Greg Iles - Turning Angel

“I’m not sure that’s always true.”

Ellen gives me a piercing look. “You know it is.”

“I was thinking of my wife.”

A shadow of regret crosses her face. “I’m sorry. Sarah was as good as they come. But Drew ain’t. I used to think he was, once. But he’s just like the rest of them.”

“The rest of who?”

“ Men, sugar.” A wild light flashes in her eyes. “When it’s all said and done, they only care about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Ellen thrusts out her left hip and slaps her rump. “Dipping their wick in a piece of ass that’s attached to a smiling, subservient, and preferably young woman. And if not young, then different from what they’re used to. Capisce? ”

Her gesture has caused one surgically enhanced breast to fall out of her housecoat. When she sees me looking, she does nothing to cover herself. “See what I mean?” she drawls. “Nothing stirs a man’s loins like a little strange, right, Penn? Oh, I know the story well.” She covers herself with a jerk of her gown and surveys the wreckage of her husband’s possessions.

“Ellen, if you want to be crude about this, let’s be crude. What happened to you and Drew is simple. He was unhappy, and his dick led him astray. You’re worldly enough to understand that.”

“Oh, I understand that all too well. I went astray myself one night in Jackson with a darling little tennis pro.” Her eyes flicker at a memory that cuts through her chemical haze. “But that’s not what this affair was about. No, sir. This was love, capital L-U-V. Didn’t Drew tell you? This was soul mates, poetry-and-candle-light, I-want-to-have-your-baby-and-do-mission-work-together-in-Peru stuff.”

Drew, you stupid asshole, I curse silently. Couldn’t you keep your mouth shut? Did you think you’d confess your secret dreams about your mistress, and your wife would understand? Like many men who have come to the point of needing a lawyer, Drew Elliott is his own worst enemy. And thanks to him, there’s not much I can accomplish here.

“Ellen, let me just say this. Because of Kate’s death, Drew’s smallest actions-and yours-could have far more serious consequences than you might imagine. We’ve got a politically motivated district attorney who’d like nothing better than to convict a rich, white doctor for murder.”

“Yes, we do,” Ellen drawls. “That black boy is definitely hungry for some white meat. And he’s got his eye on Drew, all right. He already asked me to come down and talk to the grand jury.”

My blood pressure plummets. “What did you tell him?”

“I’d think about it.”

“Did Shad threaten to subpoena you?”

“He’s not that stupid. Shadrach was sweet as pie, honey. He knows he can’t force a wife to testify against her husband.”

A wave of relief rolls through me, but Ellen instantly dashes it. “Don’t look too secure. Shad may not have to worry about that problem too much longer.”

I don’t want to encourage her by asking, but I have no choice. “Why not?”

“Tomorrow I’m driving up to Jackson and hiring the meanest divorce lawyer in the state.”

“Ellen, you don’t-”

“Don’t what?” She cocks her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Do you have a comment, Counselor? Do you think I’m un justified in this course of action?”

I shake my head slowly. “It’s your life. I’m just sorry to hear this. I think something brought you and Drew together all those years ago, and there has to be something left of that. Tim, at the very least.”

For the first time I see tears in her eyes, little silver drops that she quickly wipes away. “I used to think there was,” she says in a hoarse voice. “But I was a fool. And whatever hope I had left, Drew just crushed in about as public a way as he could. I couldn’t go back to him now if I wanted to.”

“Ellen-”

“Don’t talk to me about swallowing my pride for Tim’s sake! I don’t like the taste of it! I’m not going to watch Drew mourn that little bitch for the rest of my life. Timmy’s better off with me alone than with a father who’d run off with his goddamn babysitter.”

There’s nothing more to be said. Ellen is dead set on a scorched-earth campaign, and the only thing that could possibly change that is time. Time and maybe sobriety. I get into my car, back away from the gingerbread castle, and head home.

When I get back home, I’m ordered to sit down and watch a performance by Annie and Mia. Given that I’ve been gone less than thirty minutes, the dance is truly amazing. Mia moves with the bone-snapping precision of a girl in a hip-hop video, which doesn’t surprise me, since I’ve seen her do the same as a cheerleader at St. Stephen’s football and basketball games. What amazes me is Annie. She’s only nine years old, yet she mimics Mia’s moves as though she’s wired to the older girl’s brain. She doesn’t quite have Mia’s precision, but the flexibility and rhythm are there. It’s only a matter of practice. Her mother was a great dancer, too, and even after five years, the memory brings a lump to my throat. When they finish dancing, I jump to my feet, yelling and clapping in approval. Annie glows with pride, and Mia watches her with real affection.

“Bath time,” Mia says, doing a quick sequence of moves to keep Annie’s attention.

“Aww,” Annie moans. “I’m clean!”

“That’s bull!” says Mia, laughing. “We just sweated two gallons, at least. Your armpits are already stinky. I smell them from here.”

Annie sniffs cautiously beneath her left arm. “Uh- uh. ”

“Uh- huh. Get going, Stinky!”

Annie giggles and then cartwheels into the hall. “Will you still be here when I get out?”

Mia shakes her head. “I’ve got way too much homework to stick around here. I’m gone as soon as your dad pays me.”

“Are you coming back tomorrow?”

Mia looks at me.

“Absolutely,” I tell them, knowing I’m bound to be caught up in Drew’s mess, whether I want to be or not.

As Annie’s footsteps fade down the hall, Mia takes a seat on the ottoman in front of my chair and pulls the elastic band from her ponytail. Dark hair cascades around her shoulders. She puts the band between her teeth and shakes her head, then gathers her hair again and binds it into a looser ponytail.

“I talked to Stephanie James,” she says. “She’s one of the girls who got questioned by the grand jury. She said the D.A. didn’t use Dr. Elliot’s name at first. He kept asking if Kate had ever confided anything to Stephanie about an ’older man.‘ After Stephanie said no about ten times, Johnson got really aggressive. He acted like she knew about the affair but was holding back on purpose. Stephanie said she actually started crying. She also said she knew several people sitting in the chairs out there. The grand jury members. Some of them were St. Stephen’s parents.”

“Great.”

“Is it bad?”

“Oh, it’s bad.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid. But you’ve been a huge help already.”

“I don’t feel like I have. Dr. Elliott’s in trouble, and I really like him. He helped me with my science fair project last year. He was really nice.”

I start to ask if she ever sensed any improper attention from Drew, but then I decide against it. As if reading my mind, Mia says, “No, I never got a hint of weirdness from him. I never even caught him looking at my butt, which most older guys do every time I turn around.”

I can’t help but laugh at Mia’s awareness of the reaction her body causes in men. I’ve admired her derriere myself on occasion. “You told me you’ve heard mixed reactions about Drew and Kate. Tell me about that.”