A Slow Dance

If it had been up to Len, poor Bill would have been confronted with the triangular situation, but that was the one condition that Kate had insisted on. Bill was not to know anything.

The funeral strained this subterfuge, the way people kept offering their sympathy to her. Even someone as trusting as Bill could be alerted that something more had existed than a professional relationship. For a week after the funeral, there had been no sex between the spouses, though otherwise, Bill had been as warm and loving as always. Just three days before, Her husband had dragged her to bed and taken her with a casual ferocity. The sex had been near constant since. This was rather odd behavior for her spouse.

Kate hoped that even if Bill was suspicious, he had decided to put whatever existed with Len behind them as a couple. Would what he didn't know actually matter? The FBI interview was troubling, and she felt she needed to contain what they did.

Keeping any investigation away from Bill was important. She needed to maintain Bill's ignorance, or at least his ability to live in denial. She needed to give him the peace of mind he deserved and had earned as her good and faithful husband.

_____________________________________________________________

Special agent MacPierce was impressed. The law offices of Standford, Price, Clark, and Morgan were big, plush, and decidedly expensive. A request to speak to Mrs. Ford had drawn a blank.

"How about Kathrine Morgan?" Sheila, agent Marks, said.

"Oh, Mrs. Morgan. I will tell her you are here," the receptionist said.

Tom MacPierce could tell that his inexperienced partner had done her homework and was already jumping to conclusions. The information they had indicated a long-standing sexual relationship between the high-end lawyer and the victim, but they were only here to conduct a preliminary interview.

"Button up the moral outrage and keep it off your face," Tom whispered to Sheila.

"Sorry, but 'MRS. Morgan'? Really? Her husband doesn't even rate the use of his name?" she whispered back.

Kate Morgan came out to greet them. She was a tall woman with shoulder-length black hair, dressed in a high-end charcoal-gray-pinstripe, business suit cut to enhance her slim but curved figure. It would not be remiss to describe this woman as beautiful. She led them to an office which was large, bright, and elegantly furnished. When they were seated in plush chairs around a coffee table, Kate offered refreshment and began speaking as they declined both coffee and tea.

"I assume you are here about Len's murder," Kate said.

"Yes we had heard that you were a close friend of Judge Simpel," Tom replied.

Kate's quiet smile lit her face as she said, "Let's be honest—I was his mistress, and that for quite some time, just over eight years."

Tom was surprised by the blatant candor of this woman and her clear lack of embarrassment, but it certainly made things easier.

"Well thank you for your candor," Tom said.

"I'm anxious to help in any way that I can, and honesty seems the least I can do to help. I hope you realize that I would appreciate your discretion," she said.

"Of course, but was your relationship, not public knowledge?"

"Oh, I don't believe so. With a long-standing relationship, many coworkers and friends come to know or suspect, but actual knowledge? I don't believe anyone could say for sure. "

"Even your husband?" Sheila asked, the sarcasm just below the surface of her words.

Kate's smile only deepened, and she let her condescension toward the big unattractive agent show.

"My husband is a wonderful family man, but not very sophisticated. He would not have understood my relationship with Len. He was, I am sure, until quite recently unaware that Len was anything to me other than a former colleague," Kate said as she turned to MacPierce and continued,"I would request that he be kept out of this. He knows nothing useful, and I wish to preserve his piece of mind."

"What might have happened recently to disturb him?" Tom asked.

"Well the funeral, I suspect. Many offered me condolences, recognizing how close Len and I were. My husband is trusting, not stupid."

"An odd way to describe a man who rose to a commission from the ranks of the military police and now is chief of security at a rail yard protecting tens of millions in equipment and merchandise," Sheila commented, taking the bit between her teeth.

As Tom feared, the inexperienced Sheila was leaping to conclusions without evidence. He put out a restraining hand and took a light grip on her forearm.

"Forgive my colleague," Tom said, "But her question is a valid one in the circumstances."

Kate seemed to reflect, "Well my husband is a most capable man, and yes, his is a responsible job. But you misjudge his character. He is a family man, a devoted father and a loving husband. I will admit that I deeply regret taking such advantage of his trust in me.

