Sedona Law 3

by Dave Daren

  “Please,” Cindy shot back. “I’ve worked for Alister as long as he has. He does not ‘carry around’ a company checkbook for the hell of it.”

  “Well,” I said, since she had indeed called my bluff, “What would you have us do? We are two hours from the office. And I doubt you want to stand here for four hours holding a gun to poor Bill’s head while we go to Sedona and back.”

  “No,” she said, she snapped her fingers in the general direction of Earnie’s front pockets. “I want a bank transfer. It takes two minutes to send it on a phone app.”

  “Normally,” Earnie said. I looked over at him, and he broke eye contact with Cindy and was watching the security team. They saw it. Shit. One of the gunmen turned around and saw the security guard that was almost in a position to pounce.

  “Shit,” the gunman yelled and everyone turned around and saw the security team. The next thing I knew, there was a volley of gunfire coming from both sides. I hit the ground and put my arms over my head. I felt a bullet hit the ground about a centimeter from my right arm, and then it bounced off.

  I heard Quentin yelling and there was way more gunfire than there should have been. I needed to get out of there. Bill laid next to me, and I turned to him.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said. We both jumped up and looked around. New Black Horse guys had shown up and the whole thing was turning into a battlefield with hand to hand combat and intermittent gunfire. That was when I saw Zed making a run for it across the field. I turned to Bill and motioned to him.

  “Go,” he yelled. “I’ll be right behind you with the truck.”

  He motioned to where the truck with animals still sat in the corral.

  I took off after Zed on foot, running as fast as I could. He was a good hundred yards ahead of me so I sprinted and started to gain on him. He turned around and saw me behind him, and he cursed.

  He was nearing the breach in the wall now, and I changed my angle so that I would cut him off before he could reach the wall. He realized what I was doing and ran the other direction. He was luring me further into the property for home field advantage.

  He reached a shed with a tin roof and tried to climb a ladder, but it slowed him down. I grabbed from behind and pinned his arms against his back. We tussled for a few moments, and I finally got him to the ground just as Bill showed up with the truck.

  “Zed Walker,” I said. “You’re going to jail for a really long time.”

  He let loose a blue streak of cursing. Bill shook his head and pulled out his silver handcuffs.

  “You’re under arrest you son of a bitch,” he said. Bill started in on the Mirandas with Zed and led him to the truck. Meanwhile, I tried to catch my breath and figure out where everyone else was.

  “Get in the truck,” Bill told me. “We’ll go pick up everybody. We gotta round up the whole posse for arrest.”

  I got in the truck, and we drove back over to the corral where the security guards, Quentin and Earnie, had subdued a couple of the gunmen and Cindy. The rest had escaped.

  “Throw their asses in here,” Bill said. “I’m arresting all of them.”

  “You’re a bounty hunter,” Cindy yelled. “You can’t arrest anyone unless they’re already wanted.”

  “Nope,” he said. “Not true. Bounty hunters can and do arrest. And you’re going away for a long time, too, Ms. Philanthropist. Get in there.”

  He motioned her toward the truck, and she and two of the gunmen got in. Bill gunned the engine and rolled down the window.

  “Alright,” he said to the rest of our Sedona compadres. “We got us a full house in this truck. We’re going to have to make us a little pit stop off at the police station and lose some of this extra luggage.”

  “Roger that,” I said. “Be careful with that zebra.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he said.

  Bill drove off in the truck, and the corral was now silent as we all caught our breath. Four security guards, Earnie, me, Quentin, and the ranch hands Josh and Evan.

  “Well,” I said. “That was something, wasn’t it?”

  Everyone laughed, and the tension eased.

  “Anybody hurt?” Earnie asked.

  I noticed a scrape on my arm from the bullet grazing me, but nothing else. Everyone else shook their heads. They all looked to be about the same. Tired, a little banged up, but good.

