
aren't always what they seem.
 
Mark is a
police officer whose precinct is investigating the murders. There could be many
explanations for the scarf.”
 
Staring
deeply into each other’s eyes each wanting desperately to believe, it was there
that neither was convinced.
   

           
“Tell me; was Mark ever physically
rough with either you or the children?”

           
As though aghast by the insinuation,
“No,” Margie practically shouted.

           
“Did he ever give you reason to
distrust him, make you suspicious?”
        

           
“Only the fact that he’s been hiding
his use of drugs and. . .”

           
Margie didn’t have to finish,
Cassidy knew what she meant.
 
So far, no
good, she thought, but didn't dare let on.

           
Facing Cassidy with an expression of
anger, Margie asked, “What do women like you do that we wives can't?”

Right out of the
blue, like, wow, Margie accused Cassidy of being “one of them,” women
responsible for straying husbands.
 
What
made Margie think she knew the answer?
 
Regretfully, now that she’d been intimate with Sullivan, knew his sexual
preferences, and had shared their pleasures, maybe she did.
 

“Despite men’s
differences, they're alike when it comes to sex.
 
They don't need convincing, wooing, or wine
with dinner.
 
Foreplay is a waste of
time.
 
They want to do what they want,
when they want, when the mood strikes.
  
You must admit, woman are quite different, at least most of us,” Cassidy
blushed.
 
Not for the reason you'd think.
 
She wasn't “one of those women.”
 
She never understood her low libido was due
to wanting more, needing more, until the man who knew without asking came
along.

“Prostitutes get
paid to satisfy men's fantasies when they need satisfying the way they need
satisfying.
 
They’re nothing more than a
speck in space compared to a loving, devoted wife.
 
That's why husbands come home, Margie.
 
That's what makes them stay.
 
Mark loves you very much.”
   

Wide
eyed, Margie screamed, “I can handle a wayward husband, but a murderer!”
 

           
Cassidy’s swishing glance found
pictures of happiness on the dresser.
 
She wanted to believe Mark innocent, but knew worse things happened to
nicer people.

Desperately
wanting to reassure, “I'm, going to find out, and put an end to this nightmare
for you, for me, for all of us,” she told Margie, hugging her close wondering
how she’d fulfill the promise without revealing her identity.

Margie's mother
appearing in the doorway with opened arms welcomed her daughter, the same woman
who magically materialized in the kitchen doorway once before to rescue
Cassidy.
  
There was someone to take
Cassidy's place now; someone much better prepared to handle whatever came next.

Pulling in front
of the house the taxi Cassidy summoned beeped the horn.
 
“Be brave, Margie.
 
Everything will be O.K.
 
I promise,” Cassidy said, wearing a positive
smile that did not falter until she was safe on the other side of the front
door.

“Things are never
what they seem,” replayed in Cassidy's mind.
 
From the very beginning, nothing about solving the murders went
right.
 
Was it possible that was the plan
all along?

Not knowing
exactly what prompted the action, Cassidy looked both ways before entering the
taxi.
 
See noticed a suspicious car
parked down the street, recognized the man behind the wheel.
 
What a fool she’d been.
 
Cursing beneath her breath, she slammed the
taxi door.

CHAPTER 24

The English
definition of anger wouldn't come close to explaining what was seething
Cassidy.
 
Bottom line, she’d been
“used.”
 
From the beginning, her
instincts warned something smelled fishy; and what was happening “stunk.”
 
Digesting her suspicions would be easier if
“she” hadn't allowed herself to be, a glutton for punishment rendered brain
dead by her anxiousness to succeed, to advance in the investigative field.
 
Right now, if anyone looked up idiot, her
name would appear with a capital “C.”
 
Well, the world was under estimating a Brady.

First thing was
calming down.
 
She could not allow anger
to rule her actions.
  
A very difficult
feat when the car spotted earlier remained three vehicles behind her taxi.
 
Clenched teeth were all that prevented her
from shouting “stop” to the taxi driver, in the midst of traffic would be
perfect, especially when she leaped out and confronted the traitor behind the
other wheel.
 
As an alternative, at the
first red light, she offered the driver one hundred dollars to lose the
surveillance car, an instinctive move that paid off.
 
More than capable, the driver thanked her for
the diversion from boredom upon parting in front of a red brick building.

