RAPE-Serialized version

 

Hi Everyone:

I am pleased to publish chapter 7 of my novel, RAPE. After reading it, I hope you will comment on it. As you know, your comments and suggestions impact revision. If you missed any of the previous chapters, check the archives.

 I also encourage you to visit my website at:  joshswritingroom.com/ where you’ll find a delightful short story from Frank Lohan. You can still read Part I of my novel, Palm Beach Style. If you find it to your liking, you can purchase it from Amazon.com, or from Barnes and Noble. You’ll find links on the website taking you right to it.

While you are on the website, why not check out all the novels that are available for your reading pleasure.

PATH TO A PARDON,

THE EINDHOVEN STRATEGY,

& PALM BEACH STYLE.

 

As each new chapter is published on this blog, the previous chapter(s) should be archived, so even if you did not read it when it first appeared, you can easily catch up. Your suggestions are appreciated and will receive careful consideration.

 

 

Chapter 7

 

 

The following morning began pretty much the way the previous day had, with Gary taking a dip in the pool after a night in the guest room and then eating breakfast by himself before driving off to arrive at his office at about 9:30. After that, almost everything disintegrated into a sort of personal purgatory.

He waded through the reporters, scooped up the office copy of the Dispatch from the carpet in front of his office door and entered the deserted space. It felt strange not seeing the members of his staff there. He neither expected, nor blamed them, for doing exactly what he had told them to do. After the Mr. Coffee machine did its thing, he filled his personal mug and strolled to his office.

Gary sipped his brew and opened the morning paper. Miguel Gonzales had another big article about Miriam West on the front page. When are they going to find something else to print? Once again, both pictures stared up at him. At least, he thought, the photos are a little smaller. What I need is a bigger story to eat up all the space on the front page. How can I get Cuba to invade Palm Beach?

The article accompanying the pictures featured the big movie star, Miriam West, and how she felt threatened because the police had yet to arrest her attacker. He tossed the Dispatch into his wastebasket and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

Despite Miriam’s fears, he hadn’t been charged with a crime so perhaps, he reasoned, he still had a chance of getting a new contract. He began phoning marketing V.P.s in an attempt to locate at least one or two that might accept his business. He worked right through the noon hour and finally located two organizations that agreed to send him their paperwork, a sign they were willing to consider his application. The V.P.s he spoke with didn’t ask, so he didn’t mention his current legal problem; he prayed for its resolution before the contracting papers arrived.

Glancing at his watch, he realized the time had come to drive across the Flagler Memorial Bridge to meet with Attorney Joe Flaherty who occupied an office within walking distance of the Palm Beach County Courthouse.

Slipping out the door, he reached the bottom of the building’s back stairway, just ten feet from his car. A photographer sprinted toward him. Looking beyond the runner, he spotted the reason for his movement. Within seconds, a camera flashed and a Palm Beach police cruiser pulled up. Gary reached for his cell and scrolled through his electronic phonebook for the number he needed.

“This is Gary Sanders; please connect me with Mr. Flaherty.”

            “I’m sorry, but Mr. Flaherty is on another line,” the receptionist said.

“I’m supposed to meet with him in thirty minutes. Please tell him that the Palm Beach police have arrived and I don’t believe I’ll be able to keep the appointment.”

“Oh. I’ll let him know right away.”

The photographers and the TV cameras had a field day as a burly cop handcuffed Gary, read him his rights, and placed him in the back of the blue and white.

“I’ll save you guys a lot of time. I just called my attorney’s office. I have nothing to say to anyone until I speak with him.”

 

At the Palm Beach Police station, Gary surrendered all of his personal belongings to a sergeant who catalogued them before sealing them in an envelope. In quick succession they fingerprinted, and photographed him with a sign showing his name and case number. Lord, he thought, I hope Carol never sees this photo. Finally, they placed him in a holding room with several other men waiting for arraignment.

One of them strolled over and sat right next to him on the metal bench. “Hey! Ain’t you the guy that raped that movie actress? Yeah, I seen your puss in the paper. I hear she’s hot stuff. Is it true?”

The man reeked of garlic; “No comment,” Gary replied.

“Come on, you can tell me.”

“Sorry, I can’t,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

“I know your type,” garlic breath grumbled. “You think you’re too damned good to talk to me.”

“No. I’ll talk to you, just not about my case.”

Garlic breath rose and stomped his way across the room, slouching on the bench on the other side.

An hour later a police officer took him out and placed him in a small room containing a wood table and two chairs, all anchored to the floor.

Within minutes, a stoop-shouldered man in a rumpled, brown suit entered the room. Placing his briefcase on the table, and opening it to remove a legal pad, he smiled at Gary. “Laddie, I came as soon as I could. I’m your lawyer, Joseph A. Flaherty, himself. It is sad I am, that we have to meet under such adverse conditions.”

Is that an Irish accent, Gary wondered. “Yeah, if the cops had been five minutes later, I’d have made it to your office.”

“What’s dune is dune.” He said in a voice reminiscent of Barry Fitzgerald. “Let us see what we can do to get you out of this mess.”

“Mr. Flaherty—I”

“Laddie, why don’t you just call me Joe?”

“Okay. Joe, is there anything you can do to get me out of here?”

“I’ll do me best, which will cost you five hundred an hour for me-self and four hundred an hour for me P.I. Can you handle that?

Gary swallowed hard and nodded.

“Good, that’s settled. First, we have to see the judge. Sure, and the local press have been having a picnic over this story. You’ll be taken to the county facility on Gun Club Road and arraigned in the morning. I’ll try to get you released on your own recognizance. The prosecutor will probably object, he’ll ask the Judge to set bail. In a high profile case like this, he’ll demand a big figure, maybe even a million. You can probably get a bail bondsman to handle it but he’ll need something worth a hundred thousand. Will yer woman be able to raise that?

Noting that his attorney only employed an accent when he wanted to, Gary swallowed hard and took a deep breath; “Yes, if she will.”

“Laddie, you don’t sound too confident. What’s up; trouble at home?”

“Carol, that’s my wife. She isn’t convinced of my innocence. These charges have put a terrible strain on my family and my marriage.” He allowed his torso to collapse against the back of his chair.

The lawyer scratched at the thick gray hair on the side of his head, “Too bad. We need a supportive wife if this goes to trial.”

Gary squinted at his attorney, “If? If it goes to trial?  Is there a chance it won’t?”

“Laddie, anything can happen. The police may stumble on the real culprit. This woman, Miriam West, may recant her story. The judge may throw the whole thing out for lack of evidence. Hell! The prosecutor may even refuse to go to trial.” He paused and scratched at the hair at the back of his head, then closed one eye and leaned closer to his client, “You might even cop a plea.”

Gary sat bolt upright. “No way—I didn’t do one damn thing wrong!”

“In that case, Flaherty said with a deep sigh, “Maybe you’d best tell me exactly what did happen. Keeping in mind that anything you say is privileged, start with what you ate for breakfast and don’t leave out or color a single detail. I’ve heard it all before, so don’t worry about shocking me.”