The Mourning Mail (final release candidate #7)

Chapter 27

Our server had been hanging back, waiting for a break in a conversation that she could see had become intense. She asked us if we needed anything, and after we both declined, she refilled our water glasses and moved on to other customers.

"Okay, I admit, some of what I said was a little harsh," Marci said, her tone more accommodating as she used the interruption as an opportunity to reflect. "I imagined how one of my superiors who doesn't know you might vocalize it. And you are right, that isn't fair. We look at these things differently because our occupations aren't the same. I get that. But if you want kudos from cops, you've got to express your work in ways that respect their standards and fully comply with the law. And anything to do with homicide, potential or otherwise, is off limits for screwing around, period."

Marci stopped and collected her thoughts momentarily, her facial expression softening. "We've been friends for a while now, and our friendship is important to me. I'm willing to go out on a limb here because of it. But I need you to understand this is my job at stake. If my superiors perceive anything I say or do as deliberately dishonest, that's it. That's the end of my career. And if they wanted to push it, they could charge me with impeding an investigation."

Marci gave me a moment to absorb what she'd just told me. "Let me propose this—I have to present these letters to my bosses. When I do, I will tell them you were busy with your freelancing opportunities. You didn't get to read through what you'd gathered until just recently. And as soon as you realized what you had, you contacted me. You can say that you spent the time between texting me and this lunch researching Ainsworth and Seaver. Would you be comfortable with that?"

"Thanks, Marci, I understand the risk you are taking, and I deeply appreciate that you would do this for me. But yes, I think that approach should work for everyone." I answered as I felt some of my frustrations melting away. Her commitment to finding a solution dialed down the temperature for both of us. "It's a small deceit that doesn't affect any relevant facts. If anyone has any problem with that version, I'll confess and tell them you were communicating to them what I told you."

"Cross your fingers that Ainsworth will confess to the Pierce killing, and then flip on the former doctor and his girlfriend," Marci said. "That would render all this moot, anyway. The detectives still haven't located him for the interview about the Cantor murder, so if the cards fall out way, we may gain some leverage there. I am happy you came to me before you took it any further. James Seaver, Richard Ainsworth, and their crew are real rat bastards, worst of the worst. They wouldn't hesitate to kill someone else with the stakes in the millions of dollars. For your safety, Debra Ann, you need to stay away from this in the future and let us do our thing. I'll keep you posted on whatever transpires from this point on."

"I understand, and I'll be a good girl, I promise," I said. "Oh, you just reminded me; how in the world did I forget that? I got a visit yesterday from James Seaver and two of his goons. At my apartment, no less. I think he was trying to scare me off, and I must tell you, he's a menacing guy. He made an appearance, which was pretty much it, trying to intimidate me and insinuating I needed to steer clear of him and his business.

"But it tells me something I've looked into has him rattled."

"Just be careful," Marci said. "We'll take it from here. We already have too many bodies lying around this, and there's nothing you need to do now to put yourself in more danger from him."

I felt a sense of genuine relief, and not just that things would move towards some form of justice for Brian, Theresa, and Coach. It also helped that Marci and I would remain friends. I knew she wouldn't be covering for me if she didn't feel the same, which was comforting. As we finished our meals, we turned to other topics, which helped relieve some lingering tensions from her underwhelming reaction to my big reveal.

As I paid the check, Marci grabbed the expanding file folder and tucked it under her arm, using the top of the crutch to hold it in place. She laid down our server's tip, and we walked out together. Before we split to go to our separate cars, we hugged as best we could around her crutches. She had been a good friend through an unexpectedly difficult conversation, and I was genuinely grateful for that. Marci agreed to contact me in the next few days to give me a progress report.

When I got to my car, a black Transit van had parked too close to my driver's side door. I had to squish myself as flat as possible to get in, saying unladylike things as I did. But even with that hassle, once I was in my seat, rearranged my clothes, and punched the button to start my car, I had a random thought that made me smile broadly. With Marci's support, the long-awaited day would soon come when I, and the entire world, would see the sneer wiped off James Seaver's face.

Thatimagery alone was worth getting chewed out a little over lunch, and I couldhardly wait for things to develop over the next few days.