Faith, Hope & Charity

A Faith Lehane Mystery

by

STFarnham

AKA Freelancer47

Chapter Six

The clang of the jail cell door shutting me in was familiar, but it sure as fuck wasn't soothing. I thought this was behind me, but once a fucking felon, always a fucking felon, ain't that the American way? I'll admit to feeling a certain amount of dread and even despair, but I pushed that crap aside and put my trust in my lawyers and lay down on the bunk with my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling, contemplating my fucked-up future, or lack of it.

At least this was small-town local jail, after my time in a state prison this was way easy, but I was afraid I wouldn't be here long. I knew if Stone didn't get me out, sooner or later they'd transfer me to Riker's Island – the local cops had some sort of complicated connection with the NYPD.

Earlier, before they put me in the cage, I sat quietly at a detectives' desk and watched, not saying a word, staring as they filled out paperwork. When they formally read me my rights it really pissed them off when I stayed silent. Good.

When they finally got around to doing a background check and discovered my previous incarceration (now there's word that I didn't learn from Giles) for murder and escape it seriously put them on edge – I thought I could hear one of the cops grinding her teeth while she glared at me. I think in an earlier age they would have broke out the rubber hoses right about then.

When they discovered my unconditional pardon they stared at me like I was some kind of evil nightmare, a couple of them wondering out loud if I had blackmailed somebody. And then when they found out how much I was worth they got even edgier and nervous besides – you can bet your ass that nervous cops make me nervous. Still, in the end they had not a single shred of evidence that I was guilty of anything except for the thing with the bullets, but since the half-wit ass-faced cop wasn't lookin' too good, I think they were kinda hoping that incident would get lost in the shuffle.

After a nearly sleepless night, I was given a bowl of gray sludge that tasted worse than it looked for breakfast - it might have been imported from the California prison system. I couldn't eat much of it. Finally, I was escorted to an interview room, the same room as the day before, and I could hear people behind the one-way mirror, as before. They didn't have anything new to say. Finally, Stone arrived. At last, a friendly face.

"How're you holding up, Faith?" he asked.

"Alright."

"They haven't tried to interview you?"

"Nope. Just fucking paperwork that I've ignored. I haven't said a word to anyone until just now."

"Good, good. I know it's difficult not to try and explain what happened, but trust me, this is the way out."

He opened his leather satchel and took out several files. I could see my name on them, and I also saw the California State seal on a couple more folders. I didn't have to look any closer to know at least some of those files were from the California State Correctional System.

"So Faith," said Stone, "you might have mentioned your time in prison, and your escape. You really shouldn't blindside your lawyer like this if you want to say free."

"It's all water under the bridge. You did notice the full pardon, didn't you?"

"Yes, it's seems a bit irregular, though. I mean there's a file here from the State Department! I'm sure it'd be interesting reading, if most of the pages weren't blacked out. What the hell did you do?"

"State Department? Huh, I didn't realize..."

"So can you fill me in?"

"No, I can't really talk about any of it. Those papers and files are all you're gonna get, I think they're enough."

"Okay, so how did you get a pardon? Two pardons, really, one for murder and the other for escaping. In all my years as a cop and a lawyer, I've never seen that before, never even heard of such a thing. And from a law-n-order Republican governor too."

"Yeah, I wish I could tell you, but..."

The door opened and two detectives with two BCI agents walked in. I let Stone do the talking.

"Mr. Barrington, Ms Lehane," said Agent Black, sitting down across from me. She placed a folder in front of her, squared it up to the table, and opened it. She read for a couple of minutes. Was this supposed to make me anxious? If so, it wasn't working. I let out a big luxurious yawn and stretched my arms out. I thought I saw the detectives frown a little.

"So, are you ready to explain your actions, Ms Lehane?"

I looked at Stone. He said, "Ms Lehane believed she was in danger, so she removed Patrolman Reardon's bullets, then asked him to call his superiors. As my subsequent conversations with the officer progressed, I could only admire her restraint, as in my opinion, Reardon appears to be a danger to the public. Ms Lehane's job in Ohio is training police officers, which gives her a certain expertise. Ms Lehane has nothing else say at this time."

"And that's it? That's all?" She turned to me and said, "If you don't talk to us, we'll have no choice but arrest you. Your record doesn't help you."

She'd been much friendlier yesterday, at my house. I leaned back in my chair and stared out the window. The detectives and agents exchanged glances.

Finally, Agent Black said, "Fuck it, you're free to go."

There was more to it than that, of course. There was paperwork to sign (each sheet vetted by Stone before I would even read it), and more irritating warnings about not leaving the area. They were reluctant to give me back my Harley, but they didn't have a reason to keep it besides wanting to be assholes, anyway they finally gave in to Stone's legalese.

