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From: "Wine Maker" <wine_maker@eknifeshop.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Finding Elvis Chapter 07 (MF, FF, MFF, Slow, Romantic Thriller)
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Author's note:

It's the time of year to vote in the Golden Clitorides! I encourage you
to go vote for me in the Best New Author category before the end of
this month. If you think someone else is more worthy, in any area, go
vote for them instead! Just go vote to help start the awards back up.

Please go to:  /~Clitorides/GCA_2005.htm

Vote in the Best New Author category for me, if you like.

Wine Maker   /~Wine_Maker/

Also, the Silver Clits have been resurrected for stories ending in the
months of January and February, 2006. Go out there and vote! If you
think my story, The Lady in Blue, is worthy vote for me. If not, vote
for someone else, but vote!

/~Gamera/SilverClits/SCA_Current.html

Wine Maker
The Lady in Blue
/~Wine_Maker/

Vote early and vote often. For someone. And tell your friends.

Thanks.

Wine

-----

A Hawk Romantic Thriller. A romantic thriller that starts slowly, but
the passion builds as the plot unfolds. Homicide detective Lieutenant
Shauna Hawkins is in Vegas with her friends Ted and Lisa and has to
find out just who got married last night. As a lesbian, that might be
awkward. A series of dead bodies makes it a lot more serious. This has
a real plot and three dimensional characters. It's more than just a
wanker.

Read this story on several sites and vote on each for me. Voting for my
stories encourages me to write more. Remember to vote for each chapter
on Literotica and on the last chapter on Storiesonline.

http://storiesonline.net/auth/Wine_Maker

http://english.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=560253&page=submissions


Chapter 7: Fighting the system
(c) 2006 by Wine Maker

A shiver of horror washed through me as I turned back to Gretchen. Her
right hand was smeared with blood and she was as pale as a ghost. My
first thought was personal: how the hell do I get myself mixed into
these unbelievable situations? I shoved that thought away. There would
be time for personal thoughts later, but right now, as much as I wanted
to sweep her into my arms to protect her, Gretchen needs Hawk the cop,
not Hawk the wife. I shook my head. I couldn't believe I even _thought_
of myself as the wife. Gretchen moved, stepping back again and reaching
to cover her mouth. That focused me instantly.

With a quick step, I snagged her arm before she got blood on her face.
Her eyes held panic and terror. "Gretchen, look at me," I said calmly.
"Focus on me. Don't touch anything with your hands."

She swallowed and visibly brought herself under control.

"What happened here?" I asked, my cop voice cutting through her panic.

"I... I don't know." Gretchen tried to look back toward the bathroom,
but I shifted a half step and blocked her line of vision. I needed her
to focus on me, to tell me what happened, and I knew we didn't have
much time. "I came up here to tear a strip off of Kat for that stunt
she pulled with the senator. The door was open, so I came inside, ready
to fight."

"Where did you get the knife?" I asked.

"It was on the floor beside the door," she said, looking at me trying
desperately to control her panic. "Hawk, I didn't do this! I didn't
know what was happening. I just picked up the knife and found them when
I came in. I didn't kill them. I swear!"

An instinct I didn't even know I had within me wanted to grab her,
protect her, and reassure her. The sound of running feet in the hall
saved me from this new feeling, and a moment later one of the guards
was at the door.

"Stop!" I told him before he could step inside. "This is now a crime
scene. Call 9-1-1 and tell them two people have been murdered. Don't
let _anyone_ in here without my say-so, and lock down the house. No one
leaves. Understand me?"

The guard nodded, pulled out a radio, and spoke softly into it. Guests
started coming into view in the hallway, but there was nothing I could
do about that from in here, so I turned back to my wife.

"When the police come I want you to cooperate, but do _not_ answer
questions until you have a lawyer. If Lisa and Ted are back, she can
fill in as counsel until you hire one." I said softly.

"But Hawk," she protested, "I didn't do this!"

"Keep your voice down, Gretchen!" For a moment, the cop and the spouse
battled, and I allowed the spouse out for a moment. "Honey, I believe
you," I said reassuringly. I sighed. That was all the time I could give
to the spouse. "Unfortunately, the police won't believe you right away.
Two dead bodies and you found standing over them with a bloody knife
looks _really_ bad."

She looked like she wanted to collapse, so I put my arm around her.
"It's not going to be fun, but we can get you through this, if you
listen to me."

