by Laurie Cass
“It’s not me,” I said. “It’s the Brontë sisters and Charles Dickens. Plus lots of Roald Dahl when I was young and impressionable.” I told her I’d be there as soon as I could and thumbed off the phone.
Through a yawn, Eddie squeaked out a “Mrr.”
“Sorry, pal, but I have to go.” I yanked off my sleeping shorts and pulled on what I knew to be clean and relatively free of cat hair. Though the county sheriff’s office was more formal than the much smaller city police department, considering the hour, jeans and a polo shirt would have to suffice.
I snatched up the phone and started pushing buttons as I hunted for a pair of shoes. “Hey, Kristen. Sorry to call at this hour, but I need your help and I don’t have time to answer any questions. Do you know any criminal attorneys?”
My best friend showed her true colors. “What’d you do, kill someone? Let me guess. You finally tipped over the edge and took out that Stephen—”
“Kristen!”
There was a short pause. “Okay, sorry. You’ll fill me in later. I know lots of lawyers, but they’re all municipal and family types. I can’t think of criminal guys. I could make some calls in the morning, if you want.”
“That might be too late,” I said tightly. “I needed one half an hour ago.” I kind of listened to what I’d just said and jumped in before she could ask the question. “No, it’s not for me. A… a friend needs one.”
Kristen said she’d think some more, and I started scrolling through my list of phone numbers. By this time I’d slipped on a pair of sandals and was in the kitchen looking for my purse. The light breeze that had cooled us earlier was gone, and the night was warm and sticky and still.
I dialed again. “Rafe? Minnie. Sorry to call at this hour, and please don’t ask any questions because I don’t have time, but do you know any criminal lawyers?”
Rafe Niswander gave a happy laugh. “You need a lawyer? Hot dog! What’d you do? Come on, tell me. Vandalism, I bet. Did you climb up the water tower to paint your name? Five bucks says you got caught before you got to the letter N.”
Rafe and I often made five-dollar bets about everything from song titles to the top recorded speed of a cheetah, but not tonight. “Rafe, please.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t supposed to ask questions, was I? Criminal lawyer, you said. I know the prosecuting attorney. Does that help?”
“Wrong side.”
“Gotcha. Well.”
I could almost see him scratching his head.
“I could make some calls for you, but it’s three in the morning, Minnie. Do you really need a lawyer right now?”
“It’s not for me.” Despair was starting to lap at my toes. “Thanks, anyway. Talk to you later, okay?”
We hung up and I went back to scrolling through names. Why didn’t I have any friends who got into trouble?
“Mrr.” Eddie jumped up onto the dining table and butted the phone.
“Not now, pal.” I gently elbowed him out of the way. “I need to find an attorney for Cade. There’s no way he did what they’re saying he did. I’m sure it’s all a mix-up. I mean, how could Russell McCade do… do that? But he’ll still need a good lawyer to get him out of this mess.”
“Ah, Minnie?”
I went still. Gunnar Olson. What was he doing up at this hour, and even more so, what was he doing talking to me? I looked up. The big man was standing on the dock between our boats and holding a smoldering cigar.
“Uh, hello,” I said. Every window in my houseboat was open and Gunnar and I were maybe ten feet apart. One of the hazards of marina life was that if you weren’t careful, everyone heard everything.
Gunnar held the cigar to his lips and inhaled, making the dark orange coal burn bright. “You’re looking for a criminal attorney, I heard.”
For a second I couldn’t breathe. “I am. Yes.”
“And not for you.”
“No.”
He held out the cigar and studied its glowing end. “For Russell McCade. Also known as Cade.”
I could see where this was going and I didn’t like it one single bit. “Cade is completely innocent. I’m sure of it. It’s just a mix-up and if you breathe one word of this to anyone I’ll find an attorney of my own and see that you’re sued for slander and—”
“Hold on, missy, just hold on. I know you don’t like me and the feeling is mutual, but I’m a big fan of Cade’s work.”
