Here we go again :-) Thank you all so much for your interest and support! With Chapter 7 we go back to where this story started. Enjoy!

Chapter 7 - Bloodshed

Saturday, 27th October 1973

When Perry reached Della's and Richard's apartment in Georgetown, he was a nervous wreck. Hearing Della's desperate plea for help on the phone had been pure agony. With force, he pressed the doorbell as if he wanted to crush it. It took her at least a minute before she finally opened the door. Carefully, she peeked through the crack of the it.

"Thank God!" She sighed with relief and let Perry inside.

"What happened?" He studied her thoroughly, noticing she wore practically nothing but her dressing gown. Every detail of her body showed under the soft silk of the robe. He looked at her bare feet and saw dark spots spread over her skin. Was it blood? Her condition was shaken to put it mildly. Her movements were agitated… her voice unusually high, even squeaky. For a terrible moment, he feared someone may have assaulted her. His eyes frantically searched for bruises or other injuries, but he didn't detect any. Aside from the obvious erratic behavior, she seemed uninjured.

She took his hand and pulled him with her. "Perry, I swear I have no idea what happened. I was under the shower and when I came out…."

He grabbed her by her upper arms and pulled her towards him. "Della! Calm down! What is it?" He looked into her eyes, did his best to appear and sound reassuring, all the while fearing for the worst. "Breathe," he ordered gently. She nodded slowly and closed her eyes. When she seemed to relax, he loosened his grip on her arms.

"What happened?"

"Perry, there's a body in my bedroom."

"What?" He didn't believe his ears. With his arm around her elbow, he led her through the hallway to the bedroom. They stopped in the open doorway. The victim lay on his back. It was a man in his late twenties. The massive pool of blood around the lifeless body left no doubt that the man was indeed dead. A towel soaked with blood lay next to him. A thousand questions popped into Perry's head. The most important ones being who the man was and why the hell Della was wearing nothing more than dressing gown. Had it been self-defense? Did he try to rape her and she killed him?

"What happened?" He asked coldly. His heart was racing in his chest.

"I don't know. I was under the shower and when I came out he was lying there."

He looked down to her. "Why do you go under the shower when you have a visitor?"

"I didn't know he was here. I thought I was alone. Perry, I swear it!" She looked up to him, grabbing for the collar of his jacket. Her face was flushed, her eyes frantic. "Perry, I swear it. I didn't kill him - and I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're thinking! I don't even know his name!"

He had no idea what to think. "You don't know who he is?"

She lowered her head, "I think I do…"

"Who?"

"I think he's the man in the photos."

He groaned when he realized what this could mean for Della. This wasn't just a potential sex scandal anymore. This meant a possible murder charge with motive, opportunity, and a juicy decoration on a silver plate. As if she were reading his thoughts, a sob escaped her throat. Exhausted, her head sank against his chest. He held her closely while she cried her heart out. He tried to come up with a scenario that could save her from this mess. They didn't have any time to lose.

He ran his hands over her back. "Darling, listen… You have to focus now. Listen to me!"

She pulled back a little and looked up to him. "When did you get home and who saw you?"

"I think the door man saw me… but I didn't talk to him. He was on the phone. It was after eleven."

"Did you go anywhere else when you left my office?" She shook her head.

"Did you use a cab to get here?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Do you think the driver will remember you?"

"I think so… he gave me back too much change. I told him to open a college fund for his kids." Perry groaned. Her honesty was honorable and possibly her down fall.

"Look, we need you to get out of here as soon as possible. You can't have been here tonight. Where's Richard? Can we reach him?"

"I told him I would arrive tonight, but, so far, he hasn't even bothered to call. I have no idea if he will come home at all tonight."

Again, she let her head sank against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "But I didn't know who else to call."

"Don't you worry about me. You know I'll always be here for you. Always."

Despite the problems at hand, he became aware of her body pressed against his. The situation was morbid and absurd, at the same time, and he needed to think with his head and not with other parts of his anatomy. He quickly pressed a kiss on her head and freed himself.

In that moment, he heard a key turning in a lock and the front door opened. From the doorstep, Richard Carlisle had no other choice than looking straight down the hallway where Della and Perry were standing in a tight embrace.

Della jerked away from Perry, but her reaction was too slow. With the expression of someone who had just experienced a death sentence, Carlisle stared at Della.

"Richard…"

"Couldn't you at least have the decency of getting a room somewhere outside town?"

"Richard, no… you don't understand."

"Oh, I think, I do…" Carlisle wheeled slowly towards them.

"Listen, Richard…" Perry stepped between Della and her husband. "You're drawing the wrong conclusions."

