NOTE: My apologies for the delays between recent postings. I've been camping 'up north' with no electricity and no internet for a couple of weeks.
For those of you frustrated by why Perry insists he can't be Kaitlynn's father, the reason he can't be is covered in TCOT Absurd Assumption, chapters 23 and 24.
~ OED
CHAPTER 7
"This isn't a real pass. It's a giveaway." Ken Malansky, freshly shaved and dressed in a sport coat and pleated trousers, turned a concert pass Della had picked up from the foyer floor of the Parrish mansion over in his hands. He hadn't caught a fish in three days, so when Della called to fill him in on what had transpired during the Hawkes-Parrish wedding, he didn't hesitate to abandon his vacation. In all honesty, he was bored, which he would not admit to Perry Mason. Maybe to Della, but never to the attorney himself.
"A what?" Perry looked up from the writ of habeas corpus Della placed in front of him.
"A giveaway; a fake pass. Bar clubs hand them out by the hundreds as promotions. Kids put their photos in them and use them like the real thing."
"So there's no way to trace the girl in the photo?" Della leaned a svelte hip against Perry's massive walnut desk, placing a hand flat on the blotter to steady herself. This office, for the second incarnation of his practice following an eight-year detour to the Appellate Court in San Francisco, couldn't be more different from Perry Mason's original office in the Brent Building. Where the latter office had been large and bright with modern Danish-inspired furniture, this office was darker, cozier, and filled with furniture befitting the size and personality of the older attorney. One piece of furniture from the Brent Building office still held a place of honor – the worn leather client chair, positioned squarely in front of Perry Mason's desk as it always had been. Both the attorney and his secretary agreed no office would feel right without it.
"I wouldn't say that," Perry said without looking up from the writ, not having read a single word, his mind working elsewhere. "We know she's a fan of Kaitlynn's. We also know she's five-feet-two, sixteen years old, with short brown hair and brown eyes. And we know she probably saw something."
Yes, probably something like us canoodling in the hallway. "It's a good picture of her," Della offered. The pass could turn out to be a very important piece of evidence in Kaitlynn's defense. Lt. Brock had concentrated his officer's efforts to the dining room and study, virtually ignoring the foyer, and finding it was quite a stroke of luck, and Perry was damned if he'd turn it over before Ken could dig up the girl's identity.
"I'll take it to the club that handed it out. If this girl is a regular, somebody might recognize her."
Perry pushed the writ aside and adjusted his reading glasses. He really didn't need to read the writ because it would be perfect, as always. "Ken, I had the security men make a list of everyone they saw enter the dining room while Lon Hawkes was locked in the study. I'd like them checked out."
"Sam Wald, Hannah Hawkes, Max Parrish," Della ticked off with the fingers of her right hand those she herself had seen enter the dining room, "the two security men..."
"Everyone including the two security men, Ken...wait, I'll take Max Parrish." He owed it to his old friend to question him personally.
Della stood straight and shook out her skirt, both men watching her with unabashed admiration. "But first," she stated firmly, "you have to..."
"But first, I have to get Kaitlynn released on bail. I know." Perry picked up the phone while holding Della's grateful gaze, and he realized Kaitlynn Parrish was quickly becoming another of her 'children'. That could either be a blessing or something ultimately very bad.
Laura Parrish paced nervously away from Della's desk, pivoted gracefully on one heel, and headed back toward where Perry Mason's associate was studying documents about Parrish Talent Promotions issued by the State Artist's Commission. A friendly clerk in the D.A.'s office had passed on information about the investigation and she hadn't had much time to brief Perry before Laura Parrish arrived with her daughter and Gary Hawkes so she was preparing a full report now. The young couple were closed in Perry's office while Laura Parrish had been banished (her word) to Della's office. Della took no offense. It wasn't worth the effort to give weight to such a purposeful slight. She just didn't like the chill Laura Parrish brought to the room.
