"I’m staying," Nina said.
"Glad to hear it. So we’ll be working together. I have to tell you, the reports have been slow to get to my desk. I don’t have anything to offer in the way of a plea bargain at this point."
"I didn’t come for that. I’d like to be sure I get all the reports you have as they come in."
"Sure. Judge Milne has a standing discovery disclosure order. You don’t even have to ask, we have to give you everything. You can pick up what we have tomorrow morning. You married?"
Should she zing him for that one? "Yes and no," she said. "Why do you ask?"
"Know your enemy." He flashed a winning smile, then checked his watch. "We’d better get downstairs. Judge Flaherty awaits."
"You’re going to do the Muni Court work this morning?"
"Just the Patterson case. I like to work the murder cases from the start." Hallowell walked downstairs with her.
Defendants and their families filled the Municipal Courtroom aisles and seats. The defendants who had not made bail or who were here for bail hearings had already been led in in their orange jumpsuits, sitting together in their own set of pews up front like a bad boys’ church choir. Misty was there, in the back row, an attractive nuisance, her teased hair a flag for the bulls. It was hard to take her seriously. She looked like a babe in a heavy-metal video. Nina gave her an encouraging smile.
The attorneys lounged up front, too, in their own special row of seats near the action. Riesner sat on one end, deep in conversation with an older man who laughed in a low voice as she came up and sat down at the other end. Collier stepped up to the counsel table on the right and started pulling out files. The public defender, a mournful-looking young man with the expression of one who has endured much, had already set up his stacks on the other table.
"Remain seated," said the bailiff. A regal rustling preceded Judge Flaherty to the bench. He popped out of some hidden place, a white-haired, rotund man with a ruddy face.
"Mr. Hallowell?" he said immediately. "You have something down here this morning?"
Collier said, ’’Just one case, your Honor. Patterson. Bail and arraignment."
The judge riffled through his files and said, "Okay, People v. Patterson. Bring the defendant up. Is she represented by counsel?" Nina already stood at the counsel table, and a deputy walked Misty over to stand by her.
"Yes, Your Honor. Nina Reilly, representing the defendant."
"We’ll do the bail hearing first. Mr. Hallowell?"
"As the Court can see from the paperwork, it’s our position that no bail be granted at this time," Collier said. He spoke softly, drawing attention to every word. "Ms. Patterson has no family here and no other real ties. She rents her home and has lived in the area only three years. The charge is as serious as it gets. She is a flight risk."
"Mrs. Reilly?"
Mrs. Reilly would do, though there had never been a Mr. Reilly, except Dad. "There are no statements or actions to show this defendant would flee the jurisdiction, Your Honor. This lady has a full-time job locally, which she has held for eighteen months. The charges against her will certainly be reduced if not dismissed at the preliminary hearing. She has never been charged with any other offense, much less convicted of one. There is no indication that releasing her would cause any danger to others. Request bail be set in the amount of fifty thousand dollars."
The judge raised his eyebrows. "Mr. Hallowell, fifty thousand dollars is ridiculously low for the charge, but three years is almost an old-timer up here. And this young lady has no priors. There are allegations of a struggle just prior to the incident. Is it likely that the Murder One charge will be reduced?"
"It’s too early to say, Your Honor. But she took off when the police tried to question her, Your Honor. If the Court is inclined to grant bail, we would request it be set in the amount of two hundred and fifty thousand."
"Too much," the judge said. He stared at Misty for a moment, then said, "Split the difference. Does one hundred and seventy-five thousand sound reasonable, Mrs. Reilly?"
"I think the defendant’s parents could make one hundred thousand dollars bail, Your Honor. Her father owns a small car dealership in Fresno. The defendant has no assets at the moment, as we have not been able to access a separate bank account of her husband’s yet."
"Mr. Hallowell?"
"Way too low, Your Honor."
"Bail’s set at one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars," the judge said. "Let’s arraign her."
Nina accepted a copy of the charges and waived a reading. "How do you plead?"
