Kane (27 page)

“You're not a jewelry appraiser?” He lifted his thick white brows, though a faint smile came and went on his face.

“Well, yes, I am.”

“You never intended to bid on my wife's jewelry or arrange for me to sell it?”

“Of course I did, but—”

“Then what's false about it?”

She gave a helpless shake of her head as she answered, “Everything else. I'm so ashamed of imposing on you, for lying to you, for all of it.”

Long seconds ticked past before he answered. His penetrating gaze searched her face. Then he said, “You did come back last night, or actually early this morning, when you didn't have to. Why is that?”

“I couldn't leave Kane,” she said, frowning. “I mean, he'd been shot because of me, had lost so much blood. The least I could do was make sure he was all right.”

“In other words, you care about him just like the rest of us.”

She looked past his shoulder, at the pocket of his shirt, anywhere except his face. “I suppose I do. I
really hate it that he was hurt, couldn't stand it if what I've done, what I asked of him, had been—fatal.” She gave him a strained smile before she went on. “Not that it matters what I feel. It's best that I just go. If you're sure there's nothing I can do to help, then Stephan and I will be leaving. That's if someone could drive us to the motel?”

“I'm not too sure Kane would appreciate finding you gone when he wakes up.” The older man's expression was judicious.

“Or he might be just as glad to have us off his hands. I've foisted myself on him, and you, long enough.”

“I haven't heard him complaining.” That ghost of a smile was back in his eyes. “Certainly, I'm not.”

“You're a kind man,” she said with difficulty, “but really, I have to go.”

“I won't try to keep you if you're hell-bent on leaving, but I'll say this much. Could be Kane needs someone like you. If I was a mite more superstitious, I'd say the powers-that-be sent you along for him, to keep him from being so all-fired sure he knows what's what. They have a tendency to do that now and again.”

Regina couldn't quite see what he meant, but it didn't matter. “Kane has high standards, and I don't think I measure up. Stephan and I will be better on our own, honestly. Besides, I need to rent a car, do some shopping. Stephan has only one set of clothes and nothing else, not even a toothbrush, since we came away in such a hurry. Actually, I left my own things behind, as well, so you can see…”

He gave a slow nod. “Well now, I can take care of
at least part of your problems. Let me get my car keys.”

It wasn't easy persuading Mr. Lewis that he should leave her and Stephan at the motel when the shopping expedition was done. By the time she had managed that and put away the things she had bought, she was exhausted. Stephan also seemed to have run out of energy. They ate a sketchy lunch from the collection of canned and packaged snacks that she had bought, then lay down together in the bed for a quick nap.

It was late evening when Regina opened her eyes again. She lay for a long time simply holding her son and staring at nothing. She knew there were things she should be doing, but couldn't think what they were, couldn't make herself move. Depression was a dark weight in her mind. Everything seemed too much trouble.

She wondered if Kane was awake by now and if he was still okay, but couldn't bring herself to pick up the phone to see. In any case, it seemed that the less contact she had with him, the better it would be in the long run.

She might never speak to Kane again, never hear his voice or watch the quick flash of what he thought and felt mirrored in his eyes. Never match wits and tempers with him, feel his arms around her, or sense the slow rise of passion that only he could produce inside her.

She wouldn't think about that. She couldn't.

This mood wouldn't last; she knew that. She still had Stephan. They were a family of two, and she had to take care of them somehow, on her own. She needed to think about where she was going to go from
here, also what she was going to do when she got there, how she was going to spend the interminable rest of her life.

There was something else troubling her, too. She wasn't sure where it came from exactly, but had the nagging feeling there was something left undone. There was something she should consider or be a part of before she could close the door on this episode and go on to the next. The only trouble was, she couldn't quite catch hold of what it might be.

It came to her later, after she and Stephan had shared a pizza for their dinner. After they had watched a Disney movie on television, then checked out the late news. After she had watched Stephan brush his teeth, told him a bedtime story, given him a hug, and turned out the light.

There had been a piece on the news about the suit, one that included an interview with Melville Brown, Kane's law partner. The television reporter had thrust a microphone in the lawyer's face and demanded to know his views on the rumors that the case was being tried as a racial issue; an old-fashioned funeral home with an owner steeped in all the ancient Southern traditions and prejudices against a progressive Northeastern firm that gave preferential treatment to blacks.

