The Price of Candy (6 page)

“Sure, are you okay?”

“For the last hour I sat in a county
detective’s vehicle giving a detailed statement.”

“Which county detective?”

“Triney.”

“How is Triney? I’ll have to tell you about
him sometime.”

Inside of ten minutes, she was at Chip’s
front door. He held her tightly for a moment. “You’ve really been
through it. Were you ever in danger?”

“Abby Olin had just killed a man and then
pointed her still smoking .38 revolver at me. Does that count?
Fortunately, killing me wasn’t part of her plan. After the
excitement of the police arriving and all, I’m exhausted.

”You’ll have to tell me the entire story
sometime. How’d Triney treat you? Did you win him over in the first
two minutes, or did it take five?” She headed for the bedroom. He
followed her. “You want a drink or something?”

“I want sleep.” She began to undress. She
kicked her shoes off. “Triney seemed okay. Should I not like
him?”

“You know, years ago he had a football
scholarship up at Florida State. Got kicked off the team in some
campus-wide cheating scandal. No more scholarship and that meant no
money to finish school. Tough deal for a black kid trying to be the
first in his family to go to college.”

He watched as she shook off her top and
pulled off her jeans. She sat on the edge of the bed in her
underwear, rubbing her feet.

“So he overcame all that?”

“Here let me do that.” He knelt down in front
of her and began massaging her feet and ankles. “Now he speaks to
youth groups around South Florida about learning a tough lesson,
ethics versus youthful exuberance, and that sort of stuff.”

“Oh God, that feels great.” She leaned back
on the bed. “So he’s one of the good guys.”

“Did you hear your old nemesis Moran has a
call out for you?”

“God save us all from state attorneys. What
does Little Bonaparte want?”

“You were just involved in a shooting. He
wants to hassle you about it, of course. You should wait until
Jerry Kagan can go with you.”

“I don’t need help from my attorney. I
haven’t done anything.”

“I never thought I’d hear such a statement
coming from a potential lawyer. You’d never give such advice to
anyone facing a state prosecutor.” He kneaded the bottoms of her
feet with his fingers. “Get undressed. I’ll give you a
massage.”

“Oh, no. You don’t know the difference
between a massage and foreplay.”

“No, you said you wanted sleep. That’s fine
with me.”

“Okay...but I’m staying on my stomach. Just
do my legs...my thighs.” She slipped off the underwear and
stretched out face down on the cool sheet. She let out a loud sigh.
“Oh...I could fall asleep...just like this.”

He began kneading her thighs slowly. Stroking
deeply up and down each leg. He lifted each leg slightly to press
his fingers and knuckles in the strong muscles of her calves.
Followed by long continuous strokes down the back of each leg with
both hands from her upper thighs to the bottoms of her feet.
Without breaking contact, he rubbed gently along the insides of her
thighs.

“Spread your legs.”

“Now there’s a phrase a woman doesn’t hear
every day,” she mumbled.

“Just so I can do it better.”

“My legs are fine just as they are, thank you
very much. You can stop now. It did the job. I’m relaxed and can
fall asleep.”

“I’ll let you sleep now...wait a second.” He
went to the armoire and brought back one of his T-shirts. “Here
sleep in this. Goodnight, Honey, I’ll sleep in the other room so I
don’t disturb you.”

“No, I want to know you’re beside me. That’s
why I’m here. I’d say hold me, but I’m not that bad off. Just a bit
shaken.”

She put on the T-shirt, rolled away from him,
and curled up. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Then she raised her
head, looked back at him, and gave him a smile. “We’ll have a
sunrise serenade.”

“Can’t, I have to go in early tomorrow.
Anyway, I don’t expect to be repaid for my massage service.”

“Yes, you do. How about this, after your
morning shower come in and nudge me.”

“I won’t have time.”

“You’ll take time for this. I’ll be
fast.”

“Oh...that’s different. We could make it part
of our every-morning routine. Like morning coffee.”

“Forget about that.”

“Maybe you’ll like it.”

“If I didn’t like it, I’d never do it.
Pleasant dreams.”

