Joan Pickart - Body of Evidence

“Will I? I need more evidence than what I have, Jennifer. The detectives working this case and I are convinced that the bruises were caused by the signet ring that Lyle always wore. A ring, he claims, he lost. Damn, we need that ring, but it’s nowhere to be found. The detectives are still looking for it but…” He shook his head.

“Are you here this morning to search for it again?”

“No, this place has been gone over inch by inch. The ring isn’t here. There’s no real purpose to be served by my being here. I just wanted to connect with the whole event again, try to imagine it in my mind as it unfolded that night. I suppose you could put in your documentary that the district attorney wasted taxpayer money by returning to the scene of the crime for no plausible reason.”

“I wouldn’t do that. If you feel the need to be here, then here you should be. It’s sort of creepy though to be standing here realizing that a man was murdered by his own brother in this very room. It’s too bad you can’t bring the jury here, let them see this, feel the evil vibes in here.”

“The judge would never go for that.”

“I suppose not.” Jennifer paused. “Can you imagine what Cecelia Gardner must be going through? One of her sons is dead and the other one is accused of his murder. Her world as she knew it is destroyed. Her heart must be breaking.”

“I don’t know about that,” Evan said, starting to wander slowly around the room. “From what I hear, there are mixed opinions about whether Cecelia Gardner even has a heart. Oh, she’s considered the grande dame of Chicago society and makes certain her picture is in the newspaper whenever possible in connection with charity events she sponsors. But she’s a tough old gal who is used to having her own way.

“She went all the way to the top, to the governor, to attempt to get Lyle released on bail. He refused but Cecelia managed to rattle some cages, get some very pithy quotes in the paper about the need for a new governor, new mayor, a new district attorney, and a complete overhaul of the police department.”

“She wanted you fired?”

“Oh, yeah,” Evan said, smiling. “I said we had enough evidence against Lyle to go to trial. The lady is after my hide. Belinda knows to never put through any call to me from Cecelia Gardner. I have neither the time, nor the patience to deal with her.”

“It’s probably the first time in her life that her money and social standing haven’t gotten her what she wants. She doesn’t sound like a pleasant person, but a part of me can’t help but think about the fact that she’s a mother who might very well lose both of her sons. What a chilling thought.”

Evan turned to look at Jennifer. “You sound like a mother right now. You’re taking Cecelia’s actions to a place I hadn’t even thought of, but one that a mother would understand. It doesn’t make me particularly like the uppity woman any more than I did before, but it does show me another layer to her that I hadn’t considered. It doesn’t have anything to do with Lyle’s trial though, if you stop and think about it.”

“I realize that.”

“Strange. You haven’t even met the woman, yet you immediately jumped to her role of mother and what she might be feeling in that arena.”

Because I’m going to be a mother, Evan, Jennifer’s mind yelled. She was already so fiercely protective of the baby she carried that it startled her at times. Well, she wasn’t going to open her mouth and announce that little tidbit to Evan Stone.

“It’s a woman thing,” Jennifer said breezily.

“Oh,” Evan said, chuckling, “I see. There are a whole bunch of those woman things that men can give up on ever understanding. Women are very complicated creatures.”

Jennifer smiled. “Give me one example of what you perceive to be a woman thing.”

“Okay, but let’s get out of this study. You’re right about the nasty vibes in this room.”

Back in the living room Evan commented on the fantastic view of Lake Michigan and Lincoln Park from the wall of windows on the far side of the room.

“Postcard-perfect picture, and you’re stalling,” Jennifer said, folding her arms beneath her breasts.

“You’re right.” Evan laughed. “Okay, okay, give me a minute here.” He ran one hand over his chin. “A woman thing. I got one. When I was in high school I walked into the room just as my mother asked my father if he still loved her. He lowered the newspaper he was reading in his favorite chair, looked at my mom like she was nuts and said ‘I’m still here, aren’t I?’ I can remember nodding and heading for my room, but my mother burst into tears.”

“Well, of course, she did,” Jennifer said, shifting her hands to her hips. “She needed to hear the actual words right then, at that very moment. She needed to hear your father say that he loved her.”

“He thought he had,” Evan said, shrugging, “with the answer he gave her.”

“Oh-h-h…men,” Jennifer said, rolling her eyes heavenward.

“That,” Evan said, pointing one finger in the air, “was a fine example of a woman thing.”

“You’re right.” Jennifer laughed. “You’re absolutely right. You’d do well to remember that incident, Evan, because you may need that data at some point in your life. ‘I’m still here, aren’t I?’ does not cut it when your wife asks if you still love her.”

Evan closed the distance between them and looked directly into Jennifer’s green eyes.

“I doubt that I’ll ever need that information. Maybe I will, someday, but I…” He shook his head. “With the hours I put in with this job I wouldn’t even be in a position to blow it by saying that because I’d probably not be there the majority of the time.”

“It would depend on how badly you wanted a wife and family, I guess,” Jennifer said, hardly above a whisper. “Whether or not you loved someone enough to make changes, learn to delegate some of the workload and… If the president of the United States can find time for his wife and children, then…I’m sorry. I’m overstepping. This is none of my business.”

“Isn’t it?” Evan said, still pinning her in place with his intense gaze. “Aren’t you as focused on your career as I am on mine?”

“Yes, at the moment I am.”

But things were going to be different once their baby was born, she thought. She had no intention of traveling all the time, or dragging in so exhausted late at night that she fell across her bed fully clothed and went to sleep. She’d find the proper balance between her role of mother and career woman. And wife? No, she wouldn’t be a wife. Without even realizing he was doing it, Evan was making that fact crystal clear.

“What do you mean ‘at the moment’?” Evan said, pulling Jennifer from her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she said, averting her eyes from his. “Could we leave? I don’t like being in this place.”

Evan glanced around. “Yes, I’m finished here without having accomplished a damn thing to help my case.”

“You mustn’t give up, Evan.”

“I don’t intend to. When I want something, sweet Jenny, I fight for it until the last bell rings. I don’t admit defeat until it’s popping me in the chops. When I really want something I hang in very tough to get it.”

Well said, Jennifer thought, as they started across the room. If only Evan wanted to discover with that intensity what they might have together. If only he would be thrilled beyond measure when told she was carrying his baby. Pipe dreams, Jennifer. That’s all that those are.

L ate that afternoon Evan sat in the leather chair behind the desk in his office and stared into space. For the umpteenth time since being in Franklin ’s penthouse the question he had asked Jennifer and the answer she had given echoed in his mind.