Sandra chastised herself. First chance she got, she would call and set up a visitation time. Hitting the rewind button, she pushed Melinda to the back of her mind and returned to bed.
Though she occasionally complained that the space in their historical cottage was cramped and that it was old-fashioned, Sandra had to admit that the Law Offices of Townley and Salinsky were conveniently located. Being two blocks south of the courthouse, they walked to court in good weather while other attorneys circled the block looking for parking, in particular during jury weeks when the parking garage filled up early.
Their law library/conference room took up most of the second floor loft. They had a large kitchen and bathroom in the back of the house on the first floor. Individual offices were sandwiched between the reception area and the kitchen. The front door opened into a waiting room: polished wood floors, sofa, two chairs, area rug, coffee table, and a receptionist’s desk. The coffee table was laden with magazines, the same as any self-respecting lawyer’s office, only instead of Texas Monthly and Field and Stream, they had Texas Monthly and women’s magazines like O and More. Sandra had considered sticking something a little more risque out there, but Erma had overruled her.
They were still arguing over having a receptionist. Erma thought they could have a high school girl in one of those work programs part-time. Sandra thought they didn’t need the headache and the responsibility of having a kid around. Currently they were at an impasse. With the exception of a telephone extension, the front desk remained vacant.
The back half of the large, rectangular room held a huge antique desk, hutch, credenza, the latest in computers, and a laser printer. Their secretary, a woman in her late fifties who played the computer keyboard like a concert pianist on a baby grand piano, fit with them like a crucial piece of a puzzle. Although she had worked for them for only eighteen months, to Sandra, Patricia was like a favorite aunt. Her predecessor, Marguerite, who had been with Erma since the beginning of time, had suffered a stroke and moved to Biloxi to live with her daughter. Sandra had selected Patricia while Erma mourned Marguerite. Sandra liked her because Patricia had treated Erma respectfully no matter how rude Erma got during the interview, replying to her questions with a “Yes, ma’am” or a “No, ma’am.” If the woman could put up with Erma in her worst moments, Sandra knew she’d be great with clients. Besides, Erma had driven away the other applicants.
It also hadn’t hurt that Patricia loved operating a computer, knew current word processing and bookkeeping programs, and liked dunning clients for fees. All Erma and Sandra had to do was review the contract with the client and fill in the dollar amount. Patricia discussed fee arrangements and followed up on them later as well. She was every attorney’s dream.
While a jewel work-ethic-wise, Patricia’s appearance went wanting. She had crinkly blue eyes, freckles over a narrow nose, full lips, and a body that looked like a bread plate. To top that off, no matter what she wore, she looked like a Goodwill reject.
Monday morning, Patricia and Sandra were alone in the office. Sandra had just finished explaining the events of the weekend. “I don’t expect Erma to appear until later in the week since she took Phillip’s death so hard. And, Patricia, when she does show up, keep an eye on her.”
Patricia grimaced. “I hate being her babysitter, Sandra. You know how pissed she gets.”
“Yes, I know exactly how pissed she gets, but neither one of us wants her to die, so we’ve got to do it. I’ll be in my office.”
Sandra had just settled at her desk and spread her notes about Kitty’s case around her when the phone rang.
“The district attorney’s office, specifically your favorite person, Edgar Saul, on line one,” Patricia said.
“Hey, Sandra, you got a problem,” Edgar Saul said. “Just got a partial autopsy report this morning. It seems I didn’t charge your client correctly.”
He didn’t even attempt to hide his glee. His voice gurgled like a boiling geyser. Edgar rarely showed any emotion, like a sociopath she once knew, so she anticipated bad news. “What are you talking about?”
“You want to come surrender her or should I have her picked up?” Having worked with Edgar, Sandra could picture him putting his hand over the phone and feigning laughter.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Now don’t get angry, Miss Salinsky. It seems your girl lied if she told you the murder was an accident.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. According to the preliminary report, the medical examiner concluded that, and I quote, ‘the decedent fell on his back but was turned over to make it appear that he fell on his face. The body was dragged to the edge of the concrete patio where the face was carefully placed at a forty-five-degree angle, so it would appear that the face was damaged in the fall,’ end quote.”