A commotion at the door signaled the arrival of Hans, who tried to push
past the guard and looked angry at being stopped. "What the hell is
going on in there? Let me through."

"Let him through," I told the guard, "but clear these other people out
of the hall and back down into the Crystal Room." Other guards
courteously began herding the guests back out of the hall as I stopped
Hans from going any further than the doorway.

"Hawk, tell me that this is not as bad as it looks," he said, looking
at Gretchen who was trying to stand and keep her hand well away from
her body. "Is someone hurt?"

"Yes," I said, grabbing him by his shoulders and turning him towards
me. I hated this part. Regardless of how I felt about Kat, I had to
remember that Hans loved her, and there was no easy way to tell someone
that a loved one had been murdered. Without thought, I fell back into
cop mode. "There's been a murder, Hans. Two murders, actually. Hans,
I'm sorry, but someone has killed Senator Cartwright and Kat."

For a moment, he didn't understand what I had said. Then he puffed up
and tried to get past me. "That can't be! I just saw her fifteen or
twenty minutes ago."

I held him, keeping him from coming in. "Don't fight me on this, Hans.
She's gone and I can't let you contaminate the crime scene."

Hans took a deep breath and tried to force his way past me again, so I
pushed him back out into the hall. "You're lying!" he shouted.
"Gretchen, tell her that she's wrong!"

"Oh, Daddy," I heard Gretchen sob from inside, "I'm so sorry."

Hans bent over like someone had punched him in the gut. I held him up,
my arms going around him. "Nothing I say can stop the pain, Hans, but
you're not alone. The person that did this will be found."

He blinked and looked up. "Please. Please tell me it wasn't Gretchen.
Please, Hawk."

"It wasn't Gretchen," I told him. "The police will probably treat it as
though she did, at first, but I don't believe she did it for one
second. You need to make a choice right now, Hans. Your little girl is
in the worst trouble she has ever been in, and you need to decide if
you believe her. Someone killed your wife, and fingers will be pointing
at Gretchen as soon as the police get here. I'm a homicide detective,
and I'm telling you that I have looked at the crime scene, and that I
know your daughter. Given those two things, I don't think she did it. I
believe her. Do you?"

He held his hands over his eyes for a moment and nodded. "I can't
believe she would do this. Fight with Kat, yes. Kill her, no. And kill
Senator Cartwright, too? I just can't believe it."

"Then tell her that," I said forcefully. "Right now she feels all alone
and is afraid you think the worst. You two need each other now more
than ever. Tell her you believe her. Tell her, and then let someone
take you back downstairs. She is going to need a good criminal lawyer
fast. I'm sorry, but Kat is gone. You need to focus on the living."

His jaw firmed through the despair. "Yes." He stepped around me and to
the door of the room. "Baby, I know you didn't do this. We'll fight
this together. I love you."

Her face streaming tears, she started for the door and I had to keep
her in the room. "I'm sorry, Gretchen, but you can't leave. Not yet."

To my relief, Ted and Lisa arrived at the door just then. "Thank God!
Ted, please take Hans downstairs and help him. Lisa, we need you now,
and we need you badly." Ted led the now stumbling Hans away.

I quickly filled Lisa in, and she bore up under the shock pretty well.

"You deal with your end, Hawk. I'll deal with protecting Gretchen. Now,
shoo."

I left her talking earnestly to Gretchen and walked to the doorway.
Kneeling down, I could see some blood on the carpet beside the door.
 From the general appearance, I guessed that this was where Gretchen had
found the knife, just like she said. It looked to have been dropped
here by someone on the way out the door.

I stepped over to take a good look at the supposed murder weapon. A
large bladed kitchen knife with a rough, easy grip handle. Zero chance
for prints on that surface, though if the killer cut him or herself on
the blade because of a slip, there might be some DNA.

Walking back to the bathroom doorway, I looked over the dead bodies
with a professional eye. I was already walling off the feelings, the
emotion. It didn't matter that I disliked both of them. It was my job
to see justice done. Or, it would have been if this was my turf, not
that I intended to let their killer escape just because it wasn't. It
all depended on who the cops were that caught the case.

Without touching anything, it was hard to get a complete picture, but
it looked like Kat went down first as her arm was under Cartwright. She
had been facing the shower, I thought, from all the blood on the floor
on that side. My take was that she fell and bled out in seconds.

