Fatal Affair: 1 (Courthouse Connections) (11 page)

What might happen to her didn’t matter all
that much, but she couldn’t stand it if caring for her got JD into trouble. “No
one ever saw us
together
together, if that’s what you mean, but Wayne
told me someone saw JD and me walking on the beach in Key West when we were
both there for a continuing education program. He had some grainy photos of us.
The pictures had to have been taken from a long distance away, because they
weren’t very clear. You could tell, though—”

“Do you have any idea who might have taken
the pictures?” Tony’s frown deepened.

She shook her head. “Wayne wouldn’t say
where he got the pictures but he didn’t seem to believe they would find their
way into the hands of his political enemies. I thought at the time he showed
them to me that Bert Davies—he’s been Wayne’s campaign manager ever since
before we married—could have hired somebody to spy on me.”

“That could very well be. Davies is a slimy
sort. Do you remember seeing a familiar face down there, anybody you might have
known?”

“No. I’ve searched my memory but I can’t
recall having seen anybody I recognized. That doesn’t mean anything, though.
There could have been hundreds—thousands—of people I don’t know who could have
seen my face and realized that I was Wayne’s wife. He always wanted me to be
with him when he campaigned. A few years ago he even had pictures of us
together put up on billboards around the district.”

“JD told me you said that you and Wayne had
an open marriage even before you decided to separate. Is that right?”

“Yes. We agreed before we got married that
we could have sex with whoever we wanted as long as we were discreet about it.”

Tony shook his head. “Damn, I can’t imagine
a man being willing to put up with an arrangement like that. The senator must
have been a lot more liberal than his political positions suggested.”

“I guess he was,” she said, ignoring her
lawyer’s skeptical look. “I’ll tell you more about our relationship later if
that’s okay.”

“That’s fine. It just strikes me as odd
that since you had an open marriage, so much of an issue was made of those
photos.” Tony’s brow furrowed as if he were considering what he was about to
say. “Is that why you two decided to call it quits?”

There was no reason now for Lanie to hide
the way she really felt. “No. We’d already agreed to divorce before JD and I
took that stroll together. Tony, I owed Wayne a lot for dragging me up out of
the gutter and helping me to make something of myself, but JD is the best thing
that ever happened to me, in many ways beside the obvious one. He was the only
man I ever cheated with. The only one I couldn’t help wanting. I didn’t want
Wayne dead, though. I swear I didn’t.”

Tony looked thoughtfully at his notes, as
though mulling over what she’d just said and deciding whether to believe her.
When he met her gaze again, he shot her an encouraging smile. “All right. I’ve
got to think about what will be the best way for us to handle this. Is my
investigator going to be able to come up with some women your husband has had
affairs with? Skeletons in his closet that I can rattle? Mind you, Rocky
Delgado is damn good.”

“As far as I know, Wayne wasn’t into
women.” Lanie paused, then added when Tony’s mouth dropped open, “That was why
he wanted a wife who didn’t expect a real relationship.”

The lawyer couldn’t have looked more
shocked if she’d told him that she’d killed Wayne after all, so she guessed she
needed to spell it out to the point that Tony couldn’t misunderstand. “Since
he’s dead and the information I’m sharing with you now is privileged anyway, I
don’t think Wayne would mind me telling you. He was gay. A sexual submissive.”

“Hmm. I have trouble picturing Senator
Winstead wearing a slave collar and prostrating himself before a Dom in a BDSM
club, but that just goes to show you can’t always tell a book by its cover.
I’ll get Rocky to check it out. Do you know which clubs he frequented?”

Lanie didn’t understand. “What do you
mean?”

“BDSM clubs. There’s a well-known one down
in Ybor City, in an old cigar factory building. Very expensive. Very discreet
and even more exclusive, from what I’ve heard. I’m sure there are others around
the area as well.”

“Oh. Wayne hadn’t gone to a BDSM club for a
long time. Bert—you know, his campaign manager, Bert Davies—got wind of him
playing at a club a few years ago and insisted that somebody might talk, no
matter how discreet the club members might be. As far as I know, Wayne spent
most nights when he was home with an anonymous lover. I never met him but I
might be able to pick him out of a lineup. Wayne had our guesthouse equipped as
a sort of dungeon.”

