Death of a Rancher's Daughter

by Susan P. Baker

  “Yes, go ahead.” Sandra wrote down the number, repeating it back to be sure. “Let me ask you this, how do I procure a setting on my motions? Do I call the court coordinator for a setting and then record it on the fiat and mail it to you or what?”

  “Fiat?”

  “The Order Setting Hearing.”

  “Oh yes, you'll have to take that up with the coordinator.”

  Sandra blew out a gust of air. “Well, thanks so much for your help. Take care.” She hung up and strode into Patricia's office where she found Erma. “I'm making progress with the clerk, I think.”

  Erma sat across from Patricia. They'd been deep in conversation. They both looked as though they'd been caught committing an illegal act. “What now?” Erma asked with a glance at Patricia.

  “They gave me a card without the fax number on it, so I called and got the number. Seems it was inadvertent. They gave me an old card by mistake.”

  “Of course they did,” Erma said.

  “You'd think the edible arrangement I sent would have some effect.”

  “Maybe they didn't receive it yet,” Patricia said. “What was in it?”

  “Fruit and candy. Remember the one we sent you last year on Valentine's?”

  Patricia nodded. “Yum. Yeah. Shame to waste it on them.”

  “On top of that,” Sandra said, “the clerk won't tell me how to obtain a setting.”

  “Look at the local rules.”

  “I have the feeling I'm going to get awfully tired of small-town goings-on before this case is over.”

  “I gotta feeling you already are,” Erma said.

  “You’re right about that.” Shaking her head, Sandra backed to her office, her footfalls pounding like hammer strikes on the hardwood floor. Digging in her briefcase again, she found the Gillespie County rules. Erma was right. The rules were the best offense and defense in a case.

  A while later, when she'd finished the discovery motion and printed it, Sandra checked her emails and found one from Rex. It read:

  Hey, Sandra, did you hear? Your girl's been indicted for capital murder. Guess you'll have to come up here sooner than you planned. I thought you'd like to know.

  Rex

  And a second one right below the first email:

  By the way, if there's anything I can do to help you and Erma, don't hesitate to call. Remember I'm only an hour's drive away in San Antonio.

  Rex

  A familiar burn rose in her face. Sandra slammed her hand on her desktop, a pen bouncing. She'd returned home with the definite impression Rex would love to help Rufina, and them, right off the highest hill in Fredericksburg. What was his motive in emailing her? What did he have in mind? If what he said was true, did Holt get the judge to raise Rufina's bail? Or had it remained the same? She picked up the phone and called the clerk again.

  “Annie, this is Sandra Salinsky again. Got a moment?”

  “Sure, Sandra. What can I do for you?”

  “Has a new indictment on Rufina Barboza been handed down?”

  “Hmm. I'm not at liberty to say.”

  “You would know, though, right?”

  “Do you want me to tell you what the usual procedure is?” Voices came from her office background.

  “All right, I'll bite.”

  “Grand jury meets once a week until they finish whatever Mr. Holt has scheduled for them. When they're finished, they go into court to return the indictments. Then they give them to us. We record them and open files. If there's a previous bail set, we gather up the paperwork. Usually the previous bail is continued.”

  “Usually?”

  “Mr. Holt might ask for the bail to be raised.”

  “Judge Jefferson is there until the end of this week, right?”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Has Rufina Barboza's bail been raised?”

  “I'm not at liberty to say. Do you want me to tell you the rest of the procedure?”

  Sandra was sure steam spiraled from her ears. “Okay.”

  “If a higher bail is set and the defendant is not in jail, a warrant is issued for the defendant's arrest. The sheriff's deputy goes out and arrests the defendant and they have to start over.”

  Their procedures weren't much different from any place else, except Sandra often received some notice on her Galveston County cases. “You're saying Rufina Barboza could be arrested again? Like this week?” No doubt, without a courtesy call from the DA asking her to bring in her client.

  “Could?”

  “Yes. I know you're not going to tell me either way.”

  “Yes, she could. If the judge raised her bail or didn't set bail.”

