“So,” James said with a warm smile. His L-shaped desk was crowded with a large computer display, a wide keyboard and many stacks of papers and disks. James switched on a lamp and swiveled his chair to face the two of them. “Welcome to fabulous Las Vegas,” he said cheerfully. “I made a couple of calls already. My guy at the Galaxy said he thinks he can get you in there. He said he’ll call me right back.”
“Uh,” Ted said.
“No good? I thought you’d like the Galaxy. Great location.”
Before Ted could answer, the computer beeped and a red box came up on the lower left side of the screen. “Just ignore that,” James said, shooting it a fast glance. “It’s only a police bulletin.”
“Really?” Ted said offhandedly. “Local, or state, or what?”
“We get just about everything,” James said. He looked over at Ted with a trace of curiosity. “Something you’d like me to check for you?”
Ted hesitated. He looked at Jordan. She was silent.
James swiveled his chair to face them again and leaned back. He waited.
Ted drummed his fingers on the metal armrest of his chair. “We may be in a little bit of a situation,” he said. “It’s possible that some people in L.A. are looking for us.”
“People?” James asked, “Or police?”
Ted didn’t answer. “Police,” Jordan said.
James looked sympathetic. “Want me to check?” he asked.
Ted leaned forward. “Off the record, okay?”
“Off the record,” James agreed. He tapped the keys of his keyboard. The computer beeped and a screen of text appeared. James scrolled through it rapidly. Then he stopped. “You drive a Mako Shark Corvette?” he asked in an awed voice.
Ted nodded.
“Really? You drive it on the streets? You just drive it around?”
Ted nodded. “I show it sometimes on the weekends,” he said.
“That is so toxic,” James said. “Is it here? In the parking lot?”
Ted nodded.
“Well, we’d better find you someplace to keep it. You don’t want to drive that Corvette back into California. The CHP has an all-points bulletin out on it.”
The woman who answered the door looked to be in her early seventies, so she was probably eighty. Her hair was red, cut in an old-fashioned spiky style and gelled shiny. She wore a heather gray Los Angeles Dodgers sweatshirt and baggy black jeans and carried an armload of what looked like twelve-inch-square printed cardboard folders.
“Hi, Jimmy!” she said brightly. “I was just making a little more room in the garage.”
“Hi, Grandma,” James said, “Here, let me carry those for you.” He took the stack of folders from her. “What are these?”
“My Aunt Cheryl’s old record collection. I keep saying I’m going to throw this stuff out one day, but I never do it.” The woman looked up at Ted and Jordan, standing behind James on the driveway. “Hello!” she called.
“Grandma, I’d like you to meet Jordan Rainsborough and Ted Braden,” James said, waving them forward. “Ted, Jordan, this is my grandmother, Tiffany Dixon.”
“Nice to meet you,” Tiffany said, shaking their hands. “Come in. No, wait, you’d better put the car into the garage first. Jimmy, why don’t you put those albums on the washing machine and open the garage door.”
“Thanks, Grandma,” James said, stepping past her into the house. Tiffany took Jordan by the elbow and led her inside, leaving Ted alone with his car keys. He heard the garage door open with a bang. James walked out onto the driveway again.
“Okay,” James said. “Let’s get your car in the garage before somebody sees it.”
Tiffany’s living room was cluttered with knickknacks and family photographs. Jordan, looking uncomfortable, was seated on an ivory leather sofa that must have been very expensive when it was new. Tiffany was pouring a greenish herbal tea into glass mugs when Ted and James walked in from the garage.
“I hope your neighbors don’t mind all the noise at this hour,” Ted said sheepishly. “That Corvette kind of makes its presence felt.”
“Don’t give it a thought,” Tiffany said. “Nobody has their hearing aids in at this time of night.”
Ted accepted a cup of tea and sat down on the sofa. “Ms. Dixon, I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this.”
“Call me Tiffany,” she said. “It’s no problem at all. If Jimmy says it’s an emergency, it’s an emergency. I don’t need to know more than that.”