Misty looked at Nina, who nodded. "Not guilty," she said.
"Want to set a date for the prelim?" Judge Flaherty asked Hallowell, who already thumbed through his appointment book.
"Three weeks from today, if the defendant is willing to waive time," he said.
"Contingent on my receiving the police reports by tomorrow, we’ll waive time," Nina said. She had no need to consult an appointment book yet. "May twenty-fourth is fine."
"Ten o’clock," the clerk said.
It was over. "I’ll be over to talk to you in a minute," Nina whispered to Misty as she was led away.
Collier Hallowell headed for the hall, with a cluster of people around him. He waved as she turned toward the outer doors.
Nina had checked him out. He had won a statewide reputation for ten years of successful prosecuting. He’d had many offers to move up to the big cities, but he refused to leave Tahoe. He would be running for district attorney next year.
Collier Hallowell, not Jeff Riesner, worried her, with his good looks, mild manner, and that sweet self-deprecation. He was the good old boy to beat.
Misty Patterson looked glad to see her back at the jail. "My dad said he left a check for you at your office in the slot last night, Nina. Did you get it?"
"Haven’t been by there yet, but he called this morning to tell me."
"He’s not exactly ... but I’m glad you’re going to be my attorney. I felt safe standing next to you today."
Nina shook off the superstitious shiver inspired by this vote of confidence from a girl who did not seem to have the good judgment of a fly. "I’ll do everything I can."
"I believe that." Misty looked slightly more relaxed today. Her eyes showed signs of life.
"How are you?"
"Better. I met somebody I can talk to in here, Delores. That helps. The food is terrible. That makes me want to throw up."
"Don’t trust anybody," Nina said.
The girl rubbed her hands together. "Yeah, I got you. You told me not to talk about my case. I don’t."
"Good. I talked to your parents a few minutes ago, Misty. They are going to have to get a loan on their house. Unfortunately, that means we can’t get you out of here immediately."
"Oh, no."
"We’ll get you out as soon as possible. I promise. I’m going to need some time to investigate the facts. I won’t even have the lab reports and police reports until tomorrow."
"I keep going over and over it in my mind," Misty said. "I hit him, but I swear he was conscious when I went into the kitchen. I told him I was calling the doctor and he nodded his head. Want to hear something totally odd?"
"What?"
"I miss him. Inside, all the old feelings are still there, comfortable, like his old shirts I used to wear, only there’s no place to hang them."
"Some of those feelings can’t have been good ones," said Nina.
The girl shook her head and chewed a piece of hair. "I used to feel lousy about going home in case he was in a bad mood, but I was kind of used to that. Now I’m pretty much tripping all the time. I don’t have a clue about what to do, and Anthony is still harassing me. He’s still deciding what I wear and get to eat, where I sleep. Like he’s not really gone, he just figured out a way to squeeze me tighter. It will never be over now, I’ve got my own private ghost."
"It doesn’t have to be that way...."
"If I killed him, I wish I’d done
it better. I should have hid him out deeper. If nobody found him, I wouldn’t be in jail, would I?"
"Let’s talk about something else. Who were Anthony’s friends, business associates? Can you give me a list?"
"All I know is his ex-wife, Sharon Otis, the one I told you about already. He still did some business with her, I don’t know what. And Peter La Russa at Prize’s. He and Anthony used to go out drinking together. Then there’s Rick Eich, our neighbor, who used to sit out on the deck with him in the summer. Anthony never talked about his Fresno days. Before that, I know he grew up in Philadelphia and his mom supported him and his sister. He was smart but he couldn’t afford college."
"Where’s his family?"
"His sister is somewhere, but they don’t get along. She’s got some problem. She’s disabled or something. He started working when he was fourteen, he told me once. I think he lived with an aunt for a while."
"Did he stay in touch with his sister or his aunt?"
"I don’t think so."
"Had anyone threatened him? Who were his enemies?"
"Anybody who crossed him. Nobody specific I know of right now. He always had some kind of deal going. He did make enemies."