Hands smacking against
steal swung wide the double doors of the precinct.
 
Boldly she entered her presence and demeanor
commanding everyone’s full attention.
 
Shrugging off the shocked expressions, confidently Cassidy climbed the
stairs to the second floor leaving in her wake a tremor that filled corridors
and vibrated rows of desks.
 

Dan practically
swallowed his cigarette upon sighting Cassidy through the blinds at his office
windows.
 
Quickly bolting to his feet,
hands fumbling with everything in range spilled coffee and upset a container
filled with pens.
 

Just as Cassidy
whizzed past her, the precinct’s secretary answered the blaring phone.
  

           
“Give me Dan and quick.”

           
“I'm sorry, Sir, he has a visitor at
the moment,” Brenda said, her mouth gapping wider as she watched the
unannounced stranger brazenly enter Dan's office.
 
      

           
“I don't give a shit.
 
This is an emergency.
 
Put me through,” the caller shouted.

As Dan answered
the phone, wearing a conniving smile, deliberately holding onto the door until
gaining his undivided attention, Cassidy hurled it shut, the glass shaking
causing a round of snickering from the office staff.
  
Waltzing to his desk, she glared at him as
though the look itself would dictate his destiny.

           
“She's there, isn't she,” the caller
said, the moment he heard the door slam.
 

           
“Yes.”
 

“Shit, she
knows,” words Dan didn't expect to hear so soon.
  
Reluctantly admitting under his breath that
he hadn’t given Cassidy the credit she deserved, became a choking reality.
   

There was no time
to rehearse believable lies, in fact, with his gaze glued on Cassidy Dan missed
the receiver for the phone.
 
She was
pissed off all right, and, that was putting it mildly.
  
Oh, it wasn't her demeanor tipping him off,
outwardly her body spoke of calmness.
 
It
was her coal black eyes simmering, and spitting fire.

Dan’s anger was
beefed up as well by the time Cassidy reached her target.
 
Leaning over, hands supporting his weight on
the desk, staring at her square in the eyes, “You're crazier than I thought walking
in here in broad day light.
 
Do you want
to ruin all the hard work we've put into this case?
 
What if the murderer, saw you, finds out who
you really are?
 
What if Sullivan walks
in?”
 
Clearly, Dan was angry, but not for
the reason Cassidy might imagine.

“Cut the bull
shit, Dan.
 
Without the pleasure you, and
everyone connected with this case has screwed me over.
 
Is it because I said no?
 
Is it about getting even, or, is it because
I'm a female with brains.
 
Well, none of
you will ever learn not to under estimate my intelligence.
 
Did you really think I wouldn't figure it
out?
 
Don't even bother answering.
 
There's nothing you or the others can
say.”
 

Hoping to give
Cassidy time to vent, moving to the window's partitioning his office from the outer
cubicles, Dan yanked on the blinds cords one by one-causing disappointment to
find the faces of those hoping to witness the confrontation.
  
Though no one knew who Dan’s visitor was,
there was no doubt she was after his ass.
 
At last, Dan was going to receive just punishment.
 

           
Cassidy's time was up.
 
Now it was his turn, Dan fumed.

           
Stiffening her stance, “You stay
right where you are.
 
The way I feel
right now, it's a damn good thing I don't have a gun in my hand,” Cassidy
threatened.

Typically, paying
no heed, Dan stopped within a foot of her.
 
Moving around had helped calm him somewhat, and offered time to devise
his strategy.
 
“I never pretended my
indifference to you being assigned to this case, but, did they listen?
 
No!
 
The fact that his breath was blasting her skin made Cassidy take a step
backwards before realizing she'd be sandwiched between the varmint and the
desk.

When one of his
hands moved to touch her, “Don't even think about it,” she said with tremendous
vexation.

“All right,” Dan
countered all too, quickly, too calmly.
 
Besides he didn't have to touch her his movement forward caught her off
balance and brought her buttocks with a plop onto the desktop.
 
When his hands smacked the top on opposing
sides imprisoning her, utter amazement shattered his confidence when Cassidy
never flinched.
 

Insight struck
Dan a horrible blow.
 
“You know who the
killer is, don't you?
 
Tell me who it is
and I'll have him picked up and end this bullshit before you get killed,” he
snarled.