“I’m sure we’ll get this all straightened out in a couple of days,” Jordan said unconvincingly.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Tiffany said. She looked from Jordan to Ted and back again. “Are you together?” she asked, pointing two index fingers toward the top of the stairs, “Or separate?” She pointed one finger at the stairs and one at the sofa.
“Separate,” Ted said, clearing his throat.
“That sofa is a sleeper,” Tiffany said, “And Jordan can have the guest room upstairs.”
James came up behind Tiffany and kissed his grandmother on the cheek. “Thanks for everything, Grandma,” he said. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.” He took his car keys from his pocket and headed for the front door. “Bye, you guys,” he said. “Get some rest.”
“James,” Ted said, “Thank you.”
“First rule of journalism,” James smiled, “Protect your sources.”
Bright sunlight beating on the east-facing living room windows awakened Ted. He blinked a few times, bringing the unfamiliar room into groggy focus. He rolled over onto his side and reached for his wristwatch on the coffee table. It was 6:45.
Except for his pounding headache, the house seemed quiet. He swung his legs off the side of the folding bed and sat up. There was a small, sharp pain in his neck that hadn’t been there the night before. Ted stood up and went in search of two aspirin.
He found them in the medicine cabinet of the downstairs bathroom, but no water glass, so he headed back toward the kitchen. There he found a package of chocolate chip cookies, a half-gallon of calcium-enriched orange juice and a television. He pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table and made himself comfortable.
The TV had the old kind of remote control so Ted had to surf through the channels until he found the news. He looked at the clock. Five minutes until the top stories. Munching on a cookie, he watched a feature story on the new Graham Bayley movie. Hilarious, they said. Stupid, he thought. Ted sat through a commercial for the new Williamsburg hotel and casino. Colonial maids in low-cut bodices sashayed through topiary gardens. Robot roosters battled in a pit. Gamblers threw dice. Some poor unfortunate witch went up in flames. Typical Vegas, Ted thought. The witch trials were in Salem, not Williamsburg.
Eventually a fanfare of cheerful music signaled that the news was back on. “Hello, I’m Bren Rogers,” the anchor said with a pert smile, “and here are the top stories this hour. Authorities in Los Angeles say a woman connected to the scandal in the district attorney’s office is a fugitive from justice today. Assistant District Attorney Jordan Rainsborough disappeared from her Los Angeles apartment last night shortly before police arrived with a search warrant.”
Ted froze, his elbow on the table, a chocolate chip cookie halfway into his mouth. Jordan’s picture was framed above the news anchor’s shoulder.
“Police say Ms. Rainsborough may be traveling with defendants’ rights activist Ted Braden.”
Ted dropped the cookie and looked around for a phone. He keyed in Julia’s number.
A wide-awake voice answered. “Hello?” Julia said.
“Julia, it’s Ted.”
“Ted! Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you where I am, but I’m fine. Listen carefully. I need you to get into my house and get rid of the computer stuff downstairs.”
“Your mock D.A.’s office?”
“Exactly. Do it now before the police have time to get a search warrant.”
“Okay,
” Julia said. “Where’s the key?”
“Flynn has it,” Ted said. “She’s at her mom’s. 1720 N. Gramercy Place, Apartment 512. It’s north of Hollywood Boulevard between Bronson and Western.”
“Got it.”
“Go right now.”
“I’m on the way,” Julia said.
“Tell Flynn I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Ted continued. “Tell her to stay at her mom’s.”
“Okay,” Julia said. “Can I call you on your wireless?”
“Better not,” Ted said.
“Okay,” Julia said, “I’m gone.” She clicked off.
Ted stared at the phone in his hand, nervously drumming his fingers against it.
“Who was that?” Jordan came into the kitchen wearing a flouncy pastel bathrobe. “I borrowed it from Tiffany,” she said, misinterpreting his grim expression.