She thought she detected the least bit of
embarrassment on Tony’s deeply tanned cheeks as he glanced at the gold Rolex on
his wrist. “I have to be at the courthouse for a pretrial conference in twenty
minutes, so I’d better go now. When they release you, I’ll have Zach
Goodman—he’s one of the associates I’ve assigned to your defense team—waiting
to run interference with the media and whisk you away from the jail quickly. I
don’t want you to say a word to any of the reporters who will undoubtedly be
lurking around outside and in the parking lots.”

“Where will I go? I can’t stand the idea of
going back to the house.” Lanie knew she’d never be able to sleep again within
fifty yards of where that gator had ripped a leg off Wayne’s body.

Tony stood and pressed the button that
would bring the deputies back. “I don’t want you to go anywhere near there.
Zach will bring you back to my office. The team’s looking for a safe place for
you to stay, where reporters won’t swarm you like vultures attacking roadkill.
Try to relax. You’ve got a lot of smart people in your corner.”

“Thank you, Tony. I’m so damn scared. I didn’t
kill Wayne—I swear I didn’t. It makes me sick to think about that gator…”

Tony held up his hand. “Try not to dwell on
that. From all the accounts, the senator was very dead before the gator decided
to attack his remains. In any case, we’ll have plenty of time to sort things
out after you’re out of here.”

For at least the tenth time, JD deleted the
correspondence he’d foolishly been attempting. The remedial action he wanted to
lay out for his client was complex, true enough, but he didn’t delude himself
into believing that writing it today would have been any easier if it had been
a simple three-step instruction intended for a kindergartner.

Fuck it, somebody’s trying to frame her.
Nobody could ever convince me that Lanie shot the senator. She doesn’t have a
violent streak anywhere inside her.
JD remembered
wiping tears from her flushed cheeks when they’d come upon a dying seabird
along the rocky shore near his cottage, comforting her when she’d killed a
squirrel that had darted into the path of her car on State Road 24 the first
time she’d come to Cedar Key to meet him.

JD knew every inch of his lover’s body as
well as he knew his own, and he was pretty sure he also knew what went on in
her mind and heart.

He got up from his desk and paced, pausing
at the bank of windows in his corner office to take in the view of sunlight
bouncing off Tampa University’s famous silver minarets. Most times, focusing
his attention on the breathtaking scene reminded him how lucky he was to have
risen so far and so fast in the firm’s hierarchy. Usually it made him feel good
to know that other than Tony Landry, he was the only Winston-Roe partner under
forty to rate an office with a view like this one.

Today nothing mattered but saving Lanie.

Shrugging on his suit coat, he left his
office with barely a word for his secretary and went upstairs. He might not be
able to do anything more useful than look up legal precedents for Tony and his
associates, but he couldn’t stay away.

Megan Allen, according to the name plate on
the horseshoe-shaped desk that faced the eighteenth floor elevator, shot JD a
hot, come-hither smile. “Hello Mr. Ackerman. Mr. Landry said to tell you if you
came up here to go on into the large conference room.”

“Thanks.” He headed to a familiarly laid-out
room, grinning inwardly when he tried to imagine the relic who presided over
the reception area downstairs sweeping a hand casually in the direction of the
conference room instead of rising and marching each guest to the door where she
ceremoniously announced him or her to anyone within.

For a moment JD paused at the door and took
in a scene, which bore little resemblance to the quiet conferences he often
held with somber-faced clients, their accountants and sometimes a handful of
his junior associates. This setting bespoke a degree of urgency that didn’t project
itself so visibly in his staid world of corporate law.

All the men were in shirt sleeves, their
ties loosened—something no one would ever see three floors down, where image
was equally important as substance. The lone woman, a hot-looking twenty-something
paralegal whose name JD couldn’t recall, had shed her stilettos and was
standing at a whiteboard drawing connections among various facts and
suppositions she’d listed in markers that were apparently color-coded based on
some criterion he hadn’t managed to decipher. He couldn’t help noticing the
outline of her lacy bra beneath a sheer, tailored blouse.

Tony, Liz and two junior associates were at
the massive table, sorting through newspapers, police reports and various
handwritten notes when Tony’s wife Kristine stepped into the conference room
from her office. JD noticed she had a sheaf of printouts in one well-manicured
hand.

“Hello, Krissie.” Good. Tony had asked her
to come in and handle the legal research for Lanie’s case. She’d spent less
than a year as an assistant state attorney before her marriage, but she kept
her hand in the law at Winston-Roe as a legal researcher while devoting pro
bono time to getting new trials for felons she believed were innocent of the
crimes for which they had been convicted.