For the duration of Kaitlynn's case she would be cordial to Laura Parrish, because Perry shouldn't be distracted, and in the past two days had bitten back several snide remarks about the woman who knew Perry in ways he regretted. There was no jealousy – there never had been with any of the women who disturbed their life together – because while he wasn't perfect, she had always known his love for her was true and what he felt for those other women was not much more than an infuriating sense of obligation to take care of those who had touched him. That didn't make things any easier, but it helped temper the green-eyed monster.
"What are they talking about?" Laura Parrish folded elegantly into an upholstered chair, crossed slender ankles and glanced at her expensive watch. Coincidentally, Della owned the very same watch, a recent gift from Perry for no particular reason, and which she was also wearing.
"Kaitlynn's case," Della replied, trying not to sound too churlish.
"I don't understand why I can't be in there with them." She loved her daughter and was more worried than she could ever remember. But she was also tired of having to repeatedly proclaim and display that she loved her daughter, whose childhood had been an exhausting, vexing experience. As a young adult she and Kaitlynn had more in common and it was so much easier to love her.
"You'll be interviewed and shouldn't hear what others involved have to say."
"Interviewed by Perry?" Laura sat forward, pleased by the prospect of being alone with him.
"By Perry or our associate Ken Malansky." Of course Perry would interview her himself, but Della couldn't resist a bit of torture. She pushed away from the computer screen to remove documents emerging from a printer stationed on the credenza behind her desk.
Laura Parrish watched Della efficiently stack the papers neatly and slide them into a manila folder. "Nice watch," she said blandly. "That lovely emerald ring you were wearing at the wedding must look well with the watch. I notice you're not wearing it today."
Della paused in her activities to meet the woman's cool blue gaze. There had to be some ground rules established. "Both the watch and ring were gifts from Perry. I wear them together when appropriate."
"I figured as much. Special occasions?"
"No. Just because." Della knew they were talking about a combination of the watch, the emerald ring, and her daughter's ill-fated wedding.
"You're very self-assured."
"I suppose I am." Great. She had fallen into the very pettiness she wanted to avoid.
Laura Parrish waved her left hand dismissively. Della noticed that her manicure was again perfect and a different color than two days ago. She also noticed the gigantic diamond wedding ring, but it was the fresh manicure that really interested her. What kind of mother gets a manicure when her daughter is in jail accused of murder? "Self-assured, holier-than-thou, whatever. You won."
"I wasn't aware there was a contest." Get the train back on the track, Della.
"Oh, there was a contest. A very high stakes contest with a remarkable prize that you won rather easily."
On the contrary, Mrs. Parrish, it hadn't been easy at all. Della said nothing, the train leaning precariously around a sharp curve.
"You're as tight-lipped as Perry, aren't you?"
"There isn't anything to say. People aren't prizes."
"You do know..."
"Yes, I know. I also know we shouldn't be talking about it."
"Aren't you..."
"No," Della interrupted.
"But..."
"Mrs. Parrish, our concern has to be for Kaitlynn above all else. Perry needs to concentrate on her predicament, not on what happened twenty-five years ago." The train settled firmly on the tracks again.
Laura Parrish sat back against the chair, dismayed at being figuratively spanked by Perry's secretary. Of course her concern was for Kaitlynn; poor, innocent Kaitlynn who had no idea the man she called uncle could very well be her father. She was walking a fine line protecting her daughter from current and prior circumstances, which was incredibly stressful. She badly needed a massage. "You'll tell him about this conversation, won't you?"
Della shook her head. "No, I won't tell him, and I'd advise you not to play games with him. He has a great affection for your family, but if you get in his way he will have no recourse but to tear you to shreds."
"There's that self-assuredness again. Well, Miss Street, I have a few things to be self-assured about myself."
A soft smile of triumph spread across Della's lips as the train entered another curve. "No, Mrs. Parrish, you do not."
"When was someone going to tell me that your father is under investigation by the State Artist's Commission?"
