Motion to Dismiss (A Kali O'Brien Legal Mystery)

by Jacobs, Jonnie

  Marc leaned forward. “So it was consensual?”

  “Damn right. She enjoyed it, too.”

  Like you’d know if she didn’t, I thought, perhaps unfairly. “Do they have anything else against you? Bruises, signs that you used force?”

  Grady gave me a look of disgust. Marc’s expression wasn’t much different.

  “I told you, she was hot for it. I didn’t force her to do anything.”

  “Tell us about the woman,” Marc said. “Age, occupation, what she looks like.”

  “Late twenties, I’d say. Young but not youthful. Attractive, though it was clear she worked at it. A little too much makeup, a few pounds too heavy. Too much perfume.”

  And yet somehow irresistible. “Does she work?” I asked.

  Grady shook his head, baffled. “Wait, something with the telephone, I think. Receptionist maybe.”

  If Deirdre had spent much time talking about herself, Grady hadn’t been listening.

  He pressed his fingertips to his temples, his brawny face suddenly slack. His eyes closed for a moment. “I screwed up,” he said morosely. “I know that. I’m not saying I’m above reproach here. But I didn’t rape her, for God’s sake. If that’s what she says, she’s lying.”

  The distress in his voice was genuine. I felt the hard edge of anger soften.

  “We’ve got to keep this from Nina. I never meant to hurt her. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

  Marc rubbed his cheek. “What did you tell the police this afternoon?”

  Grady shook his head again. “When they first mentioned the woman’s name, I didn’t even know who she was.” He lifted his head, leaving faint pink imprints on his face where his fingers had been. “Do you think they’ll go ahead with this?”

  “Depends on whether they believe the woman’s story,” I told him.

  “And whether the D.A. thinks a jury will believe it,” Marc added. “It’s your word against hers. It comes down to a question of credibility.”

  And that was where Grady might be in luck, I thought. He was good-looking, successful, and polished—with just a trace of vulnerability. No doubt he’d make a convincing witness.

  But then, I hadn’t met Deirdre yet.

  Chapter 3

  Nina was drinking ginger ale out of a champagne flute. The rest of us had filled ours with the real thing.

  Marc raised his glass. “To the birthday girl.”

  “No longer a girl, I’m afraid.” Nina smiled. She was stretched out on the sofa, her head and shoulders bolstered by floral chintz cushions. An afghan of rose-colored wool covered her legs and feet.

  “But I’ll drink to birthdays,” she added. “I’ve recently come to appreciate that old adage that it’s better to have them than not. I’ll take as many as I can.”

  Nina’s voice held the same wry cheerfulness she’d shown since being diagnosed, but I knew that it masked a sea of contradictory emotions. Emotions we’d all, at one time or another, endeavored to step around.

  She looked at our strained faces and gave herself a theatrical slap on the mouth. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put a damper on the evening. It seems lately that whatever the conversation is about, it ultimately comes back to my health.”

  Nina’s illness was not, however, the source of our discomfort that evening.

  “In any event,” Grady said smoothly. “Age becomes you. Every year you grow more beautiful.”

  Nina reached for her husband’s hand, pulling it across the mound of her belly. She’d always been slender, and though her face was fuller now with the pregnancy, she didn’t look as though she was into her sixth month.

  “That’s why I love you.” Nina lifted his fingers and grazed them with her lips. “To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, ‘A good liar is not only a charmer, he’s the very basis of civilized society.’“

  Grady and I responded with stiff smiles. Marc laughed a trifle too eagerly.

  I couldn’t tell what Marc was feeling. He’d been Nina’s friend almost as long as I had. But he was Grady’s friend too, as well as legal counsel for ComTec, the company Grady had built from the ground up.

  In truth, I wasn’t so sure what I was feeling. Anger, for sure. But there was also a muted sadness that crept through my mind like wisps of fog.

