“I believe I told you the last time you were here in September that there would be no more continuances granted to the state. Doesn’t your file reflect that?” the judge asked.
“I wasn’t the prosecutor here on that occasion, your honor. It was the regular division prosecutor,” Fred said.
“Doesn’t matter. Your file should have that notation. You prosecutors are fungible anyway. Just like dollar bills. Some are more wrinkled than others but they all have the same value.” The judge chuckled at his own joke.
“Judge, I’m sure the reason that the state is never ready to go forward is their lack of an essential witness who is the alleged victim in this case. I tried to subpoena him for a deposition and he never showed up. I believe that their witness is permanently unavailable, like long-gone,” I said and smiled at Judge Custis.
“Is that correct, Mr. Mercer?” Judge Custis asked.
“Well, he’s not available right now, or, I mean, this week, your honor.”
I interrupted. “He’s never available. That’s exactly my point. But there’s more to this, Judge. My client is charged with bribing a police officer and/ or city official. The man at the towing yard is just an employee of the towing service. He’s not a police officer or even an employee of the city, let alone a city official. My client paid him the fee to release an automobile. If the tow yard employee asked for a payment that was more than the standard release payment, that’s not my client’s fault. He paid the amount requested. So even if this itinerant employee ever did show up, the state still couldn’t meet its burden of proof. Therefore, your honor, I move for an immediate dismissal of this case.” I watched Fred’s scowl spread over his face.
“And I am granting defendant’s motion based on the state’s failure to ever provide the essential witness. Further, Mr. Mercer, the speedy trial rule will be kicking in shortly, and you’ll be out of court anyway. Next case,” Judge Custis shuffled through his files.
“But, Judge.” Fred’s whines sounded like an injured cat.
“What part of ‘dismissed’ don’t you understand, Sir?” The judge’s usual smile disappeared and was replaced by a small frown.
“Thank you, Judge,” I said as I picked up my briefcase and motioned Franco to follow me from the courtroom.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Lucinda and Carlos were waiting in the lobby outside the courtroom. After giving instructions to Lucinda to retrieve the bond money, and cautioning her and Franco to stay out of trouble and removed from further domestic calls to police, I turned to Carlos.
“What a great surprise to see you here. You never said a word this morning about attending Franco’s hearing,” I said.
“I feel responsible for my various cousins taking up your time, besides, I love watching you in action. It makes me remember how you represented me when we first met and I conned you into helping me close a real estate deal. Watching you do your legal stuff turns me on.”
“Well, please try to remember some of my legal advice. Don’t pull anymore of those sort of legal deals of yours. Lying to clients isn’t a good idea, and selling them land you didn’t really own is an invitation to jail.”
“That only happened once,” Carlos said.
“Once that I know about.”
“I do listen to you, but I enjoy more looking at you.” Carlos pulled me close and kissed me.
As I pulled away, I saw people staring at us. They were probably thinking that I was saying goodbye to someone on his way to prison. I really didn’t care. Carlos has erased most of my inhibitions.
“Let me walk you to your car,” Carlos said as he slipped his arm around my waist.
“I have to make sure that the order of dismissal in Franco’s case gets signed, so I can’t leave yet. Why don’t we just meet at my house this evening? I’d really like to go out to dinner to celebrate the end of Franco’s case. Maybe we could meet at that bistro on the Miracle Mile.”
Carlos looked away. “No can do tonight. I have a dinner meeting with some new investors. How about tomorrow night instead?”
“Can’t you postpone the meeting? Or maybe I should go with you to make sure you have legal advice right next to you at the table.”
“I can’t change these plans and I promise not to do anything that you wouldn’t approve. You go have a nice evening and we’ll do something together tomorrow.”
“Well, if that’s your final answer, I guess I’ll just have to look for another dinner date for tonight.”
“I’m sorry Mary. I may be late tonight so I’ll go back to Pinecrest. I don’t want to wake you.”