“You… are?” I gave Eddie an absentminded pat, picked up my purse, and went out to the dock.
“First original art I ever bought was one of his early moonrises and it has appreciated in value ten times over.”
Now, that figured. Gunnar’s worldview was dollars and cents and—
“But I’d never sell it,” he said. “Not if it was my last possession on earth. I love that painting. Makes me feel young again. And I’d be honored to provide a little help to the man who painted it.”
I rearranged my open mouth to the shut position. “Right now he needs an experienced criminal lawyer.”
“Here.” He reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “You’re going to be talking to Daniel Markakis. He works in the Detroit area, but he’s got a summer place up here. I golfed with him yesterday, so I know he’s around.” He stabbed at the phone’s screen a few times and handed it over.
“I can call him at this time of night?” I asked.
Gunnar glanced at me. “He’s used to it. Tell him I gave you his number. Just leave the phone on the dock. I’ll get it later.” He turned to go, then stopped. “And don’t worry. I won’t say anything about this. McCade’s got a right to privacy, same as anybody else.”
“Hey, Gunnar?” I called softly. “Thanks.”
He gave a shrugging nod and waved, the cigar sketching a wide orange arc in the darkness, and headed down the dock to his boat.
I watched my cranky neighbor walk away. Truly, every human being was a mystery and we should never assume we know anything about anyone.
Then I turned my attention to the phone. “Mr. Markakis? I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, but Gunnar Olson lent me his phone and…”
• • •
When I opened the door to the small waiting room, Barb didn’t even glance up but continued to stare at the wall, barely breathing, hardly blinking. The day she’d flagged down the bookmobile, she’d worn the tight look of fear. Now she looked… empty, as if all her emotions had been played out and there was nothing left to feel.
“Barb?” I asked softly.
She came to life with a jerking start. “Minnie.” She stood, swayed a little, then came toward me. “So good of you to come,” she said, and enveloped me in a hug that I was glad to return.
When I felt her arms start to release me, I patted her shoulder and stepped back. “I found an attorney,” I said. “He should be here in fifteen minutes.” Or less, if he drove as fast as he’d vowed he would. It seemed wrong for a criminal attorney to promise to break speed limit laws, but I wasn’t going to tell him not to hurry.
“Oh, Minnie.” Barb put her hand to her mouth. She started to sway again and I guided her back to the chair in which she’d been sitting.
I sat next to her. “Now, I’ve never met this guy before, but a neighbor of mine recommended him.” I suddenly wondered why Gunnar happened to know a criminal attorney. I knew Gunnar was a loudmouthed, arrogant boor, but… I pushed the thought away. None of my business. And there were all sorts of ways they could know each other. Maybe they were cousins. Or worked in the same building. No reason to suspect that Gunnar had ever needed the services of a criminal attorney.
“What’s his name?” Barb asked.
“Markakis.”
Her eyes went wide. “Daniel Markakis?”
I nodded. “That’s it. Do you know him?”
“He was the lead attorney in that big murder ca
se last winter. You remember.”
Kind of, sort of, but not really. I watched very little television, and local newspapers didn’t cover downstate news with much fervor.
“Daniel Markakis.” Barb shook her head and crumpled a little. “Hard to believe we need to hire a man like that.”
I spoke as gently as I could. “What happened?”
She got a faraway look. “I really don’t know. Cade’s been at Lakeview since Monday. Wait. I told you that at lunch.” She put her hands to her forehead. “I’m losing it,” she whispered. “I’m not sure how much more I can take.”
I hitched my chair closer to her and put my arm around her shoulders. “You’re doing fine,” I said. “Maybe you don’t feel at the top of your game, but you’re not sitting in the corner, curled into the fetal position and going catatonic.”
She snorted something that might have been a laugh. It probably wasn’t, but at least it wasn’t a sob. “Maybe when I get home.”
