Thank you for your lovely reviews and comments! Here we go with the next chapter...
Chapter 3 – Naked truths
Outside, the day was ending, but, for Della, darkness couldn't arrive soon enough. She didn't want Perry to see her like this. Actually, she didn't want to be seen at all…not that he was looking at her anyway. His back was turned away from her while he was building a fire. She sat behind Richard's desk with the photos spread out all over the polished desktop. Her hands were shaking so violently that the ash from her cigarette ended up all over them. Ashes all over her face… all over her body. 'How perfectly fitting,' she thought.
She understood Perry… she wouldn't want to look at herself either. If he was disgusted by her, she didn't blame him. The photos, at least the majority of them, were revolting. She wasn't neither prude nor overly prim and proper. For heaven's sake, she and Perry had enjoyed a healthy sexual relationship, without being married, for years. She was comfortable with her body and enjoyed sex, but she also knew how to be discreet. However, these photos were as far outside the realm of discreet as imaginable.
'Well,' she thought, taking another slow drag of her cigarette, '…at least I know now what had happened to me during the night of my memory loss.'
The photos explained the bruises and marks she had found on her wrists and neck. Someone had taken photos of her in several explicitly posed situations with two other people - a man and a woman. Both were wearing ridiculous face masks, the kind usually worn at corny masquerade balls.
She didn't want to look at the pictures, but her eyes were drawn to them. Her stomach was churning, almost to the point of spilling its contents, because she knew what these pictures could do to her husband and her son. How could she not remember any of this? How could something like this happen to her? It made no sense whatsoever.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Della, startled by the sudden interruption into her thoughts, almost dropped her cigarette.
"I'm sorry." Perry stood next to her and gently squeezed her shoulder. His touch was too much to bear.
"I think I'm going to be sick!" The cigarette dropped from her hand and she stormed out of the room.
His first instinct was to follow her, but he forced himself to stay where he was…afraid that his witnessing her become ill would cause her even more embarrassment than the photos splayed across the desk. He needed to give her the time and space necessary to recover from the shock. She had been violently robbed of her privacy. If he continued to invade her privacy, it would probably make things worse for her instead of better. He let this eyes travel across the room. He needed a drink and he was sure, she would need one as well, as soon as she returned. Behind the desk was a board with framed photos of Della, Richard, and little Ruben. He avoided taking a closer look at them and opened the cabinet door. As expected, he found a bottle of brandy and a couple of glasses. He tossed back his first glass, but took it slower with the second one. The alcohol burned in his throat, making him feel something else other than embarrassment and pain. He hated to admit it, but he was grateful for her reaction. It meant she hadn't risked her reputation for a night of rough pleasure. 'As if she would ever do something like that,' he thought, taking another slow gulp of the smooth liquor. No… he was grateful and extremely relieved that the Della he knew…the Della he loved hadn't slept with people who abused their intimate knowledge of her to... to do what exactly? That was the overwhelming question.
He still didn't know what to make of the situation. Why would anyone send him pictures of her? Why didn't they send them to Richard? Was this really about blackmail or, in the end, about something else entirely?
He heard her steps and looked up. She was pale and her eyes were swollen and red from crying. Without further ado, he poured her a glass and she took it without thanks.
"I don't understand this, Perry. I swear to God I have no idea how or where these pictures were taken," she exclaimed after her first gulp of brandy.
"Would you be angry with me if I told you I was just thinking how grateful I am that you seemed to know nothing about this…that I'm grateful to hear you say that?" he asked, whirling his brandy around, not wanting to look her in the eyes.
"I guess not." She sank on the sofa and stared into the fire. He sat down next to her, careful not to touch her again.
"Do you remember anything?"
She shook her head. "Not really. My guess is it happened four weeks ago. I was out that night. A friend celebrated her birthday. It was girl's night in a club downtown, but I didn't feel well. I left early..." she broke off, collecting her thoughts. "I remember going to my car and unlocking the door, but that's it. The next morning, I woke up in my car near the beach." Her voice was shaking and she emptied her glass. To give himself something to do, Perry refilled it quickly and offered her a fresh cigarette that she declined. Without pushing her, he waited until she was able to continue her report.
"I had a headache and several bruises, but I wasn't injured nor was anything stolen."
"Did you see a doctor?" he asked, praying the answer was yes. She nodded in response. "I wasn't raped, if that's what you want to know. There was no evidence of sexual intercourse – at least nothing visible. The blood test was also negative, but, who knows what they drugged me with."