Cartwright had been turned mostly toward the wall away from Kat. At
least, the way the blood spatter on that wall and portion of the
ceiling were consistent with what I'd expect to see if he had been
turned that way. CSI would be able to tell for certain.

I shook my head. Kat looked to be the first victim, but that just
didn't sound right. Cartwright was a sizeable man, why kill Kat first?
Also, if Kat had been killed while Cartwright was in the room, normal
human instinct would be to turn toward the disturbance, not away from
it. It just didn't seem to add up

My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the police. A uniformed
woman came into the room and took in the scene at a glance. "Miss,
please step away from there," she told me, and I didn't argue. She kept
the scene clear until the detective arrived. He was a small black man
in his late forties, his thinning hair turning gray.

The detective gave us a cursory look and then looked at the bodies.
"Officer Brighton, secure the crime scene and get all these people
separated for questioning." He looked like a burn-out, one of those
homicide detectives that had seen too much and were on their last legs.
The kind of person that pigeon-holed people and didn't dig too deeply
for facts. Someone looking for an easy solution. I hoped I was wrong.

Lisa started the ball rolling by refusing to leave Gretchen. "I'm her
counsel and where she goes, I go."

The still unidentified detective put his hands on his thin hips and
cocked his head at Gretchen. "That's fast. Look here, girl, lawyering
up is the worst thing you can do. Just cooperate and we'll get this
sorted out. If you start off with a shyster, it only makes you look
guilty."

"I don't think so, detective," Lisa said coolly. "Shall we let your
people look her over so she can wash up?"

"In good time," he answered her huffily. "Officer, take this other lady
out," he said pointing at me.

"Sorry," I said, "I'm her other counsel and her wife. I stay."

He gave me a pissed look. "What is this, argue with the police day?
Just go with the officer."

"I'm with her. You drag me out of here and you're looking at a shitload
of trouble from her lawyers about stripping her of counsel," I said,
crossing my arms.

"I'm not questioning anyone yet," he said, peeved. "I have the scene to
look over, and the techs will be here to go over all of you." He threw
up his arms. "Fine, we'll start by questioning her, but not in here.
Come with me."

He led us back into the hall that was rapidly filling with police and
into another bedroom. He set one of the wooden chairs out so that
Gretchen could sit in it. "You two sit on the bed."

I gave in and sat on the bed where Gretchen could see me, but Lisa
pulled up another chair and sat beside her.

The detective pulled up a chair and flipped it around and sat with the
back between his legs. A position of intimidation. "You three are
getting on my last working nerve."

Lisa smiled at him. "I'm Lisa Stansbury, this is Gretchen Werner. The
lady on the bed is Shauna Hawkins. Who are you, detective?"

"Detective Sergeant William Sweeny, Miss Stansbury. Now, Miss Werner,
tell me how you got that blood on your hand?"

Gretchen stumbled through the same story I had gotten from her with
Lisa keeping her to just the bare bones and blocking any more-in-depth
questions.

When she told him I had come in right after she found the bodies,
Sweeny looked at me, his eyes hard.

"It doesn't sound like you're counsel, Miss Hawkins. You smell like a
witness to me," he said.

I opened my purse and pulled out my badge. "I'm on the job in Houston."

He took it and looked it over, his eyebrows rising. "Pretty odd that a
homicide detective happens on a murder scene right after it happens."

I shrugged and took my badge back. "Call it a gift. Look, it's been an
odd week. You've got her initial statement. Let the crime scene boys
take her and get what they need. Then, you can grill me."

"Well, Lieutenant Hawkins, that's my call to make, not yours," he said,
leaning his chair back. "I say when this is over."

He turned back to Gretchen and made her go through everything he had
just heard. I know he didn't expect to get something new right now; he
just wanted to prove his dominance. Gretchen held up better this time
and went through it like a champ.

When she was done, he turned her over to the techs, and Lisa went with
her. I got up, flipped another chair around in front of his and matched
the position of his seat, robbing him of his posturing. With the dress
on, though, I had to sit side saddle. "Shall we take turns pissing on
each other to prove how manly we are, or can we cut to the chase?"

Sweeny stood up abruptly, his face clouding with anger. "Don't you dare
try that shit with me. Your wife is in a world of hurt, and you know
I'm going to book her pretty little ass on two counts of Murder One. If
the evidence plays out like I think it will, she'll go down hard. It
looks open and shut to me, Miss Texas detective, so you go on back
downstairs, and I'll try not to let your bullshit piss me off any more
than it already has. And, you're out as counsel." He held up a hand to
shortstop my objection. "You're a witness, pure and simple. Don't push
me on this or I'll toss you in with her. Get moving and let me process
_my_ crime scene."

