“Hmmm...this is about the feline called Phoebe?” the prosecutor asked.
“Yes, sir.” She nodded.
“Your aunt broke into Mr. Harrington’s house along with you?”
“Yes.”
Aunt Helen piped up, “I roped Phoebe into coming with me.”
“I don’t believe the court addressed you, Ms. Helen Clay,” the judge said. “Your turn will come, be assured.”
The prosecutor asked Phoebe, “Do you still believe the cat is housed in Mr. Harrington’s abode?”
Phoebe paused, wondering how to answer that honestly. They hadn’t had a chance to search the entire house.
“What my client means to say is,” Morgan piped in, “No, she does not believe the cat is at Mr. Harrington’s house.”
“I object, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said. “I request the defendant be allowed to answer the question herself.”
The judge nodded to Phoebe. “Answer the question, please.”
“No,” she said, quietly. With everyone on the hunt for the cat, likely even Morgan, so, his grandfather could have moved her by now. What other properties did Tucker own in this town?
“Speak up,” the prosecutor said. “Was that a, No, Ms. Clay?”
“What my niece means is that even if my Fur-Phoebe is at Tucker’s place, we have no further active plans to go after her,” Aunt Helen said in a loud voice, standing up, “except maybe psychically. My great-nephew knows a good one whom I plan to consult.”
“Your Honor,” the beleaguered prosecutor pleaded.
Morgan groaned and shot a sit-down look at her Aunt Helen.
The judge sighed and leaned back, pen tapping his bench. “I’m having a hard time believing either of you ladies take the charges against you as seriously as you should,” he said. “Or that you will not make a second attempt to enter Mr. Harrington’s premises without permission.”
“Exactly my point, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said. “I have no further questions.” With a triumphant grin, he returned to his seat.
“Your Honor,” Morgan stood, shelving his plan to call Helen to the stand, “if the court pleases, I have a character witness for both my clients who will testify that this episode was an aberration and certainly will never be repeated. It was the stress of losing their cat that made them act in such a rash manner.”
As Phoebe returned to her seat and her mother passed her. Phoebe took Aunt Helen’s hand in commiseration. She’d brought on this rift between her mother and Aunt Helen.
After Brenda Clay was sworn in, she sat down. Her mother’s expression was resigned.
Phoebe’s pulse beat an anxious rhythm.
Morgan approached her mother. “Mrs. Clay, in your opinion, do you believe Phoebe and Helen Clay would ever again undertake such a foolish action as breaking into Tucker Harrington’s house?”
Her mother finally glanced at Phoebe. As the seconds ticked by, she wondered if her mother would speak at all. It might be for the best if she didn’t.
Phoebe clenched her fists to keep from reaching for her cell phone. It had remained silent all day. No word from Conroy, which was worrisome. Not one thing had gone right since she left Sri Lanka. She glanced at Morgan, her gaze softening. Well, one good thing maybe. Janet was out of the picture.
Her mother’s frowning glance swerved from Phoebe to Morgan, and then settled with resignation on Aunt Helen. “Helen Clay is a law-abiding citizen, Your Honor,” she said. “I have known her for close to thirty-seven years, since the day I met her nephew, my husband. In all that time, I have never known her to do one dishonest act. She was a respected manager of the local theatre costume shop until she retired a handful of years ago. She has lived in Harrington Bay all of her life without a blemish to her name.”
“What of your daughter?” the judge said. “I understand you two have been estranged for a number of years.”
Phoebe held her breath.
“My daughter...,” she began when the courtroom door swung wide, hitting the opposite wall.
Janet strode in. The detective waved a file and introduced herself. “I have something that will shed light on this case, Your Honor.” She pointed at Brenda Clay. “That woman’s testimony cannot be trusted.”
“I object,” Morgan said. “Mrs. Clay is not on trial. She’s a character witness.”
“I concur,” the judge said. “This is not a criminal case, only a judgement on a misdemeanor Break and Enter.”