  Quentin looked around the circle and nodded solemnly. “Good job, every one of you. Mission accomplished.”

  Everyone cheered, and we walked toward the front gate where the vehicles were parked. We would have to spend most of the night at the police station filling out paperwork, but we got the zebra back. That was the most important thing. The next most important thing, to me at least, was Vicki. I had to call her.

  “We got the zebra,” I said after she picked up her phone.

  “Seriously?” she said. “Where was it?”

  “At a horse farm in Holbrook just like Bill said,” I told her.

  “How did you get it?” she asked.

  “We had to break in,” I said. “And there were a couple of guns, but you know, we took ‘em.”

  “Guns!” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It was actually rather exciting.”

  She laughed. “Well, who took the zebra? Was it Zed?”

  “Zed and, you won’t believe this, Cindy Greenwood,” I said.

  “Cindy? I knew I didn’t trust her. It’s always the quiet ones,” she said. “But why?”

  I laughed. “Here’s where it gets even more crazy. She had a secret love affair with Alister.”

  “No!” she said. “The secretary? Really? I mean how cliche could you be?”

  “Yep,” I told her. “And there’s more.”

  “Okay,” she said with an impatient tone.

  “They had a secret love child, that’s why she wanted the money.”

  She was quiet for a minute.

  “Vic, you still there?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m speechless. A secret love child?”

  “And there’s more,” I said.

  “More than that?” she said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “The secret love child, is…wait for it... wait for it... Perry McGrath,” I said.

  “I Grow My Own Food McGrath is Alister O’Brien’s secret love child?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And there’s more.”

  “I don’t think I can take any more,” she said.

  “He doesn’t know,” I said.

  “Well, he should,” she said.

  “I agree,” I said. “But it’s not our place to tell him. It’s his mother’s. Since she has gone public with it, I’m sure she is ready to tell him. We just have to wait for it to filter back.”

  We reached the red truck, and Quentin motioned me inside.

  “I gotta go, Vic,” I said. “We’re loading up. I’ll see you later tonight.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  The ride back to Sedona was quiet and long. Quentin turned to me.

  “You did well,” he said. “I didn’t expect it from you, being a city boy and all. But you can hold your own out there.”

  “I do my best,” I said.

  “False modesty is for wusses and morons,” Quentin said. “You gotta own it. You want to get somewhere in this world, son, that’s how it’s gotta be. You gotta kick ass and then own it.”

  “Alright,” I said. “I’m a badass.”

  Quentin laughed. “That’s what I’m talking about. Own it.”

  The remainder of the ride I mused that I had actually made Quentin Alucio laugh.

  It was late when I got home, and Vicki was sitting in bed in the low lamplight watching Game of Thrones. She wore a pink tank top, black boyshort underwear and had her dark hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head. She smiled when I came in.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” I said.

  I
shook my head and thought about Bill’s thoughts on freedom. Freedom is good. But, there is nothing in the world that compares to coming home to this. And when you’re with someone who really gets you, who says you can’t have both?

  Chapter 19

  The day of the will hearing was a dreary Tuesday morning. It rained the night before and was raining on and off all day. The hearing was set for 10:30, but we weren’t too worried about it.

  I had decided not to drag Dr. Wallis in for testimony. We had the affidavit from him, stating that Alister was of sound mind, and that should be enough. I also had a piece of Bill’s video to play on my tablet, if we needed it, but it wasn’t much.

  But with Cindy incarcerated and the O’Briens carrying the case, God help us all, I decided that the hearing was going to be an amazing shit show, and we didn’t need to waste the good doctor’s time with it.

  Vicki, however, had decided to take on Elena’s immigration case, and had her first consultation with her that morning.

  “I won’t go to the hearing,” she checked the time and she still had a desk full of paperwork, and Elena in the office.

  “That’s fine,” I said.

  I left for the courthouse, satisfied that it would be just me. I was standing in on behalf of the entire trust, which was fine as well. I arrived at the courthouse just after ten.

