Judge Ortisa was a small grey-haired woman with thick purple framed glasses. She looked like someone’s grandmother rather than a judge. Maggie imagined she baked cookies in her time off and brought in a fresh batch to work every day. But that opinion soon changed when the first defendant took his place in front of her.
The man was arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol. The Prosecutor read the charges and the defense attorney started to speak, but the judge stopped him mid-sentence.
“You could very well be standing in front of me for murder,” she said. “Are you a father, Mr. Smith?”
“Your honor?” the defense attorney started.
“I’m talking to your client,” the judge said, “Mr. Smith?”
“Yes, your honor,” he said softly.
“How old are your children, Mr. Smith?”
“Six and four.”
“You have a six-year-old and a four-year-old?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Your honor,” the defense attorney said, “this is a bail hearing.”
“Don’t you worry, young man, I am going to set bail, but I am also going to require your client to do a little research before he gets to go home today. I want you to write me a letter, and in that letter, I want you to explain to me how dangerous it is to drive under the influence. I would like you to include some vital statistics as in how many children are killed by drunk drivers every year. I also want you to tell me how many children are growing up without parents because they were killed because they had been driving drunk. Then bail will be set at $10,000. Next…”
“She is something,” Trey whispered in Maggie’s ear, causing her to jump.
“I guess so,” Maggie also said in a whisper.
“I have two cases before your sister, so you have a little time. My father is waiting to speak with you out in the hallway.”
“Your father?”
“Mr. Cohen? Are you ready?” the judge was motioning him up to the front where a young man with long stringy hair was already standing at the defense table.
Maggie waited for Trey to walk up the aisle before she slipped out the door.
Maggie looked around, spotting the only likely candidate, a distinguished-looking man in a very expensive suit, sitting on one of the benches. He had dark curly hair with grey highlights surrounding his face. Instantly Maggie could see the resemblance to Trey.
“Mr. Cohen?” Maggie asked, now standing in front of him. The man looked up from the file he had been focused on and stood.
“You must be Maggie McFarlin.” He stood and held out his hand. Maggie accepted the gesture and shook his hand. He had a firm handshake, like his son, that exuded confidence.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, glad to meet you,” he said, “Trey has filled me in on your sister’s case and I want to assure you, our firm will help him as needed. I’m sorry we can’t work with her directly as a client, but I understand the financial burden. We will provide as much pro bono support as possible. I trust Trey will do a fine job.”
“I have confidence in him,” Maggie said, and she meant it.
“I also have some more good news regarding your case. I spoke with the Prosecutor’s office this morning and they agreed to drop the Trespassing case against you.”
“That is great news, even though I think it was a bogus charge in the first place.”
“That it was, but it’s gone now, so let’s focus on getting your sister released.”
“Sounds good to me,” Maggie said.
“Okay, Maggie, it was great to meet you. I’ve got a case starting in a few minutes, but you have a nice day. See you soon.” The senior Cohen rushed away and disappeared around the corner.
Maggie felt a bit of relief after speaking with Trey’s father. She had further confidence that her sister was in good hands with Trey, especially knowing his father was nearby but not too close. It was the perfect situation. Maggie returned to the courtroom and took her seat back in the last row and continued watching defendants come and go until finally her sister was brought in the side door, flanked by two officers. She remained handcuffed as she was positioned next to Trey. The two officers that brought her in now stood behind her. Maggie almost didn’t recognize her sister; she looked so small. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun sitting at the top of her head.
The judge nodded her head towards the Prosecuting Attorney, who spoke too fast for Maggie to follow, but the charges were stated as murder in the second degree.
“Mr. Cohen, do you have a statement before I decide to set bail?”
The judge looked over her glasses at Trey.
“Yes, your honor, and thank you,” Trey started, then cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Dawson is not a flight risk. She has strong ties to the community and is a member of several community groups. She is expecting a child in a few months, and the segregate lives in the area. Ms. Dawson has limited funds and is supported by her only sister, who is in the courtroom today.”
Trace looked back at Maggie. The judge followed his line of sight. Maggie felt her face turn red as several others turned to look at her, including several reporters. Judge Ortiz ignored the commotion and looked down at the file, taking her time flipping through several pages before finally looking up at Liza and Trey.
“Bail is set at $1 million with a requirement of weekly check-in with the court. That means you must personally show up once a week with a valid ID at the clerk’s office. Do you understand, Mrs. Dawson?”
“Yes, your honor.” Liza’s small voice was barely audible.
“And you will surrender your passport,” the judge added not looking up.
“Thank you, your honor,” Trey said as he whispered something to Liza before releasing her to the two officers, who again flanked her as they led her back to the side door. Liza turned, lifted her hands before disappearing through the door, and waved as best she could to Maggie as she disappeared.
Maggie waited for Trey to gather his folders and followed him out of the courtroom. She looked back, but thankfully none of the reporters followed her.
“That seemed easy,” Maggie said when they were far enough away from the door.
