Dog Law (A Robin Starling Courtroom Mystery)

by Michael Monhollon

  I was closer to home than to work, so I headed that way for lunch so I could let Deeks out to piddle. At a stop sign, I punched Rodney’s number on my speed dial. Though I’d watched her drink half-a-bottle of zinfandel, I still didn’t know what Chloe had been talking to McClane and Tarrant about. I thought it couldn’t be good.

  “This is Rodney Burns.”

  “Hi. Robin Starling,” I said as I started rolling again. “Have you found out anything yet about Chloe Stevens?”

  “Well, no. I haven’t really been looking at Chloe Stevens.”

  “Well, look.”

  “I did run across a wedding announcement in the Times-Dispatch, but that’s it. It was a little over a year ago. Her maiden name was Hodson, if that helps.”

  “Not much, no. Find out what you can about her, will you? I’d like to know where she came from.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “No, not really.”

  He waited.

  “Something about that woman makes me want to drown her in the toilet bowl.”

  “Then you’d have two cases to work on,” he said.

  The door of the dog crate was standing open, and Deeks was nowhere to be found. I went across the street and rang Dr. McDermott’s bell. When he opened the door, he had Deeks cradled in one arm, and Deeks had a piece of something that looked like PVC pipe in his mouth. He gave me a yap in greeting, and the PVC pipe bounced on the floor.

  “Hello, to you, too,” I said, ruffling the fur on this head and getting my wrist licked in the process. “How long after I called you did you go get him?”

  Dr. McDermott shrugged. “Might have been thirty minutes.”

  “You old softie.”

  One side of his mouth rose in a half-smile. “Come on in.”

  As I went in, I stooped to pick up the PVC pipe, which was already looking pretty heavily chewed, and I handed it back to Deeks. “Had any accidents?”

  “Not so far. We’ve been going out in the backyard to mark some territory every ninety minutes or so.” When we got to the kitchen, he set Deeks down. “I was about to make myself a turkey and swiss. Do you want one? I can put yours on rye bread or double-fiber.”

  “I’ll take rye.”

  “Once you’ve developed a little diverticulosis, you’ll wish you’d made more high fiber choices when you were younger.”

  “I’ve had double-fiber bread. It has the texture of fiberglass.”

  “Have it your way.” He opened the refrigerator and started pulling things off the door and out of the meat drawer.

  “What are you doing with rye bread anyway, if double-fiber is a better dietary choice?”

  “A man likes a little variety.”

  “Women aren’t much different,” I said.

  Chapter 11

  Stevens Imports was in Mechanicsville, a little town that was now a suburb on the north side of Richmond. It was housed in an old warehouse of dark, crumbling brick with “Pohlig Brothers” just visible in fading paint on one side of the building. The sign in front, though, was a wooden oval that said Stevens Imports, and I guessed the building hadn’t housed the Pohlig Brothers in a generation.

  The surface of the heavy double doors was lumpy with many, many layers of old paint.

  I half-expected them to be locked, but the door swung inward easily on massive, well-oiled hinges, and I found myself in a modern reception area with a drop-ceiling and framed maps on the walls. At the massive, U-shaped secretarial desk sat a diminutive old secretary with not one, but two receding chins, which made her look as if her mouth were set in her throat above a double Adam’s apple.

  “Hello,” I said. “I’m Robin Starling. I understand Mark Stevens is out of the country.”

  “He’s in China,” she confirmed in a thin, reedy voice that made me think of doilies, afghans, and china figurines. The name plate on the desk identified her as Clara Partin.

  “Who would I talk to in his absence?” I asked.

  “You could talk to David Stevens.” She sounded doubtful.

  “Would that be his father, his brother…”

  “Brother, younger by ten years. They’re partners in the business.”

  “Is David in? Could I speak to him?”

  “Actually, he’s out of the office at the moment, but he should be in tomorrow.”

  So I should have called. “I don’t suppose I could reach him by phone.”

  “I don’t suppose you could.” She sounded doubtful, and I gave it up.

  “What times does he have available tomorrow? Anything in the morning?”

  “Yes, the morning would be a possibility.”

  “Nine o’clock? Ten?”

  “Why don’t we say ten-thirty?”

  We said ten-thirty.

  When I was back in my car, I called the office. Carly answered, “Law offices of Robin Starling,” and I told her it was me.

  “Just checking in,” I said. “Any messages?”

  “Just one. A Ralph Waldo called from the district attorney’s office.”

  I put her on speaker and punched in the number as she gave it to me. “Thanks, Carly.”

  I punched Call, got a secretary, and pulled out of Stevens Imports while I waited for her to put me through. Ralph Waldo came on just as I was swinging up onto I-95.

  “Waldo.”

  “Ah. Found you.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Sorry. It’s a reference to…”

  “Where’s Waldo? Yeah, I get it. You won’t believe it, but I’ve heard that one before.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I assume you got the amended complaint,” he said. “I had it couriered over to your office this morning.”

  “No, I’ve been out of the office.”

  “We need to schedule the arraignment of Natalie Stevens. Judge Cheatham didn’t have any time on his docket after three today, and it’s probably too late to grab the three-o’clock spot even if you can make it.”