  The O’Briens arrived shortly thereafter. Shannon wore an ankle length solid red form fitting evening dress, but with her eye make-up covering most of her face, in a black raccoon mask style. She had a massive red bow angled on the side of her head. Gareth looked like he was ready to audition for a Matrix movie, in head to toe black, with a trench coat cinched with a beaded samurai belt. Daphne was not actually named in the suit, so she wasn’t there, and I didn’t know where Mila and Emily were. Gareth and Shannon seemed a little sobered today. Maybe they realized they really had no case.

  Their lawyer showed up a few minutes later, a tall, well-built man in his late fifties. His hair was way too black for his age, and it fell just above his shoulders, just like it had since the 1980s when he was an up and coming legal upstart. Shakespeare said that all life was a stage, and for Aiden Prescott, all life was a television show.

  “Hi,” he smiled. “I’m Aiden Prescott.”

  His tone was slick, and his delivery like the lawyers from those daytime personal injury commercials. He offered me his hand, and his handshake was firm and perfectly timed as if it had been acutely rehearsed and perfected over decades.

  “Henry Irving,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Good to meet you too, Henry,” he said. “Now you’re from Los Angeles?”

  “I’m originally from Sedona,” I said. “But I lived and practiced out there a number of years.”

  “Well, welcome home,” he said for TV cameras in his head. “It must be quite the change.”

  “It’s good to be home,” I said playing along with his script. I deliberately thought up the worst joke I could. “And I’ve not quite gotten used to this dry heat. But you know what they say about Sedona weather: if you don’t like the weather, wait fifteen minutes, and it will change.”

  His face brightened that I knew my lines, and he laughed loud and did that pointing gun thing with his fingers.

  “Well,” he said. “I trust we will see more of each other around town.”

  “I trust we will,” I said.

  “Good to meet you, Henry,” he said. “Now if you would please excuse me.”

  In a graceful motion, he gestured back toward his clients, the O’Briens. I wondered how they fit into the Aiden Prescott Reality Show. Actually, they were a reality show already.

  “Of course,” I said.

  A few minutes later, we all filed into the courtroom. The courtroom was small, and with wooden benches and boxed areas for the plaintiff and defendant. I took my seat at the defendant’s side and looked over the notes I had prepared and cued up Bill’s video on my tablet. I didn’t do a lot of preparation for this one, although I certainly wouldn’t have told the trustees that. But, this one was in the bag.

  “All rise,” the bailiff said, and we all rose. “Judge William Thatcher presiding. You may be seated.”

  I sat down and felt good about this. I had had Judge Thatcher in my last case. He was a larger man in his sixties with balding gray hair on top, and thin rimmed glasses. He was known to be tough, but I had found him fair.

  “Alright,” he said, with a slight southern accent. “This case is to contest the will of Alister O’Brien?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Aiden stood and buttoned his suit jacket. There was no reason for that, he would just unbutton it when he sat back down. It just looked good.

  “Cindy Greenwood has dropped her case?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Aiden said.

  “Any particular reason why?”

  Aiden cleared his throat. “Ms. Greenwood is currently in police custody.”

  “Thank you,” the judge said. “But the remaining plaintiffs are Mr. O’Brien’s son and daughter, Shannon O’Brien and Gareth O’Brien, is that correct?”

  “Yes, your honor,” Shannon said.

  “And it says here, his two lovers, Mila Trulos and Emily Watson?”

  “Ms. Trulos and Ms. Watson had a delayed flight, and will be arriving shortly,” Aiden said.

  “Thank you,” the judge responded.

  I was certain that Emily and Mila’s tardiness had nothing to do with a flight, just a lawyer that knew how to lie sympathetically.

  “And representing the estate of Alister O’Brien, is his chief legal counsel, state your name, counsellor.”

  “Henry Irving, Your Honor,” I said.

