Chapter 16

She did her best to sober up in the cab ride to her house, where Bryce was waiting for her with lunch. She hoped he wouldn't be too upset about her being late, and that Troy had been successful in getting a message to him before he left his office.

It was difficult to assess if her jumbled emotions were fueled by alcohol, excitement, or distress; or possibly equal parts of all three. It was apparent she couldn't be with Perry anymore, not after discovering about Laura Parrish and her – their – daughter Kaitlynn; and while Bryce stirred yearnings on a level only Perry had ever managed to stir, their simmering attraction ebbed and flowed. Maybe now that she was unencumbered it would flow freely. She had given up a lot to be unencumbered.

Bryce was seated on the stoop, a cardboard box containing several take-out oyster pails of Chinese food next to him. He stood and impersonally kissed her cheek, outwardly unaware of how she staggered up the walkway. "You aren't as late as your message said you'd be."

"All the stop lights cooperated," she replied, inserting the key with difficulty and opening the door.

"I have Chinese from Chan's. It should still be hot. You're not very late."

She flashed a smile. Was it her imagination, or did he seem nervous? Well, she was nervous, so..."I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Would you like to eat right away? Are you hungry?" Bryce followed on her heels into the kitchen of the large Cape Cod.

"In a few minutes. Why don't we officially say hello then put out the food?"

"Oh, sure." Bryce set the box down on the counter and took her into his arms. His kiss was tentative at first, then as she leaned into him, decidedly hot, then cold in an instant when he suddenly broke the embrace. "We should put out the food."

Disoriented by his odd behavior and three cocktails on an empty stomach, she pulled plates from the cupboard and silverware from a drawer. She might have set the plates and forks down more emphatically than intended because Bryce jumped. "What's going on, Bryce?"

He moved involuntarily away from her a few steps. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're acting like a nervous teenager. Aren't you going to ask me how it went with Perry?"

"Eventually..."

She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "Really? Is that all you have to say?" When he didn't reply, she began tapping her foot impatiently. "We discussed what was going on with Perry today. You asked if I would like to take the afternoon off, have lunch, and spend the rest of the day together. I thought that meant..." her voice trailed off. What had she thought? That he was sensitive to her feelings about ending a very important part of her life and wanted her to be in private, familiar surroundings while he comforted her and possibly took their own relationship a step forward? Possibly multiple steps forward; possibly steps toward the bedroom?

"Maybe I didn't...maybe there has been a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding? What kind of misunderstanding?" Oh Lord. Three cocktails, two pickles, and seven olives churned sickeningly in her stomach.

"A big misunderstanding."

She stared at him. He refused to meet her eyes. "How big?" Her voice devoid of inflection.

"I didn't want to tell you this way, Del. I wanted us to have a nice lunch, discuss what went on with Perry, and then..."

"And then you'd punch me between the eyes?"

"You have every right to be mad –"

"Of course I have every right to be mad! Yesterday you told me you loved me."

"I did," he affirmed. "And I meant it. I mean it. I do love you."

"I feel a big but coming."

He had the decency to meet her gaze. "I'm engaged."

She barely made it to the powder room before three cocktails, two pickles, and seven olives came back up. Bryce, the cad, remained in the kitchen while she emptied her stomach several times over, swished her mouth with mouthwash, splashed water on her flushed face, and waged a major skirmish with tears. When she re-entered the kitchen, completely sober, but with a raging headache, he was sitting at the table, head in hands. He didn't look up.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "This isn't how I imagined today playing out."

She took a seat across from him, too far away to be touched. It certainly wasn't how she had imagined the day, either. "Tell me about your fiancée'. I'm dying of curiosity."

He heaved a deep sigh, either not recognizing or ignoring her sarcasm. "Her name is Pat. We met at a Gordon Foundation Fundraiser. We've been together for nearly three years, and I asked her to marry me a year ago."

Wasn't that just ducky. "May I ask why you failed to mention her before today?"

"She and I began arguing about everything once we became engaged. When I met you, we hadn't seen each other in weeks." He heaved another huge sigh. "She wants to move to San Francisco to be close to her parents after we're married, and I don't want to leave LA. They've lived there for over fifty years, all their friends and family are there, and her mother isn't in good health."

Della clapped her hands. "I have the perfect solution for that! We'll introduce Pat to Perry. He can stay in San Francisco with her and you can stay in LA with me."