JD knew from working with her a few times
that Krissie was a damn good researcher. All the partners fought each other to
get her when they needed critical precedents found, because she was relentless
at digging through case law and finding every decision that might possibly help
their clients.

“Hello, JD. It’s nice to see you again.
Tony, take a look at this decision in State of Florida v. Herndon. I think it’s
exactly what you need to persuade Judge Castellano to compel discovery from the
sheriff’s office as to who tipped them off that they might find the senator in
his boathouse.” She handed Tony several printed pages, then bent and brushed
her lips across his cheek. “I also found two more judicial rulings that are
similar enough that they may be helpful.”

“Thanks, love.” When Tony looked up at her,
his expression softened. JD couldn’t help envying his colleague for the
happiness he’d found. Yeah, Landry was a lucky bastard, and not only in the
courtroom.

JD stepped all the way inside and cleared his
throat. He might not know enough about preparing a defense for a criminal case
to be of much help, but he had been useless in his own office, his mind focused
as it was on Lanie.

He nodded at Rocky Delgado, Winston-Roe’s
top investigator and incidentally a fellow member of the Cigar City Club. If
anybody could find evidence to clear Lanie, it would be Rocky, whose years of
experience as a city homicide detective lieutenant most likely trumped that of
the sheriff’s best investigative team.

Tony looked up from the handwritten arrest
report in his hand, stood and took off his reading glasses. “Hey, JD. I was
about to give you a call. Come on into my office.”

JD followed, admiring the other lawyer’s
confident swagger. It was a standing joke around the office that the renowned
criminal defense lawyer won over juries as much with his striking good looks
and courtroom presence as with his not-insignificant skill at persuading juries
of reasonable doubt.

“Okay,” Tony said once he’d closed the door
behind them and motioned toward a chair for JD to sit. Once he was settled,
Tony took a seat behind his desk and skewered JD with the kind of glare he
might well save for hostile witnesses. “I need to know how much Lanie Winstead
means to you.”

“I—oh, hell, I might as well admit it. What
was supposed to have been a casual, scratch-an-itch affair that wouldn’t hurt
anybody has turned into something way more, at least for me. Fuck it, Tony, I
love her.” JD took a deep breath, then continued. “That doesn’t mean I haven’t
done what Lanie asked me to. I’ve kept things between us discreet, never pushed
her for a concrete commitment, though I have urged her not to delay getting the
divorce.”

Tony put his elbows on his desk and
steepled his fingers, looking over them at JD. “How long have you been fucking
her? And how often?”

That question caught JD unawares. “You
don’t mince words, do you, Landry? Don’t answer that—your bluntness is one
quality that makes you a good trial lawyer. I met Lanie during a continuing
education seminar in Key West. The seminar happened over Thanksgiving weekend.
Since then we’ve met for weekends every chance we’ve had, always away from
Tampa and other places where there was much likelihood that she’d be
recognized.”

“Any other times when you may not have made
a conscious effort not to be seen together? Casual meetings, things like that?”

“A couple of times we’ve had coffee or
drinks at Bennie’s Place, but every time but one we were with a group of half a
dozen or more lawyers who were killing time while waiting for verdicts. They
weren’t planned meetings and I’m sure we never gave anyone the impression that
we were more than casual acquaintances. We
weren’t
more than that,
except for the last time, on Thursday after we came back from the seminar.”

“I’m familiar with Bennie’s.” Tony grinned.
“I’ve spent a few hours there myself. Ran into Krissie there a few times when
we were both sweating out juries’ decisions, before I sweet-talked her into
believing justice isn’t always black and white but often comes in shades of
gray. I imagine every attorney in Hillsborough County has killed time there at
one time or another.”

Less than a block from the courthouse for
Florida’s Thirteenth Circuit, the bar and grill acted like a magnet for lawyers
of every shape and size. For years JD had made a point of dropping in for the
Wednesday special—broccoli-cheese soup served in a rye bread bowl—every time he
had court business around lunchtime.

“Any other chance meetings other than at
Bennie’s and the courthouse?”

JD shook his head. “I can’t recall ever
having run into Lanie at the courthouse. My practice doesn’t often take me
there. I met her and the senator together a few times, once at a Florida Bar
affair and a couple of times at political events—but those meetings took place before
we had any personal interest in each other.”

