Acts of Malice

by Perri O'shaughnessy

  In the dimly lit hall, his warm mouth found hers and they leaned against the wall. As if she had been missing a part of herself, his touch relieved her. He kissed her neck, hunching down to reach her though she was on her toes already, his hands moving up and down her back, continually gathering her closer into the rough material of his open coat until she was engulfed in it.

  This went on for quite a while. The real-estate ladies down the hall came out of their offices and turned around and went back in again.

  ‘‘Oh, baby, I missed you so much this weekend.’’

  ‘‘Me, too.’’

  ‘‘I don’t ever want to be separated from you again.’’

  ‘‘It’s three o’clock in the afternoon,’’ Sandy said from the doorway. ‘‘Just thought you might want to know.’’

  ‘‘I’ll be—right in, Sandy.’’

  ‘‘Hmph.’’ The door shut.

  ‘‘Why are you here?’’ She brought his head up, made him look at her.

  ‘‘I want you to get out of the Strong case,’’ Collier said. ‘‘Please do that for me. And don’t ask any questions. I promise you, I’ll never ask you to do anything like this again.’’

  Dismayed, Nina stepped back.

  ‘‘Why?’’ she said.

  ‘‘I can’t tell you.’’

  ‘‘You have some new information?’’

  ‘‘Don’t ask. Other people are involved. I can’t explain. Just trust me.’’

  ‘‘Tell me why. You have to! What did you find out?’’

  ‘‘I found out,’’ Collier said, his mouth at her ear, whispering, ‘‘just how dangerous and vindictive he is. You’re in danger. Hear me?’’

  Now she was frightened. But she couldn’t just say, ‘‘All right, sure, whatever you say.’’ Of course Collier was prejudiced against Jim. She had to be able to assess—

  ‘‘You have to tell me. What’s he done?’’

  ‘‘Do what I say. Go back in there and call him and say you’re through. Return whatever money he’s given you.’’

  ‘‘It’s not that simple.’’

  ‘‘Make it simple.’’

  ‘‘I have to think about it.’’

  ‘‘Don’t think long.’’

  ‘‘Can I see you tonight?’’

  ‘‘Your place?’’

  ‘‘I’ll be off at six. I’ll cook dinner.’’

  ‘‘Six. Please. Go in there and call him. Do it.’’ Collier was gone.

  Nina went back in, somewhat dazed, and said, ‘‘Sandy, call Artie’s office and see if I can run in and see him as soon as Mrs. Geiger and I finish up. And call Jim Strong and see if he can come down this afternoon. I have to talk to him. Hi, Mrs. Geiger. How are you?’’

  ‘‘Not so good, hon.’’

  ‘‘Well, come on in.’’

  They went into the inner office and shut the door. Nina’s face was still warm from Collier’s heat, and his alarm had rubbed off too. She calmed herself. Mrs. Geiger waited patiently, perched on the edge of her chair because her feet didn’t reach the ground otherwise.

  ‘‘Sorry,’’ Nina said. She was a little brusque, not at all recovered from the intensity of that brief meeting.

  ‘‘No problem. You’re in love with that fellow, I see.’’

  ‘‘Yes. I suppose I am.’’

  ‘‘That’s nice. I haven’t been in love since 1967, but I remember the feeling well.’’

  ‘‘What can I do for you today? Uh, I think we had everything all taken care of . . .’’ Nina opened the file, scanned it, and went on, ‘‘Yes, we’ve sent out the last of the medical bills. Sandy was just going to put this file in the closed cases. We just filed the divorce petition for you.’’

  She took a good look at Mrs. Geiger, who still wore the same somewhat threadbare navy coat and the same black purse. Her mouth was set in a permanent smile, the one her mother had undoubtedly taught her to wear no matter how bad it got.

  ‘‘So you’re not doing well? What’s wrong?’’ Nina said, her tone softening.

  ‘‘Well, I was just wondering if we could change our minds,’’ Mrs. Geiger said.

