When Men Betray (12 page)

T
HE PARAMEDICS INSISTED
I lie on a stretcher that was too narrow and too short, then moved me quickly into the ambulance and hooked me up to the cardiac monitor. The pain from the pressure of the tourniquet and the embedded glass had taken hold. Everyone kept telling me I was going to be fine, but my leg sure didn't feel that way.

Before I knew it, the ambulance door flew open, and my tiny stretcher was flying down a sterile hall into a room where I was circled by an offbeat chorus of voices and a range of different sizes of hands that began cutting clothes off me and taking my blood pressure.

A young doctor examined my leg and removed the tourniquet. He looked up and said, “Well, it's not a pretty sight, but all in all, you've been pretty lucky—no damage to any arteries. We're going to remove the bottle, repair a couple of smaller blood vessels, and sew you up. I don't think we'll need to sedate you. We should be able to make you comfortable with a local anesthetic. If you're okay with that, we can have you out of here pretty quickly.”

A beer bottle stuck in my leg—it felt pretty ignominious. “Sure, but if you don't mind, I'd rather not watch.”

A dreamy-eyed nurse told me that Beth and Maggie were on their way to the hospital. I say “dreamy-eyed” because she was covered in surgical scrubs, mask, and hat. All I could see were her eyes. I concentrated on her eyes rather than whatever the doctor was doing to my
leg. Before I knew it, he was finished, and I had to take my eyes off the nurse because the doctor was talking.

“You were lucky. The bottle came out clean. I didn't find any evidence of broken glass or slivers. The nurse will give you instructions about treating it, changing the bandages, and follow-up. I've prescribed a mild painkiller and an antibiotic. Has it been more than five years since you've had a tetanus shot?”

“Uhh …”

He turned to the nurse and instructed her to give me one before I left. She nodded and left the room, off to get the shot, I guessed. Oh joy.

“You can walk on your leg. Just don't go jogging, okay? Your leg will hurt like hell for a couple of days, but it's a whole lot better than if you'd been hit by that car.”

He shook my hand and left.

The nurse came back in with the syringe. I was relieved to get the shot in my arm. She had removed her mask, and I realized that her eyes were quite alert. I must have been the one with the dreamy eyes.

“I couldn't help but notice. You've been in the ER before. That's a lot of scar tissue. Were you in a car wreck?”

“Something like that.”

“Yikes—must have been awful. Your family is bringing you some clothes. They should be here soon, so why don't you lie back and rest?”

I dozed off but not for long, as Beth came charging into the room and threw herself on top of me. She didn't talk, just wrapped her arms around me, her head on my chest. After a few moments she sat up, wiped her eyes and gave me a small smile.

“Maggie's dealing with hospital paperwork. The nurse said you can leave. Thank God you're okay. What
happened?
Did someone actually try to run over you?”

“I don't know,” I said, acutely aware of how inadequate my answer sounded. “Where are my clothes?” Clovis walked into the room carrying my gym bag. He must have seen Maggie.

Beth took that as her cue to give me some privacy. My leg was beginning to throb, and the bandaging stretched the limits of my sweat pants. But with a little help from Clovis, I got them on, along with a clean T-shirt.

“Any news?” I asked him.

“Not really. The police don't seem to be too interested, even though I gave them a good description of the car. My bet is, they'll tell the press it was probably a drunk driver and not spend a lot of energy trying to find the bad guy, unless you want me to push the issue.”

“Let's talk about it later. I'm ready to leave. Tell me the press isn't here.”

“A few of them are outside the main entrance, but don't worry. I've got the car waiting around back. Do you need a wheelchair or a crutch?”

“No.” I stood up and almost buckled to the floor. I grabbed the table with one hand and Clovis caught me by the other arm. “Maybe I need to go a little slow.”

I leaned on Clovis as we made our way toward the door. The bandaging and stitching tugged, but with each step, I felt a bit steadier. Maggie and Beth were waiting outside the door, trying to look calm. I gave Maggie a hug.

She gripped me tightly, but kept her tone light. “Okay, Jack. Careful now, we don't want to lose you. Let's get back to the hotel.”

P
AUL WAS WAITING
for us outside the hotel. Clovis told me he had to check on a few things and handed me off to Paul, who held my arm as we walked through the revolving door. As we entered the lobby, Brenda Warner came out of her office and rushed over.

“It's all over the news. Are you okay? Let me get you a wheelchair. John, get the wheelchair!” she called to the bellman.

“Thank you, but I don't need a wheel chair. What's all over the news? What did they say?”

“That you were hit by a car, and the car fled the scene. Is that what happened?” Her perfect forehead was furrowed with concern.

“It's really not a big deal, probably just a bunch of kids.” Maggie and Beth stood right behind me, like a pair of owls. Brenda glanced at them and took my free arm, holding it until we reached the elevator. I thanked her again for her concern and, as the doors closed, looked sternly at Beth, who was trying to keep a straight face.

When we got to our suite, we waited as Paul did a thorough search. It's unsettling to watch a man with a loaded pistol look for somebody who shouldn't be there and might want to kill you. Paul gave us an all-clear sign, and we moved to the dining table. He said he was under Clovis's orders to stay in the room, but he'd stay out of the way. He gave me a wink through his thick glasses. “Clovis told me to tell you I've been to his duck club.”

Maggie spread her papers on the table, turned on the laptop, and called room service for soft drinks, coffee, and her ever-present pot of hot water.

Beth said, “Let me check your messages. I can do it a lot faster, and I already know who's called you at the hotel and your office.”

I hesitated; worried she might hear another threat. She teased, “I promise not to listen to any messages from Brenda.”

