Acts of Malice

by Perri O'shaughnessy

  ‘‘In the next month or two. There’s no hurry. He likes our cabin a lot,’’ Nina said.

  ‘‘Have you told him about your cooking disability yet?’’

  ‘‘Very funny. Don’t worry. He knows I cook like Julia Child practices law.’’

  Matt stopped on his way to the kitchen. He looked thoughtful. ‘‘I can’t keep up with you, Sis. I never have been able to. You’ve always had this way of pushing right through everything when you decide to do it. You move in a blur, too fast to follow.’’

  ‘‘It wasn’t too fast this time, Matt. There were a lot of obstacles, challenges, you know? We couldn’t let the pressure separate us. We knew there would be a whole —I guess the word is, realignment of those challenges if we were married. Everyone can see that separation isn’t an option now. It changes things for Collier at work.’’

  ‘‘I was wondering about that,’’ Andrea said.

  ‘‘It’ll just have to work itself out. That’s what I mean. We’re married now and the machine’s going to have to burp and absorb the new configuration and move on.’’

  ‘‘You are fearless, Nina.’’

  ‘‘That’s not it. I just feel like you have to make your life, not just let it happen.’’

  22

  ON MONDAY MORNING after court, Nina told Sandy, Artie, and Wish about her marriage at the same time, since Artie had stopped in to talk about the motion to exclude evidence anyway.

  She told them in an underhanded way. They had assembled in the conference room that nippy morning with their coffee mugs. Artie had just finished telling her that the motion looked good. She had just finished telling him and Sandy about her trip to Pyramid Lake and Tony’s Las Vegas lead on Heidi. Wish had a pad of paper and seemed to be assiduously taking notes.

  ‘‘We do want to find her?’’ Sandy was asking, dubious.

  ‘‘Oh, yes. If Heidi would just recant her story, the prosecution case would look like London after the blitz. Henry McFarland would put a stop to the whole thing. There would be no hearing, and that’s exactly what I want, to have all charges against Jim dropped without a hearing.’’

  ‘‘You don’t think the judge would find probable cause?’’ asked Artie.

  ‘‘A judge can find probable cause in a can of beets, if he wants to. There’s always that risk. Better to keep it away from him altogether.’’

  ‘‘Sounds good to me,’’ said Artie. He noticed Wish scribbling away. ‘‘Don’t tell me you’re writing down that stuff about the beets,’’ he said to the boy.

  Wish blushed to his roots. ‘‘No.’’

  ‘‘What is it then?’’

  Wish tried to whisk the paper away, but Artie showed he still had some speed left in him. He lunged and tore the page from Wish’s hand. He unfolded and smoothed it, then held it up for all to see. There, in the middle, with the beginning of excellent detail, was a picture of a tin can with ‘‘Beets’’ marked on it.

  ‘‘Nice work, Michelangelo,’’ Artie said.

  ‘‘Glad to see you’re paying attention, Wish,’’ said Sandy.

  Wish took his paper back and moved farther down the table, out of Artie’s reach.

  ‘‘Judge Flaherty’s going to feel some heat because this is the second time around,’’ Nina went on. ‘‘If he gives in to it, then the whole trial sequence begins. Jim can’t afford it, financially or emotionally. It would cost a fortune to fight.’’

  ‘‘You’re an ambitious young lady,’’ Artie said. ‘‘It’s not enough to win the hearing, you want to prevent it from even taking place. But what if you find her and she doesn’t change a word?’’

  ‘‘Then we’re no worse off, because she can’t testify since they’re married. Speaking of being married, I am.’’

  Sandy, who was also taking notes, jotted on for a minute. Artie seemed not to have heard.

  Wish put down his pencil very slowly and stared at her.

  ‘‘We could take his shares of stock as security, so we’re sure we get paid,’’ Sandy said. ‘‘Or did you marry a millionaire?’’

  ‘‘Huh?’’ Artie said. ‘‘What?’’

  ‘‘No, he’s not a millionaire. I married Collier Hallowell.’’

  Artie said, ‘‘You’re kidding, right? This is a big joke on me for coming in late, is that it?’’

  ‘‘In Reno. On Saturday.’’

  ‘‘Paul’s gonna love this,’’ Sandy said, shaking her head.

