by Kelly Irvin
The hint of accusation in her tone stuck in Nina’s craw. “Of course not. We don’t air our dirty laundry in public. Ever. Besides, if anything, I got along with him worse.”
How had that happened? When they were children, they loved going to the courthouse with him on days when he wasn’t presiding over a case. He would take them to Brackenridge Park for a picnic lunch and to feed the ducks. Or to Milam Park to play on the playscape.
Then they became teenagers who had minds of their own.
“Neither of us chose careers he approved of, but I’m the one who got knocked up.”
True, but that unfortunate circumstance had resulted in a beautiful, funny, smart, sensitive little girl who charmed the socks off her grandpa every time she skipped into his office and asked for a knock-knock joke. Babies were never mistakes.
Nina popped the lid from her bottle and tossed it on the counter. “He forgave you. He never forgave me for refusing to go to law school.”
“At least he thought you were smart enough to become an attorney.”
Jan had always been certain Dad liked Nina more. She didn’t understand that Dad’s favor meant expectations that couldn’t be met. He wanted his girls to be successful. He wanted them to be able to stand on their own two feet in a difficult world.
In other words, he didn’t want them to be like their mother.
He had high hopes for Nina, but she had no interest in law or even academia. She went to college to please him, but she chose her course of study to please herself. Dad begrudgingly recognized that it was better than having a college dropout for a daughter. “And what about Trevor? His own flesh and blood living in academia. It might as well be la-la land as far as Dad was concerned.”
“Trevor did take the love-hate relationship to a whole new level, but he’s outgrown it.”
Nina’s phone’s ringtone told her someone not in her contact list was calling. Media had been calling all evening. People who were once colleagues had her number. Now she was a story to them. Ten o’clock news fodder.
Ignoring the ring, she pulled the phone from her back pocket and plugged it into the charger on the kitchen counter. Exhaustion rolled through her. “Trevor never had a chance.”
“He wouldn’t have lasted a day in the tent city.”
Nina rubbed her aching neck. Trevor would’ve toughened up just as she and Jan had. “Did you know Mom filed for divorce?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“She begged me not to. She said she would when you finished your exhibit. She wanted me to know before I deployed.”
“Will you still go?”
“No choice.”
“You could ask for a bereavement leave until Will gets back.”
“We both know I’m not bereaved.” Jan’s tone was flat, her face expressionless.
“You loved him.”
“Yesterday, before Brooklyn and I left for camp, he called me into his study.”
“No, not the study.” Nina couldn’t stifle the hysterical giggle. “Even as adults we couldn’t seem to say ‘no, not going.’ We could’ve stood our ground and said, ‘You want to berate me, do it here in the kitchen or the living room or the patio, but don’t call me into your office like a principal or a boss.’ We just went. Pavlov’s response.”
“Yep. I went like a good little girl.” Jan drew circles in the condensation on her water bottle. Her lips curled in a sardonic smile. “I knew what was coming. I should’ve recorded the last argument and replayed it. Saved both of us our breath.”
“He didn’t want you to deploy.”
“He said what he has been saying for seven years. I’m a bad mother. A terrible wife. An awful daughter.”
“He didn’t say that, and if he did, he didn’t mean it.”
“I’d rather play with guns than take care of my baby. Women like me shouldn’t have children.”
“Regardless of what Dad said, his action showed something different.” Nina chose her words carefully. “He didn’t want me to give up my job at the newspaper, but it was his idea for me to move back into the house. He didn’t want you to enlist in the Army, but it was his idea that you and Will live here so Brooklyn would have that stability while you two make a career out of the military. He groused and he lectured and he shook his head, but he never stopped loving us. Never.”
Jan’s lips trembled. She took a breath and straightened. Her gaze locked with Nina’s. “I really hated his guts.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“No one pushed my buttons like he did.” Her voice shook with remembered or renewed anger. “He said he was Brooklyn’s saving grace, just like he was for you and me. Without him, she’d have no real family.”
“What was he trying to accomplish with this harangue?”
“I plan to reup when my contract ends next year.”