"Bullshit. The spatter evidence by itself points at another person as
the perp," I snarled in exasperation.

"Tell it to the judge. Now get out," he huffed, rising to his feet.

Gritting my teeth, I backed down and walked out of the room. This
wasn't going to be easy. Dick Cheese already seemed to have made his
mind up. That meant he wouldn't be looking for evidence that pointed at
anyone but Gretchen. In fact, he might suppress any exculpatory
evidence he did find. Some people were like that. I needed to get on
this right now. Time to talk to my father-in-law.

-----

The guests had apparently already been processed and funneled out of
the house. At least, if they hadn't all been processed and were still
in the house, they weren't in plain sight. All the people that were
visible were cops, medical examiners and a pair of people just coming
in the front with crime scene jackets on. CSI... Crime Scene
Investigators. Not as high speed as the television show make them out
to be, but still damned impressive, when they put their minds to work
and their tools to good use.

I stopped them just shy of the stairs and showed them my badge. "Excuse
me, but one of the deceased is my mother-in-law, and the detective
looked like he had already made up his mind. Do me a favor: look hard,
and look twice at what's up there. I want to see the guilty person pay,
whoever that turns out to be, but I don't want to see it done so fast
that we miss something that doesn't fit the moment's favorite story.
Okay?"

The two, a young Hispanic man in his twenties and an older white woman
glanced at each other and then back at me. "We don't rush to judge,
detective," the older woman said. "Rest assured that we'll do our best
and we'll be thorough. The facts will speak for themselves."

I nodded. "That's all I wanted to hear. Thanks."

After they went upstairs, I started searching around and found Hans in
the Brown Room with Ted. Hans looked like hell and I couldn't blame
him. Ted had placed a stiff drink on the table in front of Hans, but it
looked untouched. When Ted looked at me, I gestured with my head for
him to give me some time with Hans. Quietly, he slipped out, leaving us
alone.

I knelt in front of Hans and took his hand in mine. God knows I wished
I had less experience in dealing with people who had just suffered a
terrible loss, but in this particular case I was damned glad that I did
know how to deal with Hans and how to help him get things moving.

"Hey. How're you holding up?" I asked gently.

"Not very well," he admitted, squeezing my hand a little. "I don't
believe it. I keep telling myself that it can't be true, that it's all
some terrible joke. When it sinks in, I don't know what I'll do." He
laughed, a hint of despair creeping into his voice. "I'm lying. I don't
know what to do even now. If I do what I did when my first wife
committed suicide, I'll be angry with everyone soon enough. I prayed I
would never have to go through this again."

"Look," I started slowly, "I'm not going to sugarcoat this. It's going
to be worse this time. The detective is an asshole, and he's going to
charge Gretchen. He might hem and haw, but he's already made up his
mind that she's the killer. Gretchen is in the worst spot she's ever
been in, and no matter how much we do to help, she's all alone in the
crosshairs. Hans, I need to hear it again. Did you believe her when she
told you she didn't do it?"

Hans stared into my eyes, his jaw working. At last, he nodded. "I know
it looks bad, but I just don't believe she would kill two people. No
matter how much she hated Kat, I just cannot accept that she would kill
her even in the heat of the moment, much less go get a knife and track
her down. And I know of no reason that Gretchen would have to kill the
senator. Gretchen is innocent. I'm sure of it."

I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders. If he thought she was
guilty, this would be much harder. "Then we need to get busy because
the clock is ticking. Right now, CSI is upstairs gathering evidence,
probably from Gretchen. As soon as they finish, Detective Sweeny will
tell her he's taking her to the station to take her statement. Or, if
he's a major asshole, he'll just arrest her now. Either way, she won't
be leaving the precinct house except to go straight to jail. He flat
out told me she would be charged with two counts of murder in the first
degree. I'm not sure about here, but in Texas that means the death
penalty is on the table."

He shook his head. "Not here in the bastion of the left. I believe they
have mandatory life without the possibility of parole. You can thank
the kind of people that would elect someone like Cartwright."

