“Who could tell?”
Dupree was frowning to the point where his eyes were squinting. “I’m sorry, I’m just not following. What do you mean, who could tell?”
“I hate him, he hates me.”
“So, you don’t get along, he disappears for going on five days now, and you don’t find that the least bit strange?”
“Like I said, I hate him. I haven’t had to cook or clean up for that idiot for several days and it suits me just fine.”
“What’s your husband’s relationship with Jim Sauser?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if those two weren’t queer for each other. They spend every free minute they have either comin’ or goin’ fishin’ and when they’re not coming or going fishing, they’re planning their next fishing trip. Whoever heard of two men wanting to be away from home as much as them if there ain’t somethin’ goin’ on?”
Dupree glanced at Dara whose hand was over her mouth. Dupree observed many couples with strange relationships and open hostility in his years handling divorce cases, but there was something really odd about this woman’s responses to their questioning.
“Do you have a boyfriend, Roxxy?”
The shocked look on the woman’s face got exactly the reaction Dupree was looking for.
“Who told you I had a boyfriend?”
Trying to hide any hint of irony, Dupree leaned forward. A spring was poking him in the behind. “I imagine you get a lot of attention from men.”
“I’ve been known to turn a head or two in my time.” She displayed a proud grin on her face. Then she turned to Dara, “I bet you do too, all those men in the café all the time.”
Dupree ignored her catty comment to Dara and pressed on. “Well, if you and your husband dislike each other as much as you say, it seems only natural that you might go looking for someone to care about you.”
“I think I’ll just keep that to myself. Are we done?”
“Is there anywhere you know that your husband likes to go besides fishing or hunting, I mean, does he belong to any service clubs, or does he have a favorite bar or hang out of any kind?” Dara thought she would try to make one last effort to get through to Roxxy.
“When we first got together, we used to go to Hinky’s a lot. That’s where we met. He stopped taking me, but I know he still goes there.”
Dupree stood. “Thanks for your help. Although, if I’m being honest, it doesn’t really seem like you want him found anyway.”
“If he doesn’t come back, I don’t think I care. I’d miss the money but I could sell my arts and crafts. Did you see my Dream Catcher when you were coming up? I make those in a lot of different styles. I could sell you one like is hanging on the front door for $35.00.”
“I’m not much of a Dream Catcher guy. How about you, hon’?”
Dara cleared her throat. “I have so much stuff that I wouldn’t really have a place for one, but thank you.”
Dupree moved toward the door. “If you should hear from your husband, please let us know. Dara, can you give her one of my cards? I seem to be all out.”
“I don’t need no lawyer. I got one who I’ve called a couple of times about a divorce. I’ll use him if I need to.”
Dara handed her the card. “A lot of people at the Quarter Moon are worried about Mike. They’d be relieved at any word you might have.”
“If I’m not in, leave a message with my secretary.” Dupree moved toward the front door.
“Are you sure you don’t want a dream catcher?” Dupree closed the door behind Dara.
“And you say you have no sense of humor.”
CHAPTER 14
Dupree rolled over and through his haze of slumber heard Dara rattling around in the kitchen. Throwing back the cover he made his way into the bathroom. The light through the window seemed brighter than normal. He splashed his face several times to wash away the cobwebs.
From the bathroom door, he could see the clock on Dara’s side of the bed. 7:33 flipped over on the roll of plastic numbers. He pulled on a t-shirt and made his way toward the kitchen in his boxers.
“Good Morning!” Dara’s cheerful greeting proved she wasn’t sick like Dupree feared.
“You’re still here.”
“Very observant of you counselor.” Dara grinned.
“I mean, why are you still here? Is something wrong?”
“No, I’m trying out a new management strategy. Sometime I want us to take a vacation. I will feel much better if I know things run smoothly when I’m not around. So, I’m going to go in late a couple of days a week. It will give the girls a chance to take some additional responsibility, and I can stay here and spend some quality time with the man I love. What do you think?”
