by Dave Daren
“I just remembered,” she said. “The docks. The cops came back and said a fight had broken out down there. You were there, right? But you don’t look like you saw any action.”
“I had a run-in with a couple of hot-blooded fools,” I admitted and then frowned at the memory of Jackson’s wild baton swinging. “I was able to avoid their attacks, though. Our suspects were there, too. I finally met Ronan, and before you ask, I’d say his appearance is average.”
“You know me so well,” she sighed and then laughed. “But I don’t think I can trust your assessment. You like women, right?”
Before I could respond, Lia returned with our beers and set them on the table. She flashed us a smile before turning away, and I caught my paralegal watching me watching Lia. I gave her a grin and then turned my attention to the beverage of choice.
The beer mugs were large and sported logos on their sides that were replicas of the sign above the main entrance. The golden liquid almost reached the brim of the mugs, and so Cassandra was careful when she went to grab hers by the handle. I did the same and lifted the glass to my lips until I noticed that Cassandra lifted her glass in my direction. I moved my mug away from my mouth to bring it toward hers.
“To a fantastic first day,” Cassandra toasted.
I parroted the statement, and we clinked our glasses together. I chugged nearly half the beer as I suddenly realized how thirsty I was and then placed my mug back on the table. I let out a sigh of happiness as the warmth from the alcohol coursed through me.
Cassandra sipped at her beer instead and then set it to the side to pick up the bank statement she had grabbed before. She didn’t seem very impressed with the beer, though to be honest, she didn’t strike me as a regular beer drinker, either.
“This is Ronan’s,” she announced as she looked over the document. “Since your assessment of his attractiveness is unreliable, I must know what kind of man he is.”
“First of all, despite my love for women, I’m a great judge of character for men,” I began. “Second--”
“Character isn’t the same as physical appearance,” my paralegal interrupted.
“Yes, it is,” I argued.
“No, it’s not,” she persisted. “Character is like behavior or personality.”
“Character as in character trait or characteristics,” I explained.
“No, no, that’s not what you said,” she protested as she shook her head. “Character and character traits are two separate things. You said you’re a good judge of character, not a good judge of character traits.”
“That’s not how the saying goes, and it doesn’t matter if I say the extra word or not,” I said as I rolled my eyes. “It still means the same thing.”
She pointed at me and opened her mouth to argue further, but a sudden realization made her put her hand down. She closed her mouth to smile instead and then laughed heartily.
“Aw, look,” she finally said. “Our first pointless argument.”
I leaned back in my chair to close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. A less happy sigh escaped me without me realizing I had even sucked in the air to make one, and after a brief moment of questioning my decision to hire a new paralegal, I opened my eyes to stare at Cassandra. Her mood was unaffected by my display of frustration. If anything, she looked like she was enjoying the show.
“You make me tired,” I told her as I went to grab my mug.
“Thanks, Reese,” she said as I downed the rest of my beer. “You drive me crazy, too.”
She winked, and I shook my head as I set down my empty mug. Her attention returned to the bank statements, and her eyes widened at something she read.
“Well, Mr. Great Judgement of Character, maybe you can explain why Ronan began depositing two hundred dollars into his account in April,” she stated as she handed me the document.
I accepted the page from her and scanned the entry she pointed to. Two hundred dollars had been deposited in his account on the sixteenth of April, and as I read further down the list, I saw the same amount had been deposited again last month on the sixth and thirtieth of May. Only one deposit had been made this month, just last week.
The money wasn’t categorized as anything other than a deposit, and this differed from the other deposits labeled as payroll, the ones I figured were from fishing. Was Ronan working a part-time job? It wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary as many fishermen took on other jobs when they weren’t fishing. The problem with this theory, however, was the fact that these deposits occurred during fishing season, and I had yet to hear anything about Vann and his crew not being able to make ends meet. Not to mention, these deposits were sporadic, not at all set on a schedule like most jobs.
“He could be working another job, but I doubt that’s the case,” I answered. “Only other explanation I can think of is that Vann was paying him extra.”
“But why not include the amount in his work pay?” Cassandra asked.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Why wouldn’t he? Hold on.”
I flipped through the stack of bank statements still in the manila folder until I came across Yura’s. I pulled hers out and held it side by side with Ronan’s. She received the same pay as him, but she hadn’t made any deposits worth two hundred dollars.
“Yura doesn’t have any deposits,” I told Cassandra.
“Then it’s not related to fishing,” the paralegal concluded.
“Not necessarily,” I responded. “Ronan was given four hundred dollars after every fishing trip to use for supplies or repairs. Maybe he kept half for himself.”
“As a reward for the extra responsibilities?” she questioned.
“Maybe,” I said.
“Or he was stealing it,” she guessed.
“That might be it,” I said. “It would certainly explain his earlier behavior.”
“His earlier behavior?” she asked.
“He became nervous when the topic of his job came up,” I explained. “If he was embezzling the money intended for the crew, then of course, he’d be on edge about his job.”
“And if Vann were to find out about the embezzling, there’s no telling what Ronan would do to keep him quiet,” Cassandra added.
