When We Were Married Ch. 06C

"No compromise. I thought Dave Brandon was a friend of yours. I know you've been to his house. You know his wife. I know she didn't have a real active sex life in high school and college before she met Dave. This...knowledge...will devastate her. It's going to tear her heart out."

"How the hell do you know all this? Are you with the CIA? Are you some kind of government spook?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just a Jacksonville housewife who works part time in real estate office to get out of the house. I'm nobody special. Oh, and you're running out of time. I could messenger over a million dollars in cash -- in 50s and 100s - in an hour. Once that happens, you lose all leverage. He's out no matter what you say."

"Assuming you're telling the truth, I'm happy to hear you say that, because it shows that you do make mistakes. Bail is not automatic; you can bring that $1 million down, but Paul has to accept it and sign for it. He can say, 'I won't sign'. Bond is only a way of making sure that someone who wants out, will come back to trial. I can tell you, he won't walk out."

This time there was a silence and when she came back on I sensed for the first time that I'd shaken her a little. Whatever she was, she wasn't infallible.

"I could come down and talk to him. Even though...."

I didn't need to be Dr. Teller to read her. She was frightened - hell, she was terrified - of the man in the cell. The man she'd lived with for 20 years, the man she'd betrayed and, probably, driven crazy, or crazy again. However, as she came back on, I could tell she'd make herself go down there and face him. I still couldn't figure out what the hell was going on between the two of them.

"They'd let me in the jail, or I could pull enough strings that I could get in there."

"Trust me when I say that you are the last person he wants to see. If there was ever a chance of his walking, it has to be with you nowhere around. Just come down to my office and talk to me."

"No, not on your home ground. We need a neutral location. How about Carrabba's on Atlantic Boulevard? You know it?"

"Yeah, it will take me an hour, maybe two to get there. How about 4:30?"

"Fine, I'll see you there. Mr. Maitland, I'm really looking forward to meeting you -- in the flesh. I'm really curious about you."

She wasn't even trying, but there was something about that whispery, bedroom voice and the memories of that body bouncing between Matthews and Brandon, those big tits flying, that made me start to get hard.

"And I'm really, really, curious about you Mrs. Donnally."

Shit, if she could have that kind of effect over the telephone line, maybe I should bring along a chaperone.

I sat there in my office looking through the window out at the bright Fall landscape trying to make sense of what had been happening since I'd noticed Donnally's name on the jail log. If I wasn't who I was, if I hadn't done what I'd done for the last 10, almost 11 years, if I hadn't seen what I'd seen and heard what I'd heard, it never would have occurred to me.

It was such a dark, dark suspicion that it made me hate the decade I'd spent looking into the blackest pits of the human soul. Yet, she had already done some really bad things, if you looked at it one way. Even if you gave her the benefit of the doubt, assumed there was some part of her tucked deep away that still loved Paul Donnally, she'd still been willing to sacrifice an innocent stranger, an innocent family, to get what she wanted. Could loving somebody enough make up for being willing to do ANYTHING for them, screw the rest of the world?

I made two more phone calls to cover my bases and hoped to God I was wrong in what I was suspecting her of doing. Then I went down, got in the Escalade and drove out to Carrabba's, fighting the afternoon traffic to make it by 4:30 p.m.

She was sitting at a table in a room off the rear of the restaurant. Except for the fact that she was wearing clothes, she looked exactly like the woman I'd seen a few hours ago getting it in her ass and pussy by two men. She looked up at me with an expression that made her appear psychic, like she knew I was seeing her naked and well fucked.

She was beautiful, actually more than beautiful. She made me feel like a dirty-minded 13-year old as I examined her body, dressed in a loose blue green blouse and blue skirt that wasn't that high cut, but was sexier than any miniskirt I'd ever seen on any woman.

She rose from her chair as I approached her and extended her hand. I took it. She was as slender and fragile looking as Dave had described her.

"Mr. Maitland."

"Mrs. Donnally."

I sat down opposite her and we just stared at each other. I wondered if her heart could be as dark as I thought it might be, or if she was only guilty of breaking a clueless man's heart; wanting to somehow make it all right again if only to preserve the sanctity of past memories.