“Brenda? It's all my DC girlfriends I'm worried about.”

Beth gave a snort of disbelief. It felt good to ease the tension.

Maggie was still playing nursemaid. “Jack, sit down and get off your leg. You know that painkiller isn't going to last much longer. Let's elevate the leg and get some ice on it. What would you like to drink?”

I eyed the bottle of wine left over from last night, but decided wine and painkillers weren't a good mix and opted for a Coke. “Let me hear the schedule and then let's do a little brainstorming. Oh, and I need to bring you up to date on Woody.”

“It's six o'clock now, and dinner is scheduled for eight. We all understand if you need to go to bed.”

“No way. Honestly, I feel pretty good.”

“Well then, tomorrow morning you meet with Lucy Robinson at nine o'clock. I moved up the defense-lawyer interviews. Their appointments are now at eleven and noon. If you can't get around, I can move everything here, and we can prop you up in bed.”

I frowned and she grinned. “The only hitch is Woody's arraignment. It was scheduled for nine o'clock Monday morning, but the funeral is at ten. The judge's clerk called to say the judge has rescheduled the arraignment for Tuesday at ten o'clock and wants to meet with you and the prosecutor at four Monday afternoon. He hopes you can be sworn in then and would like your consent to the change. Nobody's buying your non-representation status.”

There was no sense pushing the issue with the judge. If the lawyer I hired had a problem, he could deal with it. I didn't want to give Sam an excuse to deny me access to Woody before I met with him tomorrow. I told Maggie to call the judge's clerk and agree. It might be tough to get back to DC in time to meet with Jerry Prince, but that was three days away. One day at a time.

A few minutes later, Maggie put down her phone and said, “We're
all square with the judge. His clerk said that he'll be relieved to know you're all right—apparently word about the hit-and-run has traveled fast. What else do you want to add to the schedule?”

“I'm meeting with Woody tomorrow at one, and Clovis should be back any time now. At least I hope he will be. I think I left my sports coat in his car. He also wants to go over what happened this afternoon, and I want to talk about security. No reason for y'all to be here.”

That suggestion went over like a lead balloon.

“No way you're meeting with Clovis without us, Dad. Somebody tried to run over you today! This isn't some game we're playing. If Clovis is talking to you about security, we're going to be here.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. It's not a game. It's just that my natural instinct is to protect those I care about. Part of that protection is trying to keep you from being frightened unnecessarily—but if you want to hear it all, that's fine by me.”

We were quiet for a minute—no more humor. I broke the silence. “Maggie, I want you to go with Beth and me to Helen's tomorrow—you'll like her, and it would be good for you two to get acquainted. And can you find out when Cheryl's supposed to be on the talk shows? Somebody needs to catch her act.” I knew Cheryl pretty well.

“Sure. You know, I tried to talk to Cheryl earlier, but she wasn't interested.” Maggie looked at her notes. “I'm quoting here, ‘Tell Jack I'm sorry. I still love Woody, but he can't help me anymore, so I have to look out for myself.'”

“Same old Cheryl,” I said. “Thanks for trying. I'm sure she's going to put on quite a show; what kind, I don't know.”

“Cheryl doesn't sound like the type of woman Woody would even be interested in, much less marry,” Beth said. “How did they end up together?”

“It's hard to explain. You were never around the two of them. They didn't have a ton in common except for a love of English literature and an obsession with politics. You know what they say—politics makes strange bedfellows.”

“Oh, gross,” Beth cringed.

I shrugged and said, “Well, you asked. You've been downloading the messages. Anything of interest?”

“Tons of press calls, lots of talk-show producers, several of your law
partners begging you to return to DC. ‘Now!' I'm surprised Uncle Marshall hasn't called, but we haven't called him. I gave the work-related messages to Maggie.”

“Nothing of interest,” Maggie said, “except one from Jerry Prince, who called to ask if you were okay. I guess the story has already hit the Internet.”

A rap on the door made us all jump. Maggie cracked the door open, loosened the swing lock, and let Clovis in.

He thanked her, handed me my jacket, and said, “Thought you might need this.” He paused a moment with his hands on his hips, then said, “Jack, I want to apologize again for this afternoon.”

“No more apologies. Let's talk about what you think happened.”

“The police are giving the incident a big yawn, treating it as an unconfirmed reckless driver.” Turning to Beth, he said, “I don't agree. The driver was a professional trying to look out of control. My only question is whether he meant to kill your dad or just scare him.” He paused again. “There's more, if you want to know.”

“Of course we do,” Maggie said.

“Someone tried to break into your hotel suite, Maggie. Hotel security spotted the man outside your door, but he got away. They're retired cops, not hired for fleet feet. I'd bet the guy was about to plant some kind of bug. Hotel security has now swept both your suite and this one.”

He looked at me and said, “My guys have checked Tucker's offices and my car. They're clean for now. Somebody did manage to plant a location device underneath my car. That's how they knew where to find us.”

“Bugs, location devices, professional drivers?” said Maggie. “I think I'd better call Walter.”

“I already did,” Clovis said. “Mr. Matthews put me in touch with the security group employed by his company. They're flying in, and I'll meet with his guys while y'all are at dinner. That is, if I'm still hired. I didn't see this coming. I was worried about an angry nut or publicity seeker, not a professional.”

I looked him in the eye. “Clovis, last time—no more apologies. This whole scenario is pretty hard to believe, so let's just move forward. However, I also realize that this has turned into more than you
originally signed on for. If my law firm's insurance won't cover your fees, I'll cover them. I know you have to be running thin on manpower, but can you handle some investigative work?”