"That's old news, Uncle Perry." Kaitlynn stood with her back to him and Gary Hawkes, who couldn't disguise the worry on his handsome young face.
"Not to me."
Kaitlynn sighed. "Dad is a talent manager. He personally manages me, Gary, and about twenty other very successful actors and musicians, all who make a lot of money. He's always been completely honest and fair and never been accused of anything illegal."
"Until now," Perry reminded her. "The Commission thinks Max has embezzled a quarter of a million dollars in client funds."
Kaitlynn whirled on him. "That's a lie!"
"Lie or not, why wasn't I told about it?"
"This Commission thing has nothing to do with Gary's Uncle Lon."
"Lt. Brock thinks it does. And the D.A. thinks it's a swell motive for murder. Now, is there anything else I should know?"
Kaitlynn, chastised, shook her head. "No."
"Kaitlynn, it's been a long time since you've been told what to do, but from here on I'm going to tell you exactly what to do and you're going to do it. Understood?"
"He's the man, Kay," Gary Hawkes spoke for the first time.
Kaitlynn sighed again. "All right." Fighting back tears, she pushed passed Gary and exited Perry Mason's office.
Perry removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. He didn't like being harsh with clients, and disliked being harsh with Kaitlynn as his client more than usual.
"She needs you, Mr. Mason. She's scared." Gary Hawkes leaned on Perry Mason's desk. "Please, you gotta help her," he begged.
Perry studied the young man's worried face for a moment before sighing. "Yes, I do."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"It's a girl!"
He couldn't help but grin at the excitement in Max Parrish's voice. "Congratulations Max! I'm happy for you and Laura." And he was, despite a sudden aching empty sadness deep within him. "What is her name?"
"Kaitlynn," Max replied, and spelled it carefully. "We can't agree on a middle name, and only have two more days before the birth certificate has to be filed. Hold on a sec..." He heard a muffled female voice in the background and the sound of what he assumed was a hand being placed over the receiver before Max came back on the line. "Perry? Laura wants to talk to you."
He hadn't spoken with Laura for two weeks, not since she had called in the middle of the night for the eleventh time, weeping and miserable about how ridiculously happy Max was at the prospect of being a father and how she hated lying to him. He mostly listened to her talk, alternately worried about her and angry with her – so angry that he'd decided to admit an enormously personal secret he hadn't told another living soul. He needed peace.
Fortunately, before he could tell Laura exactly why it was impossible for her baby to be his, she'd hung up on him with a loud bang. It was the one time her histrionics actually worked in his favor, and he'd celebrated with a shot of bourbon, reconsidering his previous decision. He wouldn't tell Laura after all. She wouldn't believe him anyway.
"Perry..." Laura caressed his name with quiet exhaustion. "You have to help us decide on a middle name."
"Congratulations. I know Max wanted a girl." With Max in the room he had to keep the conversation friendly. "I'm no expert on middle names. I don't have one myself." Because nothing went with Perry his mother had insisted, and his brother had already been given their father's name as his middle name. The lack of a middle name wasn't something he thought much about. Della, on the other hand, was inordinately interested in names. But Della knew nothing about his friends Max and Laura Parrish and what went on in Washington, DC...or his apartment...or about how afraid he was that this little girl's middle name could unravel everything.
"Really?" Laura's surprise was genuine. "At this point if we could get away with it, I wouldn't give her a middle name. But there must be a first, a middle, and a last name on the birth certificate."
"How about an initial? That would suffice for the birth certificate."
"She's a girl, Perry. You can give a boy an initial, but that's too masculine for a girl."
"Okay," he was grinning again. "What names are in contention?"
"I think it should be Maxine, but Max thinks it should be my middle name, Mae."
He hadn't known Laura's middle name was Mae. What a coincidence. And what a relief. He had dreaded the possibility of Laura wanting to name her baby after him. The club he belonged to for people named 'Perry' had recently welcomed two female members. One spelled her name 'Peri', and the other 'Perye', forever shifting the criteria for membership in the club to people with names pronounced 'Perry'. "I have a theory about middle names."
