Joan Pickart - Body of Evidence

“You will pay with your job, as will the mayor and governor. Yes, you will pay for what you’ve done. But you will first petition the court to drop all charges against Lyle so I can begin to reestablish my name and status to its proper place. Is that clear?”

“Dear heaven,” Jennifer said, speaking aloud before she even realized she had done it, “where are your tears? Where is your grief for your dead son and for the other son who faces charges of taking his brother’s life? What kind of mother are you, Mrs. Gardner? All you can think about is you, your wants and needs.” She slid one hand protectively across her stomach. “Your…your baby boys, your babies are… Don’t you care?”

“You have no concept of what is important in my level of society, young woman.” Cecelia glared at Jennifer. “Respect for me, my name, my power and wealth must be reestablished before more damage is done.

“Once I have regained my proper standing, I will see to the clearing of Franklin ’s name and, in the meantime, Mr. Stone will drop the charges against Lyle so I don’t have to be concerned about that. I will have the respect due me. That is first and foremost on my mind.”

“Incredible,” Jennifer whispered, as she stared at Cecelia.

“I trust we understand each other, Mr. Stone?” Cecelia said, getting to her feet. “I doubt seriously that you intend to see your career destroyed over this nonsense. I expect Lyle to be released from jail before this day ends. I will also be looking for a public apology from you. A brief press conference should take care of that nicely. I will, in fact, be making a list of everyone who owes me an apology and I will see to it that they are forthcoming. I assume you have no questions regarding this matter?”

“Just one,” Evan said, a steely edge to his voice.

“Yes?” Cecelia said.

“Do you plan to attend Lyle’s trial,” Evan said, “or just catch the highlights in the evening paper since you’ll be so busy attempting to repair your status in Chicago ’s Gold Coast society? Can you fit witnessing your son convicted of murdering his only brother into your schedule, Mrs. Gardner?”

Cecelia Gardner narrowed her eyes. “You are finished in this town, Stone, and I will see to it that no one, no one, across the entire United States will hire you. You don’t seem to comprehend who I am.”

“I understand perfectly who and what you are,” Evan said, “and I think it’s very, very sad.”

Cecelia squared her shoulders, then turned and crossed the room, leaving the door open as she left the office.

“If I hadn’t seen it, heard it,” Jennifer said, her voice quivering, “I wouldn’t believe it. She’s not a mother. She’s not. How can a woman give birth to two sons and not be a mother?” Two tears spilled onto her pale cheeks. “She’s horrible, Evan. Didn’t she hold her babies in her arms, nurture them, sing to them, read them stories and…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Evan said, getting to his feet and hunkering down next to Jennifer’s chair. “Ah, man, she really upset you, didn’t she? I’m the one who is sorry, Jenny. I shouldn’t have subjected you to that despicable woman.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault. I’m overreacting,” she said, swiping the tears from her cheeks, “because…I’m…tired. Yes, that’s it. I’m just tired.”

Evan slammed his hands onto his thighs, pushed himself to his feet and began to pace around the office. He dragged one hand through his thick, dark hair, a deep scowl on his face.

“Damn that Cecelia Gardner. I should have just called security and had her hauled out of here instead of allowing her to sound off.

“No, no, she’s not a mother, not really. You’re right about that, Jennifer. She might have gained the title by giving birth but she doesn’t have a clue as to what it really means. She is the most selfish, self-centered…

“I’ll tell you this, Jenny,” Evan ranted on, as he continued his trek. “I don’t have one iota of experience in the role of father, parent, but I don’t have to even think twice about how I would feel about my child, how I’d move heaven and earth to protect him, her, whatever. I’d put my life on the line for my son or daughter if it came to that. I would. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Evan stopped in front of Jennifer and met her wide-eyed gaze.

“Yes, I’m listening, hearing, everything you’re saying, Evan,” she said, her voice still wobbly as fresh tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t realize you felt so passionately about being a father.”

“I didn’t either until that witch came in here and did a fine job of show-and-tell of what a lousy parent is.” Evan shook his head. “That woman is…”

“Hello,” Belinda said, rapping on the open door, then coming into the office. “I was stuck on the phone when Cecelia Gardner stormed out of here. She was one furious lady, that’s for sure.

“Jennifer? Oh, my dear, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? And Evan? You look like you’re ready to chew nails. Oh, gracious, Cecelia upset both of you, didn’t she? What an awful person she is.”

“I should never have let her get on her rip,” Evan said, taking a steadying breath.

“I overreacted to her, I guess,” Jennifer said, then sniffled. “I just assumed that Cecelia Gardner was a…a mother who was in pain, who was heartbroken over losing one son and standing helplessly by as she faced the truth that her other son killed his brother. I was wrong. Giving birth doesn’t make a woman a mother. That title is earned, comes from the heart, from the love, from…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head.

“Damn straight it does,” Evan said. “Cecelia Gardner isn’t a mother, she’s a social-climbing, power-hungry…”

“Watch your mouth now, Evan,” Belinda said. “We get the point. Let’s back up to why I came in here, besides wanting to know what happened with Cecelia, of course.

“This envelope was just delivered by a uniformed police officer, who actually ran down the hall to give it to me. It’s from Detectives Waters and Wilson.” She extended the interoffice envelope to Evan.

Evan took it and opened it so quickly he tore the flap off, then pulled out the contents, reading the enclosed note, then looking at the other piece beneath it.

“Yes!” he said, punching one fist in the air.

“What is it?” Belinda and Jennifer said in unison.

“Waters and Wilson are good, they are very, very good at what they do,” Evan said. “All we had to go on as far as the description of the ring that Lyle wore when he beat up his brother was a rather blurry print from a newspaper photograph that showed Lyle wearing the ring.

“Then Maggie Sutter, a forensics detective, did an absolutely brilliant job of lifting an impression of what caused the bruises on Franklin Gardner’s face. She determined that it was, indeed, a heavy signet ring with the letter G engraved on it.

“Now? Waters and Wilson contacted the Gardners ’ insurance company on the off chance that since the ring is valuable there was a picture of it on file there.”

“And?” Belinda said.

“Here it is,” Evan said, turning a photograph around to show Belinda and Jennifer. “A crystal-clear picture of that ring. This has got to help in locating the damn thing. It just has to.” He reached for the telephone receiver. “I’m going to call those detectives and tell them what a fantastic job they did getting this.”

“Evan, wait just one second, please. I know I said I’d go out to dinner with you this evening, but I’m going to take a rain check. I have a headache and I’m exhausted. The best place for me is home and early to bed.”