by Parnell Hall
“Yes, I do.”
“Who would that be?”
Bob Krantz pointed his finger. “The defendant, Paula Martindale.”
Chapter
26
“What did she say?” Cora demanded.
“Outside,” Becky said.
“Rick Reed is outside.”
“I’m not afraid of Rick Reed.”
“What are you going to say?”
“How does ‘no comment’ sound?”
“At this point, really bad.”
“You got a better quote?”
“Are you kidding me?”
Becky pushed her way out of the courthouse. Every reporter within a hundred miles was on the front steps waiting for her reaction. None of them could beat Rick Reed, who shot to her side as if propelled from a cannon.
“Ms. Baldwin. How do you account for the fact your client was in that hotel?”
Becky actually patted him on the face. “Rick, Rick, you got it all wrong. I don’t have to account for a thing. The prosecution does. The burden of proof is on them. They can’t do it, so they’re staging theatrical surprises. They don’t mean anything, but they’re trying to steal as much good press as they can before the whole thing collapses in their faces.”
Before Rick could ask a follow-up, Becky and Cora pushed by him and down the front steps. They strode down the side street with reporters in pursuit.
“Think they’ll try to break into your office?” Cora said.
“Let’s find out.”
Becky went up the steps to the second floor, unlocked the door, and let Cora in. She locked it behind her and slid the deadbolt.
“Double-locked?” Cora said.
“At least. I was thinking of moving a file cabinet in front of it.”
“What did she say?”
“Hang on.”
Becky sat down at her desk, jerked open the bottom drawer, pulled out a bottle and a glass, poured herself a shot of scotch.
“Since when did you drink in your office?” Cora said.
“You’re surprised this case is driving me to drink? I should get points for not drinking more.”
“Are you going to tell me what she said, or do I have to strangle you?”
“You know what she said. My hopeless case just got worse. My lying, no-good client just handed the prosecutor his motive all tied up in ribbons.”
“She followed him?”
“Damn right she did. Little Miss My-husband-wouldn’t-do-that knew damn well her husband would do that. She’s a nosy, snoopy woman, and she suspected him for some time. She followed him to work, she staked out his office, she followed him to the hotel.”
“Just that one time, or had she done it before?”
“No, just then.”
“Did she see anything? Besides her husband?”
“No, just him.”
“What did she do?”
“What do you think she did? Went home and read him the riot act: ‘I know what you’re doing; if you don’t cut it out I’ll divorce you and take you to the cleaners.’”
“‘Divorce you and take you to the cleaners’ sounds like a euphemism for something.”
“It is.”
“For what?”
“Kill you.”
“That kind of limits your ability to put her on the stand.”
“No kidding.”
“And why did she withhold this juicy tidbit from her lawyer?”
“She didn’t think anyone would ever know.”
“They never do.”
“They never know?”
“They never think anyone will know. This is not an extraordinary client, Becky. They all lie to their lawyers.”
“It doesn’t always blow up in court.”
“No, you kind of hit the jackpot on that one. So that’s why she freaked out when her husband went missing. That’s why she went to the police.”
“I know that. The only thing I don’t know is how premeditated this was. Whether she meant to kill him then.”
“You’re assuming she’s guilty.”
“Do you think she’s innocent?” Becky said.
“She’s innocent until proven guilty.”
“How much proof do you want?”
“I don’t want any. I want something that proves her innocent.”
“Oh, yeah?” Becky said. “Then find me the crossword puzzle. Right now that’s the only thing that’s gonna help. And what are the odds it even exists?”
“Not good,” Cora said. “If you’re counting on the miraculous production of a crossword puzzle to save your defense, you are really out of luck. I’d hunt up Ratface and see if you can plead her out.”
“She’d never agree to it. And if I did it without her knowledge she’d sue me for malpractice.”
“Can you be your own lawyer in a legal malpractice suit?”
“It’s not funny, Cora.”
“I know. You sure she’s telling you the truth? When she says she didn’t see anything at the hotel?”
“I’m not sure of anything at this point. If she was lying about it, I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”
“What did her husband say when she confronted him about the hotel? Confess his sins and swear he’d be a good boy?”
“He denied everything. Claimed the hotel was for when it got too much for him at the office and he had to get away. He wasn’t meeting anyone, he just wanted to be alone.”
“She wasn’t buying that?”
“Would you?”
“Hell, no. It’s the type of lie Melvin would try to sell me when he was too lazy to think up anything better.”
Chapter
27
Becky Baldwin’s face filled the TV screen. “I don’t have to account for a thing.”
Rick Reed’s smile was mocking. “That’s what Becky Baldwin said, but you can imagine what she thought when her client was ambushed in court by the surprise testimony of a prosecution witness. Now there is no question her client knew about her husband’s matinee excursions in a midtown Manhattan hotel.”
“Two different ‘her’s in the same sentence,” Aaron Grant said. “I couldn’t get away with that in the paper.”
