Possessing Morgan:
A Matter of Conviction
by Aurelia
Part 4
Chapter 4
After some creative maneuvering, Vaughan had been removed from the house by the way of the back alley while Mrs. Vaughan and her step-daughter staged a very public departure via the front door. Morgan hadn’t liked the arrangement but the media circus laying in wait on the sidewalk left her few options. She made a quick call to the hospital to make arrangements with Vaughan’s doctor.
* * *
They returned to the station house, biding their time until the wife and daughter arrived for their depositions. The case was in motion. Now they had to face their boss.
“Well, will one of you talk to me? What happened?” Markham’s look told Morgan he expected the case to be put to rest with no fuss. When did life get so complicated?
“Well, sir…”
“All I want to hear is that you have the guilty party in custody ready to confess.” Mentally she rolled her eyes and hoped that if she ever became a captain that she would remember this moment. Probably not...
“Well, it wasn’t that simple…”
He reached into his desk drawer, extracted a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol and shook out a couple of tablets. Seeing Morgan’s questioning gaze he grumbled, “Just in case…”
Morgan took out her notebook, flipped through a number of pages until she found her notes. “Arthur Vaughan was found on the kitchen floor next to his maid’s body…” Her eyes dropped to the notebook, “…a one Rose McManus. Vaughan was holding the murder weapon, a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver, with one round missing. This scene was witnessed by the grocery delivery boy at approximately 8:00am. The occupants of the household at that time were stated to be Arthur Vaughan, his lovely and substantially younger wife, Constance Vaughan, and the maid, Rose McManus. By the time Chang and I arrived, Vaughan was sitting in the front room with his wife and attorney, a delightful gentleman by the name of Clifford Marks of the very prestigious firm of Schneider, Marks and Edgerton. The M.E., forensics and the photographer were doing their thing. I’ve asked Hodges to phone his report through as soon as humanly possible. He, as always, was accommodating. The gun has been bagged. The clothing Vaughan was wearing will be bagged. Fingerprints and gun residue tests have been taken.” Morgan breathed in deeply, feeling slightly light-headed from the long verbal report. She wasn’t used to use so many words in a couple of breaths.
“So, Vaughan is in the holding tank?”
“Ummmm…. Nooooo.” Markham stared at her, his head cocked to one side awaiting more information.
“Captain, we are talking about Arthur Vaughan here... the Arthur Vaughan. Are we sure we want to tangle with the likes of Schneider, Marks and Edgerton at this particular time?”
“I know who Arthur Vaughan is, Sergeant, but he is the prime suspect in our murder case. The ACLU would be down our throats if he got any special treatment.” Morgan looked down at her feet, scuffing her shoes on the wooden floor. “What are you not telling me?”
“Vaughan’s in the hospital.”
“Why? What happened?”
“He was nearly catatonic when we arrived. We called in the paramedics who took him to the hospital. He’s gonna be kept overnight for observation.”
“Oh, just great!”
“What was I supposed to do?” Morgan pleaded her case. “The lawyer was right there. Vaughan looked like death warmed over. I did everything by the book, Captain.”
“Why didn’t you just arrest him first? Was he that bad? Circumstantial evidence alone would have been enough to haul him in.” Agitated, Markham rubbed his face with his huge hand before sliding it over the newly emerging bald spot in his graying hair. Morgan could see a vein slowly throbbing in his temple as a growl emerged from his lips.
“Look, Captain. I will not allow his high-priced legal team to get him off on some damned technicality if I have anything to do with it. He won't be a flight risk because he's too high-profile. The wife and daughter are on their way in to give their statements. I've already spoken with Vaughan's doctor. We'll be getting a statement from Vaughan at 2:00pm. I've got two uniforms on duty outside his room. And, for now, the illustrious team of Schneider, Marks and Edgerton have absolutely no legal recourse for complaint.”
Markham settled down, feeling his blood pressure slowly settle. It grated on his sense of justice to allow Vaughan such leverage. Rich or poor, if a man is guilty then he is guilty.
“Okay. Where do we go from here?”
“Huh?”
“I’m asking you, Sergeant, what do you think? Did he do it?”