  ‘‘Change our minds?’’

  ‘‘Get more money for the injuries.’’

  ‘‘I’m very sorry, but no, we can’t do that, Mrs. Geiger. You’ve signed a release of all claims against the parties. We’ve accepted a settlement check. It’s all over.’’

  Mrs. Geiger took that in. ‘‘But you know, hon, my back’s really acting up.’’

  ‘‘Oh. I see. Okay, no problem. We got you future medical expenses, so long as your orthopedist agrees the treatment is related to your preexisting condition. You just call up and—’’

  ‘‘I went back to the Honeybee Restaurant, where I always worked, and asked for a part-time job. I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I did. My boss, Mr. Hendrickson, he’s a fine boy. He said sure and started me next day. And I found out—I found out I can’t do it anymore. I mean, my back was plain killing me. I had to lay down all day the next day.’’

  ‘‘But your doctor has explained to you that you can’t do that anymore. You can’t work. That’s what the settlement is for.’’

  ‘‘But I always worked. I like to work. I don’t want to sit home with nothing to do. I thought as soon as the case was over I’d be right back there and able to earn my living. Why, I’ve been working since I was twelve years old.’’

  Nina smiled at her and said, ‘‘It’s time to take a rest now. Visit some friends, travel around, enjoy life. You can afford it.’’

  ‘‘I need to work. But my back won’t let me.’’

  Her eyes grew big and saucer shaped as she said this, and Nina thought, it’s finally hit her, that she really is disabled. She must have thought that she could collect the money and go back to her old job. She thought it was all some kind of wonderful break that she wouldn’t have to pay for. ‘‘I need more money,’’ she persisted. Her smile trembled a little.

  ‘‘But there’s nothing I can do, Mrs. Geiger. There is no more money.’’

  Without a word, Mrs. Geiger pulled out her check register and spread it open in front of Nina. It showed the deposit of her settlement money, followed by a daily series of large withdrawals, five to fifteen thousand dollars a day.

  The balance was forty-six dollars and thirty-two cents.

  ‘‘Where’s your money, Mrs. Geiger?’’ Nina asked, puzzled.

  ‘‘We-e-ell, I lost it, hon.’’

  ‘‘How?’’

  ‘‘Playing the horses at the Race and Sports Club at Harrah’s.’’ This took a minute to settle in. Casinos didn’t give money back. Ever. The money was gone. Unbelievable!

  ‘‘You lost a hundred and sixty thousand dollars in a—a—week?’’

  ‘‘Twelve days. Twelve days of finishing out of the running. The worst bad luck. I kept getting these hunches, and I kept being so close, then I was losing a lot of money and I figured my horse was bound to come up now, so I kept betting more and more. It was my turn. But my turn didn’t come. They make it so easy!’’

  So Mrs. Geiger was a compulsive gambler, a common problem at the lake. Nina thought back to the madness that had seized her too on her last visit to that slot machine, the one with which she had the relationship.

  ‘‘I used to hand my paycheck over to my husband every Friday,’’ her client went on. ‘‘And I knew I ought to be careful. I even talked to my minister, Reverend Minor, about putting the settlement away for me. We had it all set up for him to give me some of it each week. But I never did make it over to the church.’’

  ‘‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’’ Nina said, shaking her head. She could hardly believe it. ‘‘How about your husband? Could he help you?’’

  ‘‘He’s not coming back. I told you, he’s gone back to Oklahoma. I don’t ever want to see that man again anyway.’’

  ‘‘But what will you do?’’

  ‘‘My sister says I can live with her, but I have to pay groceri
es and everything until the sosh-security starts coming. That’s still two years. So I came in today thinking maybe you could help me. Since we did share the risk.’’

  ‘‘Wait a minute,’’ said Nina. ‘‘Share the risk?’’

  ‘‘Well, we thought we had the crow in the hand. But that darn thing flew off. With the money. Not all the money, though.’’

