Final Option

I gave him a ride in my Miata he’d give me a ride on his mustache. It took me the seven blocks to Michigan Avenue to figure out what he meant.
    Whatever it said about me, the Volvo, I decided, suited me best. Tonight, driving Barton back to Evanston, I was grateful for its comfortable familiarity. Barton sat beside me in the passenger seat, sunk into the dark folds of his overcoat like someone very old or very ill. The night was clear and cold, and dark clouds blew fast across the night sky.
    When I pulled into the driveway of his house, Jane was there waiting for us. She was standing in the pool of light from the open garage dressed in a nightgown. She had a woolen shawl thrown around her shoulders. Her eyes were enormous, her face white with shock.
    Barton vaulted out of the car. I leapt out after him. “Jane!” he demanded, “are you all right? What’s happened? Is it the baby?”
    “No, no. That’s not it,” she replied, obviously struggling for words “No, it’s your mother. Krissy just called. The police came to the house a few minutes ago. Your mother’s been arrested for murder.”
     

CHAPTER 16
     
    For a moment all three of us stood there, absorbing the enormity of it. Barton Jr.’s face was ashen. He took a small step toward his wife that was like a stagger and grasped her hands.
    “What time did Krissy call?” I demanded sharply. I felt like the only doctor at the scene of an accident.
    “Less than ten minutes ago,” said Jane, picking up the strained cadence of emergency.
    “Were the police still at the house when she phoned?“
    “No. They had just left. Krissy said it was all over in a minute. That detective was there—the one with the red hair whom nobody likes. I can’t remember his name. He marched in and announced to Pamela that she was under arrest. Krissy said they put her in handcuffs.“
    “How is Krissy doing?” I asked.
    “She’s really upset. She was crying so hard on the phone I had a tough time understanding her.”
    “There has to be some mistake,” whispered Barton Jr. “Where did they take her? Is she in jail?”
    “Krissy said they were taking her to the Lake Forest Police Station,” answered Jane.
    “Jane,” I ordered. “You go back into the house and call Krissy. Tell her to stay in the house and not to talk to anybody, especially any reporters who call. Call Margot and tell her the same thing. Tell Krissy I’m going to send out the same security people who were there on Sunday. I'm going to have them send a few men here as well.”
    “Do you really think we’ll need them?” asked Jane. “Unless China falls into the ocean overnight, this is going to be the biggest news story in the country tomorrow morning,” I replied grimly. “Reporters will be going through your garbage. I’d keep the boys home from school tomorrow.”
    “I have a rehearsal with the full orchestra,” protested Jane.
    “Then one of the security guys will drive you. Don’t worry, this too will pass, but for the next few days you’re going to have to brace yourselves.” Jane nodded seriously. I looked at Barton. He looked like he was going to be sick.
    “I have to go to the police station,” he said.
    “I’ll drive you,” I said.
    “That’s okay. I can drive myself.”
    “You’re in no condition to drive,” interjected Jane sensibly. “Let Kate take you.”
    “We can make some calls on the way,” I said, opening the car door for him. “I’d like to get there before the reporters do. But the first thing we have to do is get your mother a good attorney. Do you know who your mother would like to have represent her?”
    “Ken Kurlander handles all her legal affairs,” replied Barton Jr. doubtfully.
    “He can’t handle this,” I said. “Let me see if Elkin Caufield is available. If your mother doesn’t like him, she can make a change. But right now she needs someone to be with her when she’s interrogated and someone to arrange bail.” Ironically, in a fleeting moment of panic the night before I’d decided that if the police came to arrest me, it was Caufield who I’d ask to represent me.
    Barton took both his wife’s hands and kissed her quickly on the cheek.
    “Will you be okay?” he asked her.
    “I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Just hurry and go take care of your mother.”
    Barton plunged into the car and pulled the door shut behind him. As I backed out of the driveway, Jane stood and watched us go.
     
    Barton Jr. huddled miserably