The black lawyer had answered with easy competence, saying he and his client, Mr. Crompton, had no interest in perpetuating stereotypes, but were planning on winning their case on its own merits. The issue, he declared, was the financial health and well-being of the consumer of funeral services. When it was presented in those terms, he was sure the jury would disregard any attempts by the defendant to confuse mat
ters and would vote according to their common sense and their consciences. The reporter, in his closing remarks, seemed to cast doubt on that idea, signing off with a shot of Crompton's Funeral Home in the background and the comment that the whole country would be watching Baton Rouge and the little town of Turn-Coupe to see the outcome of this landmark case.

Regina lay awake thinking about the report. Somehow it had never occurred to her that the case would be of national importance. That fact made it that much more necessary for Kane and his partner to win.

She couldn't stand the idea of Gervis triumphing over a man like Lewis Crompton, hated the thought of him coming into Turn-Coupe and building some modern monstrosity of a funeral services building, then charging the farmers and other hardworking people she'd met at Luke's house three times the normal burial rate in order to line his pockets.

Something had to be done to stop it.

Someone who knew all the dirty tricks and underhanded deals Gervis had pulled over the long years needed to come forward with what they knew. Someone like her.

She had thought she would have to offer the knowledge she held of Gervis Berry's organization to Kane in exchange for his help in freeing Stephan. It hadn't been necessary. Now she'd do it for no reason except that it was right.

Or perhaps there was one other reason. She owed something to Kane and his grandfather, to Luke and all the others. They had done so much for her, and now it was time to repay them.

The Benedicts weren't the only ones who paid their debts.

A
dull droning, like a swarm of flies, hung over the courtroom. Every seat was filled and more people milled around in the hall outside, a situation unchanged since the trial got underway a week ago. From the comments Regina had overheard around her, she thought Mr. Lewis's friends and neighbors, black and white, were united in supporting him against the big corporation that was trying to run him out of business. They also seemed to have an Us-versus-Them feeling about the proceedings, as if the Northeastern funeral home syndicate had become the symbol of another Yankee invasion. It was mentioned with chuckles and sidelong glances, but the aura of partisanship was strong.

More than a few of those attending today were either Benedicts or family connections who had made the drive to Baton Rouge. Luke and Miss Elise, as usual, had commandeered places directly behind the plaintiff's table where Melville sat with Mr. Lewis. April Halstead and Dora were seated a few rows back, while Dr. Watkins was on the center aisle not far away, where he could stretch his legs. Those around Regina, who were more distantly related, craned their heads and stared and murmured among themselves,
with the names of the participants, especially Kane's, mentioned again and again in one context or another. She listened closely as she had all along, grateful for both the distraction and the information that she could tuck away to complete the picture of the man who had come to mean so much. At the same time, she enjoyed the endless other bits about family marriages, divorces, births, deaths, school accomplishments, job prospects, and the comparative health of different members. It allowed her to pretend, at least for the moment, that she was a part of it all.

She was helped in the last by Betsy North, who sat with her on the back bench she had chosen, there on the other side of Stephan. Kane's cousin provided a running commentary on anyone under discussion. She also introduced Regina to lots of people, giving her name in an easy, offhand fashion which suggested there was nothing in the least unusual about her being in court. She could almost believe that herself since no one seemed to connect her with Gervis Berry.

That was before she caught a brief glance from the corner of one woman's eye as she turned away from her. It was avid yet resentful, and showed plainly that Regina had been targeted as being from the enemy camp. Whether from something Slater had said, a stray memo or fax, or some casual remark by a New York lawyer, the news of her association with Gervis was apparently out at last. In a way, it was a relief since it meant she could stop dreading the revelation.

Gervis, when he appeared, seemed totally unaware of the undercurrents. He marched into the room with his usual swagger, surrounded by a phalanx of lawyers like a living barrier between him and the onlookers.
With his Armani suit, two-hundred-dollar tie, and irritable attitude, he looked as if he felt the whole thing was a waste of his valuable time, something he was impatient to have over and done with as soon as possible.

Moments later, Betsy sat forward in her seat. “Oh, look, Kane's here today,” she said, almost falling off the bench in her excitement. “You sure can't tell by looking at him that he's got a hole in his side.”

Regina followed Betsy's gaze. Kane was just threading his way through the crowd, shaking hands, smiling, nodding, tossing off quips as he went. He looked tanned, fit, at ease on his home ground, with no strain whatever showing in his face or his movements.