“That doesn’t mean that when he fell it wasn’t an accident.”
“Nah. But my first clue was, according to the M.E., the fact that there were repeated blows to the face and skull with a blunt object. They’re still testing to see what material the blunt object left embedded in the skin so we can identify it.”
“If you had seen the body, you would have already known that. It doesn’t mean that Kitty killed him.” Her damp hands shook. “If they’re still testing, then there is nothing conclusive.”
“Oh, don’t be so damn naive, Salinsky. After your years of experience, I expected more from you than that. Your client was angry because her daddy abandoned her and, first chance she got, she bashed his head in.”
“A person has to be pretty angry to bash someone’s head in, Edgar.” Sandra thought of her own situation. Her father had done the same to her and Erma. Sandra had trouble holding in her resentment if she dwelled on it very much. Even with her admittedly bad temper, though, she’d never get so worked up that she would murder him. She might say she wanted to kill him, but she’d never really do it.
“Yeah, so . . . wouldn’t you be pissed if your father abandoned you?”
Sandra couldn’t tell if he was taunting her or not. She couldn’t remember whether he knew about her father. They’d worked together, closely together on several cases, but he wasn’t the type one confided in, so probably he wasn’t trying to get to her, she just wasn’t sure. She breathed deeply. It still rankled, nonetheless. “I don’t think it’s enough to kill somebody over. Fathers abandon their children all the time in this country. It’s like a national epidemic.”
“Well, face it, this girl got a chance to take revenge, and she did.”
She sighed and bit her lip. She knew Edgar well enough to know that there was no arguing with him once he made up his mind. “Can I get a copy of the report?”
“When it’s complete. So are you going to negotiate, or are you going to be a hard ass about this thing?”
“Jesus, you’re jumping to conclusions real quick, aren’t you, Mister Saul?”
“Listen, babe, we’ve got her dead to rights.”
She bristled in spite of the fact that she knew now that Edgar was goading her. “Well, you mind telling me what else the autopsy says, hon?”
“Fractured shoulder blade, dislocated arm. Oh, and this’ll kill you, ha ha ha, he’s missing his Rolex and his diamond ring. Are we going to have to swear out a search warrant or will you get her to turn those items over when you bring her in?”
“You think she robbed him after she killed him? Come on, get real. The girl’s a model, for chrissake. She makes more money than me and you put together.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Right. Check it out.”
“Well, anyway, you going to bring her in or not?”
She burned with frustration. She hated to upset Kitty again. The next time those tears started flowing, they might not ever be dammed. Sandra had never in her life seen anyone cry as much as Kitty. “What are you going to charge her with?”
“Capital murder.”
“You’re crazy, too.”
“Okay,
Salinsky. I’m going to lay it out for you only because you used to work here and I have some sympathy for your situation. Here’s the scenario: your girl was abandoned by her father—”
“That I already know, Edgar.”
“Wait, hear me out. She goes looking for him. Turns out that daddy dear is a wealthy, well-known attorney. Your girl decides, hey, I can get some money out of the old boy if I just tell him I’ll tell the world he abandoned me when I was a child.”
“Blackmail! Edgar, you’re nuts. She didn’t need the money.” Sandra felt her face grow hot with anger. “And even if that was true, you can’t get capital murder from blackmail.”
Edgar laughed. “Here’s the good part. The cap murder part. Are you ready for this? Wait for it. Wait for it. Retaliation.”
“For what?” Sandra looked up. Patricia stood in the doorway. She must have heard her yelling into the phone. Sandra waved her away.
“When Parker refuses her demand for money, he tells her he’s calling the police to have her arrested for blackmail. That’s when she does the deed. Got it?”
“You’re fucking nuts, Edgar Saul.”