“How did he know that?”
“I suppose Mom told him. She’s against it too. More because she’s afraid for me than she thinks it’s wrong. She’s known all along I intend to make a career of the Army.”
“What about Will?”
“Will was married to the Army when I met him. We’re much better apart than we are together. We’re both in it for the long haul.”
“And Brooklyn?”
“Now you sound like Dad.”
“I know you love the Army. You’ve done two years in Germany, a tour in Iraq, and another one in Afghanistan. You’ve given a lot in service to your country. It’s just hard—”
“Hard to understand how proud I am to serve. How the military gave me a sense of purpose. A sense of belonging. A sense that I’m worthy of something.”
“You could die. Every time you go, we wait and worry. That’s what Dad was thinking about.”
“No, he was thinking about a girl he adopted who didn’t know her place in his world. After all he’d done for me, I dumped my kid on him and took off.”
“What did you tell King?”
“The truth.” Jan’s despairing stare dared Nina to interpret those words any way she wanted. “We fought the day he died. He was an overbearing man who wanted to run his adult children’s lives. That I sometimes wondered if he adopted us to make himself look good in the eyes of his church and his community.”
“Please tell me you didn’t say that. It’s not true. You butted heads, but he loved you and you loved him. You gave King a totally untrue picture of our dad.”
“You’ve always been a daddy’s girl. You wanted him to be your daddy. You’ve always worn blinders. You’ve always made excuses for him. You wanted to please him. You never could. I promise you.”
“I know he loved us. He pushed so hard because he did love us. He wanted us to be everything we were capable of being.”
“You know what he said before I walked out on him yesterday?”
Nina didn’t want to know. She fought the urge to put her hands over her ears. Or shove a sock in her little sister’s mouth. “Just shut up. Please, shut up.”
“He said he didn’t know which was worse. You trotting around town with a camera around your neck, pretending to be an artist and writing bad poetry or me running around the world playing soldier, wanting to be one of the boys.”
“Stop. Stop.” Nina stood and knocked back the stool. It crashed to the floor. “You’re just being hateful now.”
“I’m just being truthful.”
Brooklyn’s soft voice called for her mommy. The noise had awakened her.
“I’ll put her back to sleep.” Jan stalked across the room. At the door she paused and turned back. “I told King I didn’t kill Dad, but I wasn’t sorry he was dead. We may not air our dirty laundry in public, but Fischers don’t lie either.”
Geoffrey Fischer had lied and deceived. He’d also saved their lives by plucking them from destitution and adopting them. They owed everything to him. Their health, their education, the roof over their heads. He didn’t deserve to die in a pool of his own blood.
>
“You didn’t see him.” Nina whispered the words, but Jan was already gone. “I saw him.”
10
Not all attorneys were created equal. Rick shook his head and took a long sip of Crown and water. No ice. It had been a long day, starting with the murder of a man who had been a steadying influence in Rick’s life for as long as he could remember. Despite his flaws, an outstanding attorney and even better judge.
Fred Teeter had been assigned the duty of representing Nina because he owed Peter a favor, and Peter could use him to find out what the police knew. Or didn’t know about the judge’s murder. Not because Fred was the best criminal lawyer in town. He had been at one time, but now he was a decrepit has-been who spent more time in a bottle than in court. His firm kept him on because his name still meant something. His reputation had outlasted him. To add insult to injury, he wore those inane seersucker suits with blue-and-white stripes that made him a twin of that old guy who played the TV lawyer Matlock.
His curiosity piqued, Rick set his glass on the bar, picked up his phone, and googled it. Yeah, Andy Griffith.
“Are you planning to join us?”
Peter’s voice had all the ice Rick needed. He turned to face the other four men in the law firm’s conference room. Peter; Fred; Jerome Solomon, the judge’s bailiff; and Chuy. Chuy didn’t count, really. He was simply the muscle. If a fat gut could be counted as muscle. Or a mouth. Rick did a double check to make sure he hadn’t said those words aloud.