“Well, Captain, as you said, circumstantial evidence says he did, but the look on his face and other things… I dunno.”
“What makes you suspicious?”
“Well, Henry and I did a quick run through of the upstairs bedrooms.” She looked over at her partner, who was blending nicely into the background, letting her take the heat from their boss. “They sleep in separate beds, but that’s nothing new these days. The wife is nearly half his age. Hmmm... so if I were a suspicious kind of gal, I’d take a nice long look into their financial arrangements.”
“What else?” Markham would normally have a tight hold on a case, especially one this important, but he was interested to see what the young sergeant could come up with.
“Else?” Her voice rose to a tight squeak. “Me?”
“Yesssss, you. C’mon, if you're going for a promotion these are the sorts of decisions you’re gonna have to make.” Morgan looked suspiciously over her shoulder. “No. He didn’t say anything.”
“Then how…?”
He sighed deeply, fixing her with his dark unyielding eyes. “You are your father’s daughter, Morgan. It was only a matter of time… Now, to answer my question, what avenues do you want to follow up on?”
She squared her broad shoulders, trying to gather her scattered thoughts and focus them on the matter at hand. “Okay. Canvas the neighbors to see what sort of things really go on around there. Check the maid’s background and financial records. Anything to see if she might have been blackmailing Vaughan. Poke around Vaughan’s background to see if there are any bones in the closet, maybe a mistress, girlfriend or whatever. We could look into a few business dealings too, see if anything smells funny. Check out Constance Vaughan and what possible financial arrangements are in place if he's suddenly taken out of the picture.” Now that she had to work at eliminating the possibilities, she mentally crossed off her checklist a number of nagging questions. “Oh, and check out ‘Miss Little Drama Queen’, the daughter. She should have gotten an Oscar for that performance.”
“Hmmm, interesting. Okay, let’s see what the statements bring us before we continue.”
"Well, the wife’s gonna say her husband didn’t do it, while all the time suggesting he did, the daughter is gonna say she wasn’t there and therefore doesn’t know anything, the lawyer is gonna try and make us believe the maid did it to herself, and Vaughan… well it wouldn’t surprise me if he says he thinks he did it, but he won’t remember much.”
“Go ahead and get the statements and the prelim autopsy report. If it’s not cut and dry, go ahead with your course of action, but go through me first, alright? Oh, and find out if the maid had any family. They’ll need to be notified.”
“Yes sir.” Morgan heard Henry’s lowered voice behind her. She left with her partner in tow, shaking her head in dismay. Morgan felt like she’d been hit in the head with a 2x4, her synapses knocked out of whack by the impact. “What the hell just happened in there?”
“It seems he’s putting you in charge of this shindig.”
“But, why?”
“Maybe he’s just seeing if you can handle the extra responsibility.”
“Look… Henry. I’ve been thinking about that…”
“Don’t worry about it, Mo. If you want that promotion, go for it.”
“That’s just it. I don’t think I do.”
“But, why? You’d be perfect for the job.”
“You know how much I hate paperwork, plus the stress... and the headaches. Trying to get the likes of Morelli to do their damn jobs without threatening to kill them? I can’t do that now. I’d be stuck behind a desk, Henry. Can you imagine me hibernating in an office?” His wry look answered her question silently. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m a cop, not an administrator.” Pale green eyes looked over to the slim young man, and she whispered, “And the worst part, I wouldn’t get to work with you any more…”
“Awww, how sappy, Red.”
“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it? Gotta stop doing that.”
They slowly made their way back to their desk. “So, how’s it going with the counselor?”
“Nothing’s going on, and you damned well know it!”
“Come on, Morgan…”
“No. You stop this right now, Henry! I am not going to chase after her, alright?”
“Shouldn’t you let her make that decision?”
“No. Things were just fine before she turned up. She’s going to be married, let’s just leave it at that.”
“Even if it means you giving up your chance?”
“Even that.”
Henry stopped, pulling Morgan over into a quiet area. “Whether you like it or not, there is this chemistry thing between the two of you. Even clueless ol’ me can see that. Now, you can ignore it all you want but if this is meant to happen it will, despite your protests to the contrary.” He could see barriers go up in her eyes. “It's like you're beating yourself up over this. What is up with you?” Morgan spluttered at the question. “No, there’s something more to this than just the counselor, isn’t there?”