"That's still nothing to court, if we can dodge the bullet. By now, the
news media is on high alert and rushing here, if they aren't here
already. They have some of the story, though probably not many
particulars. We need to do something I never thought I would do. We
need to spin the press before the police or district attorney has a
chance to do it. You need to make a statement to the press telling them
what happened and explaining about the terrible circumstances Gretchen
is in. If you sit back with a 'no comment', the DA will fry you in the
press. Start it off with how the police already suspect Gretchen, how
you _know_ she didn't do it, and how you're afraid that they will go
for the easy target and charge her simply because you're both rich and
famous. Play the Hollywood angle: the famous get charged so the DA can
make a name for himself and run for Governor."

He blinked at me in surprise. "But, then we'll be at war with the
district attorney."

I smiled sourly. "You think you aren't? Ten to one he's already been
called and is on his way downtown. He'll be calling a press conference
as soon as Gretchen is charged. He _will_ want her. She's his ticket to
fame. Take the initiative while you can."

He nodded.

"Second thing, call the biggest name lawyer you know and get him down
there. Gretchen needs to have a herd of high-priced lawyers breathing
down the cops' necks. If they want the time of day, they need a
warrant. Everything she says goes through them, but they'll already
know all that. Get them there before they have a chance to start
questioning her. Have them push hard for bail. It won't be cheap or
easy, but with connections, deep pockets and luck, we might get her
released tonight. Speaking of connections, if you know people in power,
call them. Have them all start putting pressure in various places. That
might help tilt the judge that makes the call."

I shook my head and picked up his untouched drink. "To hell with no
booze. I'll take my chances, and Gretchen can yell at me later. I'll
drink this, but no more." It burned my throat in a comfortable way as I
sipped it. "I'm telling you to do everything I always hated the defense
doing: trying the case in the media, blocking the investigation, making
me work for every lead. Isn't that just ironic?"

"While I do all that, what will you do?" he asked finally.

"I'll be making life a pain for Detective Sweeny. I'm going with
Gretchen and I'll delay the proceedings as much as I can until her
well-compensated mouthpiece gets there. Then I get busy in the morning
tracking down the killer. Wish me luck." I tossed back the rest of the
drink and set the glass on the table. Time to go find Gretchen and
Lisa.

-----

When I caught up with Lisa, she was waiting for Gretchen to dress, and
a police technician was already bagging my wife's clothes. After the
tech left, Lisa shook her head. "It's not good."

"No," I agreed. "Once she gets dressed, they will either take her into
custody or take her down to the station for questioning and then take
her into custody. I have Hans calling people and doing things."

"Hawk," Lisa said quietly, "this is bad. I'd charge her and go for the
conviction."

"She's innocent, Lisa."

"Are you sure?" Lisa asked worriedly. "Hawk, you only just met her last
week. I know you're married, but this is..."

I cut her off with my hand. "I know murder and I know people. I can
read people pretty well and Gretchen is not a murderer. I'd stake my
career on it. Besides, from the little I saw, I think the forensic
evidence may help us, too. I need you to back my play, Lisa. Trust me.
Trust her."

I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the bathroom door.
"Lisa, I know you're not licensed here, but I'd appreciate if you'd
stick with her until her merry band of lawyers get there."

She nodded. "I'll stick by both of you. I promise. Where did Hans and
Ted get off to?"

"Hans is in the Brown Room. Ted left us there alone to talk for a bit,
but I bet he's back there now."

"Good," Gretchen said, coming out of the bathroom dressed in blue jeans
and a tee shirt. "Daddy needs someone with him."

I stood up and took Gretchen into my arms. She held me and then pulled
back, scowling. "You've been drinking! Hawk!"

"Cut me some slack here, will you? This has been the day from hell," I
said with an eye roll.

A knock at the door interrupted her no doubt hot retort. The door
opened and a female officer looked at us, then motioned Detective
Sweeny in. He upheld my low opinion of him by pulling out the cuffs
with no foreplay.

"Gretchen Werner, you're under arrest for the murder of Senator William
Cartwright and Katrina Werner. You have the right to remain silent. You
have the right to an attorney..."

He continued to read her rights as he cuffed her. She stood there
stoically, looking regal. Several officers came in to escort her out.

"Chin up, Gretchen. We'll have you out fast," I told her.

She blew me a kiss on the way out the door. "You better."

Sweeny swaggered up to me as Lisa followed Gretchen out. "I need you to
come down to the station and answer some more questions, Hawkins."