“Is everything okay, Carlos?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” Carlos walked away without his usual goodbye kiss.
CHAPTER
FIVE
In a few minutes I was on my way back to the office to share the court victory with Catherine. She hugged me and screamed her congratulations, Then raced to her desk to phone Marco with the good news that his brother would not be a state prisoner.
A minute later Catherine walked into my office with the mail. “You look disgusted. What’s the matter?”
“I really feel like going out tonight and Carlos has some dumb meeting. What are you doing tonight?”
“Oh, Mary, I’m sorry. Tonight is the meeting at school for the soccer parents and I have to go.”
“Okay, I understand. No one wants my company for dinner tonight.
Undaunted, I reached for the phone again and dialed
“Boutique de Luis. How may I help you?” The sensuous voice of Celia Martin, a.k.a. Chicky answered.
Chicky is Carlos’s sister who returned from her stint as a club bum in Buenos Aires to help Luis Corona open the Corona family shop in Coral Gables. Carlos’s father is Argentine and his mother is Cuban. But if you think that’s a mixed up family, mine is more so.
My father is Jewish and my mother is Southern Baptist. That’s the Magruder Katz in my name.
Angelina, Carlos’s mother, is ecstatic to have her baby girl home again, and credits me for getting Chicky back. She’s sure that if I hadn’t freed Luis from the clutches of the U.S. government after his arrest last June, Chicky would still be spending her youth dancing the tango in smoky Argentine bars. Much to my surprise, I really like Celia who is nothing like her mother.
“Chicky, it’s me, Mary. Is this a busy time? Can you talk?”
“It is busy, but I can always make time for you. We’re having our sale of last year’s things and getting ready for our winter lines. I thought you were going to stop in and try on some of these sale creations.”
“I meant to, but I’ve been so busy. Today I finally got Franco’s case dismissed. That’s why I’m calling.”
Well, you don’t need me to pat you on the back. You are the best. I’m sure everyone of your clients tells you that. Never mind about the sale. I’ll pick out some things for you and put them away. You’ll try them on whenever.”
“I wasn’t calling for praise. I want to go to dinner somewhere fun tonight to celebrate. Can you go?”
“With you and Carlos?”
“No, no Carlos. Just us girls. He’s tied up on some business dinner.”
“Oh, I’d love to have a girls’ night out, but I can’t.”
“Bet you’ve got a big date.”
“I’ve got inventory here. That’s my date, and I can’t leave Luis to do it alone or it’ll be all screwed up.”
“Okay. Chicky, turned down by another member of the Martin family. Happy inventory.” I clicked off.
I wandered out to Catherine’s desk. “No one wants to have dinner with me. Should I change my deodorant?” I asked. “Sam would probably go, but he tends to bark at the other diners.”
“What about your friend Lucy? Have you tried her?”
“No. Brilliant idea! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” Catherine went back to her typing and I went back to the phone.
Lucy has been my best friend since third grade. She and her husband, Steve, and their three kids live in Miami Beach a few blocks from where we both grew up.
“Lucy, it’s Mary. I know this is last minute, but could you possibly get away to have dinner with me tonight? I got rid of that case against Franco, Carlos’s cousin today. I’m dying to go out for a leisurely dinner with much wine. I’ll even pay.”
“Why aren’t you going with Carlos? Don’t tell me you split with him.”
“No, he’s tied up in a business meeting tonight.”
“Dinner sounds great. Steve is working late and to be honest, I wasn’t all that thrilled about pizza with the kids, but can you come over to the Beach? I’ll have to get a sitter and it’s a school night. They all have to be home early.”
“Sure, I like coming to the Beach and driving down memory lane.. I’ll pick you up around seven.”
So, the die was cast setting up the dinner that changed my life..
CHAPTER
SIX
High Pines, Vermont, October 26th One year Ago
Dash Mellman and Tom Brousseau went back to Dash’s law office as soon as they could extract themselves from the villagers who assembled at the community church for the lavish funeral of Carolyn Brousseau.