“Who are you and what have you done with my wife?” Dupree stepped around the counter into the kitchen.
“Ooh, sexy.” Dara giggled and pointed to Dupree’s baggy boxers and wrinkled White Owl Chili Cook-Off t-shirt. “Aren’t you freezing?”
“I was going to give you a kiss…”
“You better. Look at this.” Dara lifted the lid on the large cast-iron skillet. “Chorizo Farmer Skillet. Eggs, peppers, diced potatoes, onion, eggs, and your favorite green jalapeno chili sauce. Just waiting to be flipped and heavily cheddared.”
“Now the kiss seems like a payoff.”
“I’ll take it either way.”
Dara unwrapped a large chunk of cheese and began to grate it as Dupree gave her a squeeze from behind and kissed her on the cheek.
“You’ll have to do better than that!” Dara set the cheese down and spun around in his arms.
“Is the bed made?”
“Not yet.”
“Ever had dessert before breakfast?”
An hour later, showered and dressed in his best wool suit, Dupree was ready to meet the day.
Dara exited the bedroom with a coquettish smile on her face.
“How many days a week are you going in late?”
“I said two, but I like the way this test is going. I may make it three.” She crossed the room and kissed Dupree. “Maybe five.”
The weather looked threatening. “How about I give you a ride to work? Maybe I can get a firsthand report on how it went without you.”
“You just want another cup of coffee and a slice of nut bread.”
“Well, there is that. But I might slip into a diabetic coma from you and nut bread in one morning.”
“Funny boy. Let’s go.” Dara gave her heavy wool scarf a dramatic toss over her shoulder.
The Quarter Moon felt like a dark filter found its way across the lens of the morning crowd. The normal volume and playful atmosphere of the breakfast crowd was so subdued Dara feared some tragedy occurred.
Dupree made his way to the counter and Dara headed for the kitchen. The sound of grumbling behind him made Dupree want to turn and see what the voices were about but he decided to let it go.
A couple of minutes later TJ and Dara came through the kitchen door. “Good morning to you.” TJ greeted Dupree with what felt like a forced friendliness.
“What’s going on around here?”
“It’s the Mike Potter thing. His disappearance.”
“Still no word?” Dupree glanced over at Dara.
“Nobody has seen or heard from him in six days now.”.
Dara grabbed a full pot of coffee from the machine and headed out to the dining room. She smiled and greeted the regular crew, but after the second table, the smile and chattiness were gone. A look of concern replaced her smile and she was listening far more than speaking. As she moved from table to table Dupree sensed more and more of the customers were watching him. Several men turned in their seats to glare at Dupree.
“What are you looking at?” A man in a dirty baseball cap snarled at Dupree.
“Is there a problem?” Dupree’s jovial mood was quickly disappearing.
“Why are you the lawyer for that queer pervert?” The voice was buried in the din of muttering and conversatio
ns.
Dupree turned back to his coffee. This was neither the time or place for a lesson in the constitutional guarantee of a defense. He took a sip of his coffee.
“Dupree.” TJ gently tapped the counter in front of him. As he looked up, she gave a jerk of her head.
Dupree turned to see four men empty a booth and head his way. “This is my best suit.” He winked at TJ. Dupree stood and slipped off his jacket and draped it over his seat.
“We’ve been putting up with you for going on three years.” Dupree looked up at the speaker. Relax Snowflake, It’s Just a Red Hat was stitched on his cap.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“It ain’t no pleasure.” The second man in a red and black plaid quilted jacket stepped closer.
The four men hadn’t invaded Dupree’s circle of personal space yet, but they were getting close. “Is there something you feel you need to say?”
“California is a long way off. We’re pretty happy here. Least we were until people like you started invading.” The third member of the group, who was considerably shorter than the other three seemed to be trying to show his friends he was just as tough as they are.