  ‘‘Whoa,’’ said Wish admiringly. ‘‘Now that’s a move I bet the police never expected! Smart thinking!’’

  ‘‘But—Nina, really. How’s this going to impact the case?’’ Artie said. ‘‘I mean, congratulations!’’

  ‘‘I’m not so sure it’s a smart move, it’s just the one I wanted to make,’’ Nina said to Wish, smiling. ‘‘And Artie, I don’t know how it’s going to affect the case. It’s more than the case. It’s my whole life, you know? A whole new perspective.’’

  ‘‘You really did get married? We gotta celebrate,’’ Artie said. ‘‘Great news.’’ He gave her a big smacking kiss on the cheek.

  Sandy began gathering up her notes. ‘‘I’ll go call Jim and have him come in,’’ she said. ‘‘And I’m gonna have a hair appointment at that time.’’

  ‘‘You do that. I’ll disclose it to him, and then I’ve done what’s required. There’s no conflict problem if he agrees he wants me to stay on.’’

  Sandy went into the outer office and began clicking on her keyboard.

  ‘‘She didn’t even congratulate you,’’ Artie said. ‘‘She’s damn rude.’’

  ‘‘She’ll come around,’’ Nina said, looking after her. ‘‘She was rooting for somebody else.’’

  As the time for Jim’s appointment rolled around, Nina began feeling an uncomfortable mixture of defiance, embarrassment, and distaste. She had no idea how he might react to her news. Maybe he would feel that it gave him an edge.

  The one thing that she didn’t want was for Jim to fire her in anger. The prelim was coming up again and he needed her, and it would hurt his case for him to fire her. Even if he did the firing, it would be as a result of her action, and she would feel that she had abandoned him. She felt her duty even more strongly since she actually wanted out of the case in many ways.

  She worked on a motion in her purse-snatching case until three o’clock and was just handing Sandy the tape for transcription when Jim came into the outer office.

  ‘‘Your three o’clock,’’ Sandy said on the intercom. Nina had closed the door to the outer office.

  ‘‘Sandy, are you really going to leave?’’ Nina said into the phone.

  ‘‘Come to think of it, I can get my hair done tomorrow. Or next month.’’

  ‘‘Thanks. I’d feel better if you stay in the outer office.’’ She didn’t say why she might feel better.

  A knock. Sandy opened the door and ushered Jim in. Wearing the Tommy Hilfiger jacket again, he looked more like an ad in Esquire than an unemployed murder suspect. Sitting down in the right-hand chair, he pulled it up to the side of the desk, as always edging ever so slightly too close.

  ‘‘So?’’ he said. ‘‘News?’’

  ‘‘Thanks for coming down today, Jim.’’ In response to this mass of masculinity sitting so damn close to her that she could feel his breath brushing the hair on her arm, she pushed her chair back from the desk.

  ‘‘I wanted to talk to you about some personal news. Something that’s happened . . . in my life,’’ Nina continued.

  He looked apprehensive. She had never before mentioned her personal life, and he must know any talk of it was bound to mean bad news for him. ‘‘Like what?’’

  ‘‘Well, uh, I guess I’ll just say it. I got married this weekend.’’ She kept her face cordial, professional.

  He cocked his head at this, as though he didn’t trust his ears. Then he tortured his lips into a smile. ‘‘Now that’s disappointing,’’ he said. ‘‘I was going to marry you myself. Ha,
ha.’’

  Now that was a truly weird statement. If it was a joke, it was an alarming one. ‘‘As you probably know,’’ Nina said, more formally than she’d intended, ‘‘if something comes up that has even the appearance of a possible conflict of interest, an attorney has to discuss it with the client so that the client has full knowledge of it.’’

  ‘‘Huh,’’ he said. ‘‘Well. Although I’m very, very disappointed in you, Nina, I don’t think that makes for a conflict of interest, does it?’’ He still wore that strange, lopsided smile. Suddenly she recognized the expression. He looked like a man caught doing something squalid, something despicable. With increasing unease, Nina said, ‘‘Why are you disappointed, Jim?’’

  ‘‘Oh, I suppose I thought . . .’’ He let the sentence dangle.

  She decided she didn’t want to know after all and left it dangling. ‘‘I need to tell you this because the person I married happens to be the deputy district attorney prosecuting your case.’’ Feeling stifled, she got up to open the door to the outer office, bracing herself for his response. As she passed him, Jim reached out and caught her arm.