“Where do you come up with these ideas?”
“No. Stop blowing this off! You and Andy have somehow crossed paths. And you just wanna turn around and walk away, refusing to follow where you heart wants to take you. What are you afraid of, Mo?”
"Afraid of?! Please. Not much!"
“Except this. You’re scared shitless of this and you’re running away with your tail between your legs.”
“Look, it’s my life. Just butt out of it.” Henry laid a hand on her arm, earning him a death glare until he removed it.
“Alright, if she means nothing to you, you can at least be her friend. She’s got no one here, except me of course, but I think she could use a female friend. How about you take her to lunch?”
The Desk Sergeant stuck his nose through the door to find them. “Hey, O’Callaghan! The Vaughans are here!”
Morgan was never so glad to hear anything in her life. Henry again touched her arm. “Take her to lunch…,” he whispered.
“I… I’ll think about it, alright?”
“Fair enough.”
* * *
“This is a record of interview of statement taken from Mrs. Constance Vaughan dated 17th June 2005 at 10:32 am by Detective Sergeant Morgan O’Callaghan, badge number 44015.” And so began Connie Vaughan’s interview.
“Mrs. Vaughan, do you understand that this is a preliminary statement we are taking today? We may, at a later time, call you in again to clarify some points once all the evidence has been compiled.”
“Let’s get this over with. I have a sick husband in the hospital.” Morgan could feel the beginnings of a migraine. This woman was really working her last nerve.
“Yes, you do, ma’am. Just tell me what happened that morning.”
“Let’s see. We were sleeping in that morning. Arthur and I had a charity luncheon to attend so we arranged with the staff to have brunch instead of breakfast. Mrs. O’Malley was out doing the grocery shopping, as she always does, so only Rose was in the house. Arthur got up around… seven I think it was… went to the bathroom, grabbed a drink of water and then came back to bed. About an hour later there was a loud noise downstairs. I woke Arthur and he grabbed the gun out of the side table and went downstairs to check things out. A little time passed… I’m not sure, maybe a minute or two… and there was the sound of a gunshot. I was not going downstairs, but I called my attorney immediately.”
“Why didn’t you call the police, Mrs. Vaughan?”
“I did.”
“But not before you phoned your lawyer.”
“I was upset. I wanted someone I trusted here before the police arrived.”
“And you trusted your lawyer that much, huh?”
“Of course I did....I do”
“Mrs. Vaughan, unless you two are the best of buddies I seriously doubt that you know your lawyer that well. Now to me it sounds very much like you wanted him there so that you could all get your stories straight before the police arrived.”
“Just what are you accusing me of, Detective?”
“All I’m saying here is that it all sounds pretty suspicious, Mrs. Vaughan, that you thought of your lawyer first. Anyone else would have called 911...first...and the lawyer would have been an afterthought.”
Morgan didn’t like this. Who in their right mind would hear a gunshot and call their lawyer? Anyone’s first instinct would be to call the police. She checked the papers laid out in front of her, noting that two calls had been made to 911. The delivery boy made the first call, then the wife, almost two minutes later. Connie Vaughan needed some investigation.
She was now eager to hear what the charming daughter, Chelsea Vaughan, had to say….
* * *
“Miss Vaughan, where were you this morning around 7:00 am?”
“At a party in the Village.”
“Can you substantiate that?”
“Yes, there were at least twenty other people there.”
“And what made you decide to come to visit your parents this morning?”
“I got a call that there had been trouble.”
“A call? From whom?”
“Connie. She told me the police had been called.”
“Not ‘Rose has been shot’ but ‘the police have been called’. That’s a rather unusual way of putting it, don’t you think?”
“Maybe she didn’t want to upset me until I got there. I can’t answer for my stepmother.”
The use of stepmother didn’t go unnoticed by Morgan. There was no love lost between the two women. “Your mother…”
“Stepmother.” A flash of anger crossed the young woman’s features.
“…stepmother reported that she had made only two calls this morning, one to her lawyer and one to 911. She made no mention of a third call to you.”
“Maybe she forgot. Maybe she called me on her cell.”
