A Man Like Morgan Kane (2 page)

"Shh…" Morgan read the front-page headlines of Saturday's theBirminghamNews.Stepdaughter Arrested for Farraday's Murder. Who the hell was Jimmy Farraday? Morgan wondered. And what was the man's connection to the Kane family?

"You'd better call Dr. Bowers before you tell Miss Claudia about this." Ida Mae clutched her ample chest dramatically. "Lord, this is liable to be the end of your poor mama."

He couldn't imagine anything being "the end" of his mother. Despite her poor health, Claudia remained cool, unemotional and totally in control. She was the same strong, powerful woman he remembered. In spirit, if not in body.

Morgan studied the front page photograph of the attractive woman shown emerging from a police car.

For a split second, he stopped breathing, then suddenly his heart pounded fast and loud, drumming in his ears. Was it? Could it be? She was older and more sophisticated than the girl he remembered, but he recognized that fragile, angelic face.

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Bethany Dow. No, not Dow. Wyndham. His cousin Amery's widow. The last time he'd seen her had been on her wedding day. He'd returned from basic training inSan Diego, with a ring in his pocket and stars in his eyes. But he'd been too late. He'd stood in the shadows outside the church that rainy October evening and watched Amery help his bride into the waiting limousine.

Morgan had carried the image ofBethanywearing her white lace wedding gown in his mind for a long, long time. She had been his for the taking once, and like a fool he'd turned his back on her when he'd turned his back on his life here inBirmingham. And he'd realized too late that even though he wanted no part of the world in which his parents lived, he did want the girl they'd chosen for him.

"I can't believeBethanykilled that man." Ida Mae planted her pudgy hands on her broad hips. "He was no good, that one. And I suppose he deserved killing. But you remember what a kind, loving little thing Bethanywas. She couldn't hurt a fly."

Morgan scanned the article, quickly absorbing the gist of the story. Bethany Wyndham, 36, owner of the Bethany's Boutique chain of ladies' apparel shops, had been arrested late last night on suspicion of murder. The victim, her stepfather, had been shot repeatedly with a.25 caliber pistol at close range. The shots had alerted Farraday's colleagues. The body had been found in his WHNB office. The weapon was registered to Ms. Wyndham, who'd been the last person seen entering Farraday's office before the discovery of his bullet-riddled body.

"There's no way to keep this a secret from your mama," Ida Mae said. "It'll be all over the television and newspapers forever and ever. That Jimmy Farraday was as popular in these parts as anyAuburnor Alabamafootball coach. Everybody I know watches his Wake Up Birmingham show religiously."

Folding the paper, Morgan laid it down on the antique tea table to his right. Grasping Ida Mae by one shoulder, he squeezed gently. "Getting this upset isn't good for your blood pressure." He placed his arm around her shoulders and led her over to the tub-backed beige chair near the fireplace. "Sit right here."

Ida Mae eased her rotund body down into the chair, crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at Morgan. "I'm sitting," she told him. "Now what?"

"Now, answer a few questions for me."

"What do you want to know?"

"I assume by your reaction to this article—" he glanced meaningfully at the newspaper on the table

"—that Mother has remained close toBethanysince Amery's death."

"Close? I'd say so." Narrowing her gaze, Ida Mae glared accusingly at Morgan. "Who do you think sat at the hospital day and night when your mama had her surgery? And who do you think stood at her side the day they buried your father? And who do you think comes by once a week and calls nearly every day to check on Miss Claudia?"

"Bethany?"

"She's been like a daughter to your mama," Ida Mae repeated. "Of course, if Miss Claudia had had her way,Bethanywould have been your wife and our Anne Marie would have… Well, it don't matter none, I guess. Not after all these years. Anne Marie is as much a grandchild to your mama as she would have been if … if she'd been yours."

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Anne Marie? Bethany and Amery's daughter. Named for his and Amery's grandmother, Anne Marie Morgan. He hadn't known about the child until after Amery's death. Ida Mae had sent him a copy of his cousin's obituary.