I stuck my index finger in his face. "That's Detective Lieutenant
Hawkins, Detective Sergeant Sweeny. Let's not get too familiar. I'm
coming down to the station, but not to answer your questions. You have
my statement and that's all you get until my wife's arraignment."

He sneered at me and poked me in my chest. "You'll do what I say or
I'll haul your southern ass in as an accessory to murder."

Swatting his hand back, I poked him in the chest twice as hard as he
had poked me. "I'm not your little push-over, burnout. Nothing I say or
do will make this situation any better with you. If you could arrest
me, you would have. You might be able to awe some society bimbo with
that gold badge, but you don't impress me one little bit." I leaned in,
glaring into his face. "I'll find the real killer in spite of your lazy
ass. Get in my way and I'll walk all over you."

I left him standing speechless as I turned and stalked past the
awe-struck uniforms.

By the time I got downstairs, Gretchen was being put into a squad car,
and Lisa was getting into a car that Lurch had brought out front. I
slid into the passenger seat and buckled in wordlessly.

-----

We made the trip to the station in silence, each of us preparing for
battle in our own way. The police station was like most of its ilk:
drab and worn.

Police streamed in and out of the front as we came in from the parking
area. They kept us cooling our heels while Gretchen was processed in.
They were taking her picture, getting her fingerprints and gathering
basic information. They then parked her in a holding area to stew. It
seemed that keeping everyone waiting was almost universally normal
police procedure. I'd done it myself many, many times. Surprisingly,
this gave me a sense of patience I normally didn't have. I was so
intimately familiar with the process that my estimate was within five
minutes of when they came to escort us back.

I half expected Sweeny to try and block my presence, but he didn't. The
interrogation room felt as comfortably familiar to me as my house. Of
course, I was the one usually asking questions. Gretchen was now
dressed in an orange jump suit and shackled to the floor. No doubt that
was to unsettle her and me. It didn't seem to be working on either of
us.

She smiled at me as if we were in a diner. "There you are, Hawk. I was
getting worried."

"No need to worry," I assured her. When we sat down on either side of
her, I tipped back in the chair just a bit and smiled at Sweeny.
"Time's short, little man. If you want to ask some questions, let's get
started."

The flush of anger told me that he was not happy to have the rhythm of
the questioning broken and his initiative taken away. "You'll be here
until I say we're done." I could hear the unspoken "Dyke Bitch" at the
end of that sentence. Good. I liked having an adversarial relationship
with this guy.

"Wrong," Lisa said. "As soon as I say we're done, we're done."

The glare between them was interrupted by a knock at the door. A
uniform opened the door and let in a portly man in his late fifties. He
looked a size too big for the suit and had the air of someone who was a
bit disorganized. That was obvious when his briefcase popped open and
dumped papers all over the floor.

"I beg your pardon," he said as he set the briefcase down and started
gathering papers. "I'm Danny Zieter, here for the defense. One of you
two ladies is Hawk and the other is Lisa, right?"

I stood up and helped him gather up papers. "I'm Hawk. You can have my
seat. I'm used to standing up and walking around in places like this.
It helps me think."

He laughed. "I like that. Hawk, we shall get along just fine."

Sweeny interrupted our little meeting with a snarl. "I don't care who
represents who. Fine, Daddy Warbucks sent you. Let's get back down to
business."

Zieter smiled at Sweeny in a friendly way. "Oh, I'm afraid not,
detective. My client stands on her privilege to remain silent and we
have an appointment in Judge Masters' chambers in half an hour. The
District Attorney has already been notified. Here are the papers to
present Gretchen Werner for her arraignment at that time."

Sweeny looked as surprised as I felt. In addition, he looked
monumentally pissed. "That's crap. Masters is a day judge."

"I know," Zieter said with a smile. "He has agreed to come in and hear
the argument for bail in this very delicate matter. Amazingly enough,
District Attorney Danforth had almost the exact same reaction to the
news. Thank you, Detective. I'll be consulting with my client now."

After he stomped out, Zieter laughed. "I love that. Pissing them off
like that. No offense, Detective."

"You just go right ahead and piss them off as much as you like. I'll
handle it," I said, already liking him. "What's the plan?"

"You two can step on out and harass the good sergeant and I'll talk
with my client alone for a bit, if you don't mind."

Lisa and I were both used to this from differing viewpoints, so we
weren't offended, and we left them alone. Sweeny was gone, so I
couldn't piss in his Wheaties. Pity.