I looked up from the documents, and we made eye contact. Our silent revelation was interrupted by the return of Lia with our pizza. She set the pan down in the middle of our table and looked over at my empty mug.
“Would you like to order another drink?” the bartender asked.
“Yes, I’ll take another beer,” I told her as I handed her the mug.
“Coming right up,” she promised and then turned away.
Cassandra reached over to take a slice before I could make a move toward the still bubbling, cheesy, meat-laden mess. She grinned as she snagged the first slice and took a bite that left her smiling happily. I finally had a chance to grab a slice for myself, and I saw the paralegal glance toward the bar while she chewed.
“Oh, jeez,” she said as she covered her mouth. “What happened to her?”
I followed her gaze and saw that Yura had arrived. The fisherwoman stood at the counter with exhaustion set in her battered face and a coat folded over her arm. A bruise on the left side of her face stretched from her temple to her cheek. Her lip was no longer bleeding, but the cut had turned bright red as it healed.
She tapped her nails on the counter as she waited, but she must have felt our stares because she turned suddenly to look at me and Cassandra. She arched her eyebrows at us, but her eyes blazed with fury when she looked at me. She pushed herself away from the counter and stomped in our direction. When she reached our table, she pointed a finger at me.
“I shouldn’t have let you into Harrison’s house,” she snarled at me. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you. Now that the jet ski’s been found, there’s talk of Austin being innocent. Bullshit. You’re trying to twist the narrative to say that Austin was framed, but we both know that’s not true. He worked with someone in his crew to kill Harrison.”<
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“That’s not--” I began.
“Hi, my name’s Cassandra,” Cassandra announced with her hand outstretched toward Yura.
Yura flinched at the sound of the paralegal’s loud, clear voice, and she met Cassandra’s steady, confident gaze with one full of confusion. She looked at the outstretched hand that Cassandra had offered but made no move to grip it. Her eyes lingered on the painted nails, and Cassandra latched onto the small action.
“They’re cool, right?” the paralegal said as she brought her hand back to inspect her nails. “Look.”
She held them up like she had this morning for me and showed Yura the tree. I could see Yura trying to keep the anger alive on her face, but the flame was faltering due to this sudden shift in momentum. She stared at the nails longer than necessary, and I figured she was trying to organize her thoughts before she spoke again.
“That’s really pretty,” she finally whispered.
She looked up at Cassandra’s face with interest.
“I’ve heard about you,” the injured fisherwoman said. “One of the officers was talking about you. He said you seemed like a nice girl stuck in a bad situation.”
Yura made a point of looking at me when she said the second half of her statement.
“I’m a nice woman in a great situation,” Cassandra corrected. “Have a seat and take a slice. We’ve got six to share.”
Cassandra slid further into the booth and patted the empty space next to her. Yura hesitated, but whatever reasons she had for not taking the seat were dismissed. She slid into the booth with a sigh and then reached across to pick up a slice while Cassandra started back to work on her own slice.
I raised my eyebrows at the paralegal as I finally took a bite, but Cassandra just gave me a knowing grin. She munched happily for several moments and then turned toward Yura again as if the pair were old friends having a gal pal moment.
“My name’s Yura,” the fisherwoman said after she had swallowed her bite.
“Oh, you’re Yura!” Cassandra yelled. “The one whose prettiness can’t be determined.”
The paralegal looked over at me and laughed. I rolled my eyes at her and tried not to look at the woman in question. I had a feeling I was going to be doing that a lot.
“What?” Yura said.
“Ignore her,” I told Yura.
“I’d rather ignore you,” the fisherwoman muttered with downcast eyes.
“Oooh,” Cassandra said with exaggerated shock. “Hear that, Reese? She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
I glared at Cassandra, but she flashed a cheeky smile and then turned her attention to Yura.
“When someone says they’re a great judge of character, do you think they mean physical appearance?” the young paralegal asked, and I groaned.
“No, character is like personality,” Yura answered. “At least, that’s how I view it.”
“See?” Cassandra gloated as she whipped her head around to look at me.
“Let it go,” I commanded.
“Fine, fine, sore loser,” she teased and then turned to Yura, who had watched the exchange between Cassandra and I with a suppressed smile.
“What’s this about Austin working with his crew to kill Harrison?” Cassandra asked.
I perked my ears at this though I tried not to look at all interested. I realized she had used the first names of our client and the deceased, and I saw how that change made her seem more accessible and humane. I was witnessing her work her magic.
“You should already know,” Yura said. “You’re working on this case, too.”
“Yeah, but all the information I’m getting is filtered,” Cassandra explained. “What Reese and the police tell me is through the perspective of people who want their side to win. I haven’t gotten the perspective of someone who’s caught in the middle, someone who just wants justice for Harrison regardless of the outcome.”
Yura stopped chewing to stare at Cassandra with wide eyes. She stared for a while, swallowed, and then set her pizza down to lean toward the paralegal.
“But don’t you think Austin is innocent?” she asked in a small voice. “He’s your client.”
“I don’t think anything,” Cassandra said with a shrug. “I won’t have an opinion either way until all of the evidence has been gathered and laid bare.”