  “So how soon before the indictments and all become public?”

  “They try to make all the arrests first.”

  “Can you tell me, any new indictments been recorded yet?”

  “I'm—”

  “Not at liberty to say. I get it. Thanks again, Annie. I appreciate it.”

  The background voices stopped, and Annie's voice took on a confidential tone. “Sandra, for sure Mr. Holt took Mrs. Barboza's case before the Grand Jury again, but beyond that, I don't know. I hope that helps.” In a louder voice she said, “Call anytime, Sandra.”

  As much as she hated dealing with people on the telephone, Sandra realized the Barboza case was going to be one of those where she would have to have a lot of phone contact. She punched in Rufina’s number.

  “Hey, this is Sandra. We may have a problem. The district attorney may have persuaded the Grand Jury to re-indict you. This time for capital murder.”

  “Wh—what does that mean?” Rufina's voice was raspy.

  “It's not good. If Holt managed to do that, the visiting judge may have raised your bail. They could take you into custody again.”

  “Arrested? Why does Mr. Holt hate me so much?”

  “I have no idea what his problem is. But if they come for you, go with them willingly and ask BJ to call me right away. I'll do everything I can to get you out of there as fast as possible.”

  “All right, Sandra. I hate to go back to jail, but gracias for warning me.”

  “I'm not sure what's going on, but I suspect that's what Holt is trying to do.”

  “I know you are doing all you can. I'll tell Billie J, too.”

  “One other thing before I hang up. Why does Rex not like you?”

  “You mean hate me? Rex hates me ever since his mother sold me those acres. If there was something before, I don't know what it could be.”

  “How did her selling you that land affect him?”

  “I think he wants to inherit as much as possible. He's been a problem since he was little.”

  “Well, stay out of his way. There's something going on with him, and I hope to learn what it is before everything is said and done.”

  “Thank you again, Sandra.”

  “Don't keep thanking me, Rufina. I'm just doing my job. I'll be in touch.”

  After they hung up, Sandra crossed the hall and peeked into her mother's office.

  “What's up now?” Erma laid down a document she'd been reading.

  “Possibly Rufina's bail.” Sandra slid into the closest chair. “I think she's been indicted on capital murder charges.”

  “You think?”

  “Got an email from Rex. He said so, but Annie in the clerk's office wouldn't confirm it. What's Rex's problem? He started out trying to charm us and now this...”

  “Spoiled brat, if you ask me. BJ and Roy never denied him anything. What'd he say in the email?” Erma pushed back from the file she was working on.

  “That Rufina had been re-indicted, and he offered to help us if we needed anything.”

  “Humph. Well, number one, how does he know about the indictment if the clerk won't tell you?”

  She shrugged. “Holt, I guess. I'm sure there's something going on there.”

  “That smells.”

  “Yeah, it does.” Sandra rubbed her chin. “Could be the small-town thing, like
they went to school together?”

  “Nah. Holt's gotta be way older. And number two,” Erma scribbled something on a legal pad, “could Rex be of any help to us?”

  “I don't know, but I wouldn't trust him on a dark country road. Or anywhere else, for that matter.” Sandra brushed her hair back.

  “Me, neither. There's just something...” Erma shook her head. “I wonder what he's up to?”

  “Do you think he killed his sister?”

  “Could have. He didn't appear to be too broken up about it.”

  “Sociopath.” A chill ran across the back of her neck.

  “My thoughts exactly. Unless he's a psychopath, which is even scarier.” Erma sipped from her cup, and her nose scrunched up. “Cold. So what are you working on now?”

  “I've got the motions done, but I'll file another writ if Rufina is re-arrested. Here's the thing, though, could you call the court coordinator for the settings? I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday morning.”

  “No shit. Give me the number.”

  Sandra waited while Erma made the call. She had a million other things to do but wanted Rufina's case squared away.

  “May I speak to Mrs. Chamberlain, please?” Erma spoke in a sweet, southern tone of voice way different from her normal gravelly one. “This is Erma Townley, calling from Galveston.” She winked at Sandra.

