The Pastor’s Jezebel Lover (8 page)

“It’s simply ridiculous,” Eileen countered. “Why would I murder my own attorney after announcing my intention to do so?”

Howe raised his hands. “A woman in a jealous rage will make a lot of mistakes.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t jealous of Jack,” she scoffed. “I didn’t begrudge him any of his many affairs. I was merely glad to be rid of him. Or at least I thought I was.” She leaned in. “You have to dig deeper, officer Howe. If Jacqueline was really Jack’s lover, something else is going on here.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. But I’m sure you’ll find out.” If appealing to his intelligence was intended to mollify the policeman, it obviously didn’t.

He stabbed his finger at her. “You’re the one with the motive, Miss Stoker. As far as I’m concerned, this murder has your name written all over it.”

“Just ask Father Ramon where I was last night. He’ll confirm my statement.”

“Trust me. I will. How long did you stay at his place?” he added innocently.

“I left there around four this morning.”

“Anybody see you leave?”

“I made sure no one would. I was concerned about his reputation.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You went straight home?”

“I did.”

“Anyone to confirm this?”

She was starting to feel weary about this line of questioning, but felt it was probably all part of the process. “My mother was already asleep when I arrived. I didn’t want to wake her up so to answer your question, no one saw me.”

“What did you to do once you arrived home?”

“I went straight to bed.”

The police officer grinned and tapped his notebook with his pencil. “I’m afraid I lied to you, Eileen. Miss Doulard was killed between four and six this morning. And now that it’s clear you don’t have an alibi for this time period, I think we have our killer.”

Ramon sat quietly contemplating recent events. He’d raced through early morning traffic until he finally arrived at a posh villa on the outskirts of his home town of Arradene, fifty miles from Brookridge.

It was a testament to their friendship that Frank Ruffalo had immediately cleared his schedule for this emergency meeting. Ruffalo and Ramon had been high school friends, and even when their paths had gone in different directions, they’d kept in touch and their friendship had endured.

While Ramon had chosen the way of the Lord, Frank had walked the path of justice and had studied law. He’d since made quite a career for himself as an attorney, and it was in this capacity that Ramon was now paying him a house call.

Moments after he’d bid him to take a seat in the waiting area, his friend returned and ushered him into his office.

A big man with impressive sideburns—a relic of a rebellious youth—Frank hadn’t changed a bit, Ramon thought. His ruddy face still round and jolly, his piercing blue eyes still exuding a raw intelligence and the tenacity any lawyer worth his salt needs to carve out a name for himself.

He was glad to see his old friend, and he told him as much, and while the other barely moved a muscle throughout his long tale, he knew the lawyer was taking in all the details of the case, and his agile mind was already searching for avenues to pursue and possible leads to chase.

“This is quite a story, my friend,” finally concluded Ruffalo. “And you’re telling me you love this woman? You’re contemplating matrimony?”

“I am,” confirmed Ramon.

With a twinkle in his eye, Frank added, “Love, huh?”

Ramon decided to forego his usual reticence and confide in his friend. “I care for her a great deal, Frank. And yes, I think it’s love, though I can’t deny the urges of the flesh might have something to do with it as well. She’s beyond gorgeous.” He produced a photograph he’d snatched from the internet and had printed out.

Frank studied the woman’s face carefully. She was gorgeous, he thought. No wonder his friend had fallen for her. Any man would. He wondered briefly if Ramon was doing the right thing by getting involved, but knew better than to ask.

The priest had always been a deeply emotional young man, and whenever he felt strongly about something, there was no way to convince him otherwise.

He decided to play along for now.

“You’re telling me you believe in her innocence?”

“I do. There’s no way she could have done the things they’re accusing her of.”

“Stealing a car. Running over a child. Murdering a woman. Things seem to be progressing very quickly indeed. What about motive? Was she still in love with this man, or, alternatively, did she profoundly hate him?”

“Neither. She didn’t love or hate him. She’s a wonderful woman who’s been let down by people many, many times. But most miraculously it hasn’t turned her heart bitter. She still has hope and dignity and, most importantly, love to share. It’s quite remarkable she’s managed to remain so pure in spirit.”