In ten minutes, Zieter was bustling out and herding the two of us
toward the far end of the hall. "The judge's chambers are through here
and up two floors. When we get there, just let me handle it."

"Will we get her out?" I asked, showing some of my worry.

"Maybe, maybe not. It depends on all kinds of things, and I won't
promise anything except to try my very best. I can assure you that my
best is pretty good, though," he said with a wink.

-----

The chambers were cozy, like those of most judges. The judge, on the
other hand, didn't look like most judges. He looked like a quantum
physicist, with a tweed jacket, bow tie and older suit. He looked like
a geek that had let middle age catch up with him.

The other man there looked like a used car salesman. His hair was
slicked back and despite the grease, was a flat black that screamed
bottle job. To top it all off, he looked smarmy, and arrogant. His
stare at us spoke volumes. He felt like he had the upper hand and was
going to crush us. An officer came through the other door with Gretchen
in front of him.

Once we were all seated, the judge spoke with a voice so deep, I had to
look again to make sure it was him speaking.

"Gentlemen, ladies, it's late, and I'd like to get back to my wife, so
let's hear the arguments in a concise and brief manner. Save the
grandstanding for a jury, and just lay it out clean and fast."

"Your Honor," said Danforth, "the facts couldn't be clearer. Gretchen
Werner was found by her own wife standing over the bodies of her
victims, with the murder weapon in her hand. Open and shut. The People
request she be denied bail and remanded into custody immediately."

"Thank you, Mister Danforth." Masters looked at Zieter. "Your turn."

"Let me be just as concise, your Honor. My client did not kill anyone.
She found the knife and then the bodies. That will all come out if this
ever makes it to trial. My client is like anyone else, innocent until
proven guilty. We ask she be allowed to surrender her passport and
present reasonable bail until the police realize they have the wrong
person."

"That it?" the judge asked both of them. "Fine. The court sets bail in
the amount of ten million dollars, and Miss Werner will surrender her
passport. Don't leave the area, Miss Werner."

Danforth looked like he had swallowed his tongue. "Your Honor, this is
unheard of! Ten million dollars is like pocket change to her family.
She is a serious flight risk!"

The judge shook his head. "Not that her record shows, Counselor."

"Her record? Let's talk about her record, your Honor. The woman is a
prostitute, pure and simple. Anyone that would sleep with men for money
is not the bedrock of society," Danforth said with a sneer.

"Your Honor," Zieter said with a shake of his head, "Counselor Danforth
surely knows that as an escort in the great State of Nevada, what she
did or did not do in her professional capacity was completely legal and
has zero bearing on this matter."

"Agreed. Counselors, we will expedite the process and get this case on
the docket as soon as possible. Have a good night." With that, he rose
and exited at the door in the back of the room.

The look that the DA gave us as he rose didn't bode well for our
chances to get on his Christmas list. "I don't know who paid him off,
but I'll see this overturned tomorrow." With that, he stalked out the
other door. The police officer took Gretchen out, but Gretchen was
smiling and gave us a thumbs up.

"Ladies," Zieter said with a smile, "this is why I love the law. Let's
get your wife free and back home where she belongs." I shook his hand
and hugged Lisa. This could have been so much worse, and I was thrilled
with the ruling.

-----

The police dragged their feet, and it was almost two hours later when
we finally arrived back at the house with Gretchen. In the privacy of
the back seat, she finally broke down in my arms and cried while Lisa
drove. None of us felt like talking, so I just held her.

Lisa brandished a key to the front door and let us all in. "You two go
get some sleep. Tomorrow we need to plan what happens next."

Gretchen nodded.

"Thank you, Lisa. I won't forget your help. Come on, Hawk."

She led me up the stairs and to one of the guest rooms. "I don't keep
anything here, so this room is as good as the next."

She held me and whispered in my ear. "I'm so sorry that I dragged you
into this."

Softly, I kissed her cheek, finally allowing Hawk the cop to slide
away. Gretchen had needed me to be the cop earlier. Right now she
needed me as her wife and friend. "We'll make it, honey. Let's just get
what sleep we can, and tomorrow will get here when it does."

Gretchen nodded. "I just need to hold you now."

We stripped slowly and slid into bed. I held her in my arms as she
cried again. It was almost half an hour before she finally dozed. Long
after that, I lay with her head cushioned on my breast and stared into
the darkness at the ceiling, thinking. I never felt it when sleep took
me.

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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