They never let me forget they were mad at me for disarming their cop, and the local cops really, really wanted to charge me with assault on a police officer. But the state agents disagreed, and since I hadn't fired a gun recently, and Officer Randy Reardon had after he claimed not to, I was just barely in the clear, for the moment anyway. Then Stone asked the deputy how he knew my name before he should of right after I disarmed him; he had no good explanation so this started a whole new donnybrook.

It would be some time before they had a ballistics report on the bullets – apparently testing these things takes longer in real life than they do on TV – so Officer Reardon was still on suspension, not arrested. I got the idea that the BCI agents were prepared to arrest Reardon shortly after they get the report, depending on the results of course.

I know I was lucky – I think the fucking cops would have found a reason to hold me much longer if it weren't for my high-powered attorney. It was also entirely possible that the local cops figured my impressive legal help wouldn't need a lot of prodding to start a lawsuit against their very small department, so they didn't want to supply even the slightest excuse. I was beginning to see that having fucking wheelbarrows of money had advantages, I could get used to this.

I wondered if I should send a thank-you card to Bill Eggars, with a note saying he was right, Woodman & Weld was worth every fucking dollar I was paying them. Maybe when this was all behind me, along with a check which would probably be fucking huge. Do they even sell 'Thanks for keeping me out of prison' cards?

"So," I said to Stone as we walked down the front steps of the police station, "you still have a spare bedroom for me? Or do you not care for my colorful past? If that's the case, I can get a good hotel room."

"No no, that's all right," said Stone. He didn't seem twitchy, so maybe he didn't think I was too awful. "You won't be the first convicted murderer to have slept under my roof. Do I have your word that you won't kill me?"

I laughed, "Hey, don't worry 'bout it, Stone, I'm reformed. I got all kinds of people who'll vouch for me, including a whole lotta cops back in Ohio, a few that have personally thanked me because my training kept them fucking alive in really dodgy circs."

We stopped by an expensive looking Mercedes. I said, "Your car? Nice."

Stone said, "Mecedes E55 with the hot engine." He held the passenger door open for me. I couldn't remember the last time a man did that for me.

Stone was a smooth and confident driver who stayed precisely ten MPH above the speed limit, at least when traffic allowed, as we cruised along the Long Island Expressway towards the City. So I was able to relax and even close my eyes for a few minutes. In fact, I fell asleep. I was surprised when he shook me awake.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Sure."

"We're eating at Elaine's. This is sort of a regular spot for me."

"Don't worry, I won't fuck it up for you."

"We'll probably be joined by my old partner, Dino. He's now the Chief of the Homicide Squad, so he's kind of an important guy in the NYPD."

"Stop worrying, fuck, you'd think I was some kind of escaped convict or something."

"Well, it'll be interesting to see what he thinks of you."

"Yeah, I can hardly wait," I said.

He parked the car in a small lot about a block away and we strolled along the sidewalk towards the restaurant. I could sense someone ahead, hiding in the shadows. I wondered what that was about until he jumped in front of us and waved a knife in my face. "Gimme yer fuckin' money ya fuckin' motherfuckers!" he shouted at us.

I could see Stone going for his gun. I could smell some demon in the mugger so I leaned forward and growled as ferociously as a slayer could, "I'm gonna rip your fuckin' balls off and stuff them down your fuckin' throat, one at a time, sliced, if you don't turn around and run away!" Apparently he believed me because he dropped his knife in fear, turned, and ran like hellhounds were on his heels.

Stone said, "Holy shit! Howd'ya do that?"

"It's a gift," I said modestly. "You can put your gun away now."

"Oh, yeah. You know, that's a hell of a gift, Faith. Hell of a gift."

I picked up the knife and casually drove it into the grout line of the brick wall next to me. Then I snapped the handle off – I pretended it was a strain for Stone's benefit – and tossed the handle down the alley into a dumpster. "Cheap fuckin' knife," I said. Stone blinked, but didn't say anything.

Half a block later we turned into Elaine's. Looked like a pretty cool restaurant to me. Full of people talking and laughing and drinking and eating without a fucking care in the world. It seemed a kind of trendy place with half the men dressed in black from head to foot, the other half wearing Dockers with blue shirts, a sprinkling like Stone in expensive suits or sports coats. Most of them weren't obnoxious fuckers, but they weren't even close to my kind of people. Still, I could put up with them in between slaying nasty creatures, at least once in a while.

The hostess, Elaine I assumed, showed us to a table where we joined two other people. Stone said, "Faith, this is my old partner in crime, Dino, and my sometimes new partner in crime, Holly Barker. She used to be the Chief of Police in Orchid Beach, Florida, but now she works for a branch of the Federal Government and doesn't like me mentioning it to people she doesn't know."