"Tom Clarke was angry at the way Anthony treated you. He wanted you to leave him. How serious are you two?"
"He hasn’t tried to call me once since we came to see you. I think he’s all done with me. I was just a diversion for him. He was just interested in the sex."
"I don’t get this," Nina said. "Misty, tell me something. Since you started going through adolescence and all that, how many ... relationships have you had?"
"With different guys?"
"Different men. Things you never thought would last."
She was quiet for a minute. Then she looked into Nina’s eyes. "Twenty-five or thirty guys," she said. "Maybe more."
"No herpes, no hassles, no pregnancies, no AIDS?" Nina said in wonder. "You’re telling me Anthony never found out?"
"Luck of the Vikings," Misty said. "I’m careful. For a long time I don’t think it even crossed Anthony’s mind that I would dare sleep around on him. At first he liked it when men looked at me, especially before we got married."
"Why so many men?"
"Oh, I don’t know," Misty said. She looked embarrassed.
"You like sex?"
Her face changed. "I’m good at it. I’m sick of talking about this, Nina. Somebody asks me, I come through. Think about it the way my husband thought about it. I’m a dumb, ugly slut."
"No, Misty," Nina said. "You’re so wrong."
"I belong here," Misty said. Then came tears, and Nina waited until she finished.
"Misty, dumb sluts don’t have the sense to hire me. And you must know you are a very beautiful woman. You must see how people react to you."
Misty looked hard at Nina. "That’s the first time a woman ever said such a thing to me. My mother always says looks don’t count and don’t last. Men ... well, sure, they tell me I’m gorgeous, but men lie."
"Can’t you see it? When you look in the mirror?"
"See what?" Misty said, frantically combing her fingers through her hair. "What are you talking about?"
Nina had nothing to say. Her pen stayed poised above the pad. She collected herself, and said, "Okay, let’s move on. Tom says you were seeing somebody else within the last few weeks."
"One time I was really drunk," Misty said. "I mentioned to Tom that I went up to Steve Rossmoor’s suite one night a few weeks ago. He’s the general manager at Prize’s. Just the one time. Well, twice. I made a big mistake mentioning it. Maybe that’s why Tom dumped me."
"Anybody else?"
"Maybe there was someone," Misty whispered. "But I don’t know who.... I mean, there used to be someone in my dreams ... who really loved me ... always there. ... Sometimes when I was with Tom I pretended I was with him."
"Was he a real person?" Nina said gently. "Or only a dream?"
The girl frowned. "Well, just a dream. I told Dr. Greenspan about him. He says that was an ideal that I ... put in the place of a flesh-and-blood man. He says I needed a ... fantasy."
Nina couldn’t imagine why, given such an active real life. "Any other flesh-and-blood men?"
"Umm, three guys last year, before I met Tom. One was a painter, but he gave that up and got a job in computers in L.A. Then there was Jammer. He was a clerk at the convenience store by my house. I saw him for a month or two. When I stopped for milk and bread." The corners of her mouth turned up.
"Where is Jammer now?"
"I don’t know," Misty said. "He got married."
"And the third man?"
"Davey," she said, and now her face was downcast. "He was skiing the Siberia run at Squaw last December and a lady from Marin County came flying out of the woods and knocked him down. I went to see him at his apartment the next day and he seemed all right, just sore. And then he was getting up from the bed and he had this awful pain in his back and down his legs. His mom had to take him back to Sacramento to take care of him."
"Did you have any continuing contact with any of these men? Did any of them call you or try to get together with you again?"
"No," Misty said. "Except I sent Davey a get-well card." She looked over her shoulder. "It’s lunchtime soon; I’ll have to go or I’ll miss it."
"Sure. Is there anything you need?"
"A quart of booze. Couple cartons of Winstons. A few doobies. Ha-ha. Another toothbrush. Mine disappeared. A hairbrush, if they’ll let me have one. Some magazines or even romances to read."
Nina wrote it down.
"Tell my mom. She knows what I like and it’ll keep her busy. Don’t mention the doobies though, even as a joke. You don’t want to walk in front of her when she’s on the way to church."