“That was Julia,” Ted said. “Jordan, this is worse than we thought.”
“You’ll be perfectly safe here,” Tiffany said. The coffee pot made gurgling sounds behind her as she placed three ceramic mugs on the table. “Everybody knows the state of Nevada doesn’t cooperate with California. Of course, Nevada is obligated to extradite anyone charged with a felony in another state. But that’s only if you’re caught. Nevada will do nothing to catch you, or to help California catch you.”
“God bless the New Federalism,” Jordan declared weakly.
“We don’t know that we’re going to be charged with a felony,” Ted said.
“Really,” Tiffany said dryly. “Are you on the news because your puppy fell into a well?”
“Point taken,” Ted grumbled.
“I can’t understand it,” Jordan said. “They’re making me sound like an escaped murderer. All I did was copy a few documents.”
“We have to call Dobson Howe,” Ted said.
Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Dobson Howe?” she asked.
Ted caught the tone. “We’re not dangerous criminals, I swear,” Ted said. “This is probably just a big misunderstanding.”
“It’s all just political,” Jordan said. “The mayor’s upset about leaks and they’re looking for someone to blame.”
Tiffany nodded. “I’m just going to call Jimmy,” she said. “Maybe he’ll pick up some doughnuts and come over and join us.”
Ted jumped up from the kitchen table and grabbed Tiffany’s hands before she could get to the phone. “Please don’t turn us in,” he pleaded.
“I’m not turning anybody in,” Tiffany said calmly. “You’re my first fugitives. I don’t want to get a reputation in the community as a rat.”
Ted kissed her hand.
The phone rang.
“That will be Jimmy,” Tiffany said. “Sometimes I think he can read my mind.” She pulled her hands away from Ted and answered the phone. “Hello? Yes, we saw it. No, no, it’s all right. Certainly. Pick up a dozen doughnuts on the way, would you? You did? You read my mind. Okay, bye-bye.” She hung up the phone. “He’s on his way,” she said. “Let’s have some coffee.”
“May I use your phone?” Ted asked. “I think it’s not a good idea for me to use my wireless.”
“Certainly,” Tiffany answered. She handed it to him. Ted keyed in Dobson Howe’s number. Howe answered on the second ring.
“Dobson? Ted Braden.”
“Ted, where are you? Where’s Jordan?”
“She’s here with me. We’re in Nevada.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard this morning. Whatever you do, don’t cross the border into California. And keep your car out of sight. The last thing we need is some idiot turning you in for the reward.”
“There’s a reward?”
“Not yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Find a garage or a storage lock-up someplace.”
“Already have.”
“Good, good.” Howe sounded impressed. “How many people know where you are?”
“Just a local newspaper reporter and his grandmother. She has graciously agreed to let us stay in her home until this blows over. Which brings me to the reason I’m calling.”
“It should be just a couple of days,” Howe said. “It’s my guess that this is a scare tactic. I think they’re hoping to shake a confession out of Jordan. It’s unlikely they have any real evidence against her. They wouldn’t have anything on you, either, if you hadn’t evaded the Highway Patrol on the way out of town. However, that is an easier matter to resolve. Give me a couple of days, and I think you’ll be able to come back.”
“Thanks, Dobson.”
“What’s the phone number where I can reach you? And by the way, don’t use your wireless.”
“Right. Tiffany?”
“Hm?”
“Okay if I give Dobson Howe your phone number?”
“Let me talk to him,” Tiffany said. She took the phone from Ted. “Mr. Howe? This is Tiffany Dixon.” She gave him the voice number and a second number for data transfers.
“Ms. Dixon, thank you so much for letting my clients stay in your home. I’ll certainly see to it that you are compensated for your trouble.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. It’s no trouble and I don’t want any compensation. I just want to tell you one thing.”
“Certainly, Ms. Dixon. What is it?”
“You’re wrong about the 37th Amendment. And I wish you would reconsider.”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Thank you for your feedback,” Howe said. “I hope someday I’ll have the opportunity to discuss this with you in person. Perhaps I can change your mind.”