“One moment, Your Honor.” The prosecutor whispered something to the detective and took the offered folder.
Phoebe sat up. Was Janet trying to discredit her mother’s testimony?
Aunt Helen now covered Phoebe’s clenched fist in a comforting hold. Phoebe breathed, loosening her fists and stretching out her cramped fingers.
Chapter 7
Morgan leaned against the witness box. Still sitting there, Brenda Clay placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He gave her a cursory glance. Her confident gaze seemed to suggest he shouldn’t worry. How could he not?
What was Janet thinking? This public display was sure to get back to her boss. She was not only putting Phoebe and Helen’s sentencing in jeopardy, but her own career.
The prosecutor and Janet were arguing in whispers. The man shook his head and offered back her folder. Janet’s face turned several shades darker as she responded, her hands clenched at her sides in impotence.
Morgan straightened, his hopes rising that she had nothing to derail Brenda’s testimony. If she had, the prosecutor wouldn’t be shutting her down.
“Come now,” the judge said, “I have a golf game in twenty minutes. Do you have new evidence to present or not?”
The prosecutor pushed Janet aside. “No, Your Honor.”
“I do!” Janet jabbed her finger toward Brenda Clay. “You must listen to me, Your Honor. Anything that woman says cannot be taken as reliable.”
“That’s enough.” The judge’s voice rang sharp. He ordered the bailiff to escort Janet out and Morgan cringed on her behalf. He had brought her to this sorry state.
Once order was restored, the judge turned to the prosecutor. “Was there any substance to her accusation?”
“No, Your Honor, I would certainly have brought it forward to the court otherwise. It is merely speculation.”
The judge nodded and turned to Brenda Clay. “You were saying?”
“My daughter and I have been estranged,” Brenda said. “Since the death of her best friend, Johnny Williams, she has waged a personal war against crime. That’s all I have to say.”
Her words stunned Morgan. Who was this Johnny Williams character? Why had he never heard of him?
“Counselor?” The judge checked his watch. “Have you any further questions for this witness?”
“No, Your Honor.” Morgan returned to his seat.
The prosecutor stood. “I have no questions for Mrs. Clay either, Your Honor.” He waited for Brenda to return to her seat.
Morgan was surprised his grandfather hadn’t opted to testify, but glad, too.
The prosecutor then said, “I believe the prosecution has proven that the defendants have yet to learn their lessons and are likely to repeat their criminal activities. I, therefore, believe a two thousand dollars fine and six-month community service for Phoebe Clay and a five hundred dollars fine and three-month community service for Helen Clay is a just and fair sentence for their crimes, as stipulated in my written statement to the court.”
Morgan quickly summed up his sentencing submission for why a lighter sentence would be more appropriate, and placed Helen and Phoebe Clay's fate at the mercy of the court. The judge called a short recess while he made his decision.
“Who’s Johnny?” Morgan whispered to Phoebe.
She gave him a sorrow-filled side glance and bit her lower lip, apparently lost for words.
Within ten minutes, the judge returned. Must be getting close to his tee-off time.
At his gesture, the three of them sto
od.
“Ms. Helen Clay,” the judge said, “I suspect your niece had some influence on your behavior.”
“Nope,” Helen said, in firm protest.
“Please remain silent while I make my decision,” the judge warned. “Your record in this community is long and established. It seems to the court that only since your niece returned that your behavior has become unpredictable. You, therefore, are remanded to attend counseling until such time as the court can be advised that you are capable of making sound decisions and will not be so easily influenced by others.”
He then turned to Phoebe. “You, Ms. Phoebe Clay, are a mystery. Despite the obvious animosity between you and your mother, she speaks highly of your moral character. Yet, considering the influence you’ve had on your aunt, I find that evidence difficult to accept.”
Morgan took hold on her hand and she squeezed back.
“This case is rather unusual,” the judge continued, “since the counselor defending you is the son of your victim. I hold Morgan Harrington in high esteem. I do not believe he is easily influenced by a pretty face.”