“You want to go look at the statute? Murder in the course of retaliation—”
“I know what the statute says, smart ass, but you’ll never be able to prove your theory. And just where does the watch and ring fit into all this?”
“Easy, when she goes down and finishes him off, disappointed that she’s not going to get a big money payoff, she takes the Rolex and diamond pinkie ring as a consolation prize.” He laughed again. “We got her, babe.”
Sandra wanted to rage into the phone. Instead, she said, “No way. No fucking way.”
“How’s it going to be?” His voice had grown hard. “Want me to send a car for her?”
Her inclination was to tell him to stick it where the sun didn’t shine, but she could tell that he was already angry. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. “I guess I’ll bring her in. What kind of bond are we talking about?”
“No bond.”
“No bond? You can’t fucking do that.”
“I’m getting a little tired of you telling me—”
“At least get the judge to set a reasonable bond, Edgar. Come on. Get a life.”
“That ain’t my job, Miss Salinsky. Now you either bring her ass in here by noon or I’ll send a dozen cars over to her place.” He hung up.
“Son of a bitch.” She punched the intercom button. She knew he wasn’t fooling around, though why he was so adamant that Kitty had to come in right away, she couldn’t figure. God, he could be unreasonable when he wanted. “Yes, ma’am,” Patricia said.
“Will you call Kitty Fulton and ask her to meet me here in no less than an hour? Her number’s on that piece of paper I left for you to make up the file with.”
“You want to talk to her?”
“No. Don’t tell her I’m here. Just make sure she understands that it’s important that she get here ASAP.” She kicked back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. There was no way she could tell Kitty over the phone what her future held. She’d just have to try to get her out of jail as soon as she could. Damn it. Edgar’s little trick was going to screw up the whole timetable she’d figured out for Kitty’s case.
The county jail was no place for a woman like Kitty. She’d be a mental patient by the time she got out, if she had to spend much time there. Sandra had represented some of the women who had been in jail a while because they didn’t have the resources to make bail. Whores and drug addicts. Real murderers. The lowest forms of human life. Scary to look at with their rotten teeth and open sores.
She could remember when she’d first started practicing law and she’d been appointed to represent people on the misdemeanor jail docket. All the women were there for prostitution. One of the male defense lawyers took one look at them, turned to Sandra, and said, “Not in my worst nightmare.” An apt description, she had thought at the time.
With the turn of events, Sandra was going to have to drop almost everything else for a few days until she got Kitty squared away. She’d have to get a hearing before a district judge to get a bond set so Kitty could get out of jail. She was also going to ask the justice of the peace for an examining trial. Maybe after a hearing, the justice of the peace would decide there wasn’t probable cause. If Edgar Saul was going to be an ass about the case, she was going to have to use every tool she had in her repertoire.
She took out a legal pad and jotted down a new timetable. It was Monday. If Kitty was charged with capital murder that afternoon, then she could file her writ before the courthouse closed. Three days’ notice to the D.A.’s office in accordance with the rules would make it Thursday at the earliest that she could have a bail bond hearing. Three days in the county jail. Poor Kitty.
Of course, she was counting on the judge setting a reasonable amount of bail, too. But what if he or she didn’t? What if they set it at a mil? Could Kitty make that? She wasn’t sure about Kitty’s financial status. She didn’t know if Kitty owned property or had any more cash. She did know, though, that she couldn’t leave anything to chance. She had to prepare as if there would be no bail set. She also needed to file a demand that afternoon for an examining trial. Make the D.A.’s office do some work. She’d be the aggressor. Make them keep up with her. Especially Edgar Saul.
Sliding the heavy wooden pocket door open, Sandra went into Patricia’s office. “What’re you doing?”
Patricia’s fingers flew across the computer keyboard. “Some estate work for your mother. ” Next to the machine lay a stack of legal-sized yellow paper with Erma’s notes written in her almost illegible script.
“Can you drop it for a little while and work on something I need real quick?”
“You know how she is, Sandy. She gave this to me first. If she finds out—”
“I don’t think she’ll mind this time. It has to do with Phillip’s murder.”