Morgan made a mental note to check Mrs. Vaughan’s cell phone record. Her gut instinct was telling her that Chelsea was lying through her teeth. But why would she do that? Hmm.
* * *
The counselor watched as the group of people emerged from the interrogation room, one of whom caught her attention. Who is that? Leslie? Laura? “Lauren?” she murmured. She repeated the name, this time raising her voice to cross the expanse of the corridor. “Lauren? Ah… Lauren!” The group continued to move away from her towards the entrance of the station house without any response to her call. “Hmm… guess not.”
“Detective.” The tall redhead moved towards her with muscular grace, her long legs covering the distance in a handful of strides.
“Hi.” The soft, deep tone of Morgan’s voice touched something in her, as it had always done since she had met the woman. “Look, sorry I didn’t make it to court this morning. A major case just opened up and I haven’t even had time to grab a cup of coffee.”
“Hmmm? Oh, not a problem. Who was that you were talking to?”
“That was Mrs. Constance Vaughan, socialite and rich bitch extraordinaire, and her lovely stepdaughter, Chelsea. I was just getting their statements on this morning’s homicide. Why?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“You said someone's name... Lauren? Did you know one of them?”
“Nah, I must have been mistaken.”
“You’re not sure?” Morgan stared intently at the small blonde.
“Yeah, I was supposed to defend this woman on a drug possession charge a couple of years ago back home but she skipped town. Now that I think about it, her hair was darker... a lot darker. And her accent was most certainly not from New York. My mistake.”
“Oh, okay.” As she was about to walk away, Henry pointed from a distance, his finger jabbing the air viciously. His mouth was running at a mile a minute. It was just a shame that she couldn’t read lips, or maybe it was a godsend. She took a deep breath as she turned, her eyes dropping to the floor shyly. “Um, are you doing anything for lunch?” The silence drew her eyes upward to the still face, finally resting on deep brown eyes watching her. “You gotta eat, right? How about we grab something to eat?”
“So, I’m your best friend now?”
“I was just trying to make up for that first night at the pub, that’s all.”
“Are we feeling a tiny bit guilty about that, Detective?” Andrea smiled sweetly at the tall woman.
“Look, if it’s gonna be a problem, then don’t worry about it.” Morgan was getting defensive and she knew it, but she was treading through territory she had no right to be in, and it was only at Henry’s insistence that she was there at all. She turned away to make a hasty escape.
“Hey,” A hand shot out and grabbed her arm, drawing her eyes to the contact of skin against skin. “I didn’t say no.” The counselor’s voice flowed over her like warm honey. She had to get away… far, far away. This was a bad idea. Morgan started to retreat, but Andrea’s grip tightened. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I… I can’t do this.”
“Do what? Eat lunch?” Morgan’s long tawny braid swung like a pendulum as her head shook vigorously. “It’s just lunch, Morgan.” But both of them knew it had the potential to be more. Much, much more. At the very least the beginning of a friendship that could lead in so many different directions, some where Morgan didn’t want to venture and Andrea didn’t even know existed.
Morgan glanced over her shoulder at Henry, who had the gall to grin back at her and give her the thumbs up. She smiled wanly at him, feeling less than enthusiastic about this course of action.
“Just let me get my things and we’ll get outta here.” Andrea hesitated. “Can you go to lunch now?”
“Sure. My next appointment isn’t until 2:00.” While Andrea disappeared into her office Morgan flipped open her cell phone, scanning through her address book to find the number she was looking for. Hitting the dial button she spoke quickly and quietly. “Hodges? Yeah, it’s O’Callaghan. Can you do something for me? Your guys are still at the crime scene, right? Can they see if there’s a water glass next to Vaughan’s bed? If there’s one, can you guys test the water? Can you call me later if you find something? Thanks Hodges.” Just as she hung up, Andrea emerged from her office, looking very officious in her tailored suit, her glasses missing from the ensemble for the moment.
“Ready?”
Morgan knew she should have said ‘no’ but ‘yes’ jumped right past her lips. They walked side by side down the steps onto the street, the heat of the day already causing beads of sweat to form across their upper lips. Morgan steered her down the street, away from the pub.
