Sandra swallowed a large bite of chicken and launched into the events of the day. When she got to the part about Phillip deserting his wife and child, Erma realized that Sandra was right. Kitty would have to be his daughter. No one else in the world knew about that. She grunted and nodded and gave Sandra a look that dared her to ask what she knew. Sandra continued with Kitty’s story.
“So what makes you think she didn’t run downstairs and finish Phillip off?” Erma asked.
“She didn’t know his face had been smashed in. I don’t know, there was something about her reaction when I told her that said she hadn’t done it.”
“Could she have been acting? Could you have wanted to believe her so badly that you took what she said at face value? No pun intended.”
Sandra glanced at her mother and shook her head. “Give me a little credit, Erma.”
Erma nodded. “I do.”
“You knew he had a daughter and never told me, didn’t you?”
“I know a lot of things that I’ve never told you about a lot of people.”
While Sandra waited for Erma’s response after she’d brought her completely up to date, she got up to refill her iced tea.
Erma, her arms crossed about her chest, her feet by then propped up in a chair she’d dragged over next to hers, chewed on her lower lip and stared into space. She had always wondered what Phillip would do when his daughter came looking for him. Now she knew. She wasn’t real proud of her friend but had always accepted him, knowing his shortcomings, just as he had her. Pity it had turned out the way it did. Now it was time to fulfill a promise she had made to him. Now it was time to look out for his daughter the best she could, just as he had agreed to do for Sandra if things had turned out differently. She turned her attention to Sandra. “I tend to agree with your evaluation of Kitty.”
Sandra nodded, opened her mouth to say something, apparently thought better of it, and took a swallow of her tea instead.
“Did you get a decent retainer?”
Sandra nodded again. “Twenty-five thousand.”
Erma broke into a smile. “That’s my girl.”
“She’s got it. Models make more per hour than the average lawyer.”
“There ought to be a law against that.” Erma cleared her throat. “You’re not going after a plea bargain, are you?”
“No way. I’m convinced that his fall was purely an accident. I’m going to fight this all the way to the court of criminal appeals, if I have to.”
“It just seems like you’ve been doing an awful lot of pleas lately,” Erma said.
“Court appointments. Most of them are too chicken-shit to go to trial if I can get them a good deal. Even the one from last Friday. I knew I could beat it, but the offer was eight years and he insisted on taking it.” She shrugged. “He said he’d done stuff he hadn’t gotten caught for, so he might as well take the deal. Stupid son of a bitch.”
“So you’ll try this?”
“Oh, yes. I hope it won’t come to that. I hope the autopsy will show them that it couldn’t have been Kitty and they’ll start searching for whoever really killed him. I’m sure going to need your help on this one.” She grinned at her mother.
“You can’t expect the cops to do the logical thing. They may really believe she ran downstairs and finished him off. By the way, did anyone check her hands?”
“For what, blood?”
“Blood, scrapes, anything that might have indicated she wielded something hard enough to,” she winced, “damage the bones in someone’s face?” Normally blood and guts didn’t bother Erma, but this was her friend. She wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to identify the body.
“Damn it. I didn’t think of it. I didn’t notice any abrasions. I don’t think they did at the jail either. And Dennis and Edgar never said a word.”
“Why would they, when you handed her over on a silver platter?”
“Are you being critical of me, Erma dear?”
Erma grimaced. “Let’s just say I would have done things a little differently. But it’s your case. You do what you want.”
“Don’t start that. I’m serious when I say I’m going to need your help. I want your help. What do you say?”
Erma cocked her head. “Might be fun. I know that normally I’m pretty hands-off with your criminal practice, but this might just prove to be a barrel of laughs.” She smiled.
Sandra said, “Especially if we can kick Edgar Saul’s rear end all the way across town, but Mother my sweet, just remember whose case it is and who’s calling the shots.”
“If I forget, I’m sure you’ll remind me. By the way, you might be interested to know that I’m going to set up a time for the reading of Phillip’s will.”