“Rick Reed’s a moron,” Cora said. “He can get away with anything.”
“Is that all it takes?” Aaron said.
“Sure. If you’re terminally stupid, no one expects any better.”
“I’ve been going about it all wrong.”
Cora and Aaron were watching TV in the living room while Jennifer and Buddy entertained themselves on the floor. Sherry was still in the kitchen cooking dinner. Aaron had offered to help, but Sherry had chased him out. Cora hadn’t bothered to offer.
On TV a smiling Henry Firth was playing it modest, pooh-poohing any accolades. “I take no credit for it,” he said. “Some cases win themselves. That is not to take away from the fine work our police department has done in this case. And I would like to commend Chief Harper and his force for their efforts in this direction.”
“You’re talking as if the case were over, Mr. Firth,” Rick Reed said. “Aren’t you still presenting evidence?”
“Of course,” Henry said. “The witness is still on the stand. The judge just granted an adjournment. I would imagine when court resumes tomorrow the matter will be rather quickly resolved.”
“You expect the defendant to change her plea?”
“I can’t speak for the defense. All I can say is in this particular case I am very happy to be handling the prosecution.”
Henry Firth smiled at the camera and walked away.
“That was earlier today,” Rick Reed said. “I have tried to get a response from the defense attorney. So far there has been none. Nor has there been a response from the police department, which just received that glowing commendation. I can only wonder what the defense team is doing tonight.”
“Isn’t that a song from Camelot?” Cora said.
“If not, it should be,” Aaron said. “I wi
sh there were some way to help Sherry in the kitchen without making it seem like I’m just hungry.”
“You’re not hungry?”
“I’m starving.”
“I can see her point.”
“Almost done,” Sherry called out the kitchen door.
“No one cares, take your time,” Cora called back.
“You got a cruel streak, you know?” Aaron said.
Cora shrugged. “Not according to my divorce lawyers.”
“Can’t you give me anything exclusive?”
“I got nothing for you,” Cora said. “The guy ID’ed our client. It’s a kick in the crotch.”
“Crotch!”
Aaron sputtered with laughter, shook his head. “She’s getting too smart for her own good.”
“Oh, you think she listens for naughty words to echo?”
“No,” Aaron said. “I think from you she expects it.”
Sherry emerged from the kitchen, set plates of chicken, quinoa, and asparagus in front of Cora and Aaron.
Cora pointed at her plate. “What’s this?”
“Quinoa.”
“Keen-what?”
“Wah.”
“You putting me on?”
“You can drop the lowbrow act, Cora, it’s just us chickens.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, us chickens are winding up on the plate. With the weird-looking rice.”
Sherry grabbed a plate for herself, sat down in front of the TV.
The doorbell rang.
“What timing,” Cora said.
“I’ve got it,” Aaron said, but he didn’t stop cutting his chicken.
“Eat, eat,” Sherry said.
She jumped up, went to the front door, and returned with Chief Harper in tow.
“Oh, you’re having dinner,” Harper said. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” Aaron said, attacking his chicken. “I’m actually very happy.”
“Sit down, Chief,” Sherry said. “I’ll get you a plate.”
“No, no. I’m sorry. I should have called.”
“What’s up, Chief?” Cora said.
Harper shot a glance at Aaron Grant. “This is off the record.”
“Of course it is,” Aaron said. “I haven’t had a scoop since Clinton was in the White House.”
“I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Henry Firth is very happy.”
“Yeah, we saw him on TV,” Aaron said.
“I’m not talking about that. He’s got something else. Something he’s not sharing with me.”
“And you’re here because you want to pay him back,” Cora said. “I love it! Spill it, Chief.”
“On second thought, I’d better go.”
“Hang in there. Can’t you take a joke?”
“Don’t let Cora drive you away, Chief,” Sherry said. “Ever since this case started she’s been a big grouch.”
“Grouch!”
Harper looked at Jennifer playing on the floor. “Isn’t your daughter eating?”
“She is,” Cora said. “She plays with the dog and we throw them scraps.”
“You will not throw my chicken curry on the floor,” Sherry said.
“I know. Just the bones,” Cora said.
Harper turned to go.
“Come back, I’ll be good. We’re a little punchy after court. The sky falls on you, you get punchy. If you know anything that would help, we could sure use it.”
Harper spread his arms. “I don’t have anything. I just wanted to warn you. Henry Firth is too happy. He may have something else.”
“Or he could just be taking victory laps because of the surprise ID,” Aaron said.
“It’s a damaging revelation, but give me a break,” Cora said. “Rick Reed may treat it like the case is over, but I can’t see Becky folding her cards just like that. She hasn’t even had her turn to bat yet.”
“Good Lord,” Aaron said. “You got Becky Baldwin playing poker and baseball at the same time. She’s a pretty accomplished woman, but that seems a little much.”
Sherry picked up Aaron’s plate. “You want to eat or not?”
“I warned you about overpraising the ex,” Cora said.
