Hi there! Thank you all for your kind reviews and messages :-) They always make my day. The last time I posted I completely forgot to tell you that two reviewers have indeed been right about the origin of the name 'Nicholas Renzi'. I've borrowed it from the episode 'TCOT Pint-Sized Client'. The kid was kind of cute ;-)
Here we go now with Chapter 6. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
Chapter 6 – Watershed
San Francisco, Friday, 26th October 1973
Richard Carlisle was sitting at the breakfast table in his suite, but, right now, he felt more like drowning his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey than in scrambled eggs. Last night, when he returned from dinner with two of his associates, the receptionist had given him a message from Della. The rather cryptic note told him she was going to Washington and expected him to meet her there as soon as possible. It became more and more obvious to him that his marriage was at a breaking point. He had wanted to buy himself some time to come to terms with the fact that Mason and Drake were back in Della's life. He just couldn't go home to her, as if nothing had happened, once he knew Mason had been in his house and she hadn't said a word about it.
There was still this nagging suspicion eating at him: what if they had rekindled their old relationship? He knew Della well enough to know she wouldn't jump into bed with Mason just like that, but what if her feelings for the man had got the better of her? Richard pushed his plate aside, sick by the thought of losing her to a man who had wronged her in so many ways before. But what else could her sudden excursion to Washington mean?
Della hated Washington and preferred to stay in Sacramento, unless a social necessity for his political work demanded her presence. Richard wasn't unhappy about her disdain for Capitol Hill. Mason and his wife were spending a great deal of their time in Washington and the less Della saw of them, the better.
First, Mason had gone to Sacramento, now Della went to Washington. Had she decided to leave him and sought out Mason's help to see it through? It was hard to believe the two of them would make such a life altering decision in the year before the midterm elections. Yet, the facts spoke for themselves. His wife was keeping secrets from him and, whatever it was, it involved Perry Mason and his old sidekick, Paul Drake. Did the P.I. act as a confessor and enabler at the same time?
What was so important that she left their son in the care of friends to fly from one coast to the other?
Richard picked up the phone and called the airport. He needed to go to Washington, whether it was to end his marriage or save it, was a question he had no answer to.
Washington D.C.
Perry was sitting in his office, racking his brain about his latest conversation with Paul Drake. His friend was on to something, Perry was sure of that. The woman with the red hair was their first (and only) lead to the mystery of Della's disappearance. It seemed too much of a coincidence that the same woman who was with Della in the bar had also bought the incriminating equipment that she later got photographed with. But who was she? He didn't know anyone who fit her description but when she really changed her appearance frequently, it was probably a way to cover her tracks. Was she a professional? A P.I.? A prostitute? Did someone else hire her to execute this nasty scheme? It was a conclusion that inevitably led him to Laura, his own wife. Laura had always disliked Della and vice versa. There was no love lost between them for understandable reasons. Laura would never admit it, but she was insecure around Della. There was something about Della's grace and way she handled her life that made Laura self-conscious. Of course, it didn't help that Della was the mother of a healthy boy while Laura's child had died before it had been born.
Despite the bad feelings between them, he had a hard time to imagining Laura abducting and abusing Della the way it happened. Neither from a private nor from a competitive angle did it made sense. Why weren't the photos leaked to the press yet? If Laura did all this to have Carlisle lose the election, the photos needed to be published. However, destroying Della's marriage would be foolish on Laura's part, because an unmarried Della represented a bigger threat to her own marriage. Laura knew Perry well enough to know that he wouldn't use the photos for his advantage. Perry shook his head. As curious as it was that Della thought she had seen Laura in the same place in Sacramento that night, it could still be a coincidence.
Where the heck had he been that night? Had it been one of those weekends when Laura had claimed to be on a shopping trip in New York or for a weekend in the Hamptons? He had to admit that he had no idea how his wife spent her time when he wasn't home and it made him feel pathetic.
"Penny for your thoughts, Counselor."
A smooth voice reached his ear. Surely, he was just daydreaming. He turned his chair and found her standing in front of his desk: his Della… in flesh and blood. He couldn't believe she had come to see him. He marveled in her appearance. From the brown turtleneck sweater and blazer that underlined every curve of her perfect figure to the high heeled boots, she looked flawless. Compared to Laura's outfit the night before, it was utterly appropriate, but, to him, even more alluring.
"I'm afraid no one calls me Counselor anymore," he said, because he didn't know what else to say.
"That's a pity. You are one of the best."
"What are you doing in Washington?"
"Well, I thought it was time to walk into the lion's den. I hope you don't mind me barging in here like this."
"Of course not!" He rose, unsure whether to greet her with a kiss on the cheek or not. He decided against the kiss and, instead, offered her one of the two seats at his desk. Perry sat down on the other one.
"How are you?" he asked.
"I'm good."
The shadows beneath her eyes told him differently. He took her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "Where's Richard and where's your son?"
"Richard's in San Francisco and Ruben is staying with close friends of ours. Their son and Ruben are thick as thieves. He's fine there."
"And you?" he asked, searching her eyes. "Why are you here on your own?"
"I'm here to talk to you about Laura. I'm sure Paul's told you already."
"I see." He wasn't really surprised. He let go of her hand and leaned back into his chair. "Paul told me what you remembered about that night and, to be honest, I haven't thought about anything else the whole day."
"But you don't believe me," she stated and anyone else had missed the slight hint of accusation in her voice, but he didn't. Yet, he ignored it for the time being. He didn't want their conversation to become a fight.
"No, that's not it." he said. "I do believe you, but the conclusion makes no sense."
"And why not?"