“You’ve got the will?” Sandra sat up straighter and stared Erma in the eye. “That means you are Phillip’s estate’s attorney and possibly even his executrix. How could you not have told me that? I never came across a file with his name on it. Where did you keep it?”
“This isn’t twenty questions,” Erma said, feeling more than a little pleased with herself.
“I can’t pretend I’m not surprised. You don’t tell me about being in charge of Phillip’s estate and then you get miffed because I take Kitty’s case without your knowledge? I guess that makes us even. What’s in it?”
Erma laughed. “Would you be interested in being present when I conduct the reading?”
“Would I be interested in being there? So you’re going to do it like in the movies? With all the drama? You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Come on, Erma. Did you already know all this stuff? Did you know that Kitty was his daughter before today? Tell.”
Erma knew that she had about the best poker face west of the Mississippi. She’d honed it for years. Besides drinking with the guys, in the old days she had been the only woman welcome at their poker games. They were Thursday nights because no one had to pick a jury on Fridays. All they had to do was show up at docket call. They drank and stayed up all night playing poker, dragging themselves before the court at 9:00 a.m. on Friday, knowing that the worst the day would hold would be a few pleas of guilty either after docket call or after lunch. Almost any attorney, no matter how drunk on Thursday night, could handle that.
Erma spoke as if she hadn’t heard Sandra. “If you’re interested, I’ll keep you posted. It seems to me that the most appropriate place would be at his law office, but I’ll have to see if his staff has any objections.”
“Are you going to tell me or not?”
“Not, dear.”
“You look like the proverbial cat. Every time I see that smile I find out later that you had something up your sleeve.” Erma got up from the table and ran the water in the sink, flushing the salad down the disposal.
Sandra brought her plate and handed it to her mother. “I’ll bet Lizzie is in for a bundle. She deserves it after what she put up with from that son of a bitch. Is Lizzie going to get the bulk of the estate? How much is it? Several million? Several hundred million?”
“You can give up guessing, because I’m not even going to give you a clue,” Erma said, putting her face, her lips firmly pressed together like a stubborn baby’s, up to Sandra’s.
“You old shit. You never intended on telling me, so why did you bring it up?”
“By the way, Stuart called. He said he’s been looking for you all evening. Said he left a bunch of messages on your answering machine.”
“Okay. You just have your fun.” Sandra got her napkin and utensils from the table and handed them to her mother. “I’m going to call Stuart.” She punched numbers into the kitchen phone.
“Hi. I’m still at Erma’s.” Sandra looked over her shoulder at her mother and whispered, “Meet me in thirty minutes. And don’t be any later. I’m pretty tired tonight.” She hung up.
“You don’t have to whisper on my account,” Erma said. “I know you’re not a virgin.” She dried her hands and sat back down at the table.
Sandra smirked. “Ha ha.
If you’ve got Phillip’s will, I guess you’re the executrix of his estate,” she said. “And if so, when is the funeral?”
“What did Stuart want?”
“Me. I’m going to have to run. Could you at least tell me when and where the funeral is?”
“The memorial service will be at Memorial Methodist Church on Wednesday afternoon, if the body’s released. The cremation will be at McCaskill Brothers on Tuesday night. No one else will be there, darlin’. You needn’t come.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. I’ll come keep you company.” Sandra gave Erma’s shoulder a squeeze. “I really have to go now, Mother. I’m very tired. Seeing Edgar Saul gave me an adrenaline rush, but now I’m drained.” She kissed the top of Erma’s head.
Erma smiled. “You’re right. We can discuss this later. You go on home and get laid and then get a good night’s sleep.”
Dropping to one knee in front of Erma, Sandra said, “Hey, you let me know if you want me to go with you to pick out an urn or coffin or whatever you do in these situations. We can leave from the office tomorrow. I’ll drive.”