“I assume, you have a problem with me defending Mr. Weston. Is that what this is about?”
“Damn straight Jack.” Snowflake’s voice took on a menacing tone.
“Here is the thing. From your hat, I can see that you are a man of political conviction. I’m sure you are well acquainted with the Second Amendment and probably the First. What do think of the Sixth?” Dupree looked from Snowflake to Shorty then to the only man who hadn’t spoken yet. “How do you feel about the Sixth Amendment? We haven’t heard from you yet.”
The four men looked at each other in hopes someone would speak up.
“No? I figured fellas like you would know the Constitution back to front.”
“You think your smart, don’t you?”
“More in some circles that others.”
For the first time, Dupree looked passed his four adversaries. The first face he saw was Dara’s. He tried to reassure her with a smile that he was OK. People all over the dining room were standing and moving forward to be able to hear and see the confrontation. Dupree always prided himself on being able to read a jury or arbitration panel. From the looks of the crowd in the Quarter Moon, he judged his popularity to be destined for a guilty verdict and possibly hanging.
“So, give up?”
None of the men responded.
“Look, if any of you fellas get arrested, I will defend you too. See, even after your rude behavior, I am more dedicated to the law than my like or dislike of my clients. That’s the wonderful thing about America, everybody is entitled to an attorney.”
Dupree thrust out his hand to Snowflake. “Are we good?”
“I still don’t think you should be helping that pervert. But I get it I guess.”
“That too is the beauty of America, you’re entitled to your opinion.”
“Hey, you guys, your food is getting cold!” Dara called from their table. “I’d clear it but you haven’t left a tip.”
The room burst into laughing and applause. The four men returned to their table.
“Good morning.” Dupree was smiling as he put down a small brown bag on Tomi’s desk. “Compliments of Dara.”
Before Tomi could get a peek in the bag, the phone rang.
“Law Offices.” Tomi looked up at Dupree and pointed at his office. “Yes, sir I’ll put you right through.” Tomi pushed the red hold button on the phone. “A Ray Perlang calling from jail.”
Dupree picked up the phone before he was even seated. “Dupree.”
“This is Ray Perlang.”
“Hello, Ray. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been arrested. I need a lawyer.”
“I’m sorry Ray but I can’t defend you. I have prior knowledge of your alleged crime.”
“How is that possible? What do you mean?” Perlang’s voice rose to a level of nearly yelling into the phone.
“A number of my clients are material witnesses in your case. I can’t represent you both. My prior knowledge, and my clients’ discussion of the case, precludes me from acting as your attorney. I’m sorry.”
The phone slammed down on Perlang’s end of the line.
“Great way to start the day.” Dupree set the phone down. “Is it a full moon, or are people just nuts around here?’
“No and yes.” Dupree caught Tomi with a mouthful of Dara’s banana nut bread muffins.
“Sorry. Hey, when you finish can you see if you can get Marsh Peterson down here?”
“Do we have something that’s needs serving?” Tomi was confused by the request.
“I have a little something I want to see if he’ll do.”
“How long do you think our meeting will last?”
“Whoa. It slipped my mind.” Dupree looked at the wall clock. “We’ve only got thirty minutes! Everything set to go?”
“Since yesterday afternoon. Will this afternoon be good for Marsh to come in?”
“Sure, later the better.”
Dupree put on his jacket. He wore his ‘power suit’ today. He would need all the posturing and strength he could muster. At the front of the office, Tomi stood, his briefcase in hand, a handsome leather satchel on her desk.
She was dressed in a well-tailored black pantsuit. To Dupree’s amazement, she was wearing lipstick and mascara. It struck him for the first time that she bore a striking resemblance to Taylor Swift.
“Miss French?”
“Something wrong?” A look of panic darkened Tomi’s face.
“Quite the contrary. You look like any of the upwardly mobile personal assistants I ever saw in LA. Well done, we’re going to knock them dead.”
