In Hot Water

“I just wish you wouldn’t work so hard.”

“I know,” she said softly but with determination. “You also know how important it is for me to keep my independence.” Especially now, in light of the circumstances, she was tempted to add, but didn’t. There was no point in fueling an already simmering fire.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry, my dear. There’s no point in my belaboring the point. Besides, I just want you to be happy.”

“I am, Seymour. Or at least I—”

The chiming of the doorbell aborted her sentence.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Seymour asked.

“No. Are you?”

He shook his head just as Annie appeared in the doorway, a perplexed frown on her face. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” her eyes turned to Seymour, “but there are two gentlemen here who insist on speaking to you.”

Putting down his napkin, Seymour stood. “Tell them I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t bother, Doctor, we decided to come to you.”

The taller of the two men had made that declaration and now strode over to Seymour. He had a stern look on his face.

“And who are you?” Maci demanded, furious with their blatant intrusion and total lack of manners.

“I’m Detective Greg Johnson,” the short, stout one said. “And this is my partner, Detective Oscar Ford.” They both flipped open their badges.

Maci was glad she was seated as every muscle in her body weakened.

Johnson’s gaze whipped to Ramsey. “Doctor, we have a warrant for your arrest. The charge is criminally negligent homicide in the death of your patient, Grant Dodson. Cuff him, Ford.”

Maci gasped in shocked horror at the same time Seymour’s tanned skin turned deathly white.

Three

Keefe Ryan looked like what he was—a socially inept attorney. He was short, bald, wore black-rimmed glasses and there was nothing attractive about him or his personality. Maci had always considered him to be the most boring man she’d ever met.

Yet when he walked into the police station, she had never been so glad to see anyone. She would never think ill of Keefe again.

In the process of being led out of the house by the two officers, Seymour had barked an order for her to call his attorney. She had waited until she was on her way to the station to do so. By then her mind had cleared somewhat, and she could punch in Keefe’s number on her cell phone.

He appeared now as composed as ever, dressed as impeccably as ever, though she knew he wasn’t. Maci had observed a little tick in Keefe’s right cheek when he was under stress and that tick was present as he made his way toward her.

Maci had been told to take a seat in the outer lobby and that the chief would be with her shortly. So far, shortly had not come, giving her plenty of time to observe the police station. This afternoon there was a lot of activity. Phones rang while officers and other personnel scurried about. Although she had received several curious glances, no one had bothered to speak to her or ask if she wanted or needed anything.

She couldn’t believe she was here. The horrendous circumstances made the situation even more demoralizing.

When the press learned of this…

“Maci, what the hell is going on?”

She turned her attention back to Keefe. She had never heard him say anything that resembled a curse word. But then she’d never seen him this flustered. His features were pinched and he was out of breath.

Despite the fact that Seymour could be overbearing at times, he and Keefe seemed to have a genuine friendship. While Keefe handled mostly taxes, he had at one time practiced some family and criminal law. So he wasn’t completely out of the loop when it came to helping Seymour. Maci never doubted Keefe had Seymour’s best interest at heart. If he wasn’t the one for the job, he would find someone who was.

“Seymour’s been arrested,” Maci said, hearing the tremor in her voice. She hadn’t bothered to tell Keefe what was going on beforehand. She had simply told him that Seymour needed him and to meet them at the police station. She’d hung up with Keefe still asking questions.

Keefe’s face now drained of its remaining color. “That’s preposterous.”

“It’s a fact,” she countered flatly.

“Are you all right, my dear?” Keefe cleared his throat, then peered down at her, concern mirrored in his eyes. “Of course, you’re not. Forget I asked that.”

“I’m fine,” she said, which was a lie. She was anything but fine. She was sick all over. She clutched at her stomach.

Homicide?

Her wealthy, charismatic husband accused of such an abominable deed was not possible. Only it was possible, or she wouldn’t be sitting in an obscure corner of this godforsaken place.

“You just stay put while I get this mattered straightened out,” Keefe said without further ado. “Then we’ll all be on our way home.”

“Thanks, Keefe,” Maci said, fighting back tears. How could this be happening to her well-ordered world?

Hopefully Keefe could indeed make this nightmare go away.

Moments later Keefe returned, his face as grim as hers. Her heart faltered. Perhaps gaining her husband’s immediate release wasn’t going to be as easy as Keefe had thought.

“The chief wants to see us both.”

Maci stood on unsteady legs, yet when she walked into the rather austere room, she held her head high and her shoulders back. She intended to conduct herself with dignity, and she expected the same from the tall, thin-faced man who was looking at her through narrowed eyes.

Chief Ted Satterwhite introduced himself, then beckoned for both of them to sit in the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked in a deep, hoarse voice indicative of bad sinus drainage.

Both Maci and Keefe politely declined, then Maci asked, “Where is my husband?”

Satterwhite pulled out a big handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped it across his nose before answering, “Waiting to be questioned by the detectives. He’s been read his rights, and has requested that his lawyer be present.”

“Is that necessary?” Maci asked, thankful he didn’t outright blow his nose. She tried to keep her disgust from showing.

“That’s procedure, ma’am.” He pushed back from his desk and crossed a leg over his knee. “That’s how we do things in this department. By the book.”

“I’d like him to go before the judge this afternoon,” Keefe said in a huffy tone as though he resented being talked down to.

“All in good time, Mr. Ryan.”

“Chief—”

“The judge will hear the doctor’s case in the morning.”

“That’s unacceptable,” Keefe declared with a flare of his hand.