“What is it?”
“Writ of habeas corpus and a demand for an examining trial. I’d do it myself, but I’m going to have to take Kitty back over to the courthouse.”
Patricia grimaced. “I hate it that you have to do your own work sometimes. I’ll squeeze it in, and I don’t even want to know why you’re taking that poor girl to the courthouse. I have a feeling it’s not for something good.”
“Does Erma’s stuff have to be done right now?”
“I guess not.” Patricia patted the top of Sandra’s hand. “I’ve got most of your stuff on software anyway. It shouldn’t take too long to get it out. How much is the bond?”
“That’s just the problem. There won’t be a bond.” She told Patricia the facts to put into the motions before she returned to her office to brood over the whole Parker mess.
Somehow she couldn’t picture Kitty standing over Phillip with a blunt instrument and beating him to death. It didn’t seem the sort of behavior consistent with Kitty’s personality. Besides, it seemed likely that one of the others would have seen her running down the stairs and out the door to finish him off. And what about blood spatter?
Wouldn’t the cops have found some blood on her clothes on Sunday? And wouldn’t Raymond have noticed? And would Raymond protect her if he knew she was a murderess? Would he want a murderess for the mother of his children? No. Definitely she didn’t believe Kitty had done it. She just had to convince the district attorney’s office not to put her to trial. But first, she needed to go through the preliminaries.
A short time later, Patricia ushered Kitty into Sandra’s office and slid the door closed, leaving them alone. Kitty took one look at Sandra and shivered.
Kitty wore red spike heels, a two-piece black and white hound’s-tooth check suit with a vent halfway up the back of the skirt, red belt, red blouse, red purse, red earrings, and red bracelet. Her lipstick and fingernails even matched the other accessories.
Sandra remembered the old jokes about what’s black and white and red all over. Funny what
stupid stuff came to mind during serious occasions. “Sit down, Kitty.”
“What is it? Is something the matter?”
“You’re going to have to spend a few days in jail.”
Kitty gasped. She couldn’t have looked more horrified if she’d just seen a body rise up inside a casket.
“The medical examiner’s preliminary report says that after Phillip fell, someone—uh . . . finished him off and then moved the body so it would look like he fell on his face. I knew that it was going to reflect something like that, but I didn’t think they’d charge you like they’re going to.”
“I—I swear I never touched his body, Sandy. I couldn’t have. I went right back to bed. I told you that.”
“I know you did. There’s another thing.”
“There’s more?” She glanced heavenward. “What now?”
“I noticed this on Saturday when I looked at the body.
They believe someone took Phillip’s Rolex watch and that big diamond pinkie ring he always wore.”
“They think I took them? They think I killed him for a lousy watch and ring?” Her voice rose. “If I—I would have intentionally killed him, it wouldn’t have been for some stupid reason like stealing his jewelry.” She was out of her chair then, pacing off Sandra’s office, leaving little round dents in the wood floor with her spike heels. “It would have been because when I was a child, he raped me. He raped me!”
“What? What are you talking about, Kitty?” Sandra went to her and jerked her around to face her.
“Just what I said. My mother caught him with me on my bed with my panties down. There, I’ve said it. That’s why he left us.” Rage filled her eyes.
Sandra didn’t know whether to feel pity or anger. Kitty had lied to her. “Sit down, Kathryn.” She pointed to a chair. “You sit down right there and this time tell me the truth.” Kitty jerked her arm away and flounced over to the chair Sandra had ordered her into. Sitting erect, her face was as bright red as her accessories. Sandra stood over her, fuming. An abandoned child might not be angry enough to kill a parent, but a molested child certainly could be. Damn, she knew this case seemed too easy. She couldn’t, just couldn’t, let Edgar Saul find out that Phillip Parker had sexually molested his daughter. What a perfect motive for murder. Years of pent up anger and shame, especially if she had never dealt with it in therapy. And she suspected that was the case. It just wasn’t talked about as much back then.
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