  “You’re all so tense tonight,” Nina said. “Come on, drink up. It’s more than my birthday. There’s good news to celebrate as well. Next week I start the medication that will mature the baby’s lungs. After that, even if he’s early, he should be able to breathe on his own.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I told her. Good news had been in short supply of late.

  She nodded, eyes bright. “We’re not there yet, but each day is like a milestone. We’ve finally started to think about names.” This was something she’d refused to do before, feeling that it was tempting fate.

  Grady poured more champagne, although his glass was the only one nearing empty.

  “So, what do you think of Christopher?” Nina asked, addressing me and Marc.

  “Great,” Marc said with unwarranted enthusiasm.

  “He’ll end up being Chris,” Grady grumbled. “I knew a Chris in high school, couldn’t stand the guy.”

  “Grady’s pushing for Mason, my maiden name. But I think Mason Barrett sounds like the line dividing the North and South during the Civil War. So far all we’ve managed to agree on is a sizable list of rejects.”

  Marc picked the book of baby names off the coffee table and started flipping through the pages. “Dilbert, Garfield, Knut, Tupper, Wirt, Zebulon.” He closed the book and laughed. “Seems to me you could do worse than either Christopher or Mason.”

  “The family that lived next to us when I was young had three daughters,” Nina said. “Their last name was Knight, and they named their daughters Windy, Stormy, and . . . believe it or not— Dayen.”

  “No?” Marc made a face. “That’s child abuse.”

  Gradually, we were loosening up, like actors falling into their roles. Or maybe it was the champagne.

  “How about Barrett?” I offered. “I knew a boy once named Thomas Thomas.”

  Marc groaned. “I never imagined being a parent was so complicated.”

  There was a creaking sound from the hallway. Emily shuffled into the room. She swung a bedraggled and threadbare stuffed dog in one hand.

  Marc greeted her with a wide smile. “Hey, kiddo. How’s Arf ?”

  “He’s hungry.” Emily glanced at her mother, then back to Marc, who pulled a handful of Hershey kisses out of his jacket pocket.

  “He’s got to show me his tricks first, remember?”

  “Have you seen Arf’s tricks?” she asked me, bubbling with anticipation.

  I shook my head.

  “Watch closely, okay?”

  With Emily’s help, Arf went through his repertoire of tricks, from rolling over and shaking to dancing a jig. Finally, he was rewarded with the coveted chocolates.

  “Arf’s quite the showman,” I told her.

  “He can do almost anything.”

  “Come here, honey,” Nina said. “Give me a hug.”

  Emily put her arms around her mother’s neck and kissed her cheek. Then she climbed into Grady’s lap to eat her chocolates.

  Watching Grady with his stepdaughter always warmed my heart, and tonight was no different. It was clear they adored each other. He might have his faults, I reminded myself, but he had many good points as well.

  We were called to dinner by Simon, who, I suppose, is the modern-day equivalent of a butler. Nina, whose liberal roots were well established before her marriage to Grady, didn’t refer to him in those terms, of course. It was usually just “Simon” or, in conjunction with his wife, “the couple who help us out.”

  When Nina and I had roomed together years ago, we’d shared our cramped, drafty flat with an endless stream of ants and the reverberation of arguments from the couple next door. It was always a bit of a shock to see her here in the midst of such opulen
ce. But Nina had told me on more than one occasion that it wasn’t difficult getting used to money.

  With another hug for her parents, Emily departed with Arf to watch television. The rest of us ate in the wood-paneled dining room with a view of San Francisco Bay and the sparkling lights of the city beyond. We’d just finished our salads of winter greens garnished with pear and blue cheese, when the phone rang in the other room. Grady paused mid-sentence for a fraction of a beat and then continued with what he was saying. A moment later Simon appeared in the doorway.

  “Sorry to bother you, sir. There’s a man on the phone who wishes to speak with you.”

  “Didn’t you tell him I was unavailable?”

  “I tried. But he said it was important.”

  “Tell him I can’t be bothered.”

  Simon cleared his throat. “It has something to do with a police investigation, sir.”

