“Yes, your honor. It is the commonwealth’s position that seventy-five thousand dollars is inadequate for a murder charge. Moreover, the defendant has a passport and has at least some fluency in French, German, and Chinese. Her father, a principal in the import-export firm of Stevens Imports, is currently out of the country on business. She is clearly a flight risk, and bail should be set at one million dollars.”
French, German, and Chinese. I didn’t know. The judge looked at me, and I said, “As counsel has pointed out, Natalie’s father is a successful local businessman with a significant stake in the community. Natalie is a student at Longwood College, where she is on the soccer team. She is not just a good student, but an exceptional one, as her proficiency in three foreign languages would suggest. Bail should be set in an amount sufficient to insure her appearance, but no higher. One million dollars has nothing to recommend it other than being a big round number. One-quarter that would represent a significant financial commitment on the part of the defendant and her family, one that will be more than sufficient to assure her appearance.”
The judge tapped his teeth with his pen. “Counselor?”
Waldo said, “Two hundred fifty thousand dollars is clearly inadequate given the financial resources of the defendant’s family.”
“You have evidence as to the financial resources of the defendant’s family?”
“Uh, no, your honor. The case has really been developing too fast, and as I said, the defendant’s father is out of the country and unavailable.”
“I see.” The judge looked at me a moment, then looked at Natalie. “Bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars. The defendant is remanded into the custody of the sheriff.”
As the judge left the courtroom, I blew out my pent up breath and smiled bleakly at Natalie. “I’m sorry.”
“Five hundred thousand’s just another big round number. He pulled it out of his butt, didn’t he?”
“I think that’s where a lot of judicial decisions come from,” I said.
At my request the deputy sheriff gave us fifteen minutes to confer. He put us in a conference room the size of a broom closet with two plastic chairs and a table the size of a TV tray. Neither Natalie nor I sat down.
“So I’m back in jail,” she said.
“The man you’re accused of killing was shot, not just run over.”
“In a way it makes me feel better. I’ve been torturing myself with the thought that I’d been driving all around Richmond running over people, but I was so out of my head I just couldn’t remember. But I know I didn’t shoot somebody and load his body into my car and dump it.”
“The autopsy report says the man was between thirty-five and fifty.”
“And that’s just offensive. What do they think I was doing in a motel room with a middle-aged man? That’s disgusting.”
I liked Natalie, and it depressed me to see the deputy sheriff handcuff her and lead her off down the hall on her way back to jail. I called David Stevens on my way back to the office, but had to leave a message with his dried-up secretary. He would be getting his 75,000 dollars back. What I hoped was that he’d be willing to walk down to his bank again to get a cashier’s check for half-a-million, but I wasn’t counting on it.
Once I got back to the office, I found myself adrift, with nothing to do on Natalie’s case and nothing else to work on either. I really needed more business to walk through the door, but, if more business was ambulatory, it sure wasn’t strolling in my direction.
“Lunch?” Brooke asked me from my doorway, and I looked at my watch. Eleven-thirty.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
“Servicing clients.”
“You might want to work on how you phrase that.” I stood up and grabbed my coat and my purse.
“You’ve just got a dirty mind.”
“I won’t argue with you.”
We had lunch at a Thai place that recently opened up in Shockoe Slip, then walked back to the office in sunshine that made for a pleasant contrast with the crisp winter air. Brooke went into her office to work. I sat behind my desk and thought. I liked to develop a case by going places and talking to people, but it seemed to me that I had run out of people to talk to.
I played a couple of games of spider solitaire while I ruminated. Though I didn’t come up with any ideas pertaining to Natalie’s case, I did win two games out of three before the phone rang. Paul Soldano.
“Back in town?” I asked.
“I told you I would be. How’s the little guy?”
“Deeks? He’s fine. A bit too creative to stay in the backyard, but he’s been hanging out with Dr. McDermott during the day.”
“Hey, that’s a solution. I bet the old guy enjoys the companionship.”
“I hope he does. It’s a big imposition if he’s just doing me a favor.”
“I thought I’d drop by tonight. See how he’s settling in.”
“But you changed your mind?”
“Uh, no.”
“You used the past tense: You thought you’d drop by.”
“Okay. I’m thinking I’ll drop by. What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m just depressed.”
“Tell me about it over dinner?”
“I could, but it seems all I do is eat.”
“We could go bowling, skating, walk around the lake at the U of R…”
“You’d go skating?”
“Well, with you. I can’t say it’d be my top choice.”
“Why don’t you pick up a pizza on your way over, and we can watch a movie.”
My plan was to stop by Rodney’s office on the way home to give him the wallet and the keys David Stevens had given me. He might not be able to find out anything about this Larry Smith—talk about your needle in a haystack—but he could look.
A flat tire derailed my plan. It was my left back tire, and it was so flat the rim was resting on the ground. I walked around the car to make sure it was the only tire that was flat, then I debated: Call a tow-truck or change the tire. I looked at my watch and sighed.
