“Michael Shaw is oh so rusty on criminal matters.” Brennan faced the deputies. “He’s run after rich man’s law too long. Too many divorces and probates. Isn’t that right, Stevens?”
“Yes, boss. But my old football buddy can be pretty tough and tenacious. He might come up with trick plays and win.”
“You want me to take this one to trial, Mr. Brennan?” the chief deputy asked.
With a confession and the evidence so far, Brennan counted on a high probability for a conviction. Yet Shaw could indeed be tricky. “If it gets that far, I’ll be the one to shut down Michael Shaw. But this case is not worth my time. Let’s see if he’ll play ball.”
Brennan closed the file.
The regular Sunday game at Borden City Park drew several old football players.
They were men who had worn pads and attitude in high school and college and wanted to remember the glory and youth. During the forty-five minutes or so—the most the older players could stand without too many serious injuries—they trotted out for football and to drink lukewarm beer on an afternoon away from their wives. For the last play of the game, Adam rushed Michael, who tripped and went down hard on his back on the stubble of dried grass.
“Damn, that hurt,” Michael growled as he grabbed his leg.
“Be a man.” Adam stretched his hand to help him up.
The play continued as Michael led one team and Adam, the other.
Thirty minutes into the game, Adam’s muscles protested with only-Sunday use. He could still see himself, however, muscular as a boulder. He loved feeling the slap of the ball in his hands from a pass and then twirling past opponents in a race toward the goal line. Football he aced. Studies were another matter. In high school, Michael could capture the most complex of theories, as well as the prettiest women, who luckily had friends for him.
After the last play, Michael and Adam said good-bye to their teammates. Adam plopped down beside Michael on the grass.
“You’re getting to be an old man like your old man.”
“You’re no spring chicken yourself. Have a beer.” Michael reached into a paper bag, pulled out a bottle and grabbed the opener. He took another for himself.
“Those were the days, man. Knocking over the opposition on the field and, after the game, rolling over the cheerleaders. Now I get winded taking the stairs.”
Adam often feigned loss of his physical power. He had learned a valuable lesson early on: fool others into thinking he was floored by a tackle, when he in fact had the muscle to push over players like bowling pins.
“Sometimes I really miss school. It’s all this grown-up shit I can’t stomach.” Adam didn’t lie about that.
“I know what you mean. All you had to do was stare across the field to see your enemies. These days, you’re not quite sure who’s going to fuck you over,” Michael said.
They drank their beers with soft sucking sounds. Michael was happy the game had ended early. That evening, he planned to take Toni to the drive-in in Milton, a town twenty-five miles away from Borden and anyone who might recognize them. He would tell Jenny he had to work late at the office. How easy to lie to her, perhaps because he had lied to everyone else for so long, particularly to himself.
“I hear you waived the preliminary hearing.” Adam gave him a sideways glance.
“You know very well we waived. What’s on your mind, Adam? Or shall I say, what’s on Joe Brennan’s mind?”
Adam hated when Michael knew what he was thinking. “Okay, then. Here it is. If María Curry pleads guilty to second-degree murder, we’d recommend the court go easy on her.”
“How easy?”
“Ten to fifteen.”
Michael perked up inwardly but put on his poker face and sipped at the beer.
“Your client confessed. You know that we know they had lots and lots of fights. And Mikey, there’s all those stab wounds on Ben Curry’s body.” Adam clicked his tongue.
“You got shit. Her husband thrashed her every chance he got.”
“So your nice lady can plead and get out of prison in ten to fifteen years. Easy time. Otherwise, we go to trial on first-degree, premeditated.”
Michael contemplated his beer. “Second, huh?”
Adam stood up and brushed the grass off his pants. “Your client will grease her way through the system. Grease her way through. That’s pretty good. Get it?”
Michael didn’t laugh.
“Want to get a burger?”
“Not tonight.”
“If your client doesn’t go for the deal we’re offering, she’s pretty fucking stupid.” Adam suddenly tossed Michael the football. “It’s the smart thing to do, Mikey.”
19
“TARZAN, THE APE MAN” flashed on the screen like electric moonlight. Teenagers scrambled through the dark, spilling popcorn and pop. Children in pajamas jumped off swings or the free pony rides and ran toward cars. As the opening credits began to roll, mothers ordered youngsters in the back seats to settle down, while fathers worked on the speakers for optimum sound.
Michael and Toni were parked in her car in the last row of the Ranch Drive-in. She had saved enough for a new transmission, which her cousin had installed in no time. She paid him against his will.
The windows were down to let in any evening coolness that might arrive. They had turned off the speakers so the movie became a mere backdrop. The sound did roll along the ground from the other cars.
“Michael, what happens if María doesn’t take the offer?”
“It’ll be tough. Joe Brennan considers every case a stepping stone toward a senate seat. And he hates my guts. So he’s got even more reason to try to obliterate us in court.”
“You think María should agree to this?”
He sighed. “We risk losing big time.”
Toni took his hand. “You said we’d have a strong case for self-defense. I believe you can convince a jury to set her free.”