Harper put up his hands. “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“We appreciate it,” Cora said. “It’s just a little vague.”
“I know. It’s all I got.”
“Well, what do you make of that?” Aaron said, after the chief had left.
“Beats me,” Cora said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Paula Martindale confessed.”
“Could she do that?”
“In theory, not without her lawyer present. On the other hand, if she brought up copping a plea, Ratface could tell her self-righteously he couldn’t listen to her and she should save it for court.”
Aaron voiced an opinion that Jennifer echoed.
“Aaron!” Sherry said.
“Uh oh,” Cora said. “Make room in the doghouse, Buddy.”
“What do you really think it is?” Aaron said.
“I have no idea. At this point, nothing would surprise me.”
“You’ve more or less written the client off, haven’t you?” Sherry said.
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re not investigating anymore. You’re sitting in court looking to snipe. That’s all it’s become for you. Just an exercise in courtroom gymnastics.”
“Whoa. What brought this on?”
“Not that I blame you. Not all cases are winners. Not all clients are innocent. It’s just not like you to throw in the towel. And when I saw you did a crossword puzzle—”
“What!”
“And congratulations, by the way. I haven’t solved it yet, but I am duly impressed.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Hell!”
“No fair,” Cora said. “That wasn’t at the end of the sentence.”
“She’s starting to learn the words,” Aaron said.
“What’s this about a crossword puzzle?”
“The one you constructed,” Sherry said.
“Constructed?” Cora said. “I didn’t just solve a puzzle, I made one up?”
“The one in ‘Crossword Compiler.’ I didn’t solve it yet. Are you telling me it’s meaningless, just a bunch of random letters?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“In ‘Crossword Compiler.’ On your computer. You didn’t start playing around with a puzzle grid?”
“Why in the world would I do that? Sherry, I don’t think I could even find ‘Crossword Compiler.’”
“There’s an icon on the desktop.”
“By ‘desktop’ you mean the main computer screen?”
“Well, if you didn’t make up the puzzle, who did?”
Cora felt suddenly light-headed. “Oh, no! Where’s the puzzle?”
“I printed it out. I was gonna solve it, but the macaroni was ready. Now, where did I put it?”
Sherry went down the hall, was back moments later with the puzzle. “Here you go. Does that ring a bell?”
“You’re kidding, right? It’s a crossword puzzle. Even I know that. It’s not familiar; I can’t imagine any reason why it should be. You gonna solve it?”
“I don’t have to. The solution grid’s in ‘Crossword Compiler.’ I’ll just print it out.”
“You can do that?”
“Of course.”
Sherry was back in less than a minute, handed the solution grid to Cora.
Cora read the theme answer out loud. “‘Wanna know where he is? Wooing her with a kiss.’” Cora lowered the paper. “Oh, my God,” she murmured. “It’s all falling apart.”
“So someone hacked our computer and uploaded a crossword puzzle,” Sherry said. “I should have thought of it. It’s happened before.”
“Hacked,” Cora said. “You mean with firewalls and all that other stuff I don’t understand?”
“More likely someone snuck in when no one
was here and plugged in a zip drive. It’s not like you ever lock your door.”
“Yeah,” Cora said flatly. She looked utterly drained.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m Becky’s investigator. I gotta bring this to her.”
“Won’t it help?”
“How could it help?”
“It corroborates her client’s story.”
“The client hasn’t told her story.”
“Well, this corroborates it.”
“On the one hand,” Cora said. “On the other hand, it nails down her motive.”
“Didn’t the desk clerk more or less do that?”
“The desk clerk doesn’t tie it to my computer. Gotta call Becky.”
Cora hurried from the room with a string of invectives more suitable to a biker bar.
Sherry leveled her finger at Jennifer. “You didn’t hear that.”
Chapter
28
Becky looked up from the puzzle. “What the hell!”
“Yeah,” Cora said. “I thought she was making it up.”
“So did I. Just because you’re involved. I thought it gave her the idea. A ridiculous story that can’t be proved but can’t be disproved. And if we trot it out, people will think you dreamed it up. Because you’re working for me. I had totally dismissed the idea of a crossword puzzle as not worth considering. And now you drop it in my lap.”
“Hey, don’t blame me,” Cora said. “It’s not like I made the damn thing up.”
“Oh, no?” Becky said. “You didn’t look at the case and say, ‘Hey, this is hopeless, I gotta corroborate her story’?”
“And then left the puzzle on my own damn computer instead of printing it out and planting it where it would do some good?”
“Maybe you planted it, but no one found it.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Or you planted it, someone found it, didn’t know what it was, and threw it away. Or you planted it, someone found it, and decided to suppress it.”
“Becky, this gets worse and worse. I didn’t construct it, I didn’t plant it, I had nothing to do with the goddamned thing. Someone loaded it into my computer. It’s been done before, if you’ll recall.”
“Yeah, by a sadist who was targeting you. That’s hardly the case here. Who would want to do that?”