“I hope I can change yours,” Tiffany said. “Call anytime.” She hung up. “That felt good,” she said. “Much more satisfying than yelling at the TV set.”
Ted was staring into space but Jordan’s high-beams were fixed on Tiffany. The sound of the front door opening broke the silence.
“Good morning,” James called from the living room. “Where is everybody?”
“In the kitchen, sweetheart,” Tiffany called back.
James bounded in and dropped a box of fresh doughnuts on the kitchen table. Ted ate two of them by the time James poured a cup of coffee and sat down. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” Ted said, wiping a ring of chocolate from his mouth. “I think I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.”
“You must have an awful headache,” Tiffany said.
Ted nodded and reached for a sugared twist.
“When this is all over,” James said. “I’d like to write a series of articles about everything that went on. There might even be a book in it. Can I count on your cooperation?”
Ted nodded. James looked at Jordan. Jordan nodded.
“Great,” James said. “Next item of business. You need a lawyer.”
“We have a lawyer,” Ted said. “Dobson Howe.”
“Whoa,” James said. “This is going to be great. So, what are you charged with?”
“Maybe nothing,” Ted said. “Dobson thinks the mayor is just trying to scare Jordan into confessing.”
James leaned forward slightly. “Confessing what?” he asked.
“That I leaked confidential records,” Jordan answered. “But they can’t possibly have any evidence of that.” She looked searchingly at Ted. “You told me nothing was hooked up to the office network. So there can’t be any record, right? Right?”
“Right,” Ted nodded. “Unless it’s the Dency medical report. That one you did on your own.”
Jordan shook her head. “They can’t possibly prove it was me,” she said. “They might suspect it was me. But it could have been five other people. They can’t possibly prove it.”
“Okay, then,” Ted said. “It’s a bluff. Dobson said he’ll have it cleared up in a couple of days. I’ll plead to reckless driving and spend two hundred hours picking up trash along the freeway and it will be over.”
James and Tiffany were wide-eyed, listening.
“That’s right,” Jordan said. Her voice was calm. “I’m not a fugitive at all. I simp
ly left town for a couple of days on a pre-planned trip and never knew the police were looking for me. A simple misunderstanding.”
“That’s right,” Ted agreed. “Except that Dobson said we should stay out of sight because there probably will be a reward for turning us in.”
“He could be wrong,” Tiffany said. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” She pushed the box of doughnuts in Jordan’s direction. “Have a doughnut,” she insisted. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
Jordan extended a slightly shaky hand into the box and took a cake doughnut covered with chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles. “Did I hear you say you think he’s wrong to want to repeal the 37th Amendment?” she asked tentatively.
“I know he’s wrong,” Tiffany said. “I was there.”
“Where?” Ted asked.
“In 2016, when that amendment was ratified,” she answered. “I saw how things changed after that. He’s insane, trying to send the legal system back to the way it used to be.”
Jordan tried not to say anything but couldn’t stop herself. “Tiffany, I work in that legal system every day. It’s a travesty. People are being convicted of crimes they didn’t commit.”
“That is a shame,” Tiffany said. “But it’s better to put a few of the wrong people in jail than to go back to having the whole country locked inside their homes.”
Ted stared in astonishment at the redheaded grandmother sitting across the table from him. “Tiffany,” he said, “Innocent people have been put to death.”
Tiffany stared right back at him. “Innocent people used to die all the time,” she said. “Shot. Stabbed. Hit by stray bullets. There were a thousand murders a year in Los Angeles.”
The room fell silent.
“You kids think the legal system isn’t perfect and you’re going to fix it,” Tiffany continued. “You think a terrible injustice has been done. Well, you’re right. Maybe fifteen terrible injustices have been done. But twenty million people live in Los Angeles County and a lot of them don’t even lock their doors at night. It wasn’t always like that, you know.”
The 37th Amendment: A Novel Page 16