  Nina was looking at Simon, so she missed the look that passed between Marc and myself, and the tightening of Grady’s jaw.

  Grady stood abruptly and pushed back his chair. “Must be that damn break-in at the plant last month. Maybe they’ve got a lead.”

  “What break-in?” Nina asked.

  Marc made gesture with hand. “Nothing important. They made off with some, uh, office equipment.”

  I was glad that Marc had picked up on Grady’s cover. I’m not sure I would have been as quick. My mind was too much on what the phone call might really mean.

  “They probably recovered some of the stuff that was stolen and want Grady to verify it.”

  “At seven in the evening?”

  Marc brushed the air with his hand. “You know how paperwork is. They have to catch up on it when they can.” The nervous tapping of his legs made the comment seem ludicrous. “Hey, this is great salad. Really superb.”

  Nina gave him a curious look. “It’s the same salad you thought was too froufrou when we served it at the Patterson closing last fall.”

  “Is it?” He laughed. “Guess my taste is maturing.”

  Nina sucked on her cheeks, her expression more perplexed than concerned. It dawned on me that she might suspect that our antics were part of some finely orchestrated birthday surprise.

  Any thoughts she might have had in that direction were put to rest when Grady returned not long after, wearing a gray pallor that even his well-mannered apology couldn’t disguise.

  “Sorry for the interruption,” he said.

  “What was it?” Nina asked.

  “Nothing.” Grady’s tone was sharp. He took a breath. “Nothing that I need to deal with at the moment.” His forehead glistened with a band of perspiration.

  “What the hell’s going on? You’ve all three been tense as thieves the whole evening.” Nina looked in my direction. “What do you know about this, Kali?”

  Nothing. That was the word that bubbled to the surface of my brain. The answer I expected to give.

  What I said instead was, “I think Grady should be the one to tell you.”

  Marc kicked me in the shin, too late.

  For a moment there was dead silence. Grady picked up his wineglass and took a sip. His hand trembled. “Let’s talk about this after dinner, shall we?”

  Nina shook her head. “I want to know. Now.”

  “Maybe we should leave,” Marc said, starting to rise.

  “No.” Nina put a hand on his arm to restrain him. “You two already seem to know what this is about.” Her voice was almost strident, her face flushed.

  “Well?” When none of us answered, she grabbed the edge of the table, breathing hard. “Tell me, goddammit.”

  Grady sent her an imploring look. “I love you, Nina. You do know that, don’t you?”

  She rocked back as though she’d been slapped. “Oh, God. Don’t tell me you’re having an affair!”

  “No, not that.” Grady shook his head. “Never.”

  “Never again, you mean.”

  “Please, Nina. This is hard enough as it is.”

  “It’s not another woman?” Her breathing became easier. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I couldn’t stand it. Not now.”

  Grady nodded. His elbows were on the table, hands folded against his chin. I fought the urge to smack him hard between the eyes.

  “Are you in some kind of trouble?” Nina asked, reaching for his hand. “Is that it?”

  “Nina, sweetheart. I wanted to spare you this.” He took a gulp of air. “I made an error in judgment. And now, well, things have gotten out of hand.”

  “Is it something with the company? Are there problems with the offering?”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  Nina waited. When Grady didn’t continue, she turned to Marc. “Would somebody tell me what’s going on?”

  “Grady’s been accused of sexual assault,” Marc explained without inflection.

  “Sexual . . . Nina’s expression was puzzled at first, then comprehension dawned. She pulled her hand from his. “Do you mean rape?”

  “Date rape,” Marc said.

  There was a moment of heavy silence, before Nina spoke. “Date rape? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “I didn’t do it, Nina.” Grady’s voice cracked. He looked at her imploringly. “I swear.”

  “Then why’s she accusing you?”

  “I—”

  Nina cut him off. “You were with a woman?”

  He nodded.

  The tendons in Nina’s neck rippled. “When?”

  “Last Saturday. I met her at a bar.”

  “Who is she?”

  “No one.”

  “What do you mean, no one. Everyone is someone.”

