NOTE: I do hope you enjoyed the story even if you didn't necessarily agree with the characters paired as a couple. Thanks to everyone who left feedback- I appreciated it. :o)
(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)
Chapter 3: "It's Been Swell"
It had seemed like such a good idea at first. And it had made such sense.
"Which is probably the moment our brilliant plan began to descend that slippery slope," she muttered under her breath. She curled her fingers around the bars, flinching against the cold metal.
"You're whispering again."
She looked up, momentarily forgetting about the other person in the room. She let go of the gray bars quickly, as if she just realized her hands were wrapped around it. "Only to myself this time."
"It's not the most becoming of places, is it?" Elaine asked after a moment. The silence was deafening as she watched her old friend, waiting quietly for a response that seemed not to come.
"No, it's not," she admitted, the ghost of a smile curling her lips as she smoothed the sky blue fabric of her skirt.
Elaine stood quickly, glancing around the holding cell to ensure that they were alone. "Be reasonable," she pled, grabbing hold of the bars that framed her face. She took a deep breath, her eyes wide as she made her case. "I know you and Bette mean well, but this is ridiculous!"
She bit her lip, watching as Elaine ran her hands through her short red hair and continued, "You're a lawyer's wife too. Gregory would never-"
"He doesn't know," she interrupted, taking a step closer to the wall of bars between them.
"Then you know this whole scheme is foolish. Call it off."
"We want to help you."
Elaine crossed her arms over her chest as she turned away. "Where I'm going," she glanced over her shoulder, "you can't help. This isn't like the last time."
The silence hung between them, the words sinking into the emptiness. She locked her hands, fingering the large diamond quietly. She swallowed hard against the guilt rising in her throat. "It's because of the last time…," she trailed off.
"I couldn't have asked for better friends than you and Bette." She felt her friend's hand tremble and she squeezed it lightly. "You were both there for me at the lowest point of my life, helping with everything I asked of you. But this," she sighed, lowering her eyes, "I did all by myself."
Her breathing ran ragged, her face pale as her lips slowly parted. "Elaine…"
"Did you now?"
She glanced over her shoulder to find him leaning against the doorframe, his hands casually hanging out of his pockets. Her eyes hardened as she took in his smug expression and she pulled her hand free from Elaine's. "Is this an interrogation, Detective?" she asked.
He shook his head, pushing away from the wall and crossing the cement floor to the cell. "Not at all." She flinched as the cell door clanged open and he stepped in. "But I would like a few moments of your time, if that's alright with you of course," he added with a graciousness that tested the bounds of sincerity.
"Of course," she cooed, her eyes sharp as she gazed back at him. She turned to Elaine, quick to smile reassuringly. "Everything will be fine," she promised softly. She tucked the white leather handbag under her arm and followed him out of the cell.
Her heels clicked against the worn linoleum, filling the emptiness of the hallway. He increased his step until he fell in beside her. The gentle hum of voices floated through an open doorway and he reached up suddenly, grasping her elbow as he pulled her into an interrogation room. She shook off his touch, sliding into the uncomfortable chair before her as he closed the door firmly behind them.
He perched himself on the edge of the table, watching her expectantly. "It's not too late to have your attorney present."
She glanced up, folding her hands together. "You said this wasn't an interrogation."
His grin had the unique distinction of being both cocky and boyish. "I did say that, didn't I?"
"Let's dispense with the formalities, Detective." She squared her shoulders, locking him in her gaze. "Are you going to take my statement or not?"
"Why should I?" he asked, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"Because," she insisted, threads of irritation woven into her speech, "I have one to give."
He shrugged disinterestedly, pushing himself off the table. Shaking his head, as if he were wrestling an idea with his mind, he walked around to the opposite side of the table. "Your statement, if we can even call it that, isn't what interests me."
"And why not?"
He leaned down to the table, the shirt bunching around his bent elbows. "Your husband spent the last three and a half months doing everything within his power- and above the law- to keep the focus of this investigation off of you. And now you and Bette storm in here, proclaiming your guilt and demanding to give a statement? I don't think so." He paused for the briefest of moments, his eyes flickering away from hers as he said softly, "And I already told you that I didn't think you were the murderer."
Her hand twitched on the table as her eyes narrowed with surprise. "It didn't mean anything to me then," she insisted, her voice dangerously low as she fingered the diamond on her ring finger, "and it doesn't now."
He nodded curtly, standing straight and pushing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Fair enough."
The air was so thick with unspoken tension it could have been cut with a butter knife. A shadow passed by the door, disembodied by the frosted glass. He slumped against the wall, his head bowed slightly.
"What made you think that?" He looked up as she asked again, "What made you so sure it wasn't me?"
He sighed deeply, considering the question. "You were suspicious. You were damn suspicious," he added, "but my gut said you weren't guilty."
"Why?" She leaned in closer, her eyes flashing impatiently as she waited for his answer.
"I didn't think you were ruthless enough to shoot someone multiple times at close range."
She sat back heavily, crossing her legs beneath the table. Clasping her hands lightly in her lap, she watched him silently for several beats. "I suppose though none of that really matters anymore."
"The real murderer has been arrested."
"And Annie Douglas was brought back to life."
He nodded slowly, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "Yes, she is," he said softly. He sat up, looking straight at her as he began, "About that night-"
She held up her hand, cutting off his words abruptly. "It's over," she reminded him as the sound of feet thundering down the hallway entered their realm.
He looked up slowly, his eyes riveted to the door. "Your husband, I presume."
She could hear Gregory barking orders, his voice growing louder and more insistent as he neared the interrogation room. "Let us never speak of this again," she whispered urgently.
"Open the door, Officer." He stood up as the door opened and Gregory charged in.
"I'm fine," she was quick to say as she stood, her palms resting on the lapel of Gregory's dark suit.
Gregory's arm went around her waist, hugging her to him reassuringly. "Interrogation without their legal counsel, is it Detective?" he asked.
He folded his arms over his chest, matching Gregory's superior tone with a nonchalant one he could barely contain. "Just an informal chat, Counselor. Nothing more."
Gregory smirked, glancing from the detective, to his wife and back again. "Keep it that way." He plucked his wife's purse from the table and passed it to her as he said, "I trust you've gotten everything from her that you need?"
Their eyes met as Gregory continued, "My wife and Elaine Stevens have known each for years, Detective. Anything that my wife did or said she did was out of respect for that friendship- remember that."
He nodded, but looked only at her as he said, "If you know anything that can help in Elaine's defense, please let me know."
"She will," Gregory promised curtly as he took her by the hand and led her out of the interrogation room.
As they were leaving, she glanced over her shoulder. She smiled subtly, amusement dancing in her voice as she said softly, "It's been swell."
He could hear Gregory speaking to her in hushed tones as they walked away, their footsteps fading down the hallway. Her perfume lingered in the dead air and he inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of rose petals. He sighed deeply as he glanced around the empty room that still managed to be so uncomfortably full.
The End...