  ‘‘What in the hell were you thinking! He’s our enemy, Nina! You married our enemy? What does that make you?’’ She took her arm away and opened the door, then returned to her desk, wondering how to handle his reaction.

  ‘‘It doesn’t change me at all, Jim, or our relationship. I’m still your lawyer, still totally committed to helping you. I’m telling you this because I have an ethical responsibility to tell you. But I want you to understand very clearly. I’m a professional, and I keep my home life separate from my personal life.’’

  ‘‘That’s impossible,’’ he said flatly.

  ‘‘I don’t agree.’’

  ‘‘How long has this been going on?’’ he asked.

  He made her feel like a perfidious wife. ‘‘We’ve known each other quite some time.’’

  ‘‘All this time you were seeing him. You never even mentioned it to me. Don’t you think I had a right to know you were sleeping with the enemy?’’

  Nina sighed. ‘‘It was only a friendship for a long time. Then rather suddenly we found we were—’’

  ‘‘Did you talk to him about my case?’’

  ‘‘I would never, never talk to him about anything confidential, Jim. Never. Do you understand? I never have and I never will.’’

  ‘‘How do I know that?’’

  ‘‘Because I’m telling you.’’

  ‘‘It’s completely unacceptable.’’

  ‘‘What’s unacceptable?’’

  ‘‘You marrying him.’’

  ‘‘Well, it’s a done deal. If it really is completely unacceptable to you, I’ll ask the judge for a continuance on the hearing to give you time to find another lawyer. But I hope you don’t do that.’’

  He clapped his hand to his forehead. ‘‘I’m screwed!’’ he cried. ‘‘Completely screwed. You screwed me. I can’t believe it. Things were going along so well.’’

  ‘‘No, Jim, I—’’

  ‘‘How could you do this to me?’’ He was shouting. Sandy appeared in the doorway. ‘‘Calm down, Jim. Sit down and let’s talk about this. I’m quite shocked at your—’’

  ‘‘You’re shocked? You’re shocked? What about me!’’

  ‘‘Stop that shouting!’’ Sandy said, her deepest, loudest voice roiling into the room over his.

  Jim whirled around to face her. ‘‘Get out of my face!’’ he shouted. Sandy stood her ground, solid as a tank in tennis shoes.

  ‘‘I leave when you twiddle the volume down to low,’’ she said.

  Nina said, ‘‘Look, Jim, take some time. Think about it, and then call me. I’m sorry I surprised you with this, but I had to tell you. I hope you can realize it’s not as bad as you think. It doesn’t really change a thing between us.’’

  He looked at her over his shoulder. She didn’t like the look. ‘‘I’ll say only one thing,’’ he told her. ‘‘You’re my lawyer. You’re staying my lawyer. You’re not passing me off on that worn-out turkey in a cheap suit.’’ He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and took a step toward Sandy.

  She stepped aside, holding the door for him.

  Exit irate client.

  Nina held on to the side of the desk. ‘‘Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy,’’ she said. ‘‘Check down the hall, will you?’’

  Sandy moved to the outer door and opened it. ‘‘No sign of him.’’ She locked it, came back in, and sat down in the chair Jim had just vacated. ‘‘You okay?’’ she said.

  Nina rubbed her cheek. ‘‘I never dreamed he’d take it so hard. He acts as if I stabbed him in the back.’’

  The phone rang. They looked at it. ‘‘If that’s Jim calling me from around the corner or something,’’ Nina said, ‘‘tell him I am indisposed.’’

  Sandy picked up the receiver and held it as if a jellyfish lived in there. ‘‘Oh, hello, Tony,’’ she said. ‘‘Yeah, she’s right here. Most of her.’’ She handed Nina the phone.

  ‘‘Nina? Hey, I talked to Dick and Dottie here in Vegas. Heidi is Dick’s niece. They hadn’t heard from her in fifteen years, since she was a kid. She called about three weeks ago and said could she borrow the trailer, and they told her where the key was. They thought she was still there. She hasn’t called them since.’’

  ‘‘Is there a phone in the trailer?’’ Nina asked.

  ‘‘No. They use the gas station when they’re up there.’’

  ‘‘They think she’s still there? That’s all they know?’’