Erma patted Sandra’s cheek. “I was going to go after lunch. They’ll need a coffin pretty quickly after the body is released, but in cremations it doesn’t have to be fancy.” She let out a long sigh. “I think they have only a couple of choices.” She swallowed several times in quick succession, trying not to make a fool out of herself.
“Hey, Erma. You want me to stay with you?” Sandra stroked Erma’s hand. “I can see Stuart anytime.”
Erma shook her head. “I really don’t mind being alone. In fact, I’m going to bed as soon as you leave. I’ll be all right.” Pulling her hand away, Erma said, “You go on now.”
“Okay.” Sandra stood up, her knee creaking like an old person’s. “You take it easy tonight. Get some rest. I’ll let myself out.”
Erma watched Sandra’s departing back. As soon as the door closed, she got another highball glass out of the liquor cabinet, poured herself two fingers of bourbon, stuck a cigarette in the cigarette holder hidden in the cabinet, lit it, and strolled haltingly out onto the back porch to her rocker. She’d be goddamned if any doctor was going to tell her how to live her life.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As she left, Sandra knew that Erma felt Phillip’s loss more than she wanted to let on. They had been the closest of friends since Sandra’s childhood. The first time he had come over with a check for them for a referral fee on a personal injury case Erma had sent him, he and Erma had sat up late in the evening talking and laughing. Erma had been as carefree as Sandra ever saw her. The referral fee was a great deal more money than her mother got as a retainer in a criminal case in those days. The two of them had danced around the room like a couple of leprechauns in the forest, for Phillip had been almost as short as her mother.
Sandra’s chest constricted with the pain she felt for Erma; it was just a hint of what she’d feel someday when Erma died. She chewed on her lower lip as she drove up to the beachfront, not wanting to think about her mother being gone from her life. When she stopped for the red light at Nineteenth and Seawall, Sandra saw that the boulevard still swarmed with tourists in spite of the hundreds who had left earlier. Yes, it was summer, tourist season. It was good for the economy; the shops would pay more taxes; unemployment would be down for the summer. Still, she had a yearning to put her foot to the floor and just let her car go all out through the often bumper- to-bumper vehicles. The neat thing about winters in Galveston was that there was much less traffic. She could race down the West End in her S60—something it was designed to do. When she’d bought the car, the newspaper reporter she’d been dating told her she was stupid, that there was no place she could go where she could experience what the car could do, that she was just wasting her money. She bought it anyway and dumped him. It was worth the battles in municipal court over the tickets she got to enjoy the surge of energy as she blasted westward at high speeds on dark winter evenings. Even though it was several years old, the Volvo still moved like it was just off the factory line.
Now, in the height of the summer, she was stuck between slow-moving vehicles. Breathing deeply, she watched couples stroll along the boulevard. Runners were interspersed throughout the route, their legs strong, long, and lean. Surfers and other kids clustered in several sections, taunting each other. It reminded her of her teenage years. Some things never changed.
As soon as she got to her condo, she parked behind the security fence, set her alarm, and darted inside to the elevator. Changing into her swimsuit, Sandra poured herself a glass of wine and headed for the pool. She hoped the chlorine would wash the jail’s ammonia smell off her skin. Hurrying back down, she dove into the deep end. When she came up for air, she began the crawl. Stiff from sitting all day, her muscles needed a workout. She flipped over and backstroked a few lengths, staring up at the cloudless night, the stars and the partial moon her only audience. When she tired, Sandra floated on her back. She could have stayed in the pool for hours had she not reached one end and seen Stuart standing above, peering down into her face. He wore a muscle shirt, jogging shorts, and running shoes.
“When I couldn’t find you, I suspected you were down here.” He smiled as he crouched down on the edge and held out her wine. “Ready to get out?”
“More ready for you to get in.” She sipped some wine and handed it back to him.
“You know that’s not going to happen.” He stood. Treading water, she stared up at him. “I would never let you drown, Stu. I told you I was a Water Safety Instructor when I was a kid.”
“Do we have to go over all this again?”
She smiled. “I know something we could do in the shallow end that would be of absolutely no risk to you.”
