The Sergeant looked at her. "The Lieutenant's busy, Miss Beecham. I'll let him know you're here." He picked up the telephone.
"Jessica," Robert said, causing her to turn around. "Where have you been?" He gave her a hug, then looked at her.
"Traffic's terrible," she explained. "Have you seen Antony?"
"They won't let either of us in there," Katherine told her.
"Do you know anything about the man he supposedly killed?"
"Lt. Cohen refused to speak to me at all," Robert told her. "Except to say that it was lucky the found Tony when they did or I'd have been out my bond money."
"The man's a total-," Jessica began, only to bite back the rest of the sentence as Lt. Cohen spoke.
"Nice to know the feeling's mutual, Counselor," he drawled.
Jessica whirled. "I want to see my client, Cohen."
"We're just finishing booking him in," Cohen told her. "Things were backed up here."
"Who is he accused of killing"
"Glen Darnell. Owned an import-export house on the docks. Looks as if your client was doing a little business with him on the side. We went into the warehouse and found several kilos of cocaine hidden in recent shipments."
"And how does this connect to Mr. Roselli?" Jessica wanted to know.
Cohen glanced down the hall. "Why don't we go into my office and discuss this?"
Jessica looked at Robert and Katherine. "Thank you both for coming. Go on home. I'll call you later."
The elderly couple nodded, giving her brief kisses and left, both glaring at Cohen, who shook his head. "They don't like me very much, I guess."
"It might help if you weren't such a hard case," Jessica pointed out as she turned toward his office.
"I'm a cop, Miss Beecham," he told her, as if that explained everything as he ushered her into his office and indicated the chair that sat before the cluttered desk.
"What makes you so certain that Tony Roselli was involved in drug smuggling?"
"According to Roselli's phone records, he called Darnell several times over the last few weeks. And Darnell's own files contain records of several cash payouts to Roselli over the last few years. We're thinking that Roselli used his contacts in Mexico to help Darnell get the stuff across the border."
"And how does this connect to the murder of Conchita de la Vega?"
"Miss de la Vega was working for Darnell- apparently at Roselli's insistence," Cohen told her. "Now I have a question for you: Do you know where Roselli was this afternoon?"
"He was with me. At my apartment, from the time he left here until we left for the office at three."
"Anyone see you together? Anyone who can verify your story?"
Jessica met his look squarely. "Are you accusing me of lying to provide my client with an alibi, Lieutenant?"
Cohen shrugged. "I just think it's pretty convenient that he just happened to have been with you all afternoon," he said.
"Tell me, why have you accused him of Mr. Darnell's murder?"
"We have a credible witness who saw him enter the warehouse- and saw him leave in a hurry after a shot was fired."
"Pretty convenient, isn't it?" Jessica questioned. When Cohen gave her a confused look, she said, "There always seems to be a witness in this case when you need one." She sighed. "Antony Roselli wasn't there. He was with me. I'd like to see my client now," she said, rising.
Cohen rose as well and opened the door. "This way."
Jessica was waiting when Tony entered the interview room. "Jess," he said, sounding relieved. "I was beginning to think that Laura and Steele were having trouble finding you. Imagining all kinds of things-."
"I haven't seen Remington or Laura since before we left here earlier," Jessica told him.
Tony frowned. "They were supposed to find you, let you know what we've found out."
"Perhaps something came up," Jessica suggested.
"Yeah," Tony said, but he had a bad feeling that something was wrong.
Remington watched through the glass window as Laura and Mildred kept a vigil at Edward Holt's bedside. Donald had insisted Frances go to get some coffee, leaving Edward's younger daughter and Mildred alone with him.
According to the young policeman who was standing in a back corner of the room, and who had orders to call Lt. Cohen the moment Holt regained consciousness, Edward had been found very near Sheaffer Import-Export. In fact, Remington had turned back from his pursuit of the ersatz Tony only a block away from that location. Mildred had told them that Edward had gotten a lead about Tony's case and gone off to investigate it. Had he seen the killer and struggled with him?
Remington became aware of someone else at the window of the room. Looking to his left, he saw a blonde man, dressed in a rumpled dark suit. "How's he doing?" the man asked.
"It's still a waiting game," Remington told him. "Do you know him?"
"Oh, no," he said, grinning. "Just heard that Mrs. Steele's father had been admitted and thought I'd check on his condition, that's all."
"And your interest in Mr. Holt's recovery would be-?" Remington prompted.
"Sorry. I'm Joe Blakewell. Reporter for the-"
"I've heard the name," Remington told him. "How did you find out about my father in law's accident?"
Blakewell shrugged, his eyes still on the room beyond the glass. "I just happened to be down at the station when they found him."
"Just happened to be there, eh? You're covering Antony Roselli's case, aren't you?"
"Uh, that's right." He looked at Remington again. "I'm surprised you know that."
"Your mother lives in the same building as my aunt and grandfather."
"My- m-mother," he repeated, nodding. "Yeah." He turned his attention back to Edward. "Do they think he'll be able to identify his attacker?"
"Head injuries are funny things. It's possible he won't remember anything at all about the attack. Or, he could remember everything that happened. You never know."
Blakewell glanced at his watch. "Well, gotta run. Deadline, you know. Hope he recovers."
Remington nodded, his blue eyes following the man down the hallway with a thoughtful expression before turning his attention back to the tableau beside Edward's bed.