Frank thought Ramon was displaying all the signs of a man in love, and decided to perform his own investigation into this wonder woman. A keen judge of human nature, he thought it highly unlikely she was as pure as Ramon made her out to be. Most people weren’t.

“I think we need to establish the relationship between Eileen and Jacqueline Doulard. If memory serves, Jacqueline was a fine attorney, but prone to errors of judgment. I remember she once got involved with a client of hers. An escaped convict who turned on her. She almost didn’t survive that particular altercation.”

Ramon’s face lit up. “So you’ll take the case?”

Frank steepled his fingers and raised his brows. “Of course I’ll take the case. How could I ever refuse to help out an old friend?”

Ramon reached across the desk, and grabbed Frank’s hand to press it warmly.

“You won’t regret this, Frank. Once you meet Eileen, you’ll understand.”

Frank highly doubted that, but the case looked interesting enough to pique his curiosity, and it had been quite a while since he’d had a case that had that effect on him.

He gave his friend a gracious smile, and patted his hand consolingly. “I’ll do everything in my power to help out your lady love, Ramon.” He rose from his seat with surprising agility. “Now take me to her. I think it’s time we got acquainted.”

“I admit it looks quite bleak, Miss Stoker,” Frank Ruffalo was saying, “but trust me to do my very best for you. And don’t ever lose hope.”

They were the kindest words she’d heard since being locked up in the small jail cell, and did much to warm Eileen’s heart.

“Thank you, Mr Ruffalo—”

“Frank, please. Only the staunchest criminals call me Mr Ruffalo. And politicians of course, which is the same thing, really.” He laughed loudly at his own joke.

“Only if you call me Eileen.” She smiled, though she didn’t have much cause. Ramon hadn’t been able to come, the sheriff banning him from seeing her as long as he couldn’t produce a marriage license or a license to practice law.

“Tell Ramon thank you. I’d almost lost hope before you came and provided a glimpse of hope that will have to see me through until tomorrow.”

Ruffalo stood and held her hand for a moment. “I can see now why Ramon is so enchanted with you, Eileen. And why he insists on marrying you at the earliest possible convenience.”

“I’m afraid I’m already married, Frank. Though I swear I didn’t know.”

He inclined his head. “I’ll look into that. But if it’s true, I’m afraid your marriage to Ramon is an impossibility. For the present, at least.”

She produced a brave smile. “It was a wonderful thing for Ramon to suggest, even though it’s also a very rash act on his part.”

“He must love you very much.”

Eileen chose not to respond to that. She knew just what had elicited Ramon to suggest such an outrageous thing. It was the same thing that now drove Frank to shower her with chivalry and compliments. She hadn’t missed the looks he kept darting at her chest, and the excitement that had held him in its grasp ever since he’d walked into the room. Men. They were all the same, she thought bitterly. At least she could use her assets to her advantage. If the promise of sex had kept Ramon coming back for more, perhaps the same would work on Frank.

She stood and joined him at the door. Then, on impulse, hugged herself to him, making sure he felt the soft caress of her bosom against his barrel chest.

He stiffened for a moment, then awkwardly slung his hands around her back, and pressed her closer to him, apparently relishing the sensation of her soft bust cushioning against him.

She smiled a sad smile.

Frank emerged from the interview feeling a little ruffled. He hadn’t known what to expect from Eileen Stoker, but most definitely not this. The woman was hot as hell, and not afraid to use her God-given assets to get what she wanted.

He now doubted very much if her story was as good as his friend seemed to believe it was.

His first impression? A nice woman who’d inadvertently gotten herself mixed up in a very bad deal indeed. And he didn’t buy for a second her claim of innocence.

Women like that were never innocent, he knew from experience. The way she had rubbed herself against him? If he’d stayed five seconds longer, she’d have thrown herself at him, and he’d have had a very hard time to resist her natural charms, that much he knew.

He decided not to share these preliminary conclusions with Ramon. The man was obviously enamored with the lady, and he didn’t want to burst that bubble.

Besides, he was a man who dealt solely with the facts pertaining to the cases he accepted, and he hadn’t yet sifted through them to the point where he could safely say he had a solid grasp on the case.

The police believed in her guilt, that much was clear from the brief interview he’d been granted with the lead investigator in the case, one Burt Howe.