He glanced around the deserted area. “Yeah, right.”
“No one would see us. No one ever comes down here at night except me.”
He smiled. “Come on, Sandy, get out, will you? It’s getting late.”
She could hear the impatience in his voice, so she caved. She pulled herself up and took the towel from him, patting herself dry. “I don’t understand why you won’t let me teach you how to swim.” Slipping her feet into her sandals, she said, “I’m good at it and have a lot of patience.”
“I don’t understand why we have to keep going over all that,” he said and cut her a look that said end of discussion.
They walked back in silence. She didn’t understand a person being afraid of the water. Especially living on an island. She also didn’t understand why he wouldn’t at least try. And a part of her wanted to know what his fear was all about. Maybe someday he would trust her enough to confide in her.
When they got inside, she ran a hot shower. Stuart had done his miles before he came. They stepped under the flowing water to the sounds of New Age music, “Songs from a Secret Garden,” one of her favorite albums. Stuart pulled her against him and caressed her back. She stroked his hair, then his neck, and responded hotly to his kiss. What they started in the shower, they ended in her bed. Stu was one of the best lovers she had ever had. And a good kisser.
She had gone out with a lot of men, been married to two, and more than anything else she liked a good kisser. If they were good at that, they could learn the rest.
When they parted, she pulled the sheet over her and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Whew, I’m exhausted.” Stuart kissed her wet hair and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “You want to talk about it?”
She told him a bit of what had happened with Kitty. “There is still so much that needs sorting out in my brain. It all happened so fast.”
He nodded. “I missed you today.”
“I’m sorry. I tried to get you earlier, but when Kitty came over I lost all track of time. I guess I could have called you from the jail but didn’t think about it.”
“Um. County jail?”
“Yes. God, it stinks worse on Sundays than it does on weekdays. Ammonia mixed with vomit, urine, sand, and salt. Yuck
.”
“I don’t know how you can stand doing criminal law.” She smiled. They’d discussed that before, too. “At least it keeps me awake.”
He chuckled and slid his finger up and down the bony part of her jaw.
She laughed, too. “And I adore times like these when I have an innocent client. Criminal defense lawyers live for the times they can right a wrong.” She stared into his eyes. “We get fired up.” She laid her head back down on his chest and said as an aside, “Especially if we’ve been paid well.”
“You’re so bad.”
“I know.” She laughed again.
“So you think Kitty’s innocent? I thought she confessed.”
“She had a part in it, but I don’t think she finished him off.” Sandra sat up to swallow some wine and pull the comforter up over the sheet.
In the middle of the night, when she awoke and had trouble getting back to sleep, Sandra got up and went into the living room. It was then that she noticed the light blinking on her answering machine and listened to the messages.
“It’s me, Stuart. Call me when you get in.”
“It’s me again. Did you forget we were going to get together? Call me.”
“Missus Salinsky, this is Jeffery Stubaker. I just came back from the grocery store and caught my wife loading up a moving van. I called the police. I hope that was the right thing to do. If not, please call me at home. My number is seven-four-one-one-seven-zero-zero. It’s five o’clock.”
“It’s me. It’s six thirty and I still haven’t heard from you. Call me, Sandy. I’ll try you at your mother’s.”
“Mom? It’s Melinda. Why didn’t you call me this weekend? Daddy said you’re probably busy with Grandma, since he saw in the newspaper that Mr. Parker died. Anyway, please call me and let me know if I’m coming to visit you next weekend. If not, I want to do something with my friends.” Guilt plucked at Sandra’s conscience. She had barely thought of her daughter for several days. Even though she’d given custody to Melinda’s father, she often missed the child like crazy and wondered if she’d done the right thing. Then something like this past weekend happened and Sandra was reminded of why she had agreed to it. Jack was a far better parent than she could ever be. At fourteen, Melinda was turning out well. She was beautiful, intelligent, affectionate, and well behaved, except for those times when she was as irrational as any other teenager.
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