I put my briefcase in the car and popped the trunk. When I had rolled back the trunk liner, I found myself looking at a compact spare. I got out the owner’s manual, which had instructions for changing a tire. It also had a number for Volkswagen Roadside Assistance: Evidently, I had free towing for as long as my car was under warranty. I called the number.
By the time my tire was fixed, it was six-thirty. I’d lost two hours.
“What was wrong with it?” I asked the service person.
“It was flat.”
Duh. “Did you fix it?”
“We aired it up. Thirty-two pounds all around.”
“What cause it to go flat?”
“Can’t tell. Valve stem was fine, couldn’t find a leak. It looks like someone just let the air out.”
Chapter 15
Deeks’s crate was standing open as per usual. I changed into sweats and sneakers, then headed over to Dr. McDermott’s to pick him up. Deeks was excited to see me, to judge by all the jumping and twisting. I picked him up, turning my head so he could reach my neck and chin but not the rest of my face.
“Sorry I’m late again,” I said.
“You had a flat. Not much you could do about that.”
“You don’t have to bring him over here every day, you know.”
“Do you mind? There’s no point in us both being alone right across the street from each other.”
“I guess not.”
“What do you feed him?” Dr. McDermott asked. “The two of us just split a ham-and-cheese omelet.”
“Good grief.” I held up Deeks so I could look him in the face. “Did you just have an omelet?” To Dr. McDermott, I said, “You’re going to spoil him.”
“Well, I could tell he was hungry, and I didn’t want to go prowling through your cupboards in search of dog food.”
“I’m not sure you’d have found any. I need to go shopping.”
“Maybe I can
pick something up, too. What kind shall we get? Do you know anything about Evo? From what I’ve read, it may be the best kibble on the market.”
“It’s one of the more expensive kibbles on the market, from what I remember.”
“Well, sure it may cost a little more. But we want widdle Deacon to have the best.” He reached out to turn Deeks’ head toward him. “Don’t we, widdle guy?”
I made a mental note not to talk baby-talk to my dog.
“Is that your boyfriend pulling up?” He nodded. Paul Soldano was across the street getting out of his Camry.
“He’s just a friend,” I said automatically, raising a hand to wave to Paul.
“And he’s a boy,” Dr. McDermott said, “or at least he looks like one.”
“Have it your way.”
Paul was crossing the street to join us. Deacon noticed him and started wriggling. I put him down, and he ran down the sidewalk to greet him. Paul squatted to pat him. “Hey dare my widda buddy,” he said, pushing him from side to side, not letting him get his mouth on his hand. “Hey my widda widda buddy-boy.”
No baby-talk to dogs, I told myself again. “Pick him up, and let’s go eat,” I said. I looked back at Dr. McDermott, raising my eyebrows, but he held up a hand.
“Like I said, I’ve eaten.”
“I brought pizza like you said,” Paul said.
“You’ve got to love a guy who follows instructions,” Dr. McDermott told me.
We ate at the coffee table tossing bits of crust to Deeks, who gobbled them voraciously.
“Refined flour’s probably not the best for him,” I said as Paul surfed the TV channels.
“Probably not the best for us, either,” Paul said. “How about this one. It looks like it’s just starting.”
“What is it?”
“Hitchcock, ‘Shadow of a Doubt.’ Look, ‘Psycho’s’ going to be on right behind it. Do you like Hitchcock?”
“I think I saw ‘To Catch a Thief’ once.”
“You’re a real aficionado. This one’s actually my favorite, and Turner Classic Movies doesn’t have commercials.”
“You’ve sold me.”
The pizza box was on the coffee table. Deeks, who had been trying to get up there with it, gave up and tried to get onto the couch. But when Paul lifted him onto the couch, he immediately tried to cross the chasm between the couch and coffee table. He tumbled to the carpet instead.
“You know he just wants to get into the pizza,” I said.
“Who wouldn’t?”
“I’m not saying I blame him, just that I’d like to keep him from doing it.”
“Okay, we’ll leave him on the floor.”
Deeks had a paw on Paul’s leg and was looking up at him soulfully.
“Don’t gimme dose puppy-doggy eyes,” Paul crooned at him.
“I thought we were going to watch the movie,” I said.
“Are you all right?”
“It’s just been a long day. Let’s watch.”
“Sounds good.”
So I nestled in beside him with my paper plate and my pizza. I set my empty plate aside at some point and was vaguely aware of Deeks licking avidly at the grease-spot. Somewhere about the time young Charlie went walking with the detective, I fell asleep.
The next day was Saturday, a day off I badly needed. I woke in my own bed with no real memory of how I got there. I was alone, though, and still wearing my sweats, so I’d evidently avoided any new complications in my personal life. Deeks yapped at me through the bars of his crate.
“Good morning to you,” I said.
He yapped again, which I took to mean, “Let me out, I need to go pee-pee.”
I got up and let him out.
After breakfast, I went running with him, alternating him between the backpack and the leash. Neither was entirely satisfactory, but he didn’t barf on me again, which was progress. He went grocery shopping with me and stayed in the car, safe from heat exhaustion on a December morning. We played fetch, I did a little house-cleaning, then we went for a walk along several of the neighborhood alleys. After lunch we took a nap on the sofa, Deeks snuggled in beside me. All the time, the phone didn’t ring, I stayed off my laptop, and I tried not to think about Natalie and her case.