  My Beetle’s digital clock read 2:44. “I can’t,” I said.

  “How about nine o’clock tomorrow?”

  I was coming up on my exit. “Tell me about the amended complaint.”

  “The evidence no longer points to felony hit-and-run. The amended complaint is for murder one.”

  I almost missed my exit, but I jerked the wheel to swing onto the ramp and slowed sharply. “You gonna try to get bail revoked?”

  “I’m gonna try,” he said. “So, nine o’clock? The judge has a trial at ten.”

  “Actually, I’m tied up until after ten. Does he have any time on Friday?”

  Waldo sighed. “Fine. Nine o’clock Friday. I’ll arrange it.”

  I could probably have made the arraignment at nine and been on time for my ten-thirty appointment with David Stevens, and for that matter the appointment with Stevens wasn’t set in stone. I hated to commit, though, until I had a better idea of what I was facing. When I got back to the office, I read the amended complaint, then looked up first degree murder in the Code of Virginia. The pistol under the mattress, the evidence at the motel…Somebody had murdered somebody, but right now that was about all I knew.

  I drummed my fingers on the desk. My case was on its way to being a basket case, and I needed someone to talk to about it. Brooke wasn’t in the office, and Paul was out of town. I could call John Parker, and try to work in some case analysis among all the sexual innuendo. I could go out and talk to Carly. Or I could go home and tell it to Deeks.

  It was nearly four o’clock. I went home.

  At ten-thirty the next morning, Thursday, I was back at Stevens Imports, and Clara Partin was looking vaguely across the reception desk at me.

  “Yes, Mr. Stevens got back into town last night.”

  “I didn’t realize he was out of town.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again? Rollins? I can’t seem to read my own writing.”

  “Robin,” I said. “Starling.”

  “And you’re
with…”

  “It’s just me,” I said. “I’m by myself.”

  I thought maybe she would ask what I was there for, but she picked up her phone and touched a button. “Your ten-thirty is here to see you, a Ms. Robin Starling.” She put down the phone. “He’ll be right out.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You may have a seat, if you wish.”

  I glanced around at the matching leather furniture, but before I could make my selection, the door opened and a man came out.

  “Hi,” he said. “David Stevens.” He looked a bit like a young Alec Baldwin, with a full head of dark, neatly trimmed hair, but his eyes were tired.

  “Robin Starling,” I said. I shifted my briefcase to my left hand so I could shake his.

  “You’re Natalie’s attorney,” he said. “Come on back.”

  When I’d been seated and had refused a soft drink, I said, “I may have seen a picture of you.”

  “Really?” He looked politely disbelieving.

  “I saw it at your brother’s house.” I still had the framed photograph of Natalie I had taken from the table in the Stevens’ den. I reached into my briefcase for it, looked at it, then turned it toward him. “No, I see. Quite a bit different. There is some family resemblance, though. Your brother Mark?”

  He looked as if he would reach across his desk for the picture, but he just shifted in his chair. “Yes, that’s Mark. He’s almost a decade my senior, but I suppose we do look something alike.”

  “When did you last talk to him?”

  “This morning. Just a few minutes ago, in fact.”

  “Chloe’s been trying to reach him to ask what to do about bail. It’s been set at seventy-five thousand dollars.”

  “Wow,” he said.

  “Did you and Mark talk about Natalie’s situation, or was the call strictly business?”

  “A bit of both, though it was hard for us to focus much on the business part of it. As much as he wants to get back here, he’s likely to be in Asia a couple more weeks. I think he can hardly stand it.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “So you’re here for seventy-five thousand dollars?”

  “It doesn’t have to be cash.” I gave him the options, including the possibility of going to a bail bondsman. “Of course, the bail bondsman is ultimately more expensive than putting up the money yourselves.”

  “Do you think there’s any point in making bail?” David said.

  “For a nineteen-year-old girl in the Richmond City Jail? Sure.”

  “Chloe called me about the gun.”

  I grimaced.

  “The charges against Natalie seem likely to be amended soon. Will bail remain at seventy-five thousand?”

  “Well, no. Not likely. We might give Natalie a night of freedom.”

  “That’s something,” he conceded.

  “Are you a lawyer?”

  “What makes you ask?”

  Answering a question with a question was one indication. “You didn’t give me the secret handshake,” I said, “but you do seem to know some of the passphrases.”

  He laughed. “University of Richmond. I practiced for a couple of years before Mark invited me to join this venture of his, but I’m inactive now.”

  “Where did you practice?”

  “Norfolk.” It was in the southeastern part of the state, about two hours from Richmond. “Dog law,” Stevens said. “I’m well shed of it.”

  “Dog law?”

  “Regulatory law. Jeremy Bentham coined the phrase, I think. He was talking about the common law, but the common law in the eighteenth century had nothing on the modern bureaucratic state. There’s no way anyone can know what’s allowed and what isn’t allowed. We’re like dogs in the home of a tyrannical master. We know we’re going to be beaten for any number of infractions we can’t even know we’re committing; we just have to hope our bureaucratic masters don’t beat us to death.”

  “That’s a cynical view.”