Somewhere inside, she felt the ebb of tension she had not known she was holding. This was the first time Kane had appeared in the courtroom since the trial began. All the reports on his condition had said he was fine, but she hadn't been able to accept them until now.

“That's him, that's the man who came to get me?” Stephan asked in awe. He slid off the seat and stood up, staring at Kane.

Regina's voice was husky as she confirmed it. Her son had made a hero of the paragon who had been able to take him away from his nurse and Michael. The fault was as much Betsy's as it was hers, since the motel owner had taken a shine to Stephan and fired his imagination with all sorts of tales about Kane. Still, Regina had done nothing to stop it. Her son seemed to need a man to look up to just now, and she could think of none better.

“Maybe I could tell him thank-you.” Stephan looked at her with anticipation shining in his eyes.

“Oh, I don't know about that,” Regina said in quick concern as she reached to smooth his hair back from his forehead. “He's a very busy man.”

Betsy gave her a puzzled glance above Stephan's head. “Not so busy he won't have time for a kid. Honestly, you ought to know Kane better than that.”

“Well, yes, but now isn't a good time,” she answered evasively. It wasn't that she thought Kane would slight Stephan. Rather, she didn't feel up to facing him herself any time soon and certainly not in so public a place.

As if attracted by their focus on him, Kane turned his head in their direction. His gaze was intent but unreadable. Regina swallowed hard and looked away. She didn't risk another glance until after the judge mounted the bench and the formalities began.

She didn't know a great deal about lawyers and courtrooms, had never had occasion to find out. There was a certain fascination about it now, since it was Kane's element, though it still looked like some kind of complicated game with more rules than strictly necessary. She had been following events, watching as Melville Brown helped seat the jury, then took a parade of witnesses through different business practices, good and bad, in the funeral industry. Most of this background was familiar to her, but it was fascinating to watch the details become public knowledge.

Melville was easygoing in his manner, but highly competent. Under his prodding, the testimony had unfolded with logic, down-to-earth clarity and a series of minor revelations that, in accumulation, were slowly
building an impressive case against Berry Association, Inc. Still, it seemed that something was missing. It was almost as if everything was going too smoothly.

Melville assumed the lead today, also. The first witness on the stand was a custodian for a funeral home in Mississippi. His testimony illustrated the fact that Gervis's company didn't always provide the services, or even the same casket or vault, that appeared on the invoices submitted to customers. This had been a hotly debated issue the day before and was no different now. The legal debate and procedures over it came to an end, however, and the witness stepped down.

The next person called was Lewis Crompton.

Melville took Mr. Lewis through a short history of his family's ownership of Crompton's Funeral Home, then went over a few questions to portray his commitment to quality service at reasonable prices. Kane's grandfather sat on the stand relaxed and at ease, looking every inch the distinguished gentleman. His voice was a deep, rich baritone. He was neither aggressive nor defensive, but stated his case with calm certainty.

“Mr. Crompton,” Melville said, “will you tell the court and members of the jury just why you saw fit to bring suit against Berry Association, Inc.?”

Mr. Lewis inclined his white head. “I filed suit for one reason. Because they were trying to run me out of business.”

“What led you to that conclusion?”

“I had evidence that they were deliberately lowering prices in unfair competition.”

“And how were they able to do that?” Melville studied his case notes while he waited for the answer.

“By volume purchasing. A consolidated funeral op
eration like Berry's, with several hundred homes, is able to buy caskets and other merchandise at lower prices, just like the discount chains.”

“Isn't this their right, to buy cheap, then lower prices?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mr. Lewis agreed, “
if
what they're doing is giving people a break by passing along the savings to the consumer. But that's not what's happening. The Berry homes, and others like them, cut prices long enough to get rid of the competition until family-owned homes like mine are forced out. They concentrate their attention on a single region at a time, so they wind up with a cluster of funeral homes in that particular area. After they gain a monopoly, then they suddenly jack up prices. When it's all over, the cost of a funeral is as much as fifty percent more than it was before, and there's not a thing anybody can do about it.”

“Just how would you characterize this method of doing business.”

“Sheer chicanery followed by price gouging. That's the best I can say about it in present company.”

Laughter rippled over the courtroom. Melville waited until it subsided before he spoke again. “And is this taking place only in Louisiana?”