"Am I?" Carlisle mused. "Do you know how often you told me that in court?"

"We are not in court here," Perry reminded him. "But in case you wonder, why I'm here, I would like to present exhibit A. Right here in your bedroom." He pointed at the open bedroom door.

"I beg your pardon." Richard gave him the most suspicious look, but Perry stepped aside and gave Della a sign to do the same. Richard couldn't take his eyes from Della as he moved past her. Perry felt the coldness that practically radiated from Carlisle although he couldn't blame him, especially if the roles had been reversed and he were in Richard's shoes. His heart went out to Della. She was the one who suffered the most. She was the one he needed to protect at all costs – even if it meant he had to protect her from her husband's wrath. Reluctant Carlisle looked inside his bedroom and was startled.

"What the…." Richard looked from Della to Perry and back.

"Do you know this man?" Perry asked, hoping to use Carlisle's confusion to his advantage. He still had the fading hope that the photos and the murder were connected to Carlisle and not to Della herself. If so, Carlisle probably knew the victim and could deliver valuable information.

"No, of course not! Who is this and why is he dead and in here?" Richard's head turned. Again, his eyes fell on Della. The shock on his face was too profound, too obvious to be a lie.

"Please, don't tell me…"

Again, Perry did the talking for Della. "Della is not having an affair with anyone," he clarified. "She called me when she found him in your bedroom. I suggest the two of you have a quick and private conversation before we discuss how to proceed."

Perry gave them both a nod and turned away. He retreated into the kitchen where he found a phone and dialed the number of Paul Drake's hotel room in Sacramento.

Relieved that she could finally sit down, Della sank on the sofa. Her knees were weak and her head was spinning. The full impact of the day and the last couple of weeks hit her like a train. Every time she tried to think straight, the face of her son appeared in front of her. If she had to face a murder charge or, even worse, a conviction, Ruben would be the one who suffered the most. The possible end of her marriage and of Richard's career faded compared to what this could do to her son.

Too worn out to make the first step, Della just sat on the couch, massaging her temples to keep the rising headache at bay. In the end, Richard broke the silence.

"I'm sorry." His voice almost didn't reach her ear. He had said the words so quietly that she almost didn't hear them, because the pounding inside her head was too overwhelming.

"Whatever for?" she asked, baffled.

"For not listening to you sooner. I know you wanted to talk to me, but I avoided you."

"You can say that again!"

"I thought this was about you and Mason… after last year and Nick, I wasn't ready to face this old issue again. So, I ran away. Just like that."

"You ran and you sent a detective after me," she reminded him bitterly.

"I did. I'm sorry for that, too. But after you didn't come home that one night and you didn't talk to me, I didn't know what else to do. I should have given you the time to come to me, but… damn it. You know patience is not one of my strong suits." He reached inside his jacket. "When I came to my office tonight, I found this." He gave her a package of photographs. She didn't have to look at them. Disgusted, she turned her face away.

"I see. You know what's in them," he concluded. "What happened? You can't tell me you did this on your own free will."

"Of course, I didn't."

"So?"

"I was drugged and, when I woke up, I didn't know what happened to me. I could reconstruct parts of the night, but most it still lies in the dark. Perhaps it's best that way."

His face became pale. "Did they..." He couldn't utter the word 'rape'. It got stuck in his throat were it became a knot.

"No."

He sighed out in relief. "Is this about blackmail? Is that the reason you called Mason and Drake in the first place?"

"I didn't call him. He came to me because someone sent him the photos too. There were no demands. No message. Nothing. We asked Paul to look into it."

Carlisle lowered his head. "You should have told me. Damn, why didn't you tell me?!"

Della shrugged, unwilling to accept his anger. "You said it yourself… what was there to say after Nick? I didn't want to hurt you."

He lifted his head, disbelief written all over his face. "You were the one who got hurt. I don't believe this." He threw the photos on the table. He paused for a moment and then he said, "How are these pictures connected to the dead man?"

"I think he's the one in the photos… his face seems familiar. I was in the shower and when I came back into bedroom, he was there. Already dead. I panicked and called Perry. I didn't know what else to do." With self loathing, she remembered the kiss in Perry's office and how much she had wanted to sleep with him. She didn't know how serious he had actually been about his offer to start over with him, but it had been so very tempting just to think about it.

"And that's all?" Richard asked, as if he sensed there was more.

"That is all," she confirmed. She didn't want to confess anything else. It was her guilt and she wouldn't burden someone else with it.

"All right." Richard sighed. "Let's go back to Mason then…. And Della?"

She lifted her head? "Yes?"

"Please, get dressed. This is awkward enough already."

~tbc~