"Thank God."
"I'm not sure God was with me that night." He'd never heard that kind of bitterness from her before, but, placing himself in her position, he could certainly understand her feelings.
"What does Richard know about this?"
"Nothing."
"You didn't tell him... anything?"
"No, and I won't. Not if I can help it." She took a cigarette from his package.
"Is everything all right between the two of you?" He laced his hands together and looked at the floor.
Her answer came without hesitation. "This has nothing to do with the state of my marriage, Perry. We are fine and I want us to stay that way."
"Do you think he would blame you for any of this?" he asked in disbelief. "I know Richard. He loves you."
She scoffed. "This isn't about him not loving me. I just don't want him hurt and seeing these pictures would hurt him. I don't know if you ever thought about it, but our physical relationship isn't as..." she searched for the right word and made grand gestures towards the desk with the photos, "lively as that mess over there. Seeing me in the photos is perhaps painful for you, but it would destroy him."
Perry swallowed. He had never allowed himself to think about Della's sexual relationship with her husband or the possible lack of it due to his disability. He wasn't masochistic by heart but his brain was now producing images that he wanted to forget as quickly as possible. He tried to reason with her. "I don't think you have much of choice left. What will you do when Richard or even the press gets wind of this?"
"I don't know," she admitted and silence fell. With a heavy sigh, she leaned back and, for the first time since he had entered her home, she seemed to relax a bit.
"Be honest with me. What did you think when you saw the photos?" she asked. He contemplated a lie, but as he knew her, she knew him too and would see right through him.
"At first, I wasn't sure what to think. Sure, I was surprised...bewildered..." He shrugged, pretending to be unheeding. "And, then, I wondered if I had missed something during our time together."
The lame joke didn't miss its target. She started to chuckle. "I assure you, you didn't. I have no use for leather and whips in my bedroom and I prefer not to hide my face behind a mask while making love to someone."
"I'm glad to hear it," he smiled. "I would have hated for you to feel unsatisfied by me - in retrospect."
"I wasn't. Never." She said in a low voice. He wanted to hold her. Damn, he wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her. If he was perfectly honest, he wanted to make love to her to make her forget, but he kept his wishes to himself and cleared his throat.
"There's only one man in this world who can help you."
Della drew a deep breath. "I know."
"There's no one else we can trust."
Again, she agreed. "I know."
"I'll contact Paul, but we need to be discreet."
"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "One photo of me naked with another woman and the victory at the election is yours. The public would feel sorry for Richard, but no one would vote for him anymore."
"I'm not sure this is about the election at all," Perry said. "If it were just that, they could have given the photos to any lousy reporter out there, but they sent them to me. What for? It took an awful lot of planning and work."
She contemplated his words for a while. Perry was right in his assessment and, again, fear was spreading through her veins like poison. People who drugged and abused a person like they had abused her would likely do whatever it takes to achieve their goals.
Los Angeles
Worn out from a long and disappointing day, Richard Carlisle hung up the phone. He had just received the phone call he'd dreaded ever since he had hired a private investigator to keep an eye on Della. It all started one morning when she came home from a birthday party and something seemed terribly wrong with her. She was nervous, had trouble sleeping and was smoking again…even though she'd taken extreme measures to hide it from him. Her loss of weight and the consequential shadows in her face alarmed him. Every time she thought he wasn't paying attention, he noticed how her body relaxed, as if she was desperately trying to keep up the facade of the perfect mother and wife. Ruben was, of course, too young to notice how troubled his mother was, but Richard knew her and he feared for her health and her mental stability.
At first, it felt sordid to hire someone to follow her, but she wouldn't tell him what was bothering her and he couldn't live with the unknown. As the weeks passed by and the private investigator didn't report anything unusual, Richard felt relieved and was sure he'd overreacted. Tonight's call destroyed this illusion. A man was in their house. A man whose description fit only one person known to Richard Carlisle: Perry Mason. Mason was in his home. The idea made him sick to his stomach. What if her nervousness and her sorrow were the result of an affair with Mason? She would never take something like this lightly. He couldn't imagine Mason was happy with his wife. In Richard's eyes, Laura was nothing but a morbid, attention seeking bitch, who had trapped Mason with an unwanted pregnancy. He knew a part of Della would always long for Mason… would always love him, but Richard always believed her love for him would also be enough to restrain her feelings for Mason. It seemed he had been wrong and it made him fear for his family.
~tbc~