Holly smiled at me, offered her hand, and said, "Hi Faith, we all just ignore Stone here when he starts chattering on."

I laughed and shook her hand. Stone continued, "Faith inherited from her aunt, and while checking out the old family mansion discovered her cousin freshly murdered in the kitchen."

In an aside to me, he asked, "You don't mind if I bring them up to date, do you?" I nodded okay, reluctantly.

"So far, one of the cops out on Long Island looks good for the murder." Both Holly and Dino frowned heavily at that. I guess they didn't like it when one of their own was implicated in a crime.

"What's good here?" I asked, as my stomach rumbled.

"Everything honey," said Elaine from over my shoulder, "but the specialty of the house is Osso Bucco."

"All right, I'll have that. I don't know what it is, but bring me plenty. I could eat a horse."

"It's braised veal, with veggies and potatoes, and it's amazing," said Stone.

"Bring it on," I replied as my stomach growled. I grabbed some bread. "You know, I'm pretty hungry, bring me a double order of everything."

"That's quite a lot of food..."

"Yes, I'm sure. Whatever I don't eat, I'll take home."

Elaine nodded, I guess that seemed reasonable to her.

We ate and talked, Stone filling in the Homicide Chief and his mysterious government woman on my case. Holly perked up a little at Stone's description of the State Department file. She watched me carefully the rest of the evening.

Eventually, Stone and I ended up back at his Turtle Creek house. I quite liked the place, it had a lot of fancy woodwork that I'm sure Xander would enjoy, but mostly I was thinkin' about the second 'H', having eaten two complete servings of osso bucco, which I'm tellin you, is pretty fuckin' good.

Stone asked me, "You want to see more paintings like yours?"

I must've looked as blank as I felt. Stone leaned in and brushed strands of hair from my forehead. I could hear his heartrate increase – mine too. "I have three upstairs," he paused with a sincere look, "in my bedroom."

"I like paintings," I said.

Sunlight shining in my face woke me up. I rolled over and took a moment to remember where the fuck I was. Oh yeah, Stone Barrington's bedroom. Stone was still out like light, I got up and walked around the room gathering up my clothes. I stopped to stare at the Matilda Stone paintings on the wall, I hadn't got around to checking them out the night before. The phone rang and Stone snaked an arm out from under the covers and grabbed it. He looked over and noticed me standing naked in front of the bed.

He said into the phone, "Ahh, what? Say that again please? Oh, yeah okay."

I asked, "Which way is the bathroom?"

"That way," he said, pointing. "That was my secretary, breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes later I sat down in the breakfast nook and started in on sausage and eggs. His secretary hadn't even raised an eyebrow when I got off the elevator with Stone, she just handed him several envelopes and the morning paper. Now that's the kind of secretary I need, if I needed a secretary, which I don't.

"So Stone, what's next?"

"I'm not real sure. The state cops are trying to find the killer, and while we might nose around a little, mostly they'd be quite put out if we got in the way."

"Hmm, yeah, it's definitely my policy to stay under the cops radar."

"Yeah," he laughed, "good luck with that. The BCI tried to find out what was in those classified records of yours, and they got slapped down by the Feds. They aren't at all happy about it. But, this does work in your favor because there isn't a single damn thing they can do about it. It also means that your past is pretty much off the table. Oh, they can hold it against you, they can be bitter about not knowing what happened to you and how you got the pardon, but legally it's not applicable today. And that's good."

"Huh."

"So," Stone paused, hoping I think I would break my silence, "the next step, I'll find out when you can get into your house, it seems to me that we could nose around your aunt's personal things and maybe get a feel for what was going on in her life that might have attracted a bad element. Helen also had a personal secretary, we need to interview her. Probably the cops are talking to her, but we can to, after all, she's now your personal secretary. At least for now."

"I hope she has other prospects lined up, cause I sure as hell don't need a secretary."

"Hmmm, don't be too quick to fire her, even if you don't need her in the long term, you may find her useful for a few months."

"Okay. Besides, I've never fired anyone, can't say that's anything I'd want to do, although I suppose I've done harder stuff."

Yeah, and I was missing it too. A vampire slayer's gotta hunt, tonight won't be too soon.

TBC

A/N:

Staples of almost every Stone Barrington novel include Elaine's and the osso bucco, his old partner Dino, the Turtle Creek house and mention of the woodwork, his mother's paintings, his airplanes, his secretary and women. Barrington seems to have some sort of magical field that has every good looking woman mentioned in the book hop into bed with him.