The Detective's Dilemma

“Or maybe there was no harassment,” Ty said, theorizing, “so the Dumont woman had no reason not to make the meeting.”

“Makes sense,” Paul concluded before returning to his theory. “On the other hand, he could’ve killed her, dumped the body in the office and fabricated the meeting to allay suspicion.”

Ty shook his head. “Too tricky, even without a blood trail.” He came to a halt and brought his hands to his waist. “We have to do some reconnoitering.”

“Until we discover a hole in the dike,” Paul agreed. “Then we pull the plug and let the truth flood away the lies.”

“You sound as if you’re convinced we’ll find that hole,” Ty said.

“Yeah, maybe. There’s something that’s been bothering me from the get go on this one.”

“Oh?”

Paul nodded. “It’s like this. The woman is rich and beautiful.”

And she has a freewheeling sexuality that fairly sings to a man, Ty thought but didn’t say. He knew that Paul, being happily married, wouldn’t say it, either, which was not to infer that he hadn’t noticed. Ty showed his agreement with Paul’s assessment by nodding.

“A woman like that’s got to be beating ’em off with a stick,” Paul went on prosaically. “What’s she want with a cold fish like Dumont? Any guy who would break up with Beth Maitland and marry another woman within forty-eight hours, well, he’s not the love of anybody’s life, if you ask me.”

“Definitely not the sort you’d kill over,” Ty agreed. “Now, all we’ve got to do is prove it.” And hope we don’t make the case against Beth Maitland in the process, he told himself, surprised at the sentiment.

Paul nodded thoughtfully and scratched his ear with the tip of his pen, leaving a bright blue mark. Ty smiled. Paul Jester was a good detective, a fine father and husband, an excellent friend, but he was always doing goofy stuff like marking himself up with those damned ballpoint pens he carried. Ty cleared his throat against a chuckle and added a query to the list.

“We’d better do some digging into Dumont’s background as well as Beth Maitland’s, just to cover our butts.”

“And don’t forget our victim,” Paul said, writing.

“Good point. Now I’ll tell you something about this case.”

“What’s that?” Paul asked, looking up. Ty knew that, given his ancestry, the guys around the office fancied him something of a shaman with his predictions and hunches, but he knew himself to be a purely logical man who made good deductions—not that he was averse to cloaking his expertise in a thin veneer of Crow mysticism. In this business, a man needed every edge he could get, and Ty was rightfully proud of his rich Native American heritage.

“I’ll tell you right now,” he pronounced sagely, “that this thing is going to come down to a face-off between Brandon Dumont and Beth Maitland. I, for one, think we’ll only hear the truth when we get the two of them in the same room together at the right time. Meanwhile…” He let the statement hang there, but Jester was quick to finish it.

“Meanwhile,” he said resignedly, getting to his feet, “we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Ty waited as his partner shoved his chair under the table and walked around it. Then he turned to the door.

“You’ve got ink on your ear,” he said as they went out together, just loud enough for the other guys in the ward-room to hear. Paul was still scrubbing at the offending mark long after the laughter had died down.

“YOU DID WELL, BETH,” Hugh Blake told her. “I don’t want you to be discouraged. The police are a long way from concluding their investigation, so there’s a chance the real murderer will come to light. If they do charge you, I promise you we’ll fight them on every front. Just stick to the truth and try to relax. All right?”

She nodded and thanked him for his help, then allowed her mother to usher her into the limo. Beth sighed, letting her head fall back on the warm leather upholstery. It wasn’t particularly cold, but Beth pulled her fitted brown corduroy jacket closed.

“My poor darling,” Megan said, sliding onto the seat next to her and laying a comforting hand on her knee. “How could anyone suspect one of my children of something so heinous? Especially you! Everyone knows you wouldn’t hurt a flea. You’re much too fun-loving and playful.”

“I don’t think fun-loving and playful preclude murder in the eyes of the law, Mother,” Beth suggested with a wan smile.

Megan shuddered. “I still can’t believe they suspect you. It’s just ludicrous, and they’ll see that. They will.”

Beth tried for another smile and was saved the effort when the chauffeur slid the divider window open. “Back to the clinic, Mrs. Maitland—Ms. Maitland?”

“Oh…yes, thank you,” Beth replied for the two of them. “I’m a little distracted today. Sorry.”

“No problem,” the driver assured her, sliding the window closed. An instant later, the vehicle shifted into gear and swung easily across the parking lot. Beth lifted her head. Enough self-pity. Time to face this mess head-on.