Peter had his back to the others. He was writing on a dry-erase board that ran the length of the wall on the other side of the conference room’s ridiculously long cherrywood table. “King and his partner will go after family first. Grace has an alibi, but she has the money to hire an assassin. She found out about his gambling and life of debauchery in Las Vegas and decided to seek revenge.”
“Do you think that’s true?” Rick couldn’t see it. Miss Romance Novel lived for the happy ending. “It’s more likely it was Jan. She hated the old man. He demeaned her every chance he could because she embarrassed him by getting knocked up and joining the Army. She’s a great shot. A sniper.”
Peter wrote Jan’s name under the suspect list. “What about your client, Fred? Nina was in the house alone with Geoffrey. She has to be the primary suspect.”
Teeter’s hand shook as he gently set his empty glass on a coaster. He cleared his throat twice and stood as if preparing to address an imaginary judge. Unfortunately, the illusion dissipated when he passed gas and excused himself. “At first glance, perhaps. But Detective King had to concede several points. That’s why she was allowed to leave the station a free woman. She called 911. She administered CPR. She stayed with her father until the police came. No GSR on her clothes. No prior record, no prior experience with guns. No episodes of domestic violence ever reported. Good work record. A volunteer at Haven for Hope. A respected photographer and artist.”
Teeter cleared his throat yet again. “Her father allowed her to live free of charge in his house. He paid for her groceries and frequently made her car payments after she quit her job at the newspaper. Why kill the golden goose?”
“Maybe she inherits a load of dinero and she’s tired of begging the old man to dole it out?” Chuy’s contribution to the discussion. Peter’s frown made the big, fluffy man step back toward the door where he took up a guard position. “Just sayin’.”
“Chuy’s point is well taken.” Jerome’s black leather chair squeaked. The judge’s bailiff took a long swig from his bottle of Bud. “Who drew up the judge’s will?”
“Not us, obviously.” Still staring at the board, Peter added Trevor’s name and the name of Grace’s agent, Conrad. “Rick, can you find out?”
“Sure, I’ll just say, ‘Hey, babe, who did your daddy’s will?’” Rick snorted. He’d give his left arm for a single line of coke or one hit off a joint. He’d given all that stuff up before law school, but he still jonesed for it some days. Nina could never know. She would never associate with someone who did drugs. “We want to know if you had a motive for murder.”
“I suggest you be a little more delicate in your approach.” If Peter’s eyes were bullets, Rick would be dead now. “Tell them you want to help make the necessary transitions—paperwork, contact the attorneys of record to set up the meeting.”
“I know what to do.”
“What about Trevor? What’s his story?” Teeter offered the new topic in the weird sizzle that followed the exchange. “You put his name on the list. What’s his motive?”
“Dad didn’t approve of his career choices, made him feel like a sissy for choosing academia. Dad was grooming Rick for greatness instead of him.” Peter dropped the marker in its slot and picked up his Dewar’s. “But he’s such a book head, I can’t imagine him killing Geoffrey in cold blood.”
“Anybody can do it under the right circumstances.”
Rick swiveled. A newcomer stood next to Chuy. Someone Rick had not met before. He was tall, five o’clock shadow, black jacket with a hood. He wore black Nikes and black jeans. Mr. Mysterious Man in Black. Johnny Cash’s cousin. “Who are you? This is a private meeting.”
“I invited Mr. Miles.” Peter motioned for Miles to have a seat. “I don’t know what the police are thinking, but we need to be proactive. If there is any chance any of these family members know what Geoffrey was up to, then they know about us. Either they’ll take the same route as he did, or they’ll choose to be law-abiding citizens. We need to prepare for both eventualities.”
“And what does that have to do with Mr. Miles?” Rick hated to ask the obvious question, but he didn’t like the smirk on the man’s face. Too sure of himself. Too much like the gangbangers from his old neighborhood.
“He’s going to do some reconnaissance for us. He’ll also serve as our insurance as the situation unfolds. His company provides a myriad of services.”
“What kind of services?”
