William Bernhardt - Murder One

Ben didn’t comment.

Jones was speaking in hushed soothing tones, stroking Paula’s hands. “I was so worried, Paula. I can’t tell you how I felt. It was like—like—I can’t even explain. It was horrible.”

Paula’s lips were chapped and dry, but she still managed a small smile. “Didn’t … feel so hot on this end … either.”

Jones squeezed both her hands between his. “I don’t want to ever be separated from you again, Paula. Never.”

Her tired eyelids fluttered. “Quite a … commitment … from a modern guy like you.”

“I mean it. I really do. I—”

They were interrupted by the sound of the pneumatic door swooshing open. Ben saw a nurse with brown hair and brown eyes enter the room carrying a clipboard. Billie Barnett, R.N., according to her nametag.

“How’s my patient?” she asked.

Jones wiped his eyes. “She’s still awake. And still talking.”

“Wonderful. Any trouble communicating?”

“No. She seems … just like she always did.”

“Except duller,” Paula added.

Barnett smiled. “You’ll get your strength back in time. It’s going to take a while, though, before you’re really up to snuff.” She pressed her hand against Paula’s forehead, then quickly took her pulse. “How do you feel?”

“Tired.” Her eyes wandered over to Jones. “But happy.”

“After all you’ve been through,” Nurse Barnett said, “that’s pretty darn good.”

“So what’s the prognosis?” Ben asked.

“The prognosis is terrific,” Barnett answered, slapping a pencil against her clipboard. “Mind you, her body has been through a terrible shock, and her brain has been struggling to deal with that. But she’s on the mend. The doctors see no indications of any permanent damage, not to her body or mind. Another week or so and she can probably get out of here. And in two months, maybe three, she should be just like new. Except for the scars.”

“Will they hurt?” Paula asked.

“Hurt? No, no. But you’ll probably want to get rid of your string bikinis.”

Jones grabbed the nurse by her arms. “Do you mean it? She’s gonna be just like new?”

“Yes, of course. That’s what I—”

Jones whirled around like a top. He crouched down and clasped Paula’s hand in his. “Marry me.”

Paula blinked “What?”

“You heard. Marry me.”

Christina’s eyes went bug-wide. “No!”

“I didn’t ask you, Christina.” Jones leaned close to Paula, his face open and imploring. “Please, Paula. I know there’s nothing special about me. But it would mean so much to me.”

Christina bounced up and down. “I can’t believe it!”

Jones looked at her harshly. “Then step outside.” He turned back to Paula. “Since I met you, everything about my life has changed for the better. I know I don’t have much to offer you. I know I’m difficult and complicated and—and—”

“Quirky,” Christina suggested.

“Obnoxious,” Loving offered.

“Reserved,” Jones said, pointedly ignoring them. “I know I don’t always express my feelings like I should.”

Paula smiled faintly. “ As I should, puddin’.”

Jones persevered. “I know sometimes I don’t tell you how important you are to me. I know I’m not your dream man. I’m just a crummy office manager in a crummy law firm—”

“Hey!” Ben said. “Watch that.”

Jones’s head twisted around. “Who invited you clowns to this proposal, anyway?”

Chastised, they all took a step back. But didn’t leave.

“Anyway,” Jones said, returning his attention to the matter at hand, “I know there’s no reason on earth why you should want to be married to me. But you’re the most special woman I’ve ever known.” He pressed her hand against his cheek. “So would you please do me the very great honor of becoming my bride?”

Paula’s head trembled. “You are so wrong,” she said tremulously.

His face fell. “I am?”

She nodded. “There’s something very special about you.”

He inched forward. “Does that mean—?”

“Of course I’ll marry you, you big galoot. C’mere.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could.

Ben nudged Christina. “Maybe we should leave these two—” He stopped short. “You’re crying!”

Christina dabbed her eyes. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve seen in my whole life.”

Ben led her outside to give the newly engaged some privacy. Loving and the nurse followed their lead. When Ben and Christina got to the waiting area, she was still dabbing her eyes.

“Don’t you just love it,” Christina said, composing herself, “when everything has a happy ending?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, voice flat. “Very happy.”

“You’re still thinking about Keri, aren’t you? Ben, I’m sorry about the way that turned out.”

Ben shook his head. “I should’ve listened to you. Your instincts are always better than mine. You understand people. And you never liked Keri. That should’ve told me something. But instead of being smart, I just assumed you didn’t like her because—well, I should’ve paid better attention, that’s all.” He turned slightly. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Keri was sociopathic, Ben. Deeply. The more I think about, I think she wanted people to know she was a killer. She may not have been conscious of it but, bottom line, I think that’s why she wrote ‘faithless’ on McNaughton’s chest, and used her own chains, and so on. She wanted the police to know she had killed him. And that there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.”

“She was counting on me to save her. That was her one mistake. Because in the end, I was the one who betrayed her.”

Christina led Ben to a sofa and sat beside him. “Ben, you’ve got to stop beating yourself up about what happened. I know you think Mike shouldn’t’ve read that fax. But let’s be honest here. Keri was a murderer. Several times over. It’s hard to get too choked up about it.”

“Those were confidential communications, Christina. If we allow the cops to invade that once, it could erode the whole privilege.”

“I don’t think that’s likely. But at any rate, I don’t want you to blame Mike. He’s a true friend, and you shouldn’t treat him otherwise. What happened was not his fault. You were careless, making it possible for Mike to get that information. If Keri’d lived, she could’ve sued us for malpractice.”

“She was a multiple murderer, Christina. No jury would ever award her damages.”

“Still, you should be more careful. You knew Mike had that key. You knew you were late for that football date. And it was only logical that when Mike couldn’t find you at home, he’d try your office. He just lives a block away. You should have known that he would—”

All at once, Christina froze. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

Ben’s forehead crinkled. “What’s your problem?”

“You did know! You knew all along! That’s why you sent that fax. You wanted him to find it!”

Ben looked away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m right, aren’t I? You did it on purpose.”

“Christina, just leave it alone.”

“You did. I know you did.”

“Christina, if the bar committee thought I’d intentionally revealed a client confidence, I could be disbarred. Let it be.”

“Okay.” She tried, but it was impossible. “But I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His eyes drifted to the bay window. The sun was setting, giving the rolling hills of Tulsa a crimson patina. “Believe it or not, I’ve been thinking about Sergeant Matthews.”