“A little too easy.” Trey looked around. “It was a 50/50 chance the judge would even set bail. I didn’t want to dash your hopes, so I didn’t tell you that, but the weird part is that the Prosecutor didn’t object.”
“So, what does that mean?”
“It means they don’t believe she had anything to do with it, their evidence might not be as strong, or they are hoping she is going to do something to help their case against her.”
“Oh, I see.” Maggie was now worried.
“I just need you to keep an eye on your sister. Keep her focused on the new baby. I don’t know what they might be hoping she does, but if you see anything suspicious, Maggie, please call me right away.”
“But she is not guilty.”
“I’m not saying she’s guilty, but I can’t help feeling like she is hiding something,” Trey said. “What I am trying to say is that she could unwittingly strengthen the Prosecutor’s case against her if they can find any reason, she might have wanted him dead besides the money.”
“I will keep an eye on her,” Maggie said.
“Good, remember the Prosecutor is an elected official and this is an election year so winning this case is pretty important to him.”
“You’re pretty smart for a kid,” Maggie said, smiling.
“Just doing my job,” he said, with a wink.
“I think you were born to be a lawyer.”
“Honestly, Maggie, the truth is that I never wanted to be a lawyer.”
“That surprises me. What did you want to do?”
“I wanted to be the next Kurt Cobain but of course my father.”
“Well, you can’t blame him; Kurt’s story didn’t turn out so good.”
“True. But I am a different person on that stage. It’s in my soul. I feel
it.”
“Why aren’t you in contract law instead of criminal law?” Maggie asked. “You could at least be an agent in the music business.”
Trey didn’t answer Maggie but rolled his eyes. He didn’t have to say it. He was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps, like it or not. Maggie just smiled.
“I really have to run, Maggie,” Trey said, as he started to walk away. “Go see Lou and keep in touch.”
“Will do,” Maggie said, heading in the opposite direction to the parking lot. Lou was the name of the Bail Bondsman on the card Trey had given her.
Maggie drove down Bay Street, which would be called Main Street in many other rural towns across the country as it contained the town hall, a bank, community theater, a few antique stores, a pawn shop, several small taverns, and of course, the bail bondsman. Maggie found a parking spot on a side street nearest the block where she spotted a window with a blue neon sign that said 24 Hour BAIL.
Chapter 7
The Sinclair Inlet provided a calming backdrop to this simple community. Maggie stood and leaned on her car, looking across the waterway at Puget Sound Naval Shipyard’s Inactive Fleet. It’s a sight you take for granted when you live here but being away for the last few years gave Maggie a fresh perspective. The giant aircraft carrier USS Kittyhawk was a new addition to the boneyard since Maggie left but now stood silent among the various old Frigates and Supply ships all in mothball status.
Maggie took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she watched passengers walk aboard the small foot ferry for the short ride across the inlet to the Bremerton Waterfront where they could catch one of the larger ferries for the hour-long ride across to Seattle.
The morning fog had disappeared, and the promised sunshine peeked from behind the clouds exposing the mountain ranges in the distance. From this vantage point, Maggie could now see the Shipyard’s Logistics Center across the water. It was the building where Chase worked for the past 30 years. Another person that worked in that same building was Maggie’s good friend Sue Brookland. Maggie met Sue when they were both hired as Industrial Trainees, the summer Maggie graduated high school. It was one of the Affirmative Action programs of the Reagan era designed to attract women to work in the trades. Maggie and Sue were both chosen to be trained as Marine Electricians and sat next to each other in training that summer.
Maggie only stayed for a few years until she had enough money to go to college, but Sue had already been through college and traveled the world. Her father, a World War II veteran and former civil servant encouraged his daughter to seriously consider a career at the shipyard, and she ended up loving it. She didn’t stay in one position for long but tried several types of jobs and now was the head of shipping and receiving, a direct report to Chase.
Sue was one of those people with her ear to the ground at all times. Everyone knew that Sue was that one person you could go to if you needed to know what was going on. She knew every rumor and took it upon herself to validate whether that rumor was true or not. She was one of those people that others seem to open up to with all their dirt. The one thing for sure is that if something fishy were going on in the Logistics Department, she would know about it.
Maggie pulled out her phone and found Sue’s contact information. She typed a short message to her friend that she was in town and needed to see her. She didn’t have a solid plan yet, but hopefully, she could come up with something.
Maggie was about to put her phone back into her backpack when it vibrated. She looked at the screen expecting a message from Sue, but it was a call from Mike Marker.
“Hey, you,” Maggie answered, smiling, happy to finally hear from him.
“I’m here,” he said. “I took the red-eye.”
“In Seattle?”
“I’m a lot closer than that. I just checked in at the Port Orchard Inn.”
“Really? Well, I’m just down the street about to go see the Bail bondsman.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.
Maggie wanted to be strong, but she wanted Mike to be with her. “That would be great.”
“I’ll drive right over,” he said.
“You can walk,” she said, giving him directions for the short walk.