I looked around and noticed there was nobody sitting in our section. That was not all that unusual because it was still early for the afternoon rush but, still, the only guy sitting within a couple of tables of us was a tall, dark haired guy in a suit. He was facing the entrance and I was looking at him in profile, but I thought I knew him. I began to get a sinking feeling that my suspicions would prove justified.

I noticed a male waiter stick his head out from the entrance to the kitchen and look toward us, but his glance went to the man and I noticed him shake his head and the waiter duck his head back inside the kitchen.

Paula Donnally took a deep breath and I realized she knew what she was doing. She was playing on the knowledge that I had seen her sex tape. A small quasi smile played on lips aching to be bruised.

"We need to talk, Mr. Maitland, but I hope you don't mind if I take a precaution first."

She nodded to the man in the suit and he rose to his full six-foot-four height before ambling over to us. I could see the bulge under the right side of his coat and I knew if I looked in his wallet I'd see the star that marked him as a homicide detective.

As he approached us, his hand want into his jacket and came out with a wand-looking electronic device.

"I do mind, Paula."

I looked up at homicide sergeant Hec Powell and said, "Go away Sergeant. I'm not going to let you check me for recording devices."

"You're not here officially Maitland, and Paula tells me you're not going to call in the calvary because you can't afford any publicity. A lot of my friends still think you're a dick for what you did to Shawn, so don't think that being a fucking prosecutor is going to cut any ice with me. Just sit there, shut your mouth and let me check you out."

I looked from his taut grin to the small smile on Paula's face and said, "You wanted privacy so you brought in your private muscle to keep this room empty and check me for bugs. You thought I'd go along with this because asshole is tall and carries a gun? Is that the short version?"

"Any trouble, Mr. Maitland, and the first casualty will be your friend's marriage. Also there are two of us to tell the press that you came here to try to get a taste of what Mr. Brandon and Matthews got at the Hyatt. You're pretty famous, but I'm pretty hot and a lot of people would be just as happy to tear you down as build you up. Why don't you let Hec check you out and then we can conduct our business?"

"I don't think so, Paula."

Powell began, "You fucking-"

"I always thought you were a stupid fucking idiot, but I didn't think you were this stupid."

Powell looked around to see Sergeant Bob Hastings standing behind him. He was in his patrol uniform, his hand resting casually on the Glock on his hip. Hastings was shorter than Powell, but the Glock seemed very big.

"I always thought you were a stupid fucking prick who thought with his dick and that you only made detective because you pimped for the top brass, but this? You'd risk your whole career going up against Maitland for a piece of ass?"

Powell regained his confidence looking down on Hastings.

"You're out of your area," Powell said. "This isn't the Westside. I've got just as much authority here as you do, and if you want to make something out of it, why don't we step out back and I'll be happy to kick your ass for sticking your nose in where it has no business being. Let's just keep it man to man, Hastings. Or are you man enough?"

"Okay, Powell. When, and if, you take Bob, try me on for size."

I couldn't help grinning a little bit as Powell swung around again and looked up into the broad, unfriendly features of Narcotics Task Force Lieutenant Bobby Martin. Martin was blonde and 6-6 easily and as broad across as Powell. Moreover, he out-ranked him.

"What the - what are you doing here. You have no business...."

"So what's your business here, Powell? Why are you showing the shield and ordering civilians around and acting like a private gun for this piece of ass? Not that it's not nice, but you know cops can't go around doing this. Furthermore, doing it in front of the top prosecutor for this county? If he goes to Knight, you're going to wind up walking a beat in black town."

Powell tried to bluster.

"This is none of your damned business, Martin. Go back to chasing crack heads or whatever the hell it is you do."

"Why don't we step outside and you say that when you're not carrying. Unless you want to try and draw on me -- and Hastings. Are you that fucking stupid, or is her pussy the best in the world? It better be, because you're throwing away your career for it. If you're stupid enough to go for a gun, you're throwing your life away."

"It's okay, Hec. This is not worth you getting in trouble. Go on, get out of here and I'll call you later."