  “No one important, It’s not like—”

  “Jesus, Grady. Jesus fucking Christ.” Her voice rose hysterically.

  “I didn’t do it, Nina.” The pitch of Grady’s voice matched Nina’s.

  I got out of my chair and went to Nina, touching her shoulder. “Try to stay calm. All this agitation can’t be good for the baby.”

  Nina nodded, but her breathing was uneven, as though she were sobbing without tears. She continued to rock back and forth in her chair, building momentum.

  “But you were with her,” Nina sputtered. “I’m flat on my back with your baby. I’ve got cancer eating away at me, cancer I can’t begin to fight until the baby is born. And you had sex with some woman you met at a bar.”

  I wondered if Nina would ever forgive him.

  “No.” Grady spoke with the vehemence of one wrongly accused. He leaned across the table and met Nina’s eye. “No, I did not. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  I looked at Grady. So did Marc. Then we exchanged a glance between ourselves.

  “I gave her a ride home,” Grady continued, “that’s all. I swear to you. And now she’s concocted some harebrained story.”

  “Why?” Nina stopped rocking, but her shoulders remained tight. “Why would she do that?”

  “We intend to find out,” Marc said, wading into the lie without a moment’s pause. He looked at me, eyes narrowed. “Don’t we?”

  I hesitated, trying to put myself in Nina’s place.

  Simon appeared in the doorway just then, saving me from further moral debate.

  Behind him were two uniformed police officers. “Mr. Barrett,” one of them said, “we have a warrant here for your arrest.”

  Chapter 4

  Marc followed Grady and the police downtown while I stayed with Nina. He and I met later that night at Olivetto’s on College Avenue.

  The cafe was crowded and noisy, and the table between us so small, we had to angle sideways to avoid touching knees. Although we’d never gotten beyond the salad course at dinner, we’d opted for late night coffee and dessert instead of a full meal.

  “The press is going to have a field day with this,” Marc said, scowling. “It’s just the sort of dirty laundry they love.” He dipped an edge of biscotti into his cappuccino and crunched down loudly.

  “Maybe it will slip
by them,” I offered, not believing it for a minute.

  He ignored me. “And right when the momentum is finally building on the stock offering. The price is going to take a nosedive because of this crap.”

  “So are a few people,” I said pointedly.

  Raising his eyes, Marc gave me one of those uneven smiles he’s so good at. “I know that, Kali. I’m not completely heartless. Nina and Grady are my friends too, don’t forget.”

  I smiled back, in spite of myself. It wasn’t easy to resist Marc’s charm, although when I’d agreed to help Nina out, I’d promised myself that I would. I’d managed so far by keeping my distance and reminding myself what a jerk he’d been ten years earlier.

  “I feel sick about the whole thing,” I said. “How could Grady do this to Nina?”

  “I’m sure he’s asking himself the same question.”

  “It’s a little late for that.” I poked at the apple tart with my fork. “Did they let you talk to him?”

  Marc shook his head. “I might as well have not been there. How’s Nina holding up?”

  “She’s angry, worried, confused.” While she was clearly upset, hysterics were not Nina’s style. She possessed an inner strength that always amazed me.

  “You didn’t tell her, did you?” Marc asked tersely.

  “You mean about Grady’s lie?” I put heavy emphasis on the last word.

  Marc nodded.

  I’d been tempted, but had decided against it. “No, I didn’t tell her. I’m not so sure I won’t at some point though.”

  Marc scooted his chair farther from the aisle to avoid the passing throng. “This is why I prefer corporate work. It’s clean and neat.”

  “I’ve heard some pretty heated exchanges coming from the conference room. You can’t convince me that some of your deals aren’t emotional.”

  Another half-smile. “Impassioned maybe, but always with a sense of direction and purpose. There’s none of this under-the-skin stuff.”

  I marveled again that Nina and Marc had ended up working together. Marc, who didn’t let much of anything get close to him, and Nina, who embraced the world like a puppy on a picnic. It was a strange alliance.