“Okay. We can hope all we want to that
nothing will surface about your affair, but I’ve got to assume that someone is
going to come forward who saw you and Lanie together and that the state
attorney will put two and two together and come up with a motive. She mentioned
when I saw her earlier that somebody had sent pictures to the senator that
showed you together down in Key West. Any idea who might have taken them?”

“Shit.” JD took a deep breath, then met
Tony’s expectant gaze. “I don’t recall seeing anybody I knew, at least by name.
I definitely didn’t run into anyone I know from here in Tampa. I’m not sure
about Lanie, but nobody came up to talk to her and she didn’t mention
recognizing anybody.”

Tony frowned. “If I’m going to present a
plausible defense, I need to know all there is to know about the times you two
went somewhere to hook up. When, where you stayed, how you registered at hotels
and so on. Did you use credit cards? Did you exchange any gifts? Have photos
taken together? Don’t leave anything out, no matter how insignificant you think
it may be.”

“All right.” JD hoped Tony wasn’t assigning
him these chores to keep him out of the way during the investigation.
“Honestly, we were very careful not to be seen together. The only hotel we
stayed in at the same time was for that seminar last fall.”

“I know, but seemingly insignificant things
tend to fall between cracks. When you get all that information together, give
it to Rocky.”

Tony paused, his expression thoughtful.
“I’ll need to talk more to Lanie about this too.”

“Why? I hope I can claim some
responsibility for Lanie deciding to end her marriage, but I can assure you our
affair had nothing to do with the senator getting himself murdered.”

Holding up a hand as though to silence JD,
he said, “I know, but your relationship with Lanie could be put out by the
prosecution as a damn good motive for her to kill him. As it relates to a
trial, your affair is a can of worms I’d rather not have pried opened by the
prosecution. If it looks as though it might be, however, I’ll want to address
it head-on. Are you aware of anyone who saw you with Lanie and might recall it
now that Wayne’s murder has focused attention on everything related to her?”

JD considered for a moment. Then he shook
his head. “Aside from the impromptu pass-bys at Bennie’s and at that continuing
education program down in the Keys, I don’t recall seeing anybody I knew when
Lanie and I were together. It was important to her that we stay away from
places where she thought she might be recognized.”

“You’re sure?”

“No. I’m not absolutely positive. How could
I be?” JD was starting to get impatient with Tony’s determined questioning, but
when Tony shot him a questioning look he continued.

“We didn’t exactly disguise ourselves but
Lanie sometimes wore a wig when we went outside together during the daytime. We
were careful to drive separately and meet away from Tampa, far from all the
places where she’d campaigned with her husband. A majority of the time we’ve
spent together has been at my place on Cedar Key, where I don’t have any close
neighbors. We rarely venture outside there, except to walk along the shore.
It’s rocky—and chilly at this time of year. Indoor weather except for die-hard
Yankees.”

Tony frowned. “I’m thinking that more
people would recognize Lanie than you, once you get away from the local legal
community, because she was the senator’s wife. I’ll talk to her more about it
later.”

“Were you able to get a bond hearing yet?”
It tore JD apart to think of Lanie being locked away in jail.

“Yes. I was about to get to that. Hank
Ehlers handled the bond hearing before the lunch recess. Judge Castellano set
bail at a million dollars, which means we’ll need to come up with a hundred
thousand and pledge some property, probably her house, assuming that Wayne put
the place into joint title with her after they married.”

“I imagine he did. It would have seemed odd
if he hadn’t, considering she was still in college back then.” JD couldn’t help
the animosity that he felt for the dead man.

“You mentioned when we spoke this morning
that you’re willing to post Lanie’s bond. I’m thinking you may have to, but it
concerns me that somebody in a bondsman’s office may let it slip where that
cash came from. I have Lanie’s power of attorney, so I can pledge her property
as guaranty.”

JD always tried to keep a low profile, not
to throw around the fact that he was rich beyond his hefty income from the
firm. If there was any time to toss discretion out the window, though, this was
it. “What if I put up the entire million as Lanie’s retainer to the firm, and
the firm puts the bail up with the court as her attorney?” Though he’d once
railed against the unfairness of it when neither his grandfather’s billions nor
the drugs he’d developed to earn those billions had been able to save Miriam’s
life, JD was grateful now that he had the means to set Lanie free.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a
million you can put your hands on right away? If you do, that would work to get
her released but still keep your name out of the public eye.”