“Regrettably, you won’t be on that jury, Toni. And, while we do have a great shot at an acquittal, with a jury it’s always a crapshoot. They could vote guilty.”
“Then?”
“The maximum is life in prison. Be thankful the state isn’t keen on executing women.”
“Oh, God. Could it really come to that?”
“It could. We’ll talk to María. It’s really her decision, because it’s her life.”
She leaned against him. At times, Michael had the sense he was defending Toni as well as María. The two women almost became one person when Toni translated for her. But Toni would never have allowed herself to be beaten, and he admired her even more for that. He kissed her. When they pulled away from each other she yawned.
“Toni, I’m really hurt. I thought I was a great kisser. In fact, I was voted best lips in college.”
She put her fingers on his mouth. “I’m sure you were.”
“So why are you tired?”
“I took another job at a laundry on Pecos Street. I want to help my dad with some bills, and I needed to get my car fixed. This translator job doesn’t pay much.”
“You should have said something.”
“I don’t need your money.” She scooted back from him. “I can take care of myself.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it, Toni.”
“I know. I told you I have a temper.”
He reached out and touched her neck, and she again moved near him. In Toni’s older car, with a blanket over the seats, Michael felt sheltered and normal. Their children could be playing on the swings or sleeping in the back. The Michael Shaw who drank too much and had a rich daddy became as invisible as the light carrying the movie to the screen.
“We really don’t know a lot about each other, do we?” Her fingers intertwined with his.
“I want to know.”
She had wanted to tell him about her father’s illness and cry against his chest for comfort. But she held off. She trusted few people in her life. Even after they slept together, she still could not plac
e all her faith in him, which shamed her. His lips brushed her forehead. Maybe she was the one who had to give her trust first. She had to have faith.
“Michael?”
“What?”
“I belong to you. Even if you don’t want me, I belong to you.”
Michael blushed. With all his wealth, no one had ever presented him such a profound gift. Before he could answer, she slipped off her panties and unzipped his pants. Hiking up her skirt, she straddled him in a motion that shocked him with its fluidity. He gasped as she drummed her body against his. His longing held her there. At that moment, he knew all he wanted about her as the movie’s sound echoed over the drive-in.
Michael draped his arm around Deputy Herb Bell at the jail.
“Mr. Shaw, I like and respect you, but this is really breaking the rules.” Bell emitted the odor of cheap cigars and onions.
“Herb, you allow the inmates to have family visitors, don’t you?”
He wagged a thin finger at the lawyer. “On visiting day, Mr. Shaw, on visiting day.”
Although Bell had no intention of saying no, he got a jolt of gratification from making the rich man beg a little. Better than a swallow of cold beer at noon.
“That dog is María Curry’s only family. We’ll clean up any mess,” Michael said.
“See that you do, sir.”
A few minutes later, Bell escorted María into the interview room. After the door shut, Michael leaned down and brought Oscar out of a basket.
He had never seen his client happy.
The little dog yipped when he saw María and got so excited he peed. They all laughed, and Michael ran to the men’s room to fetch toilet paper to clean up the puddle.
Toni asked María to sit down, and the room became somber.
“Bad news?” María asked.
She petted the dog on her lap as they told her about the prosecutor’s offer. She didn’t quite understand all that Mr. Shaw said, yet she believed in him. She liked how he had touched her hand when they first met and how his voice held concern and pity for the woman who murdered her man. He defended her although she had no money and had even pulled Ben’s brother away from her in the courtroom. Ben had told her white people hated Mexicans, but she had seen no hate in Mr. Shaw.
“Is there a chance I can go home?”
“Yes, María. We’ll tell the jury you struck out because you were afraid for your life. We can show how he had hurt you many times before.”
“What happens if I don’t go along?”
Michael looked at Toni and then engulfed María’s tiny hand in his. “You could go to prison for the rest of your life, or worse.”
“They could kill me?”
He nodded. Toni’s eyes glistened.
María petted Oscar. After a while, she smiled. “Mr. Shaw, I like to play bingo at church. I like to bet a dime in hopes I’ll win ten dollars. You’re a good lawyer, and I’m an old woman with no man or child. The only thing I have left is chance.”
20
LILY ANN STRITCH surveyed her daughter like a piece of real estate, her eyes speculative and exacting. Her daughter had inherited her blue eyes and abundant blond hair, and Lily Ann saw her own once-shapely figure in Jenny. Although hers had spread a little with age, she still could divert a head or two, albeit an old man’s head.
“Jenny, you gained a few pounds since I last saw you. Marilyn Monroe curves. Michael must love that.”
“I wanted to talk with you about him, Mother.”
“I guessed you didn’t drive to Phoenix for nothing. And I know how you loathe going anywhere by yourself.”
Smacking her lips after sipping a cocktail, Lily Ann smoked and listened. Jenny talked about how Michael still didn’t want any children after three years of marriage. And he didn’t want to buy the big house she had fallen in love with.
Shaking her ankle, Jenny sat on a blue silk sofa in her mother’s well-appointed living room. “How do I convince him to change his mind about a baby, when I can’t even convince him to buy a house?”