The cold rainy afternoon was an appropriate backdrop for the sober crowd at the church. Several dignitaries spoke about the Brousseau family’s place in Vermont history. Tom opted not to be one of the speakers. This caused much whispering among the gathered audience while the choir sang a group of Carolyn’s favorite hymns selected by the Vermont Symphony conductor. A goodly number of cars, SUV’s and trucks made the trip from the church to the family plot in the cemetery that overlooked Old Main Street and the hills beyond.
The mood was melancholy, not because of Carolyn’s demise, but because the village gossip mongers had finished chewing over the facts about a murder in their home town, and craved new revelations. Some of the facts were actually facts, others grew from rumor and guesswork. Dash was asked whether it was true that Mafia figures from Boston were tied to Tom. Someone started a story that Carolyn had a secret “boyfriend” who was staying with her.
Most of the gossip centered on Tom and his lack of mourning for his mother. Throughout the days of planning for the funeral and the actual service, Tom maintained a business-like appearance. New Englanders are known for reticence. Tom’s demeanor ran more to lack of emotion.
The crowd returned to the church for a potluck meal put together by the caring committee. Hot casseroles and coffee took the chill off the wet group, many of whom slipped into the kitchen to savor several bottles of scotch and bourbon.
The Brousseau house was still surrounded by yellow evidence tape and sealed off. Dash, Tom and Sheriff Jimmy Parsons did a quick walk-through to identify any missing property. Tom claimed he couldn’t remember any particular items among the hundreds of souvenirs, figurines and bric-a-brac that covered the tables and shelves in all the rooms.
It was 4:30 by the time Tom and Dash arrived back in Dash’s office. Dash took a bottle of scotch out of his desk drawer and poured two shot glasses. He handed one to Tom.
Tom downed the scotch without even taking a seat or removing his wet raincoat. “Why did you insist that I come back here with you?” he asked.
“We need to discuss how you want to handle the house. Do you want to sell it? Will you want me to hire some folks to oversee the upkeep? And then there are the financial matters, the insurance policies and the stock certificates and bonds. Will you be returning to Boston?”
“I guess so, since I don’t seem to be under arrest.”
Tom’s sarcasm was as thick as the rainclouds still visible through the sheets of water covering the office windows. Dash thought about Tom’s interview with Sheriff Parsons. Jimmy had been brief, zeroing in on questions regarding Tom’s last visit to High Pines, and his relationship with his mother. Tom answered in terse sentences as if words needed to be conserved. He said he hadn’t been back to High Pines in nine months. Nothing he said incriminated him, but on the other hand, nothing he said erased the sense that Tom knew something more.
Dash realized that Tom was shifting uncomfortably and eyeing the door.
“Look, Dash, I know half the people here think I actually killed my mother. I don’t know who did this or why. I can’t figure out if anything is missing. Mother’s jewelry was kept in the safe deposit box along with the stock certificates and deeds that you and I found when we went through everything yesterday.”
Dash thought this was the most he had heard Tom say in the last three days
“I think people in High Pines knew that you and your parents didn’t get along too well. I know they shouldn’t mind each other’s business, but this is such a small village that it’s bound to happen.”
“No, I didn’t get along with my parents. Dad kept pushing me to go into the business, but he ended up selling the mill anyway. He just couldn’t stand the thought that his only offspring wanted to be an artist. Mother was of the ‘old school’. She went along with whatever Dad wanted. She never approved of my friends or lifestyle, never called me anything but Thomas. She acted like we were part of some royal family. If it hadn’t been so damn annoying it might have been funny. I couldn’t wait to get out of here and get a life.”
“That’s why Jimmy questioned you. He has nothing to go on, not a clue, so of course he turned to you, hoping to uncover some theory. And then there was the disappearance of Bridey. Whoever came in must have known the dog.”
“People came and went from the house all the time. The handyman that found Mother walked right in. There was the housekeeper too. And you came and went on many occasions. Did Jimmy question you or anyone else?”