"But you must understand. My relationship with Len Simpel long preceded my marriage. He was a powerful man. One hard to resist, and not inclined to let go of what he believed rightfully his. Yet, ours was not a relationship deeper than sincere friendship. He began as my mentor. To a great extent, I owe my current success to his help and guidance," Kate said.

"But you didn't tell your husband, and you believe he did not know?" Tom asked.

"Yes, I kept the knowledge of my relationship with Len from my husband. Bill is the man I love. He is my partner in an exceptional marriage. His knowing about Len and that relationship would not have benefited anyone. It would have hurt Bill for no reason. Since my relationship with Len was ongoing and would continue so long as Len wanted, telling Bill about Len and me would have served no purpose."

"I see. Could you tell us where you were—"

"On the night Len died, and probably at the exact moment of his death, I was in Valentine's restaurant waiting for Len. I'm sure the staff there can verify that for you. We were regulars there," As she said this Kate's eyes began to tear at the memory. "Sorry, I ..."

"That's all right, we understand. These circumstances are never easy. But do you know where your husband was?" Tom asked.

Kate began wiping her eyes with her handkerchief, "Yes, he was at work. He had the four to midnight shift, but he rarely quits until after 2 a.m. The rail yard is busy at night. But please when you check be discrete. It would not be fair to involve my husband."

"I understand and once again thank you for your candor," Tom said.

As the agents began to rise, Kate suddenly remembered something. "Would you happen to know what happened to Len's watch?" Kate asked.

Tom turned back, "Watch?"

"Yes, it was a special present that I gave him about two weeks before he died. It was an anniversary of sorts. We had been together eight years. It was rose gold and very expensive. It was not among the things his sister found after his funeral. I kind of assumed he was wearing it that night."

"No, we had no idea. The police recovered his ring and a gold cross, but I don't believe they knew of a watch," Tom said.

"Len's sister said it wasn't in his personal things, and he had begun wearing it to my knowledge," she said.

"Can you describe it?"

"Well, it's a Rolex, rose gold and inscribed 'Love Kathrine and Annabelle.' "

"I'll inform the homicide detectives that it might have been stolen," Tom said.

____________________________________________________

Tom had agreed to meet Connie at Valentine's. He had put on his best suit, suspecting that the meeting set for 8:00 p.m. was not strictly business.

"Glad you could make it," Connie said.

She was seated at a discretely placed table. This was definitely a couples' restaurant. It was clear why Judge Simpel had chosen it for his liaisons with Kate Morgan, aka Mrs. William Ford.

Connie was dressed for the upscale restaurant and then some. She wore a black dress with a deep Vee neckline that displayed her ample cleavage. The dress was also shorter than a woman approaching forty would normally wear, but not embarrassingly so. She'd had her hair and nails done. She was a good looking woman. Too damn good looking — Tom reminded himself that she was, at least, a dozen years his junior and a colleague.

"Stop over-thinking, and sit down!" Connie said.

Tom smiled. "You read minds now."

"Men are so obvious about some things, and so obtuse overall," she said.

"Sorry, it's just—"

"Just nothing, we're adults, single, and it's the best restaurant in town," she said.

"Ok," he said as the waitress approached.

"This is Tara," Connie said, "Tell agent MacPierce what you told me."

The waitress Tara was clearly a bit nervous, "Well, it's just that they were an odd sort of couple. You didn't realize it at first. He was a big good looking man and had the appearance of being well-off. I wasn't surprised when I heard people call him Judge. She was classy, very attractive, and way younger. The kind of woman you expect a man like that to have.

"Except they didn't seem like any couple that had any affection for each other. You would almost have thought she was a paid escort, but she was clearly not that type, and in fact she was some kind of professional, probably a lawyer," Tara said, finishing her estimate of Judge Simpel and Mrs. Morgan.

"When you say they weren't affectionate, what do you mean?" Tom asked.

"Just everything. They never came in together. She would wait for him, never the other way around. She never touched him first, and when he touched her, it was possessive like. When they left, he always had his arm around her like he owned her. It seemed to make her nervous. She wore a wedding ring with a small diamond engagement ring. He wore a ring but it wasn't a wedding ring. She was clearly married but not to him."