“We’re not going to McGee’s?”
“Nope, there’s another pub this way called Monkeyshines.” She watched Andrea’s pale eyebrow rise in question. “Yeah, the name, I know, but the food’s great.”
“And why aren’t we going to McGee’s?”
“I just wanted you to try a new eating place around the corner.”
“A new eating place, huh?”
“Why do you have to question everything I say?”
“Because I am finding with you that everything you say is a double entendre.”
How could she fight that? The woman was right… at least about this. “I… errr… It’s too… public.” Morgan kept her eyes on the sidewalk, keeping her pace steady and firm.
“And why is that a problem?”
Morgan knew she could dismiss this easily if she wanted, but somehow she couldn’t lie to the counselor. “Er… I…” She stopped, turning to face the blonde. “I’m gay.” Now why the hell did I say that? Morgan had opened her mouth to say something else, but her tongue had other ideas. She waited for a response and got none. “Does that bother you?”
Andrea looked her square in the eye as Morgan spoke, her face mirroring the confusion in her mind. “So why aren’t we going to McGee’s?”
Damn it! The proverbial cat was out of the bag and now she was going to have to deal with it. “No one knows, but a few suspect. Taking you to lunch there will only add fuel to the fire.”
“You are embarrassed of who you are?” That surprised Andrea, thinking that Morgan was one of the few people she had met who seemed comfortable in their own skin.
“No!” She paused. “I don’t know. It’s just that the New York City Police Department is still a bastion of male dominance. This kind of information could ruin my career. There is no need for them to know.”
“Then why is there a need for me to know?”
“Because you asked.” Because I needed for you to know. Morgan knew very well why she was sacrificing herself like this. Why tell the straight woman she was gay? Surely that would send her running for the hills.
“You could have lied.”
“I suppose I could have, but somehow I thought you should know.” Morgan just couldn’t look at her, knowing very well that her eyes would give her away. As if reading her mind, Andrea placed a finger under the firm chin and tipped up Morgan’s head, demanding that she look at her.
“Why?” The question was barely heard over the blaring horns, swearing cab drivers, and squealing tires which composed the symphony that was New York City, but somehow the question remained loud and clear in the air.
Why was she doing this to herself? Maybe she was secretly hoping to drive Andrea away with this revelation and thereby protect herself. It was a foolish thing to do and she knew it. All this time no one knew and now in a matter of days two people were privy to her secret. Perhaps it was the self-destructive streak in her trying to destroy any chance she had of feeling again. After all, it was that emotion and her trust that had broken her before. It was an emotion she could not afford. It made you vulnerable and it made you weak. Never again, she had promised herself back then. Never again.
“Why?” Morgan repeated. “Because I am gay, counselor.” She saw Andrea cringe at the formality of the statement. “And if we become friends, Andrea, that might take on a whole new meaning. Besides, if you are seen with me, you could easily be found guilty by association.”
Andrea’s mind drifted back to McGee’s that first night and Morelli’s comment. Oh yeah, a whole lot of trouble. She looked into those emerald eyes and saw sadness there, with a hint of something more. Here was a woman who lived her life hiding her true self just so she could fit in. Hadn’t she been in that situation more than once herself?
Her mind drifted back to the dream, barely now a faint memory, but her body still remembered the sensation and she wondered. Andrea had a lot to lose if things got out of hand but how could she not befriend this woman? As she considered her options Andrea saw Morgan retreat into herself, drawing the uniform around her in protection.
“Never mind. Let’s go to the deli and pick up a couple of sandwiches. I won’t bother you again.” Morgan didn’t think it would hurt as much as it did with the sting of rejection. Despite convincing herself otherwise, the thought that Andrea had rejected her felt like the woman had stomped on her heart. She stepped out of the blonde’s personal space, changing direction to head toward the delicatessen. Not that she had the appetite left...
“No.” Andrea’s voice was loud and clear. “Let’s go to…”
“Monkeyshines?”
“…Monkeyshines. And you can buy me a long, cool drink. You owe me one.”
“Since when?” Mischievous green eyes looked down at cheeky brown eyes.
“Oh, since the moment I walked in through the door. A whole lot of tall, cold apologies…”
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