  ‘‘That’s it. What now?’’

  ‘‘Did you check the trailer?’’

  ‘‘I tried. I still couldn’t get in the yard because You Know Who never leaves his place next door. But I don’t believe Heidi’s around. I staked it out until four in the morning. No lights, no sign of the Tioga she was supposed to be driving.’’

  She let out a breath she seemed to have been holding since Jim first arrived. ‘‘Better come on back, Tony. Can you stop in tomorrow?’’

  ‘‘Sure. About eleven?’’

  ‘‘See you then.’’

  She heard Sandy’s fingers clacking on the keys outside, trying to finish some paperwork that was due at five. There was never enough time to absorb anything— anger, fear, dread. The scene with Jim had seemed so out of control, but they were all being swept forward so fast, she’d have forgotten it in five more minutes.

  And now came the news that Heidi’s trail had gone cold. Wild stories, baseball bats, vague hints that led nowhere . . . Might as well chase a real wild goose. Okay, forget her. Onward to the next move, the next crisis.

  Nina put her hands behind her head and stretched, looking out the window at the mountains. She was sick of it, all of it.

  She really wanted this case to be over. She wanted to get on with her life with Collier, and until this thing was resolved their relationship could not start up properly.

  That was a selfish thought. She felt guilty about being so selfish and about the conversation with Jim. Without meaning to, she had harmed the relationship between them. How would she react, if she were the one charged with murder and her lawyer had married the man prosecuting her? She might well have shouted. She might even have cried. At least he hadn’t cried.

  The Strong file sat in the middle of her desk directly in front of her. She put her hands down on it and picked it up, then thumbed through the pages, one by one.

  What had she missed? What more could she do?

  The government-issue clock on the wall said three-thirty. Collier had been told to sit on the antique green settee which Henry McFarland had brought in to add some class, as he described it, to the corner office.

  The settee was hideously uncomfortable. Collier wondered how much this had entered into Henry’s calculations. Certainly, it made Collier eager to keep their meeting brief.

  ‘‘I don’t believe we’ve ever had a situation like this before, Collier,’’ H
enry said, once he had raised his nose above his notes. ‘‘I have to say, I don’t feel good about having her opposite you.’’

  ‘‘My marriage makes no difference to our case.’’

  ‘‘Pillow talk. That’s what everyone will be thinking about. This case was already fraught with problems. I’ve been reading the file. You don’t have anything new.’’

  ‘‘Ed Dorf will make a much better witness than poor Doc Clauson,’’ Collier said. ‘‘We all know he was in bad shape during the first prelim. Now, we’ve got clean, compelling forensic testimony. I believe Flaherty will bind Jim over when he hears what Ed has to say.’’

  ‘‘And then there’ll be a trial. And if we, by some miracle, convict Jim Strong, he’ll appeal on grounds that his lawyer was incompetent. She was drawing hearts on her legal pad and slipping them to the prosecutor. That’s what the Mirror will say. And the Chronicle and the Examiner and the . . .’’

  ‘‘Who reads those rags anyway?’’ asked Collier.

  ‘‘Heh, heh,’’ said Henry. ‘‘Millions read them cover to cover, feeble comics included, as you well know. Now, here’s my question for you. Can you persuade her to get out?’’

  ‘‘Get out?’’

  ‘‘Resign as his lawyer.’’

  ‘‘Oh, I don’t think so.’’

  ‘‘Something has to give, Collier.’’

  ‘‘She would never do that,’’ Collier told him. ‘‘She has a strong sense of duty. She’s not going to abandon him on the eve of a prelim when she’s in such a strong position.’’

  ‘‘Maybe we could file a motion. She’s got a conflict.’’

  ‘‘That’s a bizarre notion. Think of the publicity that would attract. No, if her client knows we’re married and decides he wants her to stay on, she has every right to continue representing him.’’

  Henry made his pen spin like a miniature baton. When he dropped it, he picked it up and twirled again.

  ‘‘Henry, just—take the information about Nina and me and file it away in some compartment in your head and don’t worry about it. I’ll do my job, she’ll do hers. The newspapers don’t have to know anything. We’ll keep the situation quiet. Because she is insisting, which is her right, we have to have the prelim within ten days, as you know. Nobody else is up to speed on this case. So why don’t you let me handle this my own way?’’