“I don’t know who he questioned. He’s trying to do his job.”
“You know that a lot of people hated our family. When the mill closed, they blamed Dad for selling out to a foreign company. I can’t blame the workers for being angry. There aren’t many places for jobs in this state. Taxes are high so businesses don’t want to locate here, and the winters are long and hard. If Jimmy doesn’t have the brains to figure out that there are plenty of suspects right here in the Upper Valley, and he wastes all his time trying to make me the murderer, then he should be voted out of his job, and you can tell him I said so.”
Tom began buttoning his drenched raincoat and moving toward the door.
“Wait, Tom, I’m not your enemy. Don’t walk out. We haven’t even gone over the details about your property here. I don’t even know how to reach you.”
“Here’s a card with the post office box to forward any papers. I’ll think about the house. In the meantime, I’ll take care of hiring a property manager. The house is mine, so I’ll take care of it. I don’t need any help from anyone in this village.”
Tom threw the card down on the desk and slammed the front door as he left
Dash realized that Tom had a volatile temper triggered by what appeared to be hatred for his family and High Pines. It hadn’t taken much to unleash those feelings. Tom was the perfect target for Jimmy Parson’s suspicions. Dash decided that the sheriff wouldn’t look any further to solve this murder. He sighed and settled comfortably into his chair, propped his feet on the desk and retrieved the bottle of scotch from the drawer.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
One year later, Miami, Florida
I fought my way through the evening rush hour on the causeway to Miami Beach. Even though it was crawling along, I still felt a sense of ease. The causeway surrounded by the aqua water of Biscayne Bay has a tranquil effect. Small pleasure boats darted by. The view of the receding Miami downtown skyline sparkled in the waning sunlight making the high-rise buildings look like so many crown jewels. The causeway ended as I inched through familiar territory. My old high school, the Katz Kosher Super Market where I stopped after school with my friends for candy treats from my grandfather. It all looked the same.
/> Then I turned down Fiftieth Street. The second lot from the corner is where our old house should be standing. Instead there were two townhouses squished onto the lot I slowed to view it all. The yard where my two brothers, William and Jonathan, and I played endless hours of football and soccer was filled with the faux Spanish architecture that has become the new Miami look. I stared in bewilderment as I recalled mother’s garden that decorated the front of the house. Now the front of the new buildings consisted of a brick courtyard without a bit of grass or a tree.
I sped up again still wondering why my parents had sold the old place when Dad and Uncle Max sold Katz Kosher Super Market that my grandfather started.. Now they lived seventy miles away in a gated community with a golf course and clubhouse, amid a sea of cloned houses lacking even a modicum of the character of our old place that met its demise with a few scoops of a bulldozer.
Lucy’s house is one of the old Spanish style original Miami Beach homes. It is warm and inviting, like stepping back in time; especially since Lucy has a few pieces of furniture that were her mother’s.
Lucy was waiting for her neighbor’s daughter to arrive to babysit. She had poured two glasses of wine. We sat in the family room while the two older boys watched TV and Lucy’s ten month old daughter slept in her playpen.
“Where do you want to go for dinner?” I asked. I really felt hungry.
“I made a reservation for seven-thirty at Tony’s Fish House. It’s sort of new and it has a water view. It’s in the Majestic Condo building.
“I know that building. Carlos built it right before I met him.”
We finished our wine just as the babysitter arrived. Lucy said she was fifteen, but she looked more like twenty-five, wearing a figure revealing dress that appeared to be made out of spandex.
We piled into the Explorer and pulled into the condo building in a matter of minutes. Valet parking was jammed, cars lined up two deep. I waited in line and finally inched up to the attendant. “Look at that parking attendant who just jumped into that Corvette. He’s driving off like he’s at the Homestead Speedway,” Lucy said pointing out the window.
Barbara Levenson - Mary Magruder Katz 03 - Outrageous October Page 2