“Okay, then.” I gave her a one-armed hug. “Markakis is going to be here soon. I don’t know if he’ll want to talk to you or Cade first, but maybe it’ll help if you talk through what happened, just to get it straight in your head.”
“Yes. That’s a good idea.” She sat up a little straighter. “My phone rang about an hour ago. It was Cade, saying that he’d been taken into police custody.”
Her hands gripped each other so hard that the skin pushed up into tall wrinkles. “He’d left Lakeview,” she said. “Walked away in the middle of the night without telling anyone, without anyone knowing.”
I opened my mouth to ask how that could have happened, but managed to keep quiet. If it was important, I’d learn soon enough.
“Cade left Lakeview,” she went on, “and went to a house, a duplex. The police showed up on an anonymous nine-one-one call and found him over the body of a thirty-nine-year-old woman. She’d been killed by a blow to her head.” Barb put her hand to the back of her own head. “Cade was there. To the police it seemed obvious that he killed her, so they brought him here.”
She looked around the small bland room. “I’m in a police station at three thirty in the morning because my husband has been arrested for murder.” She choked out a laugh, but I sensed that it could turn into hysterical laughter in a heartbeat.
“But why was he there in the first place?” I asked.
Barb tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “I have no idea. Absolutely none.”
I swallowed. This wasn’t good. This really, truly wasn’t good. A zillion questions bounced around in my brain, but Barb wasn’t likely to have any of the answers. And even if she did, I didn’t want to trouble her by asking them. I was here to help, to be a friend, and that’s what I would stick to.
The waiting room door swung open so fast and so far that it banged against the wall. Two men strode in, one on the heels of the other. I assumed one was Daniel Markakis but had no clue who the other guy might be.
Both of them were fiftyish, both walked with confidence, and both wore expressions that said they had all the answers and would dole them out to us if we asked politely and were willing to pay.
They even looked the same with their slightly too long hair, rumpled pants, dress shoes with no socks, polo shirts, and dark jackets. Maybe they’d gone to the same college and taken the same course. How to Dress When a Client Calls You in the Middle of the Night. The only real difference between them was that one carried a briefcase.
Barb stood and walked to the man on the right with her hand outstretched.
“Dr. Carpenter,” she said. “Thank you so much for coming.” She looked at the other man. “And you must be Daniel Markakis. I’m Barb McCade.”
Before either man said a word, the door opened again and a police officer poked his head in.
“Ma’am? Oh, uh…” He looked at the newcomers. “One of you is the lawyer?”
Markakis nodded. “I need to see my client. Right now.”
The doctor spoke up. “And I need to see my patient. He had a stroke less than two weeks ago. Before anything else happens, I need to make a determination that he’s physically able to withstand questioning.”
The deputy looked from one man to the other. I could almost see visions of lawsuits dancing in his head. Then he did what any sensible young officer would do. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and withdrew.
Markakis wheeled to face Barb. “Mrs. McCade, glad to meet you.” He held out his hand. “Before we go any further, I have an agreement that needs signing.” He laid his briefcase on a chair and, from it, withdrew a pen and a multipage document. Using the pen as a pointer, he gave Barb a fifteen-second contract synopsis. “If that’s agreeable, please sign here. Then all we’ll need is a monetary exchange and I’ll get started.”
Barb halted, midsignature. “But I don’t have any money with me.” Her eyes went wide again. “I don’t have any—”
“Here.” I handed Barb the money I’d started pulling from my wallet as soon as I saw the briefcase open. It was a five, which was what I always had handy for bets with Rafe.
“Minnie, I can’t—”
“Take it.” I forced it into her hand. “Pay me back later.”
The bill dangled from her fingers. Markakis deftly reached out. “Thank you, Mrs. McCade. You can provide the rest of the retainer at your convenience. The end of the day tomorrow?” He smiled. “Excellent. Now I need to talk with my client.”
The door opened and the young officer looked in. “Uh, the sheriff says you can meet in the conference room down the hall.”
