Chapter 38
Beware Small Packages
1330 – London, UK
It was certainly several steps down from his usual daily routine. Reginald Gwain was accustomed to hot showers and luxury bath towels in the comfort of his home. Not a tepid wash at a sink with hand towels he kept in his office suite. The other option of course was vastly more repulsive to him. The thought of engaging in personal hygiene within the confines of a holding cell sobered his outlook on the day. Had his confidant, Desmond Pyle, not retrieved him from the police station, he would still be sitting there, pouting, and planning a counterattack against Debra.
But plan he did and when he snapped a towel open to dry his face another thought occurred to him. Elvis Harte will be the catalyst who will drive their marriage to divorce. Reginald looked at himself in the mirror. A slow, sardonic smirk marred the otherwise handsome appearance of his face. He plucked a clean shirt from a hanger and made quick work selecting a necktie from the supply he kept in the vanity drawer. As club owner he simply had to be impeccable.
Sliding a colorful silk tie into place at his neck he paused when he heard a knock at his private entrance. He knew who it was before he opened the door.
"Does anyone know you're here?" He said as his guest slipped inside.
"Your security and the cameras," Desmond Pyle said.
"No one else?"
Pyle was amused by his friend's cloak and dagger drama. "Of course not. Though it is obvious that I am in the building."
"Not on record you are." Reginald said shrugging into his suit jacket.
"You have cleaned up rather well," Pyle said. "Damn sight better than when I picked you up."
"Shut up! I did not ask you here to critique my appearance," Reginald said clinking glasses at the dry bar.
"Now that you bring it up, why am I here?"
"I need information."
"You need information, for what purpose?"
Handing over a glass of scotch, Reginald said, "I want information."
"You must be a bit more precise my friend. I have a feeling you are venturing into potentially private matters."
"That is why I called upon you. Have a seat," Reginald said taking a large gulp of scotch and waving a finger toward the leather sofa.
Xxxxx
1600 –
Elvis pushed the wheelchair. He wanted any and all remaining contact he could have with Laura. Jamie Cole accompanied the small group to the car park. Laura winced at the noise and bright overhead lighting as she was wheeled down a long hall to the exit.
"Hold," Elvis said, suddenly stopping and pulling a small pair of sunglasses from his pocket.
"Here angel. These will help with all the glare."
Cole nodded his approval.
"OK daddy." Laura looked at the glasses and smiled before putting them on. They were dark, like her father's.
"Dr. Cole are you certain two weeks is sufficient time for Laura to recover at home?" Debbie said.
"It is a starting point Mrs. Gwain. I will see her back in clinic and determine then how her recovery is progressing. Right now, she just needs some time to heal."
"Will I miss much school?" Laura said.
"For two weeks honey," Debbie said. "You and I will be taking a holiday at nan's house."
"Newton has to come with me!"
"Of course he will darling. I'm sure he missed you loads," Debbie said.
When they reached the exit Elvis slid the wheelchair aside. "Where did ya park Deb? I'll get the car," he said. Debbie pulled keys from her purse and described the location. During the hand-off Jamie watched Laura's reaction.
Once her father was out of sight Laura said, "Daddy won't be coming with us." It was more of a statement than a question.
Debbie gently stroked her daughter's hair. "No honey. Daddy has to go home tomorrow. We talked about that."
"Uh, huh." Laura dropped her head and began to pick at the edges of her cast.
Debbie glanced uncomfortably at Jamie. He knew both parents wanted what was best for Laura, but there will be challenges. He smiled, a knowing smile, silently lending his support to Debbie. Over the past few days, he had developed respect for Elvis. Partly because he was seeing the man through different eyes now.
Xxxxx
1630 –
The first ring was ignored. The second attempt infuriated Reginald.
"I thought I made it crystal clear that I was not to be disturbed today!"
His assistant paused on the other end but persisted. "Mr. Gwain, I believe you must accept this visitor."
"Do I now?"
"Yes sir."
Reginald glared at Pyle, who looked up from his laptop and shrugged. Gwain curtly nodded his head toward an adjacent room. Rolling his eyes Pyle stood and carried the computer away with him. Reginald stretched his neck to make certain his friend was out of sight.
"Fine. Who is this unexpected visitor?"
"An Officer Jeremy Rhodes sir."
That sent a jolt. He hid the glass of scotch in his desk drawer and was relieved to discover Pyle had taken his glass with him. "Send him in."
It was not even two seconds and the door opened. Officer Rhodes swiftly entered and said, "Reginald Gwain?"
"Yes."
"You have been served." Rhodes said handing over a thick packet of papers.
Reginald held the packet in his hand and watched the officer leave as quickly as he came. When the door clicked shut, he threw the packet on the desk and sat back, staring at it, as if it would come to life.