  “Yes, Mrs. Chamberlain—Amber—this is Erma Townley. I'm one of the attorneys in the Rufina Barboza murder case. How are you today? I'm doing fine, thank you for asking. The reason I'm calling is we've got some motions to file and wonder if you could assist us in obtaining settings. What's your procedure on motion hearings?”

  Erma covered the phone with her hand and whispered, “She doesn't set cases over the phone.” She moved her hand.

  “Ah, I see. What about fax? Would I be able to fax the motions to you for the settings? A letter only? May I fax the letter?”

  She shook her head. She wrote the address down. “Do I include the fiat with the letter?” Erma nodded.

  “And you'll mail back the settings? All right. Thanks so much, Amber. You take care now, y'hear?” Erma slammed the phone down. “Son of a bitch.”

  Sandra laughed. “Now who's like a kettle about to boil over?”

  “Yep. We've both got to get ahold of ourselves. This case is going to be one hell of a long haul.”

  Thursday morning, Sandra placed another call, one she dreaded but forced herself to make. She got his number off her cell and when he answered, she made her voice as sweet as she could. “Jared, this is Sandra Salinsky. I want to apologize for yesterday.” She'd never been much for eating crow.

  “How did you get this number?” His deep voice held a caustic note.

  “Jared, I'm really sorry. You caught me at a bad time.”

  “Who did you say you were?” His tone became slightly less abrasive.

  “Okay. I deserve that. What can I say to make things right?”

  He cleared his throat. “Go out with me the next time you're up here.”

  She hoped he didn't hear her deep exhale. A relationship with a man was the last thing she wanted, but she needed the help of a local attorney, and Jared was the only one she knew. “Well, it can't end up like the first time. I don't normally do things like that.”

  “I don't either. I don't know what got into us.” His voice had changed and now sounded like it held a smile, a pitch higher.

  “The beer perhaps?”

  “I'm glad you called me back, even if it isn't because you want to see me.”

  “What do you mean?” Yeah, no. Jared was not dumb.

  “You need local counsel, don't you?”

  She was glad he wasn't there to see her response. This time her face reddened with something akin to shame. “Are you implying I have an ulterior motive?”

  “I was at the clerk's office yesterday when you called Annie.”

  “Oh.” Caught flagrante delicto.

  “I don't mind. I don't do criminal law, but I have office space you can use.”

  Sandra wanted to hang up and never face him again, but she couldn't. “I don't know that I'll need anyone to help, really.”

  “Yes, you will. I happen to know Sam Holt is eager to get your client indicted for cap murder.”

  A spurt of anger rushed through Sandra. “Do you happen to know if he succeeded?”

  “Nope. I mean, yes, I know, but no he hasn't succeeded yet. The Grand Jury is holding the case open. He wants to present more evidence if he can find any.”

  “How the hell do you know that when I can't get it out of the clerk?”

  “I went to high school with Sam Holt.”

  She felt like she'd been gut-punched. “Shoulda known. Well, it was nice knowing you.”

  He hooted with laughter. “Hold on. That doesn't mean I won't help you out, and believe me, in this town you need a friend.”

  “I kinda figured that. I'm re-thinking even taking the case.”

  “No, that's a good thing. She needs outside counsel—trust me. Tell you what, if he manages to get her re-indicted, I'll handle the bond reduction hearing for you, but if you need anything complicated done, I'm not your man.”

  “Very sweet of you, Jared. I appreciate it. Can I pay you?” Life would be simpler if he'd say yes.

  “Yeah, and I've stated the terms. Dinner the next time you're here.”

  She gritted her teeth. She really didn't want to get involved. She needed to keep telling herself that. “It's a deal. You'll stay in touch about my client?”

  “Sure. I've got to go now. Got a closing this morning, and I'm standing here in my pajamas.”

  Sandra couldn't resist saying, “You wear pajamas?”

  “Only in the winter and only if I'm sleeping alone.”