Lily Ann blew smoke out of one side of her mouth and picked a piece of lint off Jenny’s gray suit. Her daughter had traveled more than 200 miles and still didn’t ask the right question. Lily Ann would save her the trouble. “Is Michael having an affair?”
Jenny’s foot stopped shaking. “Absolutely not, Mother. He’s working hard on that trial and his other cases. I’d know if he were fooling around, believe me. He’s just scared of starting a family. He and his dad don’t get along at all. He’s probably afraid of being a father.”
“Very insightful, Jenny. You must have got that from Reader’s Digest.”
While her daughter had her looks, she didn’t have her guts or initiative. With a less than generous alimony, Lily Ann had gone right to work at Crawford Real Estate. She mastered all the jobs there and sold so many resort properties, she became a partner. Only occasionally did she have to sleep with the senior owner of the company. Jenny, on the other hand, wouldn’t last a day out in the world and did well marrying into the Shaw family. She wouldn’t be surprised if Michael Shaw was fooling around. The possibility occurred to her as soon as she met him. Those yawning good looks and a father like Martin Shaw, who must have been a philanderer, at least according to the rumors about the old man.
“Why come to me if you know what’s wrong?”
“You’re my mother.”
“Positive there’s no pretty secretary he might be seeing on the side?”
Jenny laughed. “His secretary is a little old woman. I’ve checked her out. I’m not stupid.”
“Is he still drinking a lot?”
Jenny looked outside the window. Now she regretted making the trip to Phoenix. Her mother only laid on more criticism about how she should run her marriage and life. “He likes his whiskey, Mother.”
She didn’t want to tell her mother that Michael had in fact cut back for the past month. It amounted to another indicator of a wobbly marriage. If he didn’t stop drinking for her, it could have been for another woman.
Putting out her cigarette in an alabaster ashtray, Lily Ann checked herself in the large mirror on the wall in front of them. She repaired a stray smudge of lipstick with her little finger. “You come here and tell me your husband is staying out late and doesn’t want children or a house, and he drinks a lot. That sounds like a cheating man to me.” She put fingers in her tight curls. “Believe me, Jenny, I should know the signs. Your father invented them, especially the drinking. Remember?”
Jenny nodded. As a kid, she often witnessed her mother help her father up off the floor, curse at him and then spin around to yell at Jenny to get back to bed. Her mother took charge of everything in her sphere. Jenny’s shoulders drooped because she had never taken charge of anything.
Lily Ann smoothed Jenny’s hair. “You’re probably right. Michael’s working too hard on that case. Honey, I hate to tell you, but that’s what you get for marrying a lawyer. Although a doctor is the absolute ultimate absentee husband, or so Marcia Crandall told me one day at the golf course. But then Marcia let herself go, gained weight, read too many books and is taking college classes. No wonder her husband doesn’t come home. Then there are all those nurses he works with.”
“Oh, Mother, be serious.”
“I wasted so much of my life and opportunities on your father. It gets me mad even thinking about it.”
“Maybe I should just get pregnant, Mother.”
“Honey, if you do, he’ll come to hate you for it.”
Jenny crossed her arms and fell back on the couch.
“Michael Shaw could have had any girl, but he married you, didn’t he? For God’s sake, don’t do anything stupid now. Hold on. If you do, you’ll never have anything to worry about. And don’t nag, Jenny. Men hate that.”
“You sound like women only live for their men. Without them, we have no other life.” Jenny’s voice had a sharper tone than she intended. Then again, she only echoed what her mother had raised her to
believe.
Lily Ann lit another cigarette and stirred her drink with a varnished nail. “Jenny, men have the upper hand in this world. That’s a fact. They have the money and all the jobs. We happen to have a body they want. We also have the ability to tolerate all their bad habits, like drinking, gambling, even other women. In the end, we get everything we want.”
Jenny gazed out the window. The Phoenix skyline began to gain radiance in the dusk.
“Jenny?”
“I heard you, Mother.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to hold on.”
“Wonderful. Now I’ll go and freshen up, and Max can escort us to dinner.”
Lily Ann sauntered into her bedroom and shut the door. The moment she did, Jenny scratched her ankle. She scratched so hard an older scab started to bleed, smearing and tearing another pair of her nylons. The annoying itch had started a few weeks ago, and nothing helped. Not calamine lotion, baking soda or hot baths. She opened her purse for a handkerchief because she didn’t want her mother to notice. Scratching was white trash behavior, along with working at a diner and getting knocked up by a man with no money, according to her mother’s standards.
Jenny tried to ignore the itch on her ankle and the misery that attacked her like a virus. She scratched and hoped her mother was right about Michael. Her mother had been right about most things. Didn’t she predict Michael’s proposal?
When they had met at the country club, Jenny hoped to impress Michael by telling him she was signing up for college that fall. She had no intention of following through, however. Careers made women tough and masculine. Her mother was the perfect example. She had finally softened back into a female after marriage to her second and prosperous husband, Max.
Verdict in the Desert Page 12