"What are you talking about, Antony?" Jessica asked him as he paced the room muttering in a disjointed fashion.
"Jess," he said turning to face her. "Glen Darnell owned Sheaffer Import-Export."
Jessica sat down heavily, causing the chair to make a lot of noise. The guard opened the door. "You okay, Ma'am?" he asked with concern.
"Y-Yes," Jessica assured him, then waited for the door to close again. "Sheaffer?"
"He inherited it from his uncle- Claude Sheaffer."
"Oh dear God. It's my past that's the problem, not yours. But there's no way Claude could be doing this."
"Yeah. I know. Because he died a few years ago. But what about his wife?"
"I'd have to try and find her. I suppose it could be her- she was very upset about the outcome of Claude's trial. When I found that evidence that would clear him and contacted her, she informed me that it wouldn't make any difference, since her husband was dead himself."
"Listen, you go find Steele, tell him about this. He can find Mrs. Sheaffer and get this straightened out."
"What about you?"
"I don't think the judge is going to be willing to let me go again."
She reached up to touch his cheek. "Tony, I-," she began, but he shook his head and brought her fingers to his lips.
"Don't. Hey. At least we know where to start now, right?"
Laura took Mildred's hand as they stood beside Edward's bed. "I'm sorry, Mildred," she said softly.
Mildred looked at her. "What do you mean, Mrs. Steele?"
"That I didn't think to ask you to come with us earlier, when we found out about Daddy's accident."
Mildred shook her head in dismissal of Laura's concern. "There was no reason for you to. I'm not family or anything."
Laura put her arm around the woman. "Mildred, let's stop playing this little game, okay?" Mildred gave her an uncertain look. "I know that you and Daddy have been seeing each other for some time."
"Oh, we're just friends, Mrs. Steele," Mildred began, trying to downplay the relationship, but Laura refused to let her.
"Mildred, I would have to have been blind not to see the way you two look at each other when you think that no one else is watching."
"But- you never said anything."
"I kept hoping that one of you would tell me."
Mildred looked at the man on the bed. "He wanted to. He wanted to tell the entire world."
"Buy you didn't? Why, Mildred?"
"I was worried how you and Frances might feel. I know you probably hoped that your parents would reconcile when Edward came back. I didn't want to cause trouble between you and I."
"Mildred, my parents weren't in the same room an hour after Daddy came home before they were arguing. It took me some time to see it, but I realized now that they were never really happy before he left. Daddy HAS been happy since he met you, Mildred. And that's what's important. And I think Frances would agree with me."
"You're not angry with me, then?"
"Angry? Why on earth would I be angry with you? Because you're in love with my father? Of course I'm not. I couldn't be happier." The two women gave each other a hug, clinging to each other for a long moment.
Frances and Donald returned, and seeing them, Frances rushed into the room. "Is he worse?" she wanted to know.
"No, Frances, there hasn't been any change," Laura said. "But there is something that you ought to know about."
Jessica picked up the telephone in the car as soon as she reached it, dialing the number for Remington's office as she started the engine. Frowning when the answering service picked up, she left a message, then called Marie. "Oh, Miss Beecham. I've been trying to ring you for the last hour," the secretary said in a frantic voice, which further troubled an already troubled Jessica.
"Why? Do you know where Mr. and Mrs. Steele are?"
"That's why I've been calling. Mildred called up here before she left the office. It seems that Mrs. Steele's father was admitted to the hospital this afternoon."
Jessica braked sharply. "What hospital, Marie?"
"Mercy General."
"That's were I'll be if anyone calls. Have there been any other messages?"
Frances shook her head at Mildred. "I can't believe you and Daddy kept this from us, Mildred," she said.
"Edward wanted to tell you," Mildred quickly assured her. "He- even asked me to marry him."
"That's wonderful!" Frances said as Laura nodded in agreement.
"She said no," Edward said weakly from the bed, drawing the attention of all three women. "Turned me down. Although how she could refuse the offer I made, I'll never know."
The policeman grabbed the telephone and dialed the number for Lt. Cohen as Laura, Frances, and Mildred all celebrated Edward's regaining consciousness. Remington and Donald entered the room as well, after summoning a nurse to call a doctor.
"What happened, Edward?" Remington asked. "Do you remember anything?"
Edward winced as he tried to recall something. "I got a lead on Tony's case- a friend of mine at the station called- said that they had done a check on his phone records, that it looked like he'd made several calls to an import place on the docks. They were trying to get a search warrant for the place. I thought I'd have time to check it out. I remember leaving for the docks, but I don't remember arriving." He looked apologetic. "Sorry."
The doctor came in, shooed everyone out of the room. "Just for a few minutes," he told them all.
In the corridor, Mildred turned to Laura and Remington. "I did a check on Glenn Darnell like you asked me to."
"Did it turn up anything?"
"Not much on Darnell- he's been a model citizen for the most part - but his uncle Claude Sheaffer was tried and convicted of a murder that he denied committing ten years ago. And you'll never guess who his lawyer was, Chief," she said.
"Mildred, this is no time for guessing games," Remington said.
"It was me, Remington," Jessica said into the quiet gathering. "I was Claude Sheaffer's attorney. It was my fault that he was convicted and died two years later in a prison riot."
Maisie smiled brightly as she opened the door. "Come in, come in. Let me put the kettle on for some tea- or would you prefer coffee?" It would be the last offer of tea she would ever make.
To Be Continued...