  “Sure. That doesn’t mean it’s inaccurate. You run into the regulatory maze in the import-export business, too, of course. That’s a big reason Mark needed me here. I kept my license active for maybe five or six years before the fees and the continuing legal education began to outweigh the negligible benefits. If you’re not using your license to earn your living, it’s hardly worth the trouble and expense of keeping it up.”

  I could see that. “I’m surprised Mark didn’t get you to find Natalie a lawyer,” I said. “Rather than relying on Chloe.”

  “Don’t underestimate Chloe.” He smiled. “I did play a part in your selection, though. You’ve made the paper more than once. The last couple of times were pretty high profile murder cases.” He nodded at his computer screen.

  “They were dramatic, not really high profile.”

  “Murder cases all the same. And before that you’d begun to make a name for yourself in commercial litigation.”

  I found myself beginning to like the guy. “So Chloe came to the Executive Suites looking for me specifically?”

  “She did.”

  “Huh. Well, I misread that one. So your brother’s going to be out of the country another couple of weeks.”

  “At best.”

  “When I talked to him Tuesday morning, he was in Guangzhou,” I said.

  “This morning he’s in Chengdu.”

  “Is that…”

  “Further in the interior.”

  I exhaled, shook my head. “So for at least two weeks, it’s me and Chloe.”

  “And me. I’m here to help you when I can.”

  “Thank you. I think I’ve come to share Natalie’s lack of faith in her stepmother.”

  David put his head back and laughed. “Lack of faith is putting it mildly as far as Natalie goes. To be fair, I don’t think Chloe has a high opinion of Natalie either.”

  The character of Natalie seemed to be the great unknown. “Any reason for Chloe’s opinion?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Teenaged girls, you know.”

  “I guess I should know, since I was one myself, but even ten or twelve years ago the category covered a lot of ground.” He didn’t say anything, so I tried a more direct prompt: “Does your brother put much confidence in his daughter?”

  “Oh, sure, probably more than he should. Fathers and their little girls and all that.”

  “So do you know things he doesn’t, or do you just lack a pair of his rose-colored spectacles?”

  He laughed again. “Well put. Natalie’s mother died eleven years ago, so she’s been without that steadying influence.”

  “How long ago did her father remarry?”

  “Little over a year. It came as a surprise to all of us, maybe Natalie especially. Mark seemed to be settling comfortably into bachelorhood, and then he met Chloe at a reception, and everything changed.”

  “What kind of reception?”

  “It was a party thrown by our bank for some of its customers.”

  “So Chloe is a banker?”

  “Chloe? Hell no.”

  “Did the bank hire her to, ah…”

  He was shaking his head. “Nothing like that. She was a professional conference-goer. She had saved up a little money waiting tables or hostessing or something, and she used the proceeds to go to banking receptions, investment conferences, anywhere there was likely to be a gathering of well-off men. She’d strike up conversations where she could, and if a man seemed interested in her, she’d tell them she was a fashion consultant specializing in men’s wardrobes and give them her card. Most of them never called, and some of those who did were married, but Mark did and he wasn’t, and things developed from there.”

  “Who told you that story?” I asked. “Mark?”

  “Yeah. He knew all about it before they were married.”

  “Did he get a new wardrobe out of it?”

  David nodded, smiling. “And then some. He was proud of her, you know, when he found out how systematically she’d set about improving her situati
on. And for her part, I think Chloe has played fair. She wanted marriage, financial security, and a certain level of compatibility. What she offered in return, well, you’ve seen her. She’s committed herself to being as graceful and pleasant companion as she knows how to be.”

  I thought about it. “Do you know where she grew up? Is she from Richmond?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know that.”

  “Mark and Chloe both still happy with their bargains?”

  “Oh, yeah. Natalie never took to Chloe, of course, and that’s produced its share of difficulties.”

  “Is not getting along with Chloe Natalie’s only real flaw, as far as you know?”

  He shrugged.

  “I know, teenaged girls. What do you mean by that? Is Natalie wild, or what?”

  He made a face. “She never got any tattoos—that I know of, anyway—never dyed her hair blue, used black make-up, put a stud through her eyebrow. Nothing like that. To look at her, you’d think she was a conventional young woman with her head on straight.”

  “Yes, you would.”

  His middle finger tapped the desk. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said. “Our bank’s just a block and a half from here. I’ll get you a cashier’s check for seventy-five thousand dollars, and you do what you can with it.”

  “Sounds good.” I stood and buttoned a button on my coat as he shrugged into an overcoat, then let him usher me from the office.

  “Be back in twenty, thirty minutes,” he said to Clara on the way out.

  David didn’t say anything for the first block. The sky was clear, and the sun felt good on the top of my head. I could already see a branch of Wells Fargo up ahead, when he said, “When Natalie was sixteen she had an affair with one of her high school teachers.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Yes. It changed the whole father-daughter dynamic that had developed since Natalie’s mother died.”

  “This was before Chloe, wasn’t it? Does she know about it?”

  “I don’t know. She wasn’t in the picture at the time, and Mark might not have told her more than he had to. He wants so much for Natalie and Chloe to get along.”