Tom had a thought, "Did you notice if he wore a watch?"

Tara smiled, warming to her subject, "Yes, after she gave it to him. Right at this table, she handed him the box. It was the only time I saw them really kiss. He was very pleased with her present, and with its inscription."

"Inscription?" Connie asked.

"Yea, I remember because it was kind of odd. Something like, 'From Kathrine and Annabelle your loving ladies.' I remember wondering who Annabelle was. I knew he called her Kate or sometimes Kitten. "

"When did she give him the watch?" Tom asked.

Tara paused to think, "Had to be over three weeks ago. I recall it was a Friday. She was dressed to the nines, but way sluttier than usual. That dress looked painted on and was as short and low cut as you would dare to wear and not be a street walker. She came in to wait for him all covered up by a coat, but when he arrived the coat came off. After desert, the watch box came out, and they opened a bottle of the best Champagne.

"It was two weeks later that she waited, and he did not show up. It wasn't the first time she'd had to wait for him, but it was the only time she waited all night, and he never arrived. I saw on the news the next day that he had been killed. I felt a bit guilty about my having told the busboy that the 'Bastard stood her up.' "

"Thank you," Connie said.

Tara looked down at them, "Sure anytime. . .you want to order something?"

"Yes, we're staying for dinner," Tom said giving Connie a look that said you are not refusing me.

________________________________________________

The meeting with the FBI had upset Kate more than she let show. The way that female agent had looked at her as if she was some kind of insect. Kate was not without a considerable amount of guilt and shame, yet she saw herself as a good person trapped by unfortunate circumstances. She'd been a young attorney barely out of law school when she'd come to the notice of the powerful and charismatic District Attorney, Leonard Simpel.

Women didn't refuse men like Len. Kate was in an inferior position. Len was the big boss. He was a highly respected attorney, and she was at the bottom of the ladder. She was flattered by his attentions, and physically attracted to his male persona. She was no virgin but no slut either. Although she tried to stay out of his bed, once Len Simpel had chosen her, she had little choice but to submit. At least, that was the way she saw it.

Kate had not expected the relationship to last, but for three years they had a steady thing going. It was never actually public, but most people in the office knew. She was given the choice assignments, and she was treated well, but her relationship with the boss hemmed her in.

Bill Ford had come along two years into the affair with Simpel. He filled her need for a steady boyfriend. He was part cover and part companion. Sleeping with the boss two or three times a week still left a lot of lonely nights. Hiding the affair in plain sight meant she needed an occasional official date. She and Len both had what appeared to be other romantic interests. Theirs was a closet romance, neither saw it as a permanent relationship. Len did not do permanent, and Kate had no desire to be his wife — mistress was fine with her. She needed more from a husband than a man like Len can give.

"We have had an accident," she had said. They were in bed together between bouts of coitus.

"What are you talking about?" Len asked.

"I'm pregnant," she said.

Len was silent. His eyes said it was her problem to fix, not his.

"I'm going to marry Bill. We haven't slept together yet, but we will. He won't know it isn't his."

"Is that how you want to handle it?" He asked.

"Yes, I won't kill our baby. I'm Catholic. A sinner yes, but a murderer no."

Len shrugged and took her sexually. They never spoke of it again.

Bill was a push over. She seduced him and made sure the condom slipped. After that, she simply showed him the pregnancy test stick. He was more than happy to marry quickly. He had no family. Her parents were disappointed that there was no fancy wedding,

Kate was married three months when the most awful day of her life began. She was at work when she felt the dampness between her legs. An hour later at the hospital, the doctor was talking about spontaneous something. All Kate knew was her baby was dead.

Bill was wonderful. He held her and told her how much he loved her. Planned a funeral for the child who would never be. He was strong for her and insisted they would have a large family. Somehow his faith sustained her. It was the worst time of her life, and that was when she fell in love with her wonderful husband.

Kate's affair with Len slowed but never stopped. It seemed as if what happened with Len had nothing to do with her marriage to Bill. She realized she loved Bill in ways she could never love Len, and for the right reasons. Bill was a good man and a loving husband. Len was rich and powerful but a completely worthless human being.

