Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [202]
“Are you sure you want to say this, sir?” he suggested delicately, offering a way out.
“I’m certain. Miss Harrison is innocent and I am prepared to sign a statement saying she was with me. If necessary I will go to court and stand as her witness.”
Rawlins shook his head quickly. “That won’t be necessary, Senator, of course not. I’m quite prepared to release Miss Harrison on your say-so. There would be no need for any statement sir. No one need ever know.” He looked at Buck and smiled, thinking cynically that his sort always got to keep their cake and eat it too.
Buck said briskly, “I want to make that statement, Rawlins. And I want it released to the press. I want everyone to know that Miss Harrison is not being let off this serious charge on a mere technicality. I want them to know without a shred of doubt that she is innocent. What I don’t want is to leave any suspicion the media can build into another scandal she doesn’t deserve.”
The chief looked nervous. “I’m just worried about your own situation, Senator. How’s it gonna look for you?”
Buck shrugged. “I’ve thought of all the implications, Chief Rawlins.”
“If you’ll just write your statement then, sir, I’ll witness it. Then I’ll send the sergeant for Miss Harrison. She’s in an interview room down the hall.”
The terrible vision of Francie in a grim prison cell dissolved in his mind and he picked up a pen and quickly wrote his statement. He signed it firmly and the chief read it and added his own signature as witness.
There was a knock on the door and the young sergeant held it open and Francie walked in. Her head dropped and her eyes were dark with fatigue and shock; he thought she looked like a frightened fawn. She looked from him to the police chief, saying nothing, and he knew that even now she was prepared to protect him and his family and his political career. His wonderful career that he had sacrificed their happiness for.
He smiled at her, his face full of love. “It’s all right, Francie,” he said. “Chief Rawlins knows you were with me the night Harry died. You’re free now.”
She looked at him, then she lifted her chin proudly. “Free?” she said. And he knew what she was asking.
“Yes,” he said, taking her arm and putting it through his as they walked from the cluttered, drab office. “We both are,” he told her, smiling.
Maryanne read the sensational story of Francie Harrison’s release in the Examiner the next morning; and the announcement, under his picture, of Senator Wingate’s rumored retirement from politics.
White with anger she tossed the newspaper to the ground and stamped on her husband’s handsome face, then she called the maid and ordered her bags packed. She dressed carefully in her silver-gray woolen dress, her mink-lined cape and matching hat. She added a touch more lipstick than usual, checking her appearance in the long mirror. Then she went downstairs to face the press camped in the street outside Aysgarth’s, waiting for her.
“Mrs. Wingate,” they shouted, surging toward her as she walked down the steps to the waiting limousine. “Mrs. Wingate, what do you have to say about Francie Harrison and your husband? What about his resignation, Mrs. Wingate—?”
She turned, one foot in the limousine, and gave them a plucky little smile. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” she called amid a flurry of flashbulbs, “thank you for your interest, but I am sure you can appreciate that this is a purely personal matter. And of course, we Brattles never talk of such things outside the family.” And with a final brave little smile and a wave she stepped into the car and was driven to the airport where she took a plane to New York to consult her lawyer about a divorce.
Annie Aysgarth watched Maryanne from the top of the steps as she gave her farewell performance as Senator Wingate’s beautiful wife and she