In short order, we were all sitting in hard plastic chairs around a laminate table that looked older than I was. A limping Cade was ushered in by a uniformed man with a shorn head and biceps, which wanted to burst out of his shirtsleeves. Barb was sitting next to me and I felt her entire body twitch at the sight of the handcuffs around his wrists.
The officer more or less dropped Cade into a chair. His gaze skated over the rest of us; then he left. He’d made no acknowledgment whatsoever of our presence, and that, more than anything, made me realize where we were.
“Barb, honey.” Cade’s voice was raspy and twisted. “This is all a huge mistake. I never, ever would have killed anyone.”
“Of course not.” Barb slid her chair closer to her husband and reached out to him. She was sitting to his left, next to the side affected by the stroke, next to the side of his face that sagged, next to the arm that didn’t have the strength to lift itself, and she cupped her hand to his drooping face. “I know you wouldn’t. Not ever.”
Dr. Carpenter went to Cade’s other side and began taking his pulse. He asked a few questions, about light-headedness, headache, etc., then stepped back, frowning. “You’ll do for now, but this had better not take long.”
“Right.” Markakis clicked his pen. “Let’s get going. Russell McCade, I’m Daniel Markakis. What I need first and fast is a quick summary of tonight’s events. Are we ready?”
Cade, listing slightly to the left, looked at his new lawyer. “Daniel Markakis. You’re the guy who—”
“That’s right. Now, unless you’d like to be billed hundreds of dollars an hour to discuss something you can read in old newspapers, let’s get on with it.”
Barb bristled, but Cade gave a lopsided grin. “We’ll find out in a minute if you’re worth that kind of money.”
The pen Markakis held stopped making notes. “How’s that?”
Cade sat back a little. “Just before midnight, I received a phone call. It was a man, and he spoke in a low, whispering voice.”
A tingle crawled up the back of my neck. Whispery male voices? Phone calls don’t get much creepier than that.
“He told me,” Cade was saying, “that he was holding my wife hostage, and that I needed to come right away to discuss a ransom, that if I called the police, he’d”—his words caught
—“he’d kill her.”
Barb made a faint and pain-filled cry.
“Keep going.” Markakis scribbled furiously.
Cade coughed and continued. “The man gave me an address and said to get there as soon as I could. I found my aide and told her there was a family emergency. She talked to the nurse on duty and they found someone to give me a ride.”
Markakis looked up. “Not a taxi?” Then he must have realized what he’d said. “Never mind. We’re Up North. The closest twenty-four-hour taxi service is probably a hundred miles away. Go on.”
We waited. Cade sat quietly, staring at the wall; then finally he looked at Barb, smiled, and started talking again. “The driver they’d found for me was a custodian. He dropped me off at the address, telling me to call if I needed a ride back, and left. It was a duplex. I could see a light on inside, so I walked to the front door.”
He swallowed. “The door was open a few inches and I went inside. A woman was lying facedown on the floor. Her hair… there was blood all over it, and her… her head was the wrong shape. I assumed it was Barb. I shouted her name, ran to her. I turned her over and saw that it wasn’t Barb at all, but Carissa. Carissa Radle.” He closed his eyes and dipped his chin to his chest. “I checked her pulse, but she was dead,” he whispered.
“And who is Carissa Radle?” Markakis asked.
Cade looked at him. “You know what I do for a living?” The attorney nodded briefly. “Carissa was a big fan of my work,” Cade said. “We’d had lunch two or three times.”
“Alone?”
Barb started to say something but stopped when Cade shook his head. “No, in a restaurant, with my wife at my side.”
Markakis made another note. “I suppose you’ve told all this to the police?”
Cade nodded. “I just wanted to clear up what is obviously a misunderstanding. Before tonight I had no idea where Carissa lived. I only got truly concerned when I told them about the phone call and they seemed not to believe me at all. That’s when I told them I wanted an attorney.”