The next day began officially for Sandy at
the county courthouse, summoned there by State Attorney Lawrence
Moran. She was fixing a cup from the coffee setup in the corner of
his large outer office when they said she could go in.

The state attorney was at his desk sipping
coffee. “You are a terrible way for me to start my morning.”

“You look exceptionally evil today,” she
said. “Why don’t I come back next year?”

She didn’t know why she was there. But it was
easy for her to imagine. He wanted to hassle her. He must have
already seen the reports from Detective Triney on the shooting.
Abby’s arraignment would proceed routinely and, in time, Moran’s
assistant state attorneys would brief him. So why would the state
attorney—the big boss himself—use his own time to interview a mere
witness at this early stage? He must have something special on his
mind.

There are twenty judicial circuits in the
State of Florida, each with its own individually elected state
attorney. In their Judicial District, state prosecutors have
tremendous control over life and liberty. Moran was one of the
twenty. His jurisdiction covered Park Beach and the surrounding
counties.

No one liked to interact with Little
Bonaparte. That’s what some called him behind his back. Not only
for the physical similarities, baby faced, short, and stocky, but
for his imperious personality as well. A tyrant with far too much
power. He had a staff of well-qualified assistant state attorneys
to prosecute cases, but Moran had a special reason for wanting to
handle personally anything involving Sandra Reid. His political
ambitions had been set back after his first encounter with her.
He’d never forgive.

”Oh, you’re having coffee. May I go back and
get mine?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She returned to the
waiting room and retrieved the cup she had just poured. When she
came back, “I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought
I’d drop by. Why didn’t you make me wait in your outer office for a
couple of hours so I’d be impressed with how important you
are?”

He leaned forward. “One day you’ll realize
just how important I am.”

Normally she’d take that statement as his
usual banal banter. This time, however, she detected seriousness in
his words that suggested he had something specific in mind.

“I’m always open for a truce with you, Mr.
Moran. Remember you started this. You initiated the hostilities by
holding my brother without just cause to save your own sorry ass.
Why don’t you do the people a favor and take early retirement
before you humiliate yourself again?”

No way to talk to a prosecuting state
attorney she might face in a courtroom, but they had a history of
yelling much worse at each other. In a way, they were picking up
where they had left off four months ago. Tossing personal barbs at
him was not advisable and not in her best interests. Foolhardy,
although irresistible for her.

She knew he was eager to come down on her
with his considerable power. However, he had moved too hastily in
the past when he had attempted to swat her brother down like an
annoying bug. Since then he had become more cautious. He had
learned Sandra Reid could bite back.

Once before Moran had thought he had a
helpless patsy. Her brother, Raymond, had just moved to the small
ocean side town for a change of scenery, to get past his
Philadelphia divorce, and start a new life. Subsequently, a
seventy-year-old seductress in a thong bikini framed him for a
local politician’s murder.

The citizens of Park Beach were outraged this
stranger had murdered a local politician. A rumor at the time had
it he was a gunman for some Philadelphia mob. Raymond found himself
in a hostile town. His solitary hope was his estranged sister.

Since the town had already prejudged Raymond,
Moran wasn’t going to let innocence stand in the way of a surefire
conviction. The perfect case, he figured, to propel him to the U.S.
Senate. However, he hadn’t figured on the deadly sister showing up.
She had exposed his incompetence with embarrassing consequences for
him. He wouldn’t underestimate her again. He’d wait for the ideal
situation for pay back, the one sure kill to get her out of his
life for good. Perhaps the file now on his desk was just the
opportunity.

He set his empty cup aside. “Still the
flippant smartass, I see. Every minute you’re free to run around
means another minute the decorum and tranquility of Park Beach is
in jeopardy.” He shifted through some papers on his desk. “Now tell
me about Abigail Olin. How do you know her?”

She knew where the line was between the
personal and the official. When he put on his state attorney hat,
she’d bite her tongue and not deviate from the truth. Lying to a
state attorney or a federal officer, even if not under oath, can
land you in jail. You can be tricky, you can push the limits of
ambiguity, but you’d better not lie.