“I’m worried how this is going to affect the clinic and day-care center,” she said bluntly, and Megan immediately rushed to defuse her concerns.

“Don’t be silly. Everyone knows this is nonsense. As Hugh says, it’ll all blow over soon and—”

“Mom,” Beth interrupted firmly, “the press has crucified us over the paternity of a babe left on our doorstep. You can’t believe they’ll ignore an accusation of murder.”

“No one has accused you of anything!” Megan cried. “You’ve been questioned. We all have. That’s all it is or will be.”

“Let’s face facts, Mother,” Beth said gently. “I’m suspected of murdering my ex-fiancé’s new wife in my office. The press is going to play this only one way.”

“Let them,” Megan insisted sternly. “Everyone who knows you will realize how absurd their implications are.”

“But those who don’t know me will wonder,” Beth pointed out, “and that could hurt the clinic. Just when we’re ready to lay one scandal to rest, another pops up. At the very least, the twenty-fifth-anniversary celebration will suffer.”

“Not at all,” Megan assured her. “Most of the invitations have already been accepted. After today’s announcement that the parents of our darling Chase have come forward, the rest will come around. You’ll see.”

All Beth could see at the moment was that she wasn’t going to be able to shake her mother’s staunch belief in the victory of truth and the ultimate invulnerability of her family. But then, she didn’t really want to. Unfortunately, all she could do was pray that nothing and no one else did it for her, and that was exactly what she did for the remainder of the trip to the clinic.

Traffic was worse than usual. The limo crawled or stood still more often than not, so they were almost late for their own press conference. They had time to run through the clinic to the back hall. The other members of the family were waiting for them, and they gathered around as soon as Beth drew near, offering hugs and asking questions.

“Are you all right?” Ellie, Beth’s twin, immediately demanded. Identical to Beth except for the shorter hair and lighter lipstick, Ellie seemed to have found a new confidence since her marriage to Sloan Cassidy. Not wanting to subject the family to any more publicity, the two of them had secretly eloped over the New Year, much to everyone’s delight. Beth smiled and nodded to reassure her sister. Ellie’s tailored, sleek business attire and short, neat hair contrasted sharply with her own, eclectic ensemble of broomstick skirt, boots, cropped sweater and corduroy jacket. Ellie, to Beth’s mind, was the intelligent one, the professional one, not that Beth would have traded places with her. She loved working with children. Ellie’s career choice as Maitland Maternity’s administrator seemed deadly dull and unnecessarily stressful, but Beth couldn’t help feeling that Ellie secretly garnered more respect than she did as the director of the day-care center. That belief, however, did not color her great love for—and pride in—her sister.

“What happened at the police station?” her brother R.J. wanted to know.

Mitchell was right beside him. “Those idiots didn’t charge you, did they?” he asked.

Beth shook her head. “No.”

“Of course they didn’t,” her older sister, Abby, insisted. “Who in his right mind would suspect our Beth of murder?”

“You might be surprised,” Jake said, holding himself, as usual, at a little distance from his siblings. He had whispered to her as she was leaving for her interview with the police detectives that, if push came to shove, he had a few connections who might help them get at the truth, but Beth knew that she wouldn’t ask him to pull any hidden strings for her unless she saw no other hope. Jake was much too protective of his shadowy life, and she didn’t want to jeopardize that privacy.

“This will have to wait,” Megan instructed calmly. “We have a press conference to conduct. We’re going out there and present a united front to that mob of jackals. We have nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of or worried about. Remember that, all of you.”

Anna, who usually skipped these occasions since she, like their brother Jake, had no professional connection to Maitland Maternity, stepped up to link her arm with Beth’s. Ellie took the other arm. Abby stood next to their mother, with R.J. and Mitchell flanking them, and Jake brought up the rear. Megan lifted her chin, as regal as any queen, then she put out her hand, shoving open the door and leading them all onto the railed landing that lent itself so perfectly to this sort of thing.

Flashes went off. Cameras started rolling. There was a general jostling of bodies as reporters surged closer, jockeying for position, microphones swaying over their heads. Megan stepped to the microphone mounted on the railing and lifted both arms in a gesture of welcome.

“Thank you for coming.” Immediately she was bombarded with questions.

“Mrs. Maitland, have the baby’s parents been identified?”

“Who has been charged with the murder at the clinic?”