The man seemed competent enough, and he was unwavering in his persistence Eileen Stoker was a femme fatale who hadn’t accepted the fact that the very wealthy Jack Rafter had gotten away from her and had decided to rain down revenge on the man.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned seemed to be the leading thought in Howe’s mind.

Frank joined Ramon in the police station waiting room, and took him outside. They both could use a drink and he didn’t want to discuss the case in a place where police officers walked in and out all the time.

The Busy Badger was a pub like any other, and once the men had found a little nook where they could talk matters through, they took their drinks and settled in.

Ramon was dying of curiosity to know what his friend’s thoughts were. He knew Frank to be a very sharp litigator with a keen intuition for the truth. Plus, he wanted to know how Eileen was holding up.

The fact that he’d been barred from seeing her hurt like hell, and the thought of her all alone in that prison cell enraged him, an emotion unworthy of a priest, he knew, but there it was.

Frank took his time before getting down to business. He fixed Ramon with a stern gaze. “I didn’t mean to tell you this, my friend, but…”

Ramon’s heart sank. “What? What happened?” He quickly rose, almost upsetting the table. “What did they do to her in there? Tell me!”

Frank held up his hands. “Calm down, Ramon. Eileen is fine.”

“Oh.” Ramon took a seat, his hands balled into fists. “If anything happens to her, I’ll—”

“Yes, yes. You won’t be held responsible for the consequences. I know, I know. Now cut the heroics and just listen to me, will you?” He laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know that? Still the same hothead.”

“I can’t help how I feel about Eileen. The thought of her alone in there, innocent… It’s just too much.”

Judging from Ramon’s reaction, Frank thought it better not to divulge anything of a nature to further upset his friend. He’d been wanting to put his cards on the table, but now reconsidered again. He sat back. “Look. Tomorrow she’s appearing before the judge. Perhaps we can post bail and get her out of there.”

A glimmer of hope dawned in Ramon’s eye. Frank didn’t know whether to deem it pathetic or endearing. Perhaps it was a little bit of both. “How much?”

He shrugged. “That’s for the judge to decide. However, the question of who’s going to cough up the sum is the more pertinent one. I gather the church doesn’t pay you priests in purses of gold?”

Sobered, Ramon murmured, “You’re right about that. And her mother doesn’t appear to be swimming in the stuff either.”

“Let’s just wait and see before we start wallowing in misery, shall we? Perhaps the sum will be most reasonable, and with a bit of effort, we might be able to raise it.”

It hadn’t escaped Ramon’s attention that his friend had used the plural pronoun. Would the successful lawyer consider to chip in for Eileen’s release? He hoped he would, for his own savings were meager to say the least.

Frank took a swig from his lager, then continued, “I think you and I need to start doing a bit of detecting ourselves, my friend. There’s a lot of things about this case that disturb me greatly. Not the least of which is the dubious role Jacqueline Doulard seems to have played. Burt Howe told me she used to work for Eileen, or at least that’s the story she stands by.”

“She did work for Eileen. She was her divorce lawyer.”

“When asked to produce evidence of same, however, Eileen couldn’t. She claims her email account must have been hacked, for all the emails have mysteriously vanished.”

“That’s odd.”

“Most odd. I think the best thing to do would be to get in touch with this ex-husband first.”

“Jack Rafter.”

“One and the same. You feel up to a bit of snooping, old man?”

“Most assuredly so.”

Ramon thought the future had never looked so bleak. If Eileen couldn’t prove that Doulard had worked for her, no one would believe the rest of her story.

The only thing they had going for them now was Frank. He gave his friend a grateful smile. If not for the savvy attorney, they would be sunk.

Eileen lay in her cell, feeling hopeless and forlorn. Ramon and his sweet caress seemed like a million years ago, even though it had only been the night before.

Twenty-four hours. How much difference a day could make. She’d been happy, she remembered. Happy to find a caring man. Even if he did only care about her body, Ramon seemed to be genuinely concerned about her, and intent on providing her with the best legal advice he could wrangle up. She didn’t know whether that was a token of his love, or a sign he was desperate to have her into his bed again, but she didn’t care anymore.