The judge then sat up. “I remand you to perform community service. The prosecutor and your defense counselor will come to an agreement on an appropriate activity, which you will undertake for at least three hours a day, three days a week, for three months. At the end of that time, I expect to receive a positive report and to hear of no further incidents. Since you reside next door to Mr. Tucker Harrington’s home, you are forbidden to approach within five feet of his property without his permission.” He banged his gavel. “Court is dismissed.”
Phoebe gave a heavy sigh of relief. Morgan totally reflected that feeling. They exited the courthouse together still holding hands. She didn’t pull away, and that felt amazing. As if she was accepting him into her life. The day suddenly felt brighter. This must be what his grandfather meant when he said falling in love makes your world sparkle.
Phoebe checked her phone, frowned, and then tucked it back into her back pocket. Had she been expecting a call? From whom? Before he could ask, Helen called up from the bottom of the stairs, “Are you coming with us, Phoebe?”
Brenda Clay was waiting beside their vehicle.
Morgan held Phoebe back. “I can give you a ride home,” he said. “There’s something I want to ask you.”
She nodded acceptance and waved off her family.
“Morgan,” Tucker said, coming to stand beside him, “you did a fine job in there."
Morgan would have loved to know what the old man was up to. He had checked the basement for the missing Clay cat. It wasn’t there. “Gramps, you could have made this easier if you’d dropped the charges.”
His grandfather chuckled. “And miss all this fun?” He went down a step and over to face Phoebe. “Hello, young lady.” He held out his hand. “I’m Tucker Harrington. No hard feelings, I hope?”
Phoebe shook his hand. “None, sir.”
Tucker stepped closer and whispered in her ear. He then released her hand and left.
“What did he say?” Morgan asked.
Phoebe shrugged. “He said you should invite me over for dinner one night. You two have a strange relationship. Didn’t he mind that you were representing Aunt Helen and me?”
Morgan led her down the steps toward the car park. “I’m starting to suspect he has a crush on Helen.”
“He has a weird way of showing it, then.”
“The Judge is his golf buddy. If he set a more serious sentence, I’m sure Tucker would have spoken up, at least on Helen’s behalf. He didn’t seem too upset with you either.”
They walked the length of the street toward the parking lot. Morgan knew what he wanted to say but he was tongue-tied, as if he were a teenager wanting to ask a girl out.
Her hand snaked out, grabbed his tie and hauled him closer. Her lips lifted up. Expecting an assault, he was shocked by the tenderness of her kiss. Her lips melted over his and she whispered, “Thank you.”
“Take it home,” a man said behind them.
Morgan jumped apart.
The judge in golfing togs strolled by them on his way to his car.
Phoebe turned a gorgeous rosy hue and Morgan prayed he would disappear. How could he have forgotten where he was? Observing the judge’s retreating back, he said with acute discomfort, “Yes, Your Honor.”
“That’s not what I meant by community service, either,” the judge said as he unlocked his car.
They stood in silence, waiting until he drove away.
“What was it you wanted to ask me?” Phoebe asked.
“Huh?” he replied absently. What if Janet had seen them? Her appearance in court meant she wasn’t ready to let him go. She could be ruthless. His plan to ask Phoebe out was obviously premature. He should wait a few days or maybe a week before taking her out. Give Janet time to cool down. Yet, out of an abundance of caution, what if he waited too long? Who knew when Phoebe would leave town? No, that wasn’t true. She had to be here for at least three more months. The judge’s sentence finally sank in.
Three months. The angels in heaven sang, Hallelujah.
She had to do community service for three months.
She couldn’t leave town for three months.
“Nothing,” he said. “I didn’t need to ask you anything.”
“Seriously?” she said with a frown. “Then why say you did and hold me back?”
“I wanted to make sure you understood the judgement. You can’t leave town for three months.”
She stared at him in silence. “That’s all?”
He smiled with encouragement. “I am looking forward to having you around.”
“You are?” She inched closer.
