Chapter Nine- Malcolm's Mistake
Detective Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent looked down at the card in her hand. Nearly all of her colleagues had signed it, and some had written little messages as well. Jean glanced down at Hathaway's message. James had evidently tried very hard to express genuine sympathy but had obviously been afraid of coming across too strongly. The result was a brief, reticent, and very formal message that lacked any real sentiment whatsoever.
Harvey Malcolm, on the other hand, had seemed to have the opposite problem. He had attempted to disguise his elation that Jean was now single as sincere sorrow for John's death. Innocent had already resolved to refuse Malcolm's champagne invitation; she remembered far too well how quickly Harvey lost his veneer of charisma once he'd had a glass or two.
It was Lewis's message, however, that had intrigued Jean the most. Like Hathaway's, Lewis's message was also brief, but it contained the compassion and real understanding that was absent in the sergeant's note. This was unsurprising. Lewis had experienced his own heartbreak when Val, his wife of so many years, had been killed in a hit-and-run accident.
After another lonely evening and sleepless night, Innocent had realized that what she really needed was someone in whom to confide. She was surprised that it had taken an office sympathy card to make her realize that DI Robbie Lewis was the perfect person. Alone of all their colleagues, Robbie fully comprehended the pain that Jean was now experiencing.
Innocent walked over to Lewis's office and knocked lightly on the door.
"Lewis," she called.
A few seconds later, Robbie opened the door.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Do you have a minute? I'd like to talk—if that's alright."
Lewis frowned. "Now's not really the best time."
"It'll only take a moment," Innocent said. She took another step toward the open door but Lewis blocked her path.
"Alright, but why don't we talk in your office?" he said, gesturing outside of the room.
"What's wrong with yours?"
"Er… well... er… it's a bit… messy… if you want the truth."
"You never cared that your office was messy before," Jean said, eying the inspector suspiciously.
"Well… I… I figure it's about time to start caring," said Robbie. He gave what he clearly thought was a convincing smile.
Innocent wasn't fooled. "Robbie, is there something in there that you don't want me to see?"
"No, ma'am," Lewis muttered, fidgeting and staring down guiltily at his feet.
"You maybe a brilliant inspector, Robert Lewis, but you are alsoa terrible liar!" Innocent shouted, pushing Lewis aside and walking into his office.
Lewis had not been lying when he had claimed the room was messy. Piles of clothing completely covered both Lewis's and Hathaway's desks as well as much as the floor. Jean picked up a blouse from one of the piles. It looked disturbingly familiar.
"Is this mine?" a horrified Jean asked, holding up the shirt to Robbie.
"Yes, it is my dove! How clever of you to figure it out so quickly."
Innocent had not initially noticed Harvey Malcolm when she'd entered the room, but now she observed him standing beside James's desk. Malcolm was rifling through a bag of what looked like lingerie—quite probably Jean's own. Jean felt her blood start to boil. As much as she detested Malcolm, Innocent had never suspected that the man would stoop thatlow. Based on the way that Hathaway was grimacing disgustedly beside Malcolm, it was apparent that the sergeant felt just as Jean did.
Innocent took a deep breath to calm herself and then spoke. "Would you kindly leave the room—James, Robbie? I'd like a word with Mr. Malcolm about ethical police behavior."
Lewis immediately left the room, delighted to avoid the uncomfortable conversation that was sure to transpire. Hathaway, though, paused at the door.
"I want you to know, ma'am, that I was against this from the start," James said before exiting and shutting the door behind him, leaving Innocent alone with Malcolm.
Jean walked over to the desk where Harvey was standing.
"What is the meaning of this?" she said, gesturing furiously at the bag.
"I should thinkthe meaning of this is quite clear. I'm conducting a thorough investigation."
"Athorough investigation!" Jean clenched her teeth in fury.
"Yes, my darling. It's not unusual for the police to confiscate the personal belongings of a suspect in a case."
"It is when the so-called suspect has an iron-clad alibi and no motive! The fact that I'm not a suspect seems to have escaped the undersized brain in your overlarge head. "
"Oh, I know that you're not a suspect, my love, but I need to consider every possible angle. The real murderer may have used your clothes to mop up blood or something."
"So you're going to steal all of my clothes to examine that remote possibility?"
"But I haven't taken all of your clothes. You still have the ones on your back—though I will have to take a look at those as well. Tell you what—why don't I help you out of those so that I can examine them right now and then you can take them with you?" Malcolm leaned forward to undo the top button of Innocent's blouse.