She told him about knowing Abby Olin from
juvenile rehab as teenagers and receiving her phone call. Sandy
avoided mentioning Bruce Banks or the offensive activities of the
counselors and hoped he didn’t go there. She continued about Abby
explaining her Internet panty business, and Jamie overhearing her
mother and Toby talking about a porno operation. “In short, the
woman is an oversexed screwball. You don’t have to believe me, just
search her computer.”

“Too bad Philadelphia didn’t keep the two of
you locked in rehab. For your information, we searched the Olin
house immediately after the shooting. We found nothing but some
money in a shoe box.”

“How much?” She knew he wouldn’t tell
her.

“God, you’re nosey. Why do you even ask such
questions? It’s not your concern.”

“And stuff on her computer, right?”

“We were in the house legally because of the
shooting. Had no reason to consider the computer. Later, after
Detective Pomar told us about your porn story, we got the judge out
of bed to implement a warrant covering the computer. He denied it,
seeing no connection between her computer and shooting a
prowler.”

“You’re starting in with another major screw
up. The computer is everything, Moran. Go back and get another
warrant for the computer before you release Abby and she gets her
deleting little fingers on it.”

“Not on the say-so of some kid. You think I’m
a complete idiot?”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

He continued looking down at the folder. “You
told Pomar the daughter said it was porn. We asked Abigail Olin and
she laughed that off. Her lawyer was just in here. She denies any
activities with porn, child or otherwise.”

“She didn’t confess to a crime. Imagine that.
You just can’t trust anyone anymore.”

“She says Jamie is a little liar always
making up stories to cause trouble. She likely made up the story
about her mother being involved with child porn.”

“Jamie isn’t like that. You should talk to
her.”

“You don’t know about that kid but we do.
County gave us an old police report. A year ago, she called 911
claiming she’d been locked in her room for days without food or
water. Later, she admitted she was mad because her mother wouldn’t
let her go to the movies, or something. The kid has a history. That
mendacious child took you in.”

“I can’t believe I figured her wrong.”
Another argument occurred to her. “Jamie might have lied about the
porn, but she was right about something going down last night.”

He ignored her point. “In her statement, the
mother says she shot that man thinking he was a prowler. In fact,
she claims she’s been threatened by one....” Moran thumbed through
his file. “...Bruce Banks. She said you’d back up her story that
Banks has been threatening her. What do you say to that? Do you
know about Banks?”

Sandy cursed Abby under her breath. “I
definitely will not back up such a story. Bruce Banks has nothing
to do with this. She told me she thought someone was stalking
her—that’s all. But I’ve no evidence of that. I’ve no knowledge of
Banks threatening her. He’s old news. Someone we both knew up in
Philly. Obviously, she just came up with Banks threatening her as a
cover to shoot Toby.”

“How do the two of you know Banks?”

She was afraid that was coming. “He was a
counselor at the rehab facility.” Did that sound innocent
enough?

“The two of you just happened to remember his
name? I want to know about Banks.”

“We were talking about our time in rehab. I
don’t think she remembered his name until I blurted it out
innocently.” Sandy didn’t want all this out there. “He routinely
sexually abused some girls who were confined there?”

“Did he sexually abuse you?”

“What does that have to do with
anything?”

“It goes to motive. Did he?

“He never touched me.” That was misleading.
He hadn’t touched her, but it was sexual abuse the moment he
unzipped and told her to get on her knees.

“How about Abigail?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

“No, I don’t have to ask her!” He raised his
voice, “I’m asking you. What do you know and what does she
say?”

“She told me she was abused. I’d be surprised
if she wasn’t.”

"So she might have been telling the truth.
Banks might have been threatening her."

“How would he even know her location after
all these years?" She thought a minute about what she had just
said. Then leaned forward. "Unless...she contacted him first to get
his name thrown into her phony being-threatened story. Did you find
any emails to or from Banks on her computer? Oh, that’s right, you
never checked her computer. I forgot who I was dealing with.” She
knew she had him on the defensive, but she'd better not press it.
"I do know Abby thought she was shooting the Toby guy. I heard her
yell his name before she shot him."