Bryce raised his head and gave her a dark look. "That's not funny."

"I disagree. It's hysterical. All this time you've been listening to me talk about my relationship with Perry, and you've been in almost the same boat."

"Del, I made a promise."

She laughed, a harsh, reality-bites-you-in-the-ass laugh. "I've heard that before."

"Last night Pat showed up at my apartment unannounced. Her parents are willing to move to LA so we can take care of them. Del, I've never felt the way I feel about you, but I love Pat too, and I gave her a ring. I need to keep my promise."

"Then I guess you need to take your lousy Chinese and keep your promise." She stood quickly, nearly knocking over the oak Windsor chair. "On second thought, leave the lousy Chinese. It's not a ring, but I deserve to get something out of whatever our relationship was."

He tried to take her in his arms but she pushed him away. "I didn't think her parents would ever leave San Francisco. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."

His expression was filled with sorrow. "I will always miss you."

"That's a healthy start to the rest of your life."

When he was gone, when the big house was silent, she sat on the bottom step of the stairs, a stack of cocktail napkins held in shaking hands. After a few moments the napkins fluttered to the floor, and she began to weep.


Perry slid under the covers, lining up his long frame with hers. "Did you and Kaitlynn stay out of trouble tonight?"

"We managed to evade the authorities."

"So what was the top secret mission you two were on? Her mother was very curious."

Della stiffened. "You saw Laura?"

"Laura was very put out and the only way Max could calm her down was to bring her out with us." It dawned on him too late that he probably shouldn't have mentioned dining with Laura.

"Kaitlynn is wise beyond her years." She wasn't sure she liked the fact that Laura Parrish had dinner with Perry, with or without Max Parrish present.

Perry kissed the back of her neck and pulled her closer. "She's also intuitive."

"Yes, she is."

"Is that all you're going to say?"

She turned in his arms to face him. "I'll tell you one thing about Kaitlynn if you tell me one thing about Laura."

"Deal. I'll go first. Laura is jealous of your friendship with Kaitlynn."

Della took a deep breath. "Kaitlynn knows about you and her mother."

Perry propped himself up on an elbow. "Good Lord. Did you actually tell her?"

"She figured it out herself. I merely confirmed it."

"Della, really..."

"Perry, she deserves to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Max is her father, despite the fact they have the same ears and feet."

"Why did she ever doubt it?"

"She never doubted it, but she recognized at a very young age how her mother flirted with you, and that there was something running beneath the surface between the two of you. Even though she knows Max is her father, she needed someone to finally say it out loud."

"Sure, but - "

She snuggled closer to him with a contented sigh. "Don't 'but' me, Perry. Kaitlynn is an adult and can handle the truth."

The phone rang and Perry nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt around on the bedside table for the offending instrument. "This better be good," he growled into the receiver. Della, rudely displaced from his embrace, rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

"Perry!" Ken Malansky shouted and Perry jerked the receiver away from his ear. "I found the girl in the closet! Her name is Suzy Richards."

Perry sat up and ran his hand through his hair. "What? You found the girl? She's okay?" He listened for several moments. "Get security for her. We need her. I'll see you in the morning."

Della yawned. "Ken found the girl we bumped into at the wedding?"

Perry hung up the phone and gathered her into his arms again. "Finally. She was almost run down by a car outside of Rocky's club, which means Ken found her just in time because someone else also figured out she's the missing piece of the puzzle."

She patted his chest. "Shouldn't you talk to her right now?"

"No. Right now I'm going to kiss the most intelligent, understanding, woman in the world good night."

"Mr. Mason, flattery will get you..."

"Everything?"

"Just about. But seriously, darling, shouldn't you...

"Della, if I've learned anything at all in our years together, it's that when I have you in my arms, I should not let you go."

"The alarm is set for six. Will that be enough time to take the girl's statement before court reconvenes? Do you need to pace?"

He laughed heartily and covered her mouth with his. Lord, there was no one in the world he enjoyed as much as Della Street.


Laura Cavanaugh Robertson sat in a metal chair, hunched and defeated, weeping quietly. He entered the room and set his briefcase down on the table next to her.

"You're still here?" Laura peeked at him through splayed fingers.

"Our plane leaves in an hour."

She recognized the significance of him saying 'our' instead of 'my' despite a crushing burden of self-pity, and raised her tear-stained face to him. "I was sure with you representing Glenn he wouldn't be convicted, and I was right."