Jean took a step away from him.
"Touch me again, Malcolm, and I swear that I'll report you!"
Harvey studied her appraisingly. "You weren't always such a prude. I suppose being married to that Puritan for so long has mellowed you out a bit."
"John Innocent was ten-times the man that you'll ever be!"
"You always did have a poor memory. Didn't you, Jean?" Harvey said, laughing heartily.
She gave him a final vitriolic glare and then started for the door.
"Wait!" Malcolm shouted suddenly. "I give up; I'll let you have your clothes back… on one condition."
'Why do I have the feeling that I'm not going to like this,' Innocent thought to herself as she turned to face Malcolm.
Malcolm held up a lacy slip of deep purple. "Would you mind modeling this for me?"
Jean took another several paces toward the door.
"Oh, come on, Jean. It's the least you owe me."
She turned to face him, her eyes blazing angrily. "I owe you nothing."
"Your memory must be worse than I thought if you've forgotten who almost single-handedly orchestrated your rise to power."
Innocent was shocked that Malcolm had the audacity to consider himself an instrument of her success. If Jean were to credit anyone (other than herself, of course) for her accomplishments, she would have recognized her inspector Kevin Felmen. Malcolm certainly ranked very low in her list of mentors.
Malcolm walked over to her and began to circle her like a vulture.
"Who found the poor little lost sergeant and took her under his wing? Idid. Who ensured that she got assigned to the best inspector on the force? Idid. Who put in a glowing recommendation to Rookwood so that she might be considered for inspector after only three years as a sergeant? I did. Who helped her pass her inspector's course? Idid. Who introduced her to her perfecthusband?Idid. Who didn't even shed a tear when she was promoted over him, despite her lack of experience?Idid."
"I never asked you to do any of that!"
"Well, you certainly begged for my help on the Richard Trout case. You were sobbing and wailing like a banshee until I came to save your pretty little neck! Face facts, Jean. You're nothing without me."
He stopped circling her and grabbed her suddenly, forcing his mouth to hers. Innocent aimed a kick at his knees and firmly pushed him away from her where he fell loudly on his rear end. Laughing at Malcolm's pathetic groan of pain, Jean Innocent exited the room, slamming the door behind her. She wiped Malcolm's kiss off with her hand, and started for her office. Noticing Lewis and Hathaway standing a few feet away from her, she changed her direction and moved toward the two detectives who were whispering intently to each other.
"Robbie, you were right about your office being an inappropriate place to talk. Can you meet me in my office in about a half-hour?"
"Very good, ma'am," Lewis said before rejoining Malcolm in the office.
"Ma'am?" said Hathaway inquiringly as Innocent turned again to leave.
"Yes?"
"I… I… er… Malcolm didn't try anything funny with you just now—did he?"
"Oh, he tried, I just ensured that he didn't succeed."
"Listen, if he tries something again, let me know. I'll make sure that he gets the message."
"Let me take care of myself."
"I thought that policemen were supposed to 'prevent other people's battles from occurring.' I'd blame myself if I didn't follow proper procedure and someone got hurt."
She studied him curiously. She had a vague memory of Hathaway stating that he'd forgotten much of what had transpired between them two nights ago. Yet, James had been able to clearly remember the advice that she'd given to him that night. She wondered what else he remembered and if it was possible that he hadn't been as drunk as he'd appeared to be. She shook herself to banish these thoughts.
"James," she said finally. "Just… just… don't do anything stupid."
He smiled wryly, obviously thinking as she was about the kiss. "I think it's a little late for that, ma'am."
The two stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment. Then, Innocent ended the silence. "What's done is done. Please, just don't do anything else that I would disapprove of. I don't want to suspend you, James."
"And I don't want to be suspended, but I'd rather be suspended than to have something happen to you."
The chief superintendent blushed, half-touched that Hathaway cared that much about her and half-worried that he cared for the wrong reasons. "I can take care of myself," she said finally, looking him in the eye.
"Very well, I guess I'll take you at your word—for now."
"Good," she said brusquely.
James returned to Lewis's office, and Jean began walking to her own. Her thoughts were alternately divided between the two men that had kissed her in the past forty-eight hours—one who'd tried to assault her virtue and one who'd sworn to defend it, one who she still believed in despite his history of procedural missteps and one who she distrusted despite all of the things that he had done for her. She only hoped that the case would be resolved before the two men acted upon the friction that had built up between them.