“No, sir, not by a long shot,” Mr. Lewis said with an emphatic shake of his leonine head. “It's everywhere. Consolidation is just getting heated up. Less than twenty percent of the country's funeral homes are involved right now, but more are being sucked into the conglomerates every day. Service and personal concern with a community's grief are out the window when the corporations come into it. What becomes
important is profits, the almighty bottom line. Some so-called ‘Death Care' chains like Berry's are such big business they're traded on the New York Stock Exchange.”

“So your concern in this is to protect your customers?” Melville smiled as he spoke, his brown eyes lighting with warmth.

Mr. Lewis looked rueful. “I'd like to claim that, and it was certainly on my mind in the beginning. I'll have to admit, though, that it's become a bit more personal. In fact, you could say it's come down to a private war between Berry and me.”

The rumble of laughter was louder this time, and the judge frowned it into silence. When Melville could be heard again, he said, “Why has it become so personal?”

“I don't much care for the way he fights.” The glance Mr. Lewis threw at Gervis was tinged with challenge.

“Have you encountered personal danger?”

“I have, along with the lady I was with at the time. There have been other threats, other injuries, as well.” The glance of the older man touched Kane, then reached to the back row to where Regina sat with her son beside her.

The defense objected to that remark, and the judge ruled in their favor. Melville seemed satisfied to abandon that line of questioning. After a few more minor points, Mr. Lewis was turned over to the opposition.

“Well now, Mr. Crompton,” the head of Gervis's entourage of lawyers said with a patronizing smile, “I understand you've been taking care of the funeral
needs for the people of Tunica Parish for many years. Is that correct?”

“It is.” Mr. Lewis watched the other man, his manner alert but confident.

“In this capacity, you've been privy to any number of family secrets. Would that be a fair statement?”

“I suppose it might.”

“Yes or no, please.”

“Yes.”

“You consider that you are a safe repository of these secrets?”

“Yes, I hope so.”

“In fact, you've been known to honor certain rather irregular requests from time to time. Is this not true?” The New York lawyer turned his back and walked away as he spoke.

Mr. Lewis frowned, but answered in the affirmative.

“On one occasion, you falsified the birth date of a lady to prevent it from being known that she'd lied about her age for years. Is that correct?”

Mr. Lewis sat with his lips tightly pressed together. The lawyer turned to face him, waiting in what appeared to be a game of wills, a test to see who would break the silence. It soon became plain that it would not be the man on the stand.

“I must insist on an answer!” the lawyer snapped, his face red at being forced from his position of strength. “Did you, or did you not, falsify records to keep the woman's true age from her friends, neighbors, and even her husband, who was younger by several years?”

Mr. Lewis's voice seemed to thicken and his speech
to slow as he said deliberately, “I've been known to omit the truth in order to protect the honor of a lady.”

“In other words, yes.”

The man on the stand agreed with a sigh.

“You have a soft spot for the ladies, don't you?”

Melville entered an objection to that question, and it was sustained. The lawyer pursed his lips, then rephrased the question, saying, “Would you agree it's justified to say that the fair sex has, on occasion, imposed on your good nature and natural respect for their kind when it comes to requests for favors?”

“I haven't the least idea what you're trying to say,” Mr. Lewis returned.

“Let me put it plainly, then, Mr. Crompton,” the lawyer said with a thin smile. “Have you ever buried someone in the wrong place at a woman's request?”

The buzz of comment that swept through the room had a titillated edge. It seemed obvious, from what Regina could hear, that it wasn't so much Mr. Lewis granting such a request that interested the onlookers, but rather for whom he had done the favor.

Mr. Lewis tilted his head and waited while the judge pounded his gavel for order. When the courtroom quieted again, he said with dubious frankness, “I guess maybe it all depends on what you mean by the wrong place.”

“Did you, or did you not, bury an empty casket at the monument bought and paid for by the woman's lawful husband, then, in the dead of night, bury the woman herself at the side of another man?”

“Oh, that's what you're driving at,” Mr. Lewis said in his most countrified Southern manner. Smiling genially, he leaned back in his chair and clasped his
hands across his midsection. “In that case, I guess I'll have to answer with a yes.”

The muttering in the courtroom grew louder. Regina, who had come to know Mr. Lewis fairly well, gave him a wary stare. The defense lawyer apparently had no such misgiving, for he pounced on the admission of guilt.