  “Good to know.” She made an effort to muffle her laughter. “Take care.”

  Erma stood in her doorway. “You seem pleased with something, daughter. Care to share?”

  “Nada,” Sandra said with a rueful smile.

  Erma crossed one leg over the other and leaned on the doorjamb like a jaunty elf. “I'll find out about it, you know. You might as well confess here and now.”

  Sandra turned her back on her mother and made with busy work until Erma returned to her own office. There would be no sharing of Jared. No way. No how. She still didn't intend to have a relationship, but she needed him now. No one could try a capital murder case in a strange town without at least one local ally. A stroke of luck had given Sandra hers, and she intended to hang on to him for the duration.

  Chapter Twelve

  The last week of January, Sandra drove to Fredericksburg alone for hearings on her motions. She spent the night in the same B & B she and Jared had shared. The next morning, she donned a long black skirt and long-sleeved, royal-blue blouse, and the new boots and jacket she'd purchased on the previous trip. When she went outside, she breathed deeply of the crisp, cold air, so different from Galveston's humid, but warmer air. As she climbed to the second floor of the courthouse a few minutes before her nine-a.m. setting, Sandra thought she looked her best.

  Inside the courtroom, a different court reporter from the previous hearings had her face buried in a paperback book. Sandra dropped her small, red leather attaché' case on the counsel table and approached the court reporter, who put away her book.

  “Sandra Salinsky for Rufina Barboza.” She held out her hand.

  The reporter, who had a cherub's face and curly short blonde hair, shook Sandra's hand with her soft, supple one. “Evelyn Koehn. The judge is in chambers.”

  Sandra handed her a card. “Should I go in?”

  The reporter nodded, “Yes, ma'am,” and typed something into her court reporting machine. “Mr. Holt's in there.” She cocked one eyebrow reminiscent of what the last court reporter had done.

  Sandra cocked an eyebrow back. “Something you want to tell me about Mr. Holt?”

  Evelyn said, “I wouldn't have said, if you hadn't asked. He's n
ot real popular with the defense bar.”

  Those few words told her what she needed to know. “Understood. Thanks.” Sandra circled the bench and knocked on the chambers' door frame. The anxiety she felt at facing Holt again dissipated when her eyes landed on the judge. “Hello, Judge Olsen. Long time no see.” She stepped closer and held out her hand.

  “Ms. Salinsky. I trust you're doing well.” A woman about Erma's age, Judge Olsen was a sturdy, tall brunette with gray-streaked hair and dark blue eyes. Sandra and Erma knew her from when Judge Olsen was on the bench in Galveston.

  Sandra restrained herself from reaching for a hug. “I'd almost forgotten you retired up here and might be substituting.”

  The judge said, “Sit down and tell me what's been happening on the island.” She glanced at Holt who sat up and pulled his chair close to the desk, which wasn't difficult in the small room. “I'm assuming you and Mr. Holt are acquainted.”

  Sandra nodded and shook Holt's hand, though she'd have preferred to keep her hands behind her back.

  Holt's frown was almost imperceptible. “You two know each other, as well. Both from Galveston. I should've known.” His eyes had lost their usual sparkle.

  “Judge Olsen used to sit on the family district court bench. I do family law, too.”

  “Yes, we're old friends,” Judge Olsen said. “Sandra tried her first child custody case in my court.”

  “So you're hearing criminal cases now, Judge? I mean other than juvenile.” Sandra sat in the other plastic chair in front of the desk, her knees nearly brushing it. “I remember you did some criminal work before you took the bench.”

  “I hear everything. I go where they send me.” She rocked in the worn, overstuffed chair.

  “You're looking wonderful. Retirement agrees with you. Gosh, I'm so surprised you're here.”

  Judge Olsen smiled her thanks. “Mr. Holt tells me you've signed on to a murder case.”

  “Erma and the victim's family go way back.”

  “Well, I'm unlikely to see you again. I don't get many assignments.” She picked up the court file and leaned back.

  “So you won't be the trial judge?” Sandra asked.