The big cop's glance bounced over each of us, finally settling on Paula's beautiful face. She smiled at him to take the sting out.

"Come on, baby. Thank you for being here for me, it was worth a try, but I'll be alright. I don't want to get you in trouble. I know you could take both of them, but it would cost you your job. Don't do that."

"Listen to her, Powell," Hastings said. There was almost a hint of sympathy in his voice. "Man, I know how they can get into your head, into your blood, but walk away, be smart."

It looked like he was going to say something more but he stopped himself, gave Paula a little hand wave, turned and walked out. A few nervous waiters popped out to watch him leave.

"You're getting to be more trouble than you're worth," Martin said to me. "It's a good thing that I know Howser really liked you. I'm only here because I knew he would have said, 'back him up'."

Hastings just looked from Paula to me, shook his head and, with a slight grin, said, "You and those pretty women. I don't know what you have, but I wouldn't mind having a little bit of it."

Then they were gone and Paula Donnally and I were alone, because I noticed none of the waiters came around until I gestured at one and he approached tentatively.

"Bring me coffee and for the lady...."

"White wine."

A couple of minutes later I was sipping my coffee while she swirled the golden liquid and then took a swallow. She put the glass down and said, "I shouldn't have done that, but I learned to be careful. I realized just now that it really didn't matter. You can tape me, but no jury is going to do anything to me. I'm a heartbroken and guilt-stricken wife who almost destroyed her husband's life and is doing everything she can to make it right. Any good attorney would get me off."

"What and who the hell are you, Paula? How do you know the things you do? How did you just walk in and twist two professionals around your little finger and get them to walk away from their professional duties In a couple of hours? How could you come up with a million dollars cash? You're a fucking housewife - the wife of a publicist for a small private college."

She rubbed one bruised lip and placed a hand over mine. It didn't feel sexual or like a come-on. It was just a small, intimate gesture that made it feel like we were the only two people in the world at that moment.

"I'm very smart, Bill. That's part of it. Not as smart as I think, sometimes, because I thought I was smarter than you, yet you were ahead of me. They told me I have an IQ of 170 or 180, genius level, whatever that is. I never used it because when you're a college slut fucking everything that moves, you don't really need to be a genius. When you're a soccer mom raising two kids it doesn't matter either, but when I went into real estate, and I started using my brain and my body, I found out there's no limit to what you can do, how much money you can make."

She ran her hand gently over mine. Oddly, I still didn't feel excited.

"You asked me how I could turn two professional attorneys inside out? Because you're easy, all of you. I have a great body and a great face, and I love sex. I could fuck 18 hours a day if my body would hold up. I like cocks and I like different cocks. I like having men come inside me, on me, in my mouth and my ass.

"You're looking at me like I'm crazy, but listen close Bill, because I'm going to tell you a secret that smart women don't want you to know, and many women never realize.

"We run the world. You guys are horny puppy dogs and we drag you around by your dicks. You don't pick up women, you get picked up. You don't get lucky, some woman decides she wants to fuck you. You don't decide to marry someone, one of us picks you and lets you think you won us.

"We know who your children really belong to. We make you think you're great lovers, or flops in bed. Because none of you can match us, the ones who know what we're doing, in bed. I could fuck the biggest stud in the world into a pool of sperm on the floor and keep going.

"You're limited by your poor, fragile dicks. Don't get me wrong, women love them. Other than giving us children, it's the main reason we keep you around. They're wonderful toys to play with, but they're limited. That's why we need to bring in new ones all the time."

She smiled at me.

"You look so shocked, Bill, but you didn't pick Debbie Bascomb. She picked you and she let you win her heart. She kept you well fucked and happy until you left her alone in your marriage and she traded you in for a different dick.

"Now most women, a lot of women, tamp down their natural desires because they know no man could keep up with them if they let loose, but I was set free. I learned how to use my body and my sex drive. I've made millions using my body and my brain. If you offer a man a chance to make money and fuck his brains out, very few men will turn down that deal.