  Judge Thatcher looked at me for a second, and I could have sworn I saw the side of his lip upturn in a smile. I had had him in last big case I did, where I helped to clean up corruption in the city government. If I hadn’t had this one in the bag already, I did now.

  He turned to Aiden.

  “Defendant state your case,” the judge said.

  “Certainly, Your Honor,” Aiden said, again for the cameras. He stood and motioned with slow graceful movements. “The estate of Alister O’Brien, in excess of fifty million dollars, was left almost exclusively to Mr. O’Brien’s pet zebra, Neptune. My clients argue that Mr. O’Brien was not of sound mind when he wrote the will.”

  “Okay,” the judge said. “Do you have a medical statement of any kind?”

  “No, sir,” Aiden said. “But, we believe that Mr. O’Brien had undiagnosed mental health conditions, and he refused to seek mental health treatment.”

  “What evidence do you have of that?” the judge asked.

  “We have the testimony of his children, the people who knew him best,” he said. “I call to the stand Ms. Shannon O’Brien.”

  I sat back and watched. Shannon had grabbed a tissue at this point and sniffled for effect as she took the stand.

  “I loved my father very much,” she said. “I used to visit him often, and I would spend time playing chess and checkers with him in our house.”

  I raised an eyebrow. False, was the only thing my mind said. False.

  “But sometimes,” she admitted. “I would feel bad about winning, because he would forget the moves sometimes, like he wouldn’t remember how the horse is supposed to go, or that castle looking piece.”

  I snickered and sat back in my chair. This was amusing.

  She went on like this for a couple minutes. Emily and Mila slipped in the courtroom, in heels that were about the same length as their skirts. They came in carrying designer handbags and sipping fresh Starbucks drinks. They scurried to the front of the room to join Gareth.

  “I’m sorry,” the judge stopped. “Who are you?”

  “These are Mila Trulos and Emily Watson,” Aiden introduced them gracefully, but his expression looked a little unnerved, which more than likely meant he was pretty peeved.

  “You’re plaintiffs in this case?” Judge That
cher said.

  “Yes, your honor,” Emily said. “We were in a plural relationship with Alister, and we don’t believe Alister was of sound mind when he wrote the will.”

  “What kind of relationship?” the judge asked.

  “Plural relationship?” she said. “Like sister wives?”

  The judge rubbed his forehead. “Alright. Sit down and let’s get on with this.”

  “Thank you, your honor,” Aiden said.

  “Yeah,” Mila pointed with her Starbucks drink at me. “And he won’t let us have the money Alister promised us verbally.”

  “Young lady,” he said. “If you want to address this court, you’re going to have to take your drink outside.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mila said. Emily looked embarrassed and grabbed both of their drinks and hurried out the door tail between her legs.

  “And you,” the judge said to Mila. “If you wanted to challenge a will, you should have come dressed appropriately. I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “Wait, what?” Mila looked down at her spandex mini skirt and a shirt that didn’t have much at the top, or the bottom.

  The bailiff escorted her out, and I could hear her telling the officer all the way out the door. “Oh, so boobs aren’t allowed in court? So you like have to have plastic surgery before you can come to court? Like... what is that? Like women’s rights. Like the war on women. Like, Rosie the Riveter had boobs.”

  Now that the disturbance was over, the hearing could continue. Aiden, who had been questioning Shannon, finally sat down.

  “The defense may do cross examination now,” the judge said.

  I sauntered to the witness stand, and I felt the smirk on my face. I tried to look professional, but really? Did Shannon O’Brien think she really had a case for that?

  “Hello, Ms. O’Brien,” I said.

  She shifted uncomfortably in the witness chair, and I sort of felt bad for her for the brutal ass kicking I was about to give her.

  “How would you characterize your behavior on the day of the will reading?”

  “I was understandably upset,” she said.

  “In what way?” I asked.

  “My father had just died,” she said. “What do you think?”