She walked through the buildings back to Bay Street towards the direction Mike was headed. She saw him already only a block away. She took short, measured steps, resisting running into his arms, but when they were close enough, he opened those big strong arms, and she flew at him. He engulfed her as she buried her head into his chest. Maggie took several deep breathes, promising not to fall apart. Finally, she let up and he pushed back enough to look into her eyes.
“Are you alright?” he asked with those blue soul-piercing eyes. Maggie held his stare and shook her head affirmatively.
“How was your flight?”
“It was six hours of boring conversation with the lady sitting next to me. I tried to work, but she didn’t get the hint and kept talking.”
“I remember a flight where a handsome detective sat next to me,” Maggie smiled.
“I might remember something like that, but I was working then too. I was hoping you might give me a lead in the murder investigation.”
“Alex was innocent,” Maggie said, in defense of her friend back in Boca.
“Did I say Alex was the one I was looking at?”
“Let’s talk about something else,” Maggie said, avoiding the fact that her friend Alex might have more than a little connection to the man that murdered Marco at Banyan Tree Country Club. “We need to get my sister out of jail.”
“Let’s go,” he said, opening his arm for Maggie to lead the way.
Maggie walked past him confidently midway down the block to the small window with the neon sign she spotted earlier. Above the door were the numbers 241 with a professionally painted ‘Lou’s Bail Bonds’. Maggie pushed the door open and a bell on the string announced their arrival. A young woman was sitting behind the only desk in the long narrow office space. The woman had several inches of dark roots that turned into a white blonde around her ears and extended to her shoulders, where the last inch of hair was a fluorescent pink. She had several piercings in her nose, lip and cheek. No wonder she had a serious look on her face; all those piercings must hurt.
“May I help you?”
The placard on her desk said Lou.
“We need to get my sister out of jail,” Maggie said, looking around for a back room where Lou might be hiding.
“Have a seat,” the woman said, pointing to the two wooden chairs in front of the desk. “I’m Lou,” she said, “in case you were wondering.”
Maggie was surprised but didn’t give away with a blank look on her face.
Lou opened the bottom desk drawer and pulled out a stack of papers. She pushed them toward Mike and Maggie. The office looked more like the back room in an office building. There were three large filing cabinets lined up behind Lou and boxes of files stacked along every wall. It was stuffy in the small space.
“Name?” she asked, turning to her computer.
“My name?” Maggie asked.
“Your sister’s name,” Mike said. Maggie noticed he was leaning back in his chair, observing. Maggie, lost in the process, unsure of the world she was now exposed. It was apparent that Mike wasn’t going to save her, so she just needed to focus on the task at hand.
“Liza Marie Dawson,” Maggie said.
“Birthdate?”
“May 19,” Maggie paused counting years in her head, “1970? Maybe 69?”
“Address?”
Maggie took out her phone and scrolled through her contact list but looked at Lou with a blank stare, “I don’t have it.”
Lou didn’t respond but typed on her computer. She wrote down the address and handed it to Maggie.
Maggie looked confused as Lou continued to type into her computer. “Google,” Lou said, not looking at Maggie.
“How much is the bail?”
“A million,”
Maggie said.
Lou stopped and stared at Maggie.
“Your sister is the woman accused of killing her husband,” she said, now almost smiling, “I don’t usually issue bonds for that amount. There are bonds people in Seattle that write that amount.”
“Seattle?” Maggie asked, “Do you have a recommendation of someone over there?”
“I’m not saying I won’t write it. I just said I don’t usually.”
“How are you going to guarantee the bond?” Lou asked contorting her face back to her original serious look, “$100K.”
“Can we use her home as collateral?” Maggie asked.
“Sure, all she needs to do is fill out these papers,” Lou pointed to the stack she had pushed to them. Maggie picked up the paperwork and it looked like the legal transfer of property.
Lou took the piece of paper and typed in the address she had written down. She typed a few times.
“This property doesn’t belong to your sister,” Lou turned the screen to Maggie. Mike leaned in.
“Chase?” Maggie said, “That’s her husband.”
“Then her husband needs to sign those papers to get the bond,” Lou said.
“He’s dead,” Maggie said, shaking her head silently, wondering why Chase was the only person listed as the owner of Liza’s home. Lou sat back in her chair with her arms across her chest, waiting for Maggie to speak.
“Wouldn’t the property be Liza’s since Chase is dead?”
“I’m not a lawyer,” Lou said, staying in her position.
“I don’t know what to do,” Maggie said, looking helplessly at Mike.
“I need a $100K in cash or something of value to secure the bond. Come back when you figure it out,” Lou said, now fishing out a business card from her top desk drawer. “Give me a call. I am available pretty much 24 hours a day. If I don’t answer, my service will find me.”
“What about my house in Boca Raton?” Maggie asked.
“Maggie,” Mike turned to face her, “are you sure you want to do this?”
“She is my sister. She can pay me back when she gets all the property stuff figured out.”
“I just think you need to think about it before you make this big of a commitment.”
Deception Trail: A Maggie McFarlin Mystery Page 5