The doorbell rang at about five-thirty. Deeks, who seemed a lot more excited to see who it was that I was, beat me to the door by a wide margin. It was Paul Soldano. He was carrying a sack of food that even I could smell.
“I brought Chinese.” Deeks was bouncing onto his hind legs in an effort to touch his nose to the sack.
“Good boy,” I said.
“Are you talking to me or him?” Paul bent to pat Deeks, holding the sack out of reach. “Is she talking to me or you?”
“Oh, I think it hardly matters,” I said. I took the bag from him and began putting the boxes on the coffee table. “There’s an awful lot of food here, isn’t there?”
“Not for three people.”
“I don’t think Deeks should eat Chinese food.”
The doorbell rang. Deeks barked and ran for the door.
“Why don’t you get the paper plates from the kitchen?” I said to Paul. “I’ll get the door.”
Deeks stood with his head extended, his eyes fixed on the edge of the door and his tail a blur. I opened the door. Brooke was on the doorstep.
“Paul and I were thinking the case was getting you down,” she said. “We decided to come cheer you up.”
“Come in, then. Fortunately, I don’t have a life.”
We ate around the coffee table, largely in silence but for the audible breathing of Deeks, who moved from one to another of us with his hopes for a handout writ plain on his furry face. When we had slowed down a little, Paul said, “So tell us about the case.”
Brooke said, “She’s not supposed to think about the case tonight. Wasn’t that the point?”
“Look at her. She’s hardly said a word. She can’t help thinking about the case, so we might as well think about it with her.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Don’t I get any say in this?” I said.
Brooke said, “Sure. After all, you’re attorney-of-record.”
Paul said, “I understand the case changed on you this week.”
I exhaled. “Yes, it did that.”
“And it wasn’t even your fault,” Paul said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, to be fair, all your cases tend to thunder along like a pack of greyhounds.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Just tell us the story,” Paul said. “Start from the beginning, right where this exquisitely beautiful woman walks into your office.”
My eyes slid to Brooke.
“Describe her body in as much detail as you’d like,” Paul said. “I don’t mind. Start with her slim, silky legs, and work your way up.”
“This doesn’t seem likely to be very productive.”
“No, no, it’s good. I’m enjoying myself already.”
“As long as you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Oh, just tell us,” Brooke said. “I like a good story. You can leave out the descriptions of Chloe.” To Paul she said, “She has a picture of her wearing leather on her phone.”
“No way.”
“Oh, good grief.” I snatched my phone off the end table and tucked it under my leg. Then I told the story, starting with Chloe coming into my office but touching only lightly on her physical attributes, being careful not to reveal anything Natalie had said to me that I wouldn’t want repeated on the witness stand, since neither Brooke nor Paul was covered by attorney-client privilege. When I was done, Larry Smith’s wallet and keys were on the coffee table.
Looking at them, Paul said, “So when you got the case a week ago, it was felony hit-and-run. Now it’s first-degree murder.”
“But it’s not her fault,” Brooke said.
“Is it?” Paul asked me.
“Of course not. Why would it be my fault?�
�
“Just making sure I understand your bad mood.”
“I’m not—”
“It’s her first case since going solo,” Brooke said. “She has to win it.”
“Well, I’ll tell you who I don’t like in all this,” Paul said. “It’s David Stevens. There’s something wrong there.”
“What do you mean?” Brooke said. “He’s under forty, handsome, rich…”
“You don’t know he’s rich.”
“He walked down the street and got a cashier’s check for seventy-five thousand dollars.”
“Of his company’s money.”
“A company he part owns.”
“Well, here’s what’s wrong. He’s got this incredibly incriminating evidence, and what does he do with it?”
“He turns it over to his niece’s attorney.”
“Yes, and leaves Robin holding the bag or…or grocery sack or whatever.”
“What would you want him to do, give it to the police?”
“He could deep-six it. I was trying to save my niece, it’s what I’d do. And he didn’t have to search for it in the first place. What made him do that?”
“You’re just jealous,” Brooke said.
“Me? Why would I be jealous?”
“You heard how Robin described him. He sounds wonderful.”
“I think he had doubts about Natalie from the beginning,” I said. “He seems to think she’s more of a wild thing than you’d think by looking at her.”
Paul said, “I’m really sorry I missed her the other night. You say you were talking about tattoos in places nobody sees?”
“You see what he focuses on,” I said to Brooke.
“I don’t get it,” Paul said. “What’s the point of a tattoo if nobody sees it?”
“He wants to see your tattoo.”
“Brooke has one too? You’re kidding.”
I raised my eyebrows at Brooke.
“Well, I’m not going to show him. I didn’t even show you.”
“You don’t have a tattoo, too, do you?” Paul asked me. “A butterfly or a squirrel or a spider or something?”
“A spider!”
Dog Law (A Robin Starling Courtroom Mystery) Page 12