Yura and I stared at her in silent contemplation. I had never thought to ask Cassandra if she thought Morris was innocent given everything that had happened today. She had yet to meet our client, but she knew enough about the case to draw her own conclusions. I imagined if she were a lawyer, she wouldn’t take on cases where she didn’t feel confident in her client’s innocence or questioned their morals. I wondered if what she had said was true or something she had created to appeal to Yura.
“Well, I think Austin is guilty and either Luke or Marleen helped him kill Harrison,” Yura admitted.
“It can’t be Marleen,” I told her. “She has an alibi.”
“So then that leaves Luke,” Yura argued.
“Maybe,” Cassandra chimed in.
Lia returned with my beer, and she set down a glass of white wine for Yura. She eyed the three of us before she turned away, and I wondered what she thought of our odd trio. From the corner of my eye, I could see the fishermen glancing in our direction and making subtle hand gestures toward us. They bowed their heads toward each other with their lips mouthing words I couldn’t hear. Some of them held their glasses at a slant as though they weighed heavily, and their alcohol threatened to spill out onto the counter as a result. I chose to interpret this carelessness and lack of awareness as signs of the amount of alcohol in their system and not some sudden fascination with what was being said in our booth.
“I didn’t know about this,” I heard Yura say.
I turned my attention to the two women sitting in front of me.
“They were good friends, so it’s possible Harrison was paying him more,” Yura continued, but she frowned at this. “I just don’t understand why Harrison or Ronan wouldn’t tell me. It’s not something they needed to keep a secret.”
“Maybe they thought you’d be upset?” Cassandra guessed, and Yura shook her head.
“No, the three of us got along just fine,” the fisherwoman insisted. “They know something like this wouldn’t bother me.”
“And yet you and Harrison kept your relationship secret from Ronan,” I rejoined once I understood what they were talking about.
“That’s different,” she claimed as she glared at me. “Ronan loves to talk. He would have exposed us.”
“But he managed to keep these deposits secret?” I challenged her.
“Yeah, Ronan loves to talk about others but not himself,” she explained.
“Why was your relationship with Harrison a secret anyway?” Cassandra asked and then grabbed another slice of pizza.
Yura picked up her glass of wine to take a sip while I did the same with my beer. Cassandra showed more interest in eating pizza than she did in drinking alcohol, which only reinforced my suspicion that she wasn’t really a regular beer drinker.
“It’s just the nature of this town,” the woman whispered. “Once word gets out that two people are in a relationship, there’s this expectation that marriage is right around the corner. Harrison and I weren’t thinking that far ahead. We weren’t thinking about that at all actually, so we didn’t want to deal with everyone’s projected feelings.”
The memory of Ronan’s speech about Vann’s family came to mind, and I wondered if Yura being Inupiaq had something to do with the secrecy. But then I found myself questioning the truthfulness of her reasoning.
She had stared into her wine the entire time she spoke, and her body had become rigid. Something had made her uncomfortable, and I could only guess it was either the very words coming out of her mouth or the overall topic at hand.
I decided not to confront her about it just yet since she was already on edge around me, and I was sure she would simply go silent i
f I pushed too hard. Maybe I could get Cassandra to meet with Yura another time and get the information for me instead. For that same reason, I decided not to ask her if Ronan was the kind of man to steal from Vann. I had a feeling the accusation wouldn’t get me any results other than a glass of wine thrown in my face.
“You’re better off asking Ronan about it,” Yura continued.
“Are you going to confront Ronan about it, too?” Cassandra asked as she reached for her beer.
“Why would I do that?” the fisherwoman questioned. “What do I care about some arrangement Harrison had with Ronan?”
Cassandra nodded and chugged down the rest of her beer. She grabbed a napkin and wiped off her mouth. Then she stretched, yawned, and looked out the window toward the sky.
“I thought this sun would be a bigger issue when it comes to sleep,” the paralegal admitted. “It’s almost eight p.m., and the sun’s still out in the middle of the sky. But I feel exhausted. It might be the jetlag catching up to me.”
“Count yourself lucky,” Yura said. “My sleep schedule is out of whack, and I’ve been trying to fix it. Harrison and I messed our schedules up last week. It was my fault. I misread twelve o’clock as noon rather than midnight.”
She smiled sadly at the memory.
“That happens?” Cassandra asked with wide eyes.
“I think it only happens to me,” Yura chuckled. “I don’t know if anyone else runs into that problem. You’d think both my mind and body would remember noon has already passed or that I haven’t slept yet. And yet, all it takes is for the sun to be in the middle of the sky for my mind and body to believe it’s a new day.”
She sighed and ran her fingers through her short hair.
“Now that you’ve mentioned it, maybe I should head home and rest,” the fisherwoman continued. “I certainly need my beauty sleep.”
She turned her head to show Cassandra the bruise on her temple and then gave a humorless laugh. Cassandra offered a concerned expression as she watched the fisherwoman grab a second slice of pizza, but Yura paid her no mind. Instead, the fisherwoman turned her attention to me as she watched me grab the final slice.
“Are you like Cassandra?” she asked me. “Do you think Austin’s innocent, or you don’t have an opinion either way? The rumor around town is that you’re representing him just for the pay. You know his case is lost.”