He glanced around this time before taking her in his arms and spotted Janet parked down the lane, watching them. His throat constricted. He swung Phoebe around and hurried her to his truck.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Wow, you send mixed signals. There’s no need to rush me. I’m sorry if our kissing in public embarrassed you.”
He jogged them to his parking spot. “I'm not worried about that. Aren't you in a hurry to tell your father and grandfather about the case’s outcome?”
“Liar. You are embarrassed!” she said in accusation. She slammed into the passenger seat. “Please drop me off at Rosemary and Rue. I have an appointment with Lenny. Aunt Helen can let the rest of my family know how the case went.”
SEETHING, PHOEBE NOTED how Morgan seemed more interested in checking his mirrors than talking to her. She checked her surroundings, too, out of habit, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. So, their public kiss embarrassed him? He couldn’t seem to get rid of her fast enough now.
She pulled out her phone. Still no reply from Conroy. She texted Lenny that she was on her way. As an afterthought, she asked him to bring Molly along. Maybe the little girl would cheer her up.
Once they arrived at the café, she leapt out and strode away without giving Morgan a backward glance.
Within minutes, she was in Lenny’s car and the three of them were speeding away from Rosemary and Rue. The tires squealed as if Lenny couldn’t wait to get started on this part of their plan. They were scouting out locations for their new security venture, part of Phoebe's plan to "cause a little havoc" in HB by moving back home, permanently. This plan had the added bonus of giving her and Lenny a chance to work together and maybe mend some fences. Molly was strapped into a car seat in the back, chatting away nine to a dozen about all that had happened in her day. Lenny pointed to his newspaper listing lying by Phoebe’s feet. He’d circled likely locations to check out.
“Sage says Lenny’s going to be sad soon,” Molly said from the back seat.
Phoebe glanced up from scanning the paper and made worried eye-contact with Lenny.
“Sage is psychic,” he explained with a shrug. “That’s how she helped her business partner, Rose, find Molly last year. She gets visions. Scary, bu
t accurate.”
“She said Aunt Phoebe will be sad, too,” Molly said, her eyes wide and curious. “Are you sad now, Aunt Phoebe?”
“No, honey,” Phoebe said, glancing back. “Your brother’s fine, too.” She mentally crossed her heart and promised to make sure he stayed that way. She owed that to both of them. “We’re just anxious about finding a suitable place for our new business. Will you help us pick a good one?”
“’K!” Molly said, happy to have a task.
Phoebe returned to checking over the spots Lenny had circled, but, like an annoying fly, Molly’s comment buzzed around her. She shook it off. She was done with being sad and hurting people. That’s why she was leaving her old job. This plan of theirs would work. She was going to make a lot of people happy by finding the loved ones they’d lost.
Phoebe enjoyed the excitement of the chase and living on the edge. Lenny, too, had that need for uncertainty, and taking risks. The trick had been to find a way to make their ideal lifestyles fit into peaceful HB in a legitimate, non-criminal, manner.
They’d settled on finding missing persons. The work might take them far and wide across the country, perhaps even the world, adding an exciting element to their daily lives. Lenny even came up with a company name: Missing You, Inc.
The city had grown larger while she’d been away. High-rises had sprouted up, traffic was congested and there was a big-city feel about the place that hadn’t been here when she grew up. One after another, they visited the premises Lenny had chosen. Most were fine, some Molly wrinkled her nose at, disliking the smell. None felt right to Phoebe.
By the time they reached the last place on their list, she wondered if she was looking for a way to get out of her decision to move back home. There had been nothing truly wrong with any of the spaces they’d already visited. All had windows and spacious rooms. Could Molly’s words about her and Lenny being sad be influencing her judgement? Or Morgan’s coldness earlier? Probably both.
Lenny looked drained as he parked. This building seemed respectable enough. If it didn’t pan out, they’d have to call it quits and that would be a shame. Lenny had been so excited when they started. Molly was asleep in the back seat.
Missing You Page 7