Len slipped her into a position at the best criminal defense firm in the State. There she had excelled, and two years later Annabelle came along. She was Bill's daughter in every respect but possibly one. Kate refused to check the paternity. She had no need to know, and it would be disloyal to Bill. He would always be the father of her children no matter what.

Len saw things differently. He never saw more than a picture of Annabelle but insisted she was his child. He intensified the relationship and wanted Bill told of it. Kate refused that demand. Bill the sweet man she was married to must never know. He was the man who cared for their child. The best father Annabell could have.

The idea that Bill could be accused so casually by that agent Marks was extremely upsetting. Kate knew in a practical sense that if her lover was killed that suspicion would fall on her husband. But no one who knew her Bill could believe he would do such a thing.

Kate's duty now was to Bill. At all costs, she must protect him from the ugly truth. Why should he the innocent be hurt by her sins? Kate picked up the phone and made the phone call that she hoped would protect her secret.

_______________________________________________

Special Agent Tom MacPiece had spent four nights of the preceding week in the bed of Lieutenant Connie Baker. On several occasions, they had actually discussed the case that they were working on together. But mostly they fucked. It was great. Tom realized since his divorce he had been mooning around. What he had needed was a new woman. Connie was just the woman he needed, uninhibited and making no demands. He knew she hoped their affair was headed somewhere, but hell — so did he.

"I'm just a bit more cautious," he thought, "but once burned twice shy."

Tom MacPiece's first marriage had ended when his wife of eighteen years had left him for a younger man. He had come home one day to find her seated at the kitchen table with a glass of red wine and a serious look on her face. Her "We need to talk!" was followed by a bare bones explanation that she was unhappy and then her handing him a set of divorce papers.

After eighteen years she wanted all their assets, half his pension, and most of his paycheck for child support. They had a boy and girl both still in high school. He was a man who was usually very much in control of himself. But right there, he lost it.

They had a bitter divorce. Much to his ex-wife's surprise, their kids choose their father over the new boyfriend. Tom was now receiving child support, and her share of the assets was, in the end, less than 30%. Tom had a stroke of luck when his case was assigned to a very sympathetic female judge.

Coming into the office Tuesday, he was thinking of Connie but needed to deal with agent Marks. For once Sheila had done as she was told. Looking into the alibi of Bill Ford she had been apparently discrete. Tom had been warned to finish up quick and keep the Judge's indiscretions quiet. Upstairs would be happy with a death resulting from a mugging. Obviously, some strings had been pulled. No one wanted a scandal with the exception of Sheila.

"My gut tells me this guy did it, Sir," she said.

"It's not SIR. Tom, Mac, or agent MacPierce, but not sir. You are no longer in the army, agent Marks," he said a little more harshly than he intended.

"Sorry, Si—MAC. It's just he fits so well. Former military police rose from buck private to Captain. Had a good rating on the range. He is certainly capable, and he has the best motive."

"And it wouldn't hurt that the ensuing scandal would ruin Kathrine Ford Morgan," Tom thought. Sheila had taken an instant dislike to the Morgan woman. Tom could not altogether disapprove. MacPierce should have been critical of Kate Morgan, but he had learned long ago to divorce personal feelings from the job. Moreover, he understood the situation she found herself in. A powerful man had stepped into her life. Sure she had made some bad decisions, but let those without sin criticize.

He also understood a woman like Sheila, not very feminine, who the office wags were speculating was a transsexual behind her back. She came with a chip on her shoulder.

Didn't help that physically, she was more than a match for half the out of shape male agents in the office. She also put all the female agents to shame both with her physical abilities and her dedication to duty. Tom had caught her talking a few times in hushed tones on her personal cell phone. There was obviously a love interest out there, and he figured she had probably left the army to follow him or her. The office staff mostly believed it was a her, but Marks kept that information to herself.

"Look I don't want to be harsh here, but we need more than a good motive and your gut feeling. So come up with a way to nail Mr. Ford or clear him," Tom said.

Three days later Sheila was all smiles as she dropped a large file box on her desk.