He drew a deep breath, "She wouldn't set you up like this..."
"What do you mean?"
"Abduct and abuse is not her modus operandi. Humiliation perhaps, but if she were involved and had these pictures, they would have been in the news a long time ago. I know Laura and I know her better than you do."
The statement caused a sour smile to cross her face. "I'm sure you do. Did you ask her why she was in Sacramento that night?"
"I haven't."
"Well, if you don't. I will." She wanted to get back on her feet, but he placed his hand on her arm.
"Wait, Della... I'm not sure confronting her is the best tactic in this case." He saw how she tensed. "Please, think about it. In case she knows nothing about the photos yet, I want to keep it that way."
She established eye contact with him, ready to fight her point. "And if she's responsible for them, she's playing her game with us."
He held her gaze, "I promise you, if she is responsible, she'll be held accountable for her actions."
"You really think she's innocent, don't you?"
"Innocent until proven guilty," he said. "I can understand her presence in Sacramento triggered something for you, but..."
"Triggered something?" she repeated angrily. "Perry, did you forget how she pushed herself between us! She'll do anything to get what she wants." She pushed herself up and, while pacing the room, she searched her purse for a cigarette. He followed her and gave her fire.
"I promise I will talk to her, but I'll do it on my own," he tried to reassure her.
"Forgive me that I don't find the idea very comforting!" Her facial expression was almost smug, but a quick glance at her trembling hands told him, it was the fear talking.
"I thought you trusted me," he said.
"I do trust you... I just don't trust her."
He left her statement uncommented and decided to stir their conversation into a different direction. "Did you talk to Richard? Paul said he hired someone to follow you."
She shrugged. "Richard isn't talking to me. He doesn't come home and hides behind his work."
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?" she asked, again searching for his eyes.
"Yes." It was a white lie and he could read in her face that she accepted it for what it was.
She broke off eye contact and turned away. "Should I talk to him?" Perry suggested.
Della answered with a chuckle, "I doubt that is a good idea. And, as you said, it's my responsibility after all."
He couldn't argue with that. "He will understand, Della."
"Perhaps he will, perhaps not. The only thing I know is that you shouldn't talk to him."
"All right. I'll respect your wishes," he promised.
For over a minute, he just listened to the sound of her heels, as she strolled around his office, while he stared out of the window. Rain was falling heavily, hitting the windowpane. Thunder was rolling in the distance.
"I liked our office better," she suddenly said. "This one lacks atmosphere."
He accepted her opinion with a smirk. "I think so, too."
"And I see you're not keeping your present secretary in the office until midnight," she joked mildly.
"No, I don't. That was your privilege."
"Well, thank you."
"I've never replaced you… neither in my office nor in my life. I want you to know that." He could have made a joke out of it too, but he wasn't in the mood for joking.
She leaned back against his desk, her arms crossed over her chest. "It will never be easy between us again, will it?"
"I'm afraid not. We can never go back."
He crossed the office, closing the distance between them. "We can only go forward."
"And where would going forward lead us?" she asked as she stubbed her cigarette in his ashtray.
"Perhaps in a place where we belong." Unsure if he wasn't too bold, he caressed her chin with his thumb.
"Are you suggesting we head together into the sunset, Counselor?" she asked, her voice shaking.
"I admit I've been thinking about it a lot lately." He leaned forward, his lips brushing hers softly. The delicate touch lit a fire that had been smoldering between them for almost as long as they had known each other. He pulled her against him, his hand around the back of her neck. He kissed her as if he had been starving for her and she returned his kiss with equal passion. It was impossible for him to say how long they were kissing and holding each other. He just knew he didn't want her to leave. His hands ran greedily over her body, reacquainting themselves with her curves, found the way under her skirt. His desire for her was overwhelming and he wanted nothing more than to have her right there on his desk.
"Perry, please." Of course, she was the one who broke the kiss, but she stayed close to him, his forehead pressed against hers.
"Stay with me. Let us go through this together and once we know who did this to you, we make this right."
"You know that's not possible."
"Why not?"
"Because I love my family and as much as you pretend not to, I know you love Laura or at least what you see in her."
"That's quite a harsh assessment."
"It's true and you know it."
He kissed her forehead and mumbled, "I really messed it up, didn't I?" She couldn't deny that. How different their lives would have been, if Laura hadn't become pregnant with Perry's child, she couldn't say, but it had definitely robbed them of a chance of a life together.
"It doesn't matter, Perry. What counts is today."
"When did you become so much more pragmatic than I?" He asked and released her reluctantly.
"That comes from being married to a political realist," she answered while she fixed her appearance.
"Will you tell him about my indecent proposal?"
"No, as I told you before, I have no intention of hurting my husband more than necessary." She collected her purse from his desk and went to him again. She gently ran her thumb over his lips, wiping away her lipstick.
"I'll talk to you soon, Counselor," she whispered softly and then she left his office without looking back.
She had no idea how soon she would talk to him again and that the reason for it would be a dead body in her bedroom.
Richard Carlisle wheeled into his office to check his desk. His flight had been delayed and, when he had called his answering service from the airport, he had received the urgent message to pick up some important papers from his office. Since he didn't have to worry about a confrontation with Della, he had told his driver to wait for him while he collected the necessary files. His secretary had left them on his desk, before going home, but it wasn't the files that caught his undivided attention. There was a big envelope placed on the pile of files in the middle of his desk. His name was written across the brown paper, no sender, no stamp.
He had an uneasy feeling when he opened it and, when he saw the contents, his worst fears got confirmed. Anguish didn't even begin to describe what he felt when he realized who the woman in those pictures was….
~~~tbc~~~