"A lot of men would call me a whore, but who cares? I love having sex and I love making money by having sex. I've built a financial empire and my clueless, loving husband never had the first idea of what I was doing. I use investigators in my business dealings and, when this happened, I looked for the best person in the State Attorney's Office to pressure to release Paul.

"I investigated you. I knew I had to get to you, but I didn't think the normal methods would work with you. I wasn't sure I could seduce you. Even if I had, I knew you'd never bow to blackmail, but you're loyal. That's your Achilles heel. I found the best man to seduce and your loyalty to him will get Paul out of jail."

"So you're very smart, very sexy, wealthy and you've been cheating on your husband for a long time. I get that, but why would anybody that smart take a chance on getting arrested and charged with at least two or three counts including extortion, blackmail and attempting to interfere with a criminal investigation? You say you want to be free of him yet none of this makes sense. That's why -- at least one of the reasons -- why I've been dragging my feet. You're saying one thing and doing the exact opposite - that makes me suspicious as hell."

"Everything has to make sense to you? Everything has to add up?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not a good person, Bill. I don't see myself as bad, but I know most people would see me that way. I married a man, promised to be faithful, had his children and, something happened and I threw that promise away - I threw him away! I 've had sex with hundreds of men. I've come to his bed and I've always been careful about being clean, but I've kissed him while I could still taste another man's cum on my tongue. I've kissed him and told him I loved him and felt him pumping inside me and in my head I was three thousand miles away enjoying another man's cock. I stopped loving him because, honestly, he's not much of a man. He's sweet, he loves me and takes care of me - but he's a wimp. A sweet, lovable, wonderful wimp. He's not a man, not the kind of man I need. He's like a pool that's an inch deep, pretty on the surface, but there's no bottom, no depth. He's boring as hell to be honest."

She motioned to the waiter lurking just inside the kitchen area and he brought her another goblet of wine.

"I stayed with him because of our children and because he was - comfortable, convenient. There are times when it's better to be a cheating wife who has to go home to a husband and has obligations she can't get out of than to be free. I suppose there's a part of me that still has feelings for him. Feelings, I don't know, like you'd have for a dog you've raised since it was a puppy and now it's old, has cataracts and can't move around because of arthritis, but you can't put him down just because he's got old."

She stared into the depths of her wine glass.

"I don't even need to see your face, Bill, to know what you're thinking. I said I was a bad person. I'm what I am. But, I knew it was going to end, if not before, then when the kids finally finished school and were gone to their own lives. I was going to stick it out...until he found out, just one of those weird things. I worried about everything else, I was so damned careful - still he found out. He avoided me for nearly a month. It was so crazy. I'd been running around hiding from him for years, and now I couldn't find him, to talk to him, then finally I found him at home. I just wanted to talk to him and - no warning - he put his hands around my neck. I thought, somehow, that he was joking. Paul would never hurt me. I figured he'd cry and I'd feel like shit, but I was never afraid of him. I couldn't breathe, it hurt so bad. Things started getting dark and I couldn't talk. For the first time I realized I was going to die there, it was all going to end. I thought this couldn't be happening, I was asleep and dreaming. It was a nightmare, because I was looking into his eyes and it wasn't Paul..."

"I must have passed out. I woke up lying on the floor, gasping for air. He just looked at me but didn't say anything. I knew, I knew somehow he was going to kneel down beside me and put those hands around my throat and finish the job. I tried to crawl but I was too weak. I wet myself - I was never so frightened in my life. I've always been in control around men. I've never been frightened of a man, but I wanted to beg for my life, yet I couldn't make a sound, and he just kept looking at me. Then he turned around and walked out. Somehow I dragged myself to the front door, locked it and put the chain on it. Then I dragged myself, half crawled to our bedroom and locked the door. I moved a dresser, God knows how, in front of the door to block it. I tried to call for help could only get out whispers.

"Hec was the first guy I actually could talk to and he was over in a half hour. He stayed with me after he put out a report on what had happened and I'd signed a warrant for Paul's arrest. He spent the night with me, two nights, after I got back from the hospital. We didn't do anything, I just couldn't stand being alone. Every sound was Paul breaking back in."