“Let’s just say not the kind you can google.” Miles grinned and picked up the beer Chuy brought him without asking. “You got a much bigger problem than the cops. Or the family. Now you got reporters snooping around trying to figure out who did it. They all want to break the story first. They’ll harass the cops every day trying to have something new for the ten o’clock newscast.”
“The cops won’t give them info in an ongoing homicide investigation.” People liked to bad-mouth the media. Rick found them extremely useful. Politicians needed to know how to finesse them. Lawyers could use them to get information. “They’re not stupid. Not much anyway. And if they do tell them something, we’ll know what it is.”
“Maybe.” Miles’s gaze swung to Jerome. “Then you got staff members who are scared. Thinking maybe they’ll be next. Or thinking maybe this is their chance at a moment in the sun. Fifteen minutes of fame, you know. They’ll talk to the media.”
Jerome settled his beer in his lap, both big hands around the sweating bottle. “If you think I’m talking, I’ve got as much on the line here as any of you do.”
“What about the court reporter? What about the court coordinator?” Peter rolled up the sleeves of his salmon-colored dress shirt. He loosened the matching tie, the cords in his neck bulging with anger and stress and whatever cocktail of drugs he’d imbibed. “What about his paralegal and his clerk? Do they all have as much on the line as you do?”
“I saw that skinny little reporter from Fox 29 making the rounds this afternoon. She talked to a bunch of folks, but she spent about fifteen minutes making nice with the court coordinator Serena Cochrane.” Jerome stood and poured another drink for Peter. “If you have concerns, I can touch base with them, starting with Serena. She worshipped the ground Geoffrey walked on and she was his right hand. If he confided in anyone, it would be her. I’ll commiserate. I’ll remind her how the media hounded them during her judge’s big cases. She was his front line on stuff like that. She’ll see it my way.”
“That’s what you get paid for. To be our eyes and ea
rs. Do the same with the court reporter and the others too.” Peter picked up the eraser and eradicated his list with quick, efficient strokes. “Rick, you know that reporter, what’s her name, Melanie Martinez, don’t you?”
Melanie was on a list of women he’d dated during those brief interludes when he gave up on Nina and swore he would never beg her for crumbs again. As much as he enjoyed the liaison with Melanie, he couldn’t scrounge up a single iota of feeling for the reporter. “I know she’s fond of crawling through sewers to get stories.”
“Find out what Serena told her. Get close to her.”
Fat chance of that. Melanie never revisited old flings. Neither did Rick. He did, however, know his way around her house. And he knew her daily routine. “I’ll figure out something.”
“Be quick about it. We need to stay ahead of this. You have your assignments. We’ll meet back here at four tomorrow.” Peter glanced at his watch. “Four p.m. today.”
Finally. Rick headed for the door. He ducked past Miles, who nodded, his expression inscrutable.
“Mr. Miles, stay a minute. There’s a couple of things we need to go over.” Peter’s tone was equally unfathomable. “Chuy, go bring the car around. I’ll meet you there.”
Rick glanced back before the door shut. Miles stood next to Peter. Their voices had dropped to near-whisper level. Both were smiling now. Peter looked distinctly pleased.
A chill rolled up Rick’s spine. Peter pleased was good, right?
So why did he have a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach?
11
Most of the hot air in the world came from women and their insistence on arguing. Aaron leaned back in his chair, plunked both feet on Melanie’s newsroom desk, and crossed his legs at the ankles. A pile of skinny reporter notebooks teetered, but nothing fell. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not wrong.” Melanie had written five names on the dry-erase board in her curlicue script that mimicked something a teenage girl would write in her diary. Just short of hearts instead of dots over the i’s. “The obvious suspects are Nina, her sister Jan, Grace Fischer, Trevor Fischer, conceivably the agent since you think he’s in love with Grace. Those are the first people King and Cavazos will go after. They’ll interview them like crazy, talk to the neighbors, talk to all their friends, go through all their financials, their computer records, phone records. Then they’ll start to realize they’re going nowhere. Then they’ll examine the bigger picture. The judge’s cases. The enemies he’s made.”