Up to that point, Morgan had thought the most difficult thing he'd ever have to face wasBethany's marriage to Amery. He'd been wrong. What had hurt the most—what had haunted him for years—was the knowledge thatBethanyhad given Amery a child. A child that should have been his.

He'd blamed himself. He had rejectedBethany's love and left her defenseless against the machinations of her mother and his parents, who had desperately wanted a union between the two families. She'd been so young, so sweet and innocent—and so much in love with him. Dammit, how could he have been such a fool? He'd walked away from his one chance at happiness, and when he'd come to his senses, it had been too late. In her vulnerable state,Bethanyhad turned for comfort to his cold, calculating, status-oriented, money-hungry cousin.

Logically Morgan knew he'd been the one at fault. But in the deepest recesses of his heart—a heart that he'd been told, more than once, was embedded in solid rock—he still questioned how, if Bethany had loved him so completely, she could have married another man so soon?

"What are we going to do about telling Miss Claudia?" Ida Mae asked.

"If you think telling Mother about—" he could barely bring himself to say her name aloud "—Bethany's arrest is going to upset her and endanger her health, perhaps we should keep it from her."

"How are we going to do that? Miss Claudia reads the papers and watches television. And somebody's bound to come by or call to tell her about it."

"Then I'll have to tell her."

"Maybe you ought to call Dr. Bowers and have him here when you tell her." Staring directly at Morgan, Ida Mae widened her eyes in a you - understand - what - I - mean expression. "Just in case."

"Call and find out how soon he can come over," Morgan said. "In the meantime, I'll go upstairs and see if Mother's awake, and if she is, I'll make sure she doesn't watch television."

After walking Ida Mae out into the kitchen, he headed up the back stairs. On his way to his mother's room, he heard the telephone ringing. Damn! He hoped Ida Mae was the one who had answered.

As a child, he'd never been allowed entrance into his parents' bedroom, so even now he hesitated momentarily outside his mother's private domain. Gripping the crystal knob, he opened the door and stepped inside the dimly lit interior. His mother's soft, thick Southern drawl whispered quietly.

With every strand of her chin-length platinum blond hair in place, Claudia sat nestled in the antique canopy bed, her back braced against a mountain of pillows. She clutched a gold and white telephone in her hand.

Dear God, she was on the phone! Why the hell hadn't Ida Mae picked up when she'd heard it ringing?

He moved slowly across the Persian rug that covered the hardwood floor and approached the side of the heavily draped bed.

"Don't worry, darling," Claudia said into the telephone. "Maxine Carson is an excellent attorney. She
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was Papa Henderson's choice to take over his practice. She's as good as they come.Bethanyis innocent, and I promise you that she won't be convicted of murdering that horrid man."

Morgan stood by his mother's bed, watching and waiting, amazed not only by Claudia's sweet, almost motherly tone of voice, but by the truly concerned look on her face.

"Now, has Nana ever made any promises to you that she didn't keep?" Claudia paused, smiling weakly.

"I love you, too, darling. Please tellBethanythat although I can't come to her, I'm with her in spirit."

Another slight pause, then Claudia swallowed hard. "Call me every day … and come to see me soon."

Claudia placed the receiver in the cradle atop the nightstand, then glanced up at Morgan. "Good morning, son."

"Who was on the phone?" he asked.

She patted the wide expanse of unoccupied bed to her right. "Sit down. We need to talk."

Morgan sat; Claudia reached for his hand. Surprised by the gesture, he almost pulled away, but stilled his involuntary rebuff and allowed her to grasp his hand. "That was Anne Marie.Bethany's daughter."

"She calls you Nana?" How was it that his mother's great-niece called her a diminutive of grandmother?

Had Amery taken his place in the family so completely that his own mother had considered her nephew a substitute for the son who had sorelydisappointedher?

"Anne Marie is my granddaughter." Claudia squeezed Morgan's hand. "In every way that matters to either of us."

"I heard your end of the conversation, so I assume you already know what I came up here to keep you from finding out. I was going to wait for Dr. Bowers to arrive before I told you."

