Maybe

52

SOPHIE’S HOUSE IS upper-middle class, simple, but tasteful. But the furnishings and paintings are exquisite. There’s money here, and I don’t think it came from writing songs, as everyone claims. I mean, some of it did. She’s written several highly-successful country hits. But you know how I am. There’s cash hidden in a painting somewhere in this house, or maybe a stash of crystal meth in one of the walls.

I can feel it.

What gives me that impression? Sophie had a criminal record at one time, that’s so bad Sal doesn’t even want to discuss it. Also, when I suggested Sophie might have hired someone to kill Dani’s husband, Sal said, “If she wanted the husband killed, she’d go through me.”

Which is very different than if he’d said, “Sophie knows nothing about such things.”

Sophie and Dani are in the kitchen when I enter the house with Agent Chase and Nashville police detective Marco Polomo. Polomo introduces us, and the first thing I notice is Dani could be Callie’s younger sister. The resemblance is remarkable.

Dani’s polite, and has an All-American Girl look about her. Sophie’s quite pretty in her own right, maybe five years older, and appears to be much more worldly.

Polomo asks Sophie to leave the room, but Dani says, “You may as well let Sophie stay, because first, it’s her house, and second, I’m going to tell her everything the minute you leave.”

Polomo gives in. “Where can we sit and talk?”

“My attorney just called. He’s on his way.”

“Figures,” I say, trying to play my part of the big, bad FBI agent.

Polomo winks at me when no one’s looking. He knows I’m there to help. While Dani, Chase, and Polomo make small talk in the den, Sophie catches my eye and leaves the room. I follow her into her bedroom.

She whispers, “They’re letting you impersonate an FBI agent?”

“Yup.”

“Can you really get this thing shut down?”

“If I believe she’s innocent.”

“She is. I guarantee it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I don’t like Agent Chase,” she says.

“He’s just trying to do his job.”

“Is he going to go after her really hard?”

“Yes.”

“I have a temper. It’s gotten me into trouble before.”

“Tell you what, if Agent Chase says something that sets you off?”

“Yeah?”

“Smack him.”

“What?”

“Slap the shit out of him.”

“He’s a federal officer.”

“I know. Isn’t it great?”

“If I hit him, you’ll protect me?”

“I will. And I’ll tell Sal. And he’ll laugh his ass off.”

Sophie smiles. “I like you. And not just because you’re handsome.”

“Thanks.”

Dani’s lawyer, Chris Fist, shows up. We join the others in the den and Agent Chase opens a manila envelope and places a photograph on the coffee table in front of Dani.

“Recognize this?” he says.

Chris says, “You can answer the question honestly.”

Dani answers, “No.”

“No you don’t recognize it?”

“I don’t. Nor do I have any idea what it is,” she says.

“It’s a voice altering device.”

“Like the kind Roy used when he left that message?”

“Yes. Except this one was found in your home.”

“My home? Where?”

“Ben’s desk drawer.”

He pulls out another photo and sets it in front of her. It’s a picture of a hand-made box. “Ever seen this?” Chase says.

“No, but it’s gorgeous.”

“It was found in your basement, in a cardboard box, under a pile of old college essays and lesson plans.”

“When?”

“The day you authorized the Cincinnati police to conduct a thorough search of your home.”

“That was a week ago! Why are you just now showing me this?”

“What difference does it make?” he says. “You’ve either seen it or you haven’t.”

“She hasn’t,” Chris Fist says.

“It took us two days to find the key,” Agent Chase says.

“Okay.”

“Know where we found it?”

Chris says, “If she’s never seen the box, how would she know where you found the key? Assuming there’s a point to these questions, can you get to it?”

Agent Chase says, “You know the small, framed photo of you on Ben’s desk, to the left of his computer? You’re younger, big smile, wearing a yellow blouse. There’s a horse fence and a tree in the background.”

Dani takes a minute to dab the tears from her eyes, thinking about it.

“I know the picture,” she says. “It was Ben’s favorite.”

“The key was hidden between the photo and the backing, between two pieces of cardboard.”

Sophie says, “What’s in the box?”

Chase says, “Glad you asked.”

He pulls three photos from the manila envelope and spreads them out in front of Dani.

It takes her a moment to realize what she’s seeing.

Then she starts screaming, and Sophie’ hand flies across the coffee table and connects against the side of Agent Chase’s face so hard it knocks him back.

Sophie isn’t just having fun. She’s genuinely angry. I think she would’ve hit him even if I hadn’t given her permission.

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?” she screams, and cocks her arm to slap me.

Me? She really is pissed!

But Chris Fist lunges and manages to restrain her.

“Your client just assaulted a federal agent!” Chase yells, rubbing the side of his face.

“Fuck you!” Sophie says, trying to squirm out of Chris’s grip.

“I could have you arrested for this!” Chase yells. “Tell her, Mr. Fist.”

Chris says, “First of all, Sophie’s not my client. Second, she asked you a fair question. Why the hell would you ambush Dani with these photos? You think she hasn’t been through enough in her twenty-four years?”

“Watch your tone, counselor.”

“Watch yours, you piece of shit.”

Polomo and I exchange a glance. Our facial expressions show we’re horrified by these developments. But we’re laughing like hell on the inside.

Sophie says, “Dani?

Dani can’t stop looking at the photos. The two that count are first, a photo of blood-stained panties, and second, Jaqui Moreland, naked and duct-taped, eyes wide with terror.

Agent Chase says, “The photo’s authentic. This is Jaqui Moreland, moments before her death. We’re still waiting on the DNA results, but the panties match the description in her mother’s original statement. By the way, we never disclosed Jaqui’s panties were absent the crime scene.”

“Put the photos away,” Chris says.

Agent Chase says, “We’ve spent the past week trying to decide if you had any knowledge your husband raped and killed Jaqui Moreland.”

“What?”

“Maybe ManChild set him up,” she says.

ManChild being the name the media gave Jaqui’s killer.

Chase says, “We lifted Ben’s fingerprints off the photograph. The threatening call you received was made with a voice-altering device exactly like the one in Ben’s home office.”

“Why would Ben try to frighten me?” she says. “I knew nothing about it. I’ve spent endless time and money trying to catch ManChild. Everyone knows that.”

“Which is exactly what made us suspicious,” Agent Chase says. “If you’re trying to protect Ben Davis, what better cover could you possibly have than to act like you’re spending every waking hour searching for Jaqui’s killer?”

Chris Fist says, “Do you have anything to charge her with, or were you just trying to get her reaction to the photos?”

Chase looks at my hands and sees I’ve made them into a steeple.

He says, “We were testing her reaction.”

“And?”

“My professional opinion? She’s either completely innocent,” he pauses and looks me in the eyes. “Or one hell of an actress.”

By late afternoon all the phone calls are made to those who need to hear that Agent Chase and the FBI have officially cleared Dani Ripper of any involvement in her husband’s death, planting evidence, or having prior knowledge of his guilt. Chase agrees to call Chris Fist in the morning, so he can give Dani the good news.

I reach to shake his hand.

He declines.