“So, I look OK? I don’t usually wear make-up but I thought this occasion warranted a bit of a power-look. I googled it.”
“Well done.” Dupree reached for his briefcase. “And this?” Dupree ran his hand across the satchel. “Nice.”
“A gift from my mom. She wanted me to look professional.”
“Well done mom! Let’s do it.”
* * *
It was 3:30 when they got back to the office. Tomi put her satchel behind her desk. Dupree made his way to his office. They talked out all their observations of the meeting with Kanaal’s legal team in the car driving back. Dupree was down. Tomi was overwhelmed by the panel of company executives and lawyers that one by one took each of Dupree’s filings and briefs and tore them apart.
He didn’t expect them to lay down, but the meeting was a bit of an ambush. From out of left field Kanaal produced a zoning regulation that didn’t show up in Dupree’s research. He was broadsided by an error a first-year clerk should have caught. There was something not quite kosher about the way they threw the zoning information on the table like a handy ace up their sleeve. It was far too convenient for the lead of the legal team, Bruntnell, to just happen to know about a newly discovered code. Dupree’s anger was beginning to smolder, after a while it would burst into a full burning rage.
“Well, make yourself at home.” Dupree showed great displeasure at the sight of Marsh Peterson sitting in his chair and his feet on the desk.
“Tomi’s chair hurts my back. That old couch and chair out there are miserable. This…” He patted the arm of the chair. “Well, it fits just right.”
“Up, Goldilocks.”
Marsh stood up but showed no sign of catching the Three Bears reference. He took one of the seats in front of the desk. Dupree hung his jacket on the rack before reclaiming his chair.
“So, what’s this special project? I’m in no mood to do any window peeking.”
“Do you know of the local working man’s watering hole, Hinky’s Hideaway?”
“Hinky’s Hideout. It’s a favorite with a lot of guys. Pool, darts, cheap food, cold beer.”
“That’s the place. I need you to ask around about a guy named Mike Potter. Le
t me rephrase that. Listen for anything about him. He’s disappeared and I’d kind of like an idea of the why and how of it. He works for the cable company. Nobody’s seen or heard from him in several days. His wife couldn’t care less.”
“Missing persons and beer are my specialties.” Marsh gave Dupree a big smile.
“Less beer and more detective would be preferable.”
“You buying the first round?”
Dupree was beginning to think that this may be a bad idea. Marsh was a little too eager. Marsh was a drinker; he was always making jokes about hangovers and “one too many”.
“Look, this isn’t an invitation to a party. This is a serious investigation, with serious ramifications. If you can’t do it in a professional manner, say so now.” Dupree caught a sneer appear ever so slightly cross Marsh’s lips. “You know, maybe this is a bad idea.”
“No, no. I got this. Hit Hinky’s, catch any gossip about a missing cable guy, Harry Potter. Then report back. No biggie.”
“Mike.”
“Mike who?”
“Mike Potter, not Harry.”
Oh, yeah. Got it.”
Maybe it was just the wrong day. Dupree decided the problem with the response he was getting was with him, not Marsh. He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer and maybe Dupree was just over sensitive to words and body language after getting taken to the shed by Kanaal.
“Tomi, give Mr. Peterson ten dollars out of petty cash. Have him sign for it.”
“Cheers!” Marsh left the room.
Dupree exhaled heavily. For the first time since coming to White Owl, he felt completely unprepared. At Atherton et al, he depended on a crack staff to support his efforts. Everything was reviewed both by an intern and an associate. Tomi with all her dedication and good intentions was little more than a proofreader.
He picked up the phone and punched in a number from memory. On the third ring, a familiar voice came on the line.
“Are you OK?”
Martin Hutchinson was Dupree’s best friend, confidant and fellow partner at the firm. He needed a friendly voice. Now that he was on the line his mind went blank.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Where are you?”
“Sixth hole. I’m not playing well.”
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