Nina picked up a burger and some milk at the drive-up window at McDonald’s and drove her car to Pope Beach. The rain had let up; above the white crags a powerful wind blew the clouds back down to the Nevada desert. She just sat there in her car, leaning her head back and relaxing her neck muscles, letting nature put on a show for her. After a while, slowly, she drove back to the office.
The check from the Tengstedts decorated the middle of her desk, a twenty-five thousand dollar retainer plus an advance against costs, and a signed retainer agreement. Nina closed the door and sat down in her office chair, feeling the paper in her fingers.
Money. She had been getting along financially on her savings but this meant so much more: She was really in business, not just fooling around until Jack decided to forgive her; she was committed to the case, whatever it took; she might be trying a homicide in a few months. She hadn’t felt so simultaneously brazen and terrified since Bobby was born. Pulling out a legal pad, she started her list, buzzing for Sandy at the same time.
Sandy entered, leading with the appointment book. Today she wore cowboy boots, a flowered, full skirt that billowed in her wake, and a purple blouse. Her usual calm and skeptical expression controlled from the top.
"Okay. Here’s what we have for the next week. The Sandoval personal injury. Have Mr. Sandoval sign an authorization. Send it to the hospital with a letter asking for complete records and billings. Review the file for any other damages, like wage loss. Draft a claim letter to the insurance company and ask for five times the amount of his specials. Use the letter I just sent out on Pal, our other PI case, as a model. Give it to me to look at when you’re finished."
Sandy wrote, head bent. She had smooth, plump hands with silver rings. Her notes looked unreadable. Nina hoped it was a private shorthand.
"The ski accident case, Hopkins. Call the client and ask him to bring over his copy of the accident report. On Mrs. Washington, we have a hearing for temporary support on Monday. Calendar the day before to make sure we have the proof of service on file." Nina went down her case list, which was short. Mrs. Washington had been referred by Sandy. Mr. Hopkins had formerly retained Jeffrey Riesner. Remembering Mr. Hopkins’s comments about his former attorne
y, Nina smiled.
"Turning to Patterson, write a letter of representation to the DA’s office and sign for me. I’ll open up a separate trust account with the cost check and put the retainer in the regular trust account. Do what you need to do to obtain the police reports and lab reports as soon as you can. Set up a file." She paused to shuffle papers. "Write a letter for my signature to the Tengstedts acknowledging the check. Send an authorization to Misty’s doctor, what’s his name, Frederick Greenspan, and set up a meeting with him for me. You’d better start a Rolodex for yourself. Here’s the number for Bruno Cervenka at UCSF. Call his office and set up a telephone conference with him for four o’clock today if you can. Sandy, I know I’m loading a lot on you. If there’s something you can’t do or don’t understand, ask me."
"Don’t worry," Sandy said. "Piece of cake."
"That’s it for now." But Sandy remained sitting.
"Yes?"
"You need a better rug in the outer office. A big plant," Sandy said. "I can get a good rug for you."
"Where?"
"The Washoe Center over by Gardnerville sells rugs."
"Right."
"And a radio," Sandy said.
"Okay. And Sandy? Thanks for all the business you’ve sent my way. But remember—"
"I heard you the first time," her secretary said, and went out, firmly closing the door behind her.
Nina was already picking up the phone and punching the 1 for long distance.
"Paul, it’s me, Nina Reilly."
"Nina! How are you? I got your card. What are you doing practicing law at Tahoe?" She could hear the baseball game get suddenly muted. Did he work at home? She pictured Paul van Wagoner, long legs draped over the arm of a soft chair, files open on his lap, watching the Oakland A’s get trounced.
"That’s a complicated tale, Paul. Listen, I have a business question for you. You went private, right? Know of anybody up here that’s in your line? Somebody good? It’s a murder case."
"I know just the guy. Sharp. Experienced. Reasonable. Humble. Snappy dresser. Warm without being cloying."
"Wait a minute."
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