"Do tell," Laura prompted, bored by the conversation already. She should have capitulated and entered 'Mae' on the birth certificate, but she so wanted to talk to Perry and the middle name debate was the perfect excuse to call him. Now she just wanted a nap before a nurse brought the baby in for another feeding. Barbaric custom, breastfeeding. Nothing but bottles for her once she got the baby home.
"Middle names should be one syllable, short and sweet." Both Della and her Aunt Mae subscribed to that theory, as Della disliked her multiple-syllable middle name and Mae disliked her one-syllable first name. He listened in amusement when these two very important women in his life discussed names and found it humorous that those discussions made it possible for him to opine at this moment. Maybe he should add a middle initial to his name. Della would love to debate that.
"So Mae it is." There was a loud whoop of victory in the background.
"You sound disappointed." Maybe he should have chosen for the baby to be named after her father, Aunt Mae's rule be damned. "The ultimate decision is up to you and..."
"No, no, Max is ecstatic to get his way. He's almost dancing right now."
That would be a site – tall, lanky Max Parrish dancing. "Glad I could help. So, what are her vital statistics?" He had heard Della ask this question many, many times as countless family, friends, and former clients announced the arrival of babies. Already this year they had received seven birth announcements, including Arthur Tragg's second daughter. How those announcements must hurt her.
"She's a big girl – eight pounds, nine ounces and twenty-one inches long. Her hair is blonde fuzz. Of course her eyes are blue. She doesn't look like me or Max."
He ignored Laura's subtly pointed comment. "I'll bet she's beautiful."
"Um, sure," Laura responded with a definite shrug in her voice. "She looks like a little old lady, all wrinkled and squinty-eyed. We'll send pictures to her Uncle Perry."
He also ignored the Uncle Perry comment, wishing Laura could be more enthusiastic about her new daughter. She didn't realize how very fortunate she was. "I look forward to getting them."
"It's a shame we live on opposite coasts. Both Max and I would like for you to be involved in her life. Neither of us have much family and even fewer close friends, and we both...admire you so much."
It was dangerous emotional ground to involve himself with Laura's daughter, but he sensed that while Max would be a fine father, Laura might not be the quintessential nurturing mother. For his peace of mind maybe he should maintain contact with the Parrish family...for the baby's sake. "Max isn't in the room right now, is he?"
"No," Laura admitted fractiously. "He keeps leaving me to go the nursery to see the baby. He's over the moon about her. It's too bad –"
"Laura," he interrupted sharply, "we've been through this. It's your decision whether or not you admit what happened between us to Max, but you will not ever tell him your baby is mine."
"I wish I could see a baby picture of you," Laura said in a small, quavery voice. "She doesn't look like me or Max."
"She will," he told her firmly, the aching emptiness taking on form and substance. "Let this go and allow yourself to be happy. You have a healthy baby and a husband who loves you. You are a very lucky woman."
"I suppose so," she sighed. "But Max isn't you."
"Max is the better man for you."
"Aren't you curious about the possibility...?"
How much could he hurt a woman who had just given birth? As much as he hurt right now? "Not at all."
She sucked in a shaky breath. "I guess that puts me in my place. Is...she...really that extraordinary?"
"Yes, she is really that extraordinary."
"Is there room for me in your life...as a friend?"
"As long as Max never doubts that Kaitlynn is his, I hope there is room for both of you as friends." What a pretty name, Kaitlynn. He was getting sentimental about this brand-new little girl. He should send a gift, which he would not pawn off on Della, but pick out himself. Della repeatedly said she didn't want to talk about 'the woman', and what had transpired in the past eight months and ten days involved 'the woman', so he technically wasn't keeping a secret. He was complying with her wishes. Technically.
"Max is coming back. I'll write and send pictures. Good-bye, Perry. I miss you."
Laura hung up before he could answer, which was a good thing, because he could never say anything like that to her in reply, ever.
