Part 8 (2/2)
”Not now, mister,” one of the sheriffs responded. ”We're headed directly to headquarters.”
”Certainly I can talk to him for just a few minutes,” Greg said. ”I do represent his wife.”
”Yep, you can, but only when the detectives are finished with him.”
Greg looked at Steve again, who just shrugged.
”What about the kids?” Greg went on. ”I have Dr. Nelson's permission to take them home. Your housekeeper is waiting for them there.”
”I want to go home,” one of the little girls said.
”No,” Steve said sharply, ”everybody stays with me.”
”But Dad -” the floppy-haired boy whined.
”I said no,” Steve repeated.
”It's okay, Mr. Nelson, if you'd like your kids taken home.” The officer's face softened as he looked down at the group huddled around their dad. ”They look pretty beat.”
”No. They stay with me,” Steve said stubbornly.
Greg tried again. ”It would be no problem -”
Steve shook his head. ”No.”
”Then I'll wait for you at headquarters. It's imperative that I speak with you just as soon as possible.”
”Fine,” Steve finally said.
It was almost nine when Greg returned to the jail. Laura's hair was combed, but greasy. Her face scrubbed. Her eyes less bloodshot under her gla.s.ses.
”My kids?” she asked.
”Safe and sound.” Greg explained that they were home with Mrs. Whitman, neglecting to tell her that they'd been detained for more than four hours with nothing to eat or drink. The kids waited in a drab interrogation room equipped with only a conference table and a few chairs while a pair of Tampa detectives interrogated her husband in another room. Pending substantiation, they'd accepted Steve's alibi - he was on his way to Michigan with five kids in a rental car during the time of the murder. Steve had learned that his father was sick and decided to drive to Michigan.
”That's why he took them away?” Laura asked in disbelief.
”Apparently the police pressed him on this, and he did admit that he was upset with the way you'd tossed him out. And something about how busy you were with your career. He figured since he wasn't working anyway, you could use a break.”
”And what did Steve tell you?” Laura asked dully.
”Well, I didn't get a chance to talk to him until after they all got home,” Greg said. ”Said he was tired and couldn't even think straight when I explained that you needed fifty thousand to post bail as well as a retainer for me.”
”And?” Laura pressed both hands to her temples.
”He said he was worried about your state of mind. Thinks that you might do something, and I quote, 'foolish' if you were out. He wants to talk to you first.”
”What? Are you saying he won't give me the money for bail? That's my money too! I've got to get out of here.” Laura started to stand up, but then seemed to remember where she was. She fell back and stared at one of the cement walls for a few moments. ”I find a dead woman on his kitchen floor, and I'm the one who ends up in jail? Can you have Steve come talk to me?”
”Yes, but brace yourself, there's one other thing. It seems that Steve thinks you actually killed the Connor woman. His theory to the police is that you were insanely jealous. That you killed her so he would come back to you.”
”What? That's absurd,” Laura began. ”He knew I planned to file for a separation, a divorce. He tried to talk me out of it, but -”
”Well, he's putting out that 'crime of pa.s.sion' and all. I only wish he'd talked to me first.”
Laura's fist slammed against the table. ”I can't believe this. He's just trying to get back at me.”
”Maybe, Laura, but I detected more than that. Maybe an ego thing. Like the image of you being jealous enough to kill his girlfriend feeds his ego?”
Laura frowned. ”And the kids? What did Steve tell them? And the police, what did they tell my kids? I mean, about me?”
”Best I know, they were told there'd been an accident. That you were all right, but you were needed for lots of questions. h.e.l.l, it's in all the papers. He'll have to tell them something soon. And, apparently Channel Eight wants to do an interview with him tomorrow. I advised him to just keep quiet, but he seems to have a need to explain what he thinks happened. Maybe he just wants his face back on TV.”
Laura's frown deepened. Again she started to get up before slumping back into the chair. ”Can you stop him?”
”I tried, but he seemed insistent - self-righteous. I suspect you'll have better luck talking him out of it.”
”My parents?” Laura asked faintly.
”I called them too. It's obvious they'd do anything for you. They're coming in tomorrow, to your place. Maybe they can talk some sense into your husband.”
”G.o.d, I hope so. I'm so ashamed that they have to go through this.” She covered her face with her hands.
Greg cleared his throat. ”In the meantime, we have to figure out how to post bail. I'm sorry you'll have to spend another night in here.”
Laura looked up with a grimace. She'd been so numb she could only remember the coldness, the toilet in the corner, the smell of urine leaching out through the pervasive odor of Lysol in her cell.
”I just don't believe Steve would deliberately make me stay in here.”
”I can't see that either, but just in case we've already talked about the hospital. You parents? What about friends, Laura? Think hard.”
Laura shook her head. ”Please give my parents another call will you, Greg, and tell them that I'm okay and that I didn't do it.”
”I'll tell them anything you like. Of course, they know you didn't do it. So am I going to ask them if they can raise the bail bond as well?”
”No, don't do that.”
”Then how are we going to get you out of this jail?”
”Steve just has to change his mind. We have enough money for bond.”
”And if he flat out refuses?”
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