"Ida Mae is no doubt in a tizzy. But there's no need to bother Wes Bowers." Claudia's sharp blue-gray eyes, identical to her son's, glared at him. "I may have a bad heart, but my mind functions quite well, thank you. I'm perfectly capable of dealing with this atrocity. And that's what this is—an atrocity. To think that anyone could believe ourBethanyis capable of killing someone, even that vile Jimmy Farraday, is—"

"Stay calm, Mother." Morgan clutched her chin gently. "Don't upset yourself."

Releasing her hold on his hand, she jerked away from him. "You're right. I have to remain calm and in control. I can't help Anne Marie or Bethany if I have another heart attack. And I intend to help them in any way I can. You must help them, too, Morgan."

She looked pleadingly at him. He couldn't remember his mother ever begging, either by word or gesture.

She was a proud woman. But for some reason she was willing to put aside her pride for the sake of Amery's widow and child.

"You work for a private security and investigation firm, don't you?" Claudia looked him directly in the eye. "You could investigate Jimmy Farraday's murder and find his real killer."

"No, Mother. I can't." He had no intention of seeingBethany, for any reason, not even to help prove her innocent of murder. "I won't be in town long enough to be of any help. I'd planned to stay only a few
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more days. Besides, if you want to hire an investigator, I can call my boss and have him send someone over fromAtlanta."

"Why request someone else when you're already here?" Claudia asked.

"I came back home to see you, not to become involved with the family again, not to get embroiled in some mess Amery's wife has gotten herself into. And certainly not to become a part of the life I left behind sixteen years ago."

"You're so bitter, Morgan. Why?" Claudia reached out and touched his cheek. He withdrew instantly.

"We didn't leave you. You left us. We didn't stop loving you. You grew to hate us and everything our lives represented."

"And the minute I left town, you threwBethanyinto Amery's money-grubbing clutches." Morgan shot up off the bed, rammed his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks and paced back and forth in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. "You and Eileen Dow were so damned and determined to see the Dows joined with our family in marriage that you gaveBethanyto a man who wanted her only because she'd been mine."

"Morgan, no, we didn't—"

"I came home after basic training," he said, cutting off his mother's explanation mid-sentence. "You didn't know that, did you? When I went toBethany's house, the maid told me that she was getting married that very day. I stood outside the church, in the rain, and watched Amery andBethanyget into a white limousine."

"Oh, Morgan … son, we never knew. You—you had told us that you never wanted to see us again.

You cut off all ties to us. You brokeBethany's heart as well as mine and your father's. When you left Birmingham, we had no idea where you'd gone. Not for several years. Not until you finally called Ida Mae."

"You ask me why I'm bitter, Mother. Well, I'll tell you. I came back toBirminghamafter basic training to get the one thing I'd left behind that I found out I truly wanted. And guess what? I was too late. My mother and father had already given her to my cousin."

"I'm sorry," Claudia said in a calm, quiet voice. "I am so very sorry."

"And I'm sorry, too. Sorry that I came back to see you. And sorry I can't be the comfort to you that Ida Mae thinks I should be."

When his mother made no reply, Morgan walked out of her bedroom, down the back stairs and outside to the driveway where he'd parked his car. Ida Mae called after him. He hesitated, his hand clutching the door handle.

"Look after Mother," he said. "I've got to get out of here for a while."

"Are you coming back?" Ida Mae asked.

Was he? He wanted to run now as badly as he had sixteen years ago. Run and never look back. "I don't know."

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He slid behind the wheel of his black Ferrari F-40, revved the motor, raced around the circular drive and out onto the road. He had to get out of Redmont, offRedMountain, away fromBirmingham.

He never should have come home. Not even to see his sick, possibly dying mother. It had been a mistake to think he could return home and not run headlong into the past.

* * *

The spectators at the graveside crowded around the family like vultures preparing to swoop down and devour. Local and state reporters and photographers were bad enough to deal with at such a time, but national TV networks had sent representatives toAlabamato cover the sensational murder of Jimmy Farraday.