"I didn't...I didn't want things to turn out this way, Laura."

"I know. And you know I had no intention of killing Luke Dixon."

"Yes," he said heavily, "I know." Discovering the photo of her holding Glenn's gold cigarette case had been a punch in the gut. Even more of a gut-punch was that Della had realized the significance of the photo days earlier and had tried to tell him about it. But he hadn't listened. Nostalgic reverie into what had once been clouded his thoughts when they should have been crystal clear as to what was.

"He would have ruined everything. Everything I've worked so hard for all these years." Everything that would have come years sooner had Perry not stubbornly stayed in Los Angeles to defend criminals and play footsie with his secretary. His charm and charisma had been her ticket to swift greatness. She had settled for Glenn's plodding steadfastness, so much like Della Street's alongside the force that was Perry Mason, thinking his father's reputation would advance her ambitions, but she was never able to emerge from under the elder Robertson's shadow. At this stage in life she had nearly surrendered her political aspirations when Senator Hyland unexpectedly passed away.

"I know that, too."

"But you're still disappointed in me," she pouted. She knew when she'd stepped across lines with him, when he was upset with or disappointed in her. They would argue savagely, then engage in almost brutal sex. It was exhilarating and she could never get enough of him. No one before or since, and there had been several combatants, had ever satisfied her the way Perry Mason had.

"It doesn't matter what I think, Laura. I already told Glenn that any competent lawyer will be able to prove it was an accident. I also told him I'll consult in your defense, but I won't be your primary attorney." He lingered awkwardly. "I should be going now."

"I guess I deserve that," she said contritely, and sighed. "Last time it was my plane leaving."

He pulled her to her feet, gently stroked her cheek, and kissed the back of her hands. She watched him silently pick up his briefcase and head for the door. Damn him for abandoning her when she needed him most. She wanted to scream at him, throw another shoe and fight the way they once had, to experience again the ravening desire she held for no other man.

He turned when he reached the door. "Did we ever laugh together, Laura?"

Consumed with anger and desire, she didn't really hear his question. "What?"

"Did we ever laugh? Did we share jokes, kid each other, watch a comedy movie together?"

What on earth was he talking about? She shrugged. "I guess we did."

"Do you remember any?"

"Do I remember any what?"

"Jokes," he prompted impatiently. "Do you remember any jokes we shared?"

"Do you mean like 'a priest, a rabbi, and a minister walk into a bar...?"

He briefly hung his head and when he looked at her again his eyes were deeply sorrowful. "Never mind. Goodbye, Laura."

He found her on the front steps, shivering in the cold air, resplendent in her new white coat. How could what was essentially a non-color flatter her so? He imagined to passersby she looked beautiful, albeit uncomfortable and worried, because to his discredit, he only noticed it as the Bailiff led a stunned Laura Robertson from the courtroom. Her face and eyes were so expressive. He should have seen it sooner.

What had he said to Laura – don't make this more difficult...what a dolt he was. How difficult had he made it for Della by not treating her with the same care and concern as he showed a former lover on the witness stand?

This woman in white, this incredible woman who had stood beside him for so many years, deserved much more than he had given her since running into Laura at the fundraiser. He had shamefully known for three days before flying to Denver that she would be in the same hotel at a different function but hadn't mentioned it to Della. Why he felt the need to see her again was a mystery until now: he needed to see Laura Cavanaugh Robertson for what she really was. And he finally had.

She knew he was behind her. She always knew when he was near. Her hands dove more deeply into the pockets of the soft wool coat. New. White. And he hadn't noticed. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

"Della," he said, his deep voice free of the darkness that had covered it recently.

"Yes?"

His arm slid around her shoulders and pulled her snugly to him. "Let's go home."


Perry and Della met with Suzy Richards, her parents, and Ken Malansky at eight o'clock in a conference room at the courthouse. At eight forty-five, all but Perry and Della emerged from the conference room and made their way to a witness room adjacent to the courtroom where Judge Macauley presided over the People v. Kaitlynn Parrish. If anyone were to catch a glimpse at the inside of the room as Ken Malansky held the door open, they would have seen the great Perry Mason pacing back forth while gesturing and orating, his trusted associate Della Street watching him with big eyes, and a surprising attendee listening intently to everything he said.