  ‘‘I suppose you’re talking about my fee?’’

  ‘‘Sixty thousand dollars worth of fee. That’s a lot, hon.’’

  ‘‘I’m not going to return the fee, Mrs. Geiger. I have a family. We have a contract. I did the work.’’

  ‘‘Oh, I don’t want all of it. I thought we ought to split it. It’s my back, after all, hon. You’re not going to let me starve, are you?’’

  Nina sat back in her chair and thought about it. Mrs. Geiger’s game smile was still hanging on her face, though it was mighty wobbly. Nina had the feeling that, once that smile was gone, it would never come again.

  How many hours had she actually put in on the case? A hundred, maybe. She’d been paid fantastically well, but she’d taken the chance of being paid nothing. She’d fronted all the expenses, saved the day. She’d only done what any lawyer does. Why was she feeling so guilty? Artie would have ushered the woman out with many a fine word about contracts. After all, Mrs. Geiger had done it to herself.

  But she was a client. Nina had taken on Mrs. Geiger’s problems, all of them. She wasn’t prepared to see her panhandling in the snow.

  She opened her bottom drawer and brought out the office checkbook. Mrs. Geiger sat there solemnly. Nina wrote out a check from the office checking account and handed it to her.

  ‘‘Hon, you are a peach. Thirty thousand dollars. Why, it’s made out to Reverend Minor!’’

  ‘‘In trust for you. Have him call me if he has any questions about setting up an account. Take this, too.’’ It was a business card with the phone number for Gambler’s Anonymous. ‘‘Go to a few meetings. You need to talk about what just happened to you.’’

  ‘‘Good girl,’’ said Mrs. Geiger. ‘‘You’re a peach, hon. A real lady.’’ The smile had gotten a lot wider.

  It almost made it worth it.

  ‘‘I’ll send you a corrected fee agreement. Good luck. Take care of yourself.’’

  Sandy was just hanging up as Nina walked Mrs. Geiger to the door. ‘‘Artie says to come ahead.’’

  Nina climbed the stairs to the second floor. Artie was sitting in his conference room at the computer, looking up some cases on Lexis.

  ‘‘One second,’’ he said, not looking up. Nina went to the window. Artie had a good town view, the slushy street out front with its solid line of traffic, the convenience store and Mexican restaurant across the street. Behind them, mountains. Behind them, far-flung sky. And behind that? What was behind it all? Was there some ordering principle? Some all-seeing power which would one day explain why she had just calmly given away thirty thousand dollars?

  ‘‘Ah, shit,’’ she mumbled to herself. She knew it had been the right thing to do. She didn’t even have time to worry about it now.

  When Artie swiveled around to face her, she said, still standing at the window, ‘‘I’ve come to ask you a question. Would you be willing to take over the defense for Jim Strong?’’

  ‘‘Without you?’’

  ‘‘Without me.’’

  ‘‘No. No, I wouldn’t do that.’’ Artie spoke gently.

  ‘‘I thought not. But I wanted to ask.’’

  ‘‘Why?’’

  ‘‘Because I’m thinking about getting out of this case, and before I talked to Jim I wanted to have someone else I trusted lined up for him.’’

  ‘‘I’ve gone through too much to get my blood pressure down. Sorry, but the stress would—’’

  ‘‘You don’t have to apologize, Artie. The opposite. I apologize for busting in on you like this.’’

  ‘‘I’m kind of disappointed. I thought we were going to work together. Did something come up?’’

  ‘‘Yes, something came up. Or no, it’s just an ongoing feeling that I don’t want this. I want out.’’

  ‘‘Still thinking that he’s lying, eh?’’

  ‘‘I suppose.’’

  ‘‘The going’s getting tough?’’

  ‘‘Yes.’’

  ‘‘What about loyalty to the client? All that? He done anything like bounce a check on you?’’

  ‘‘No, no.’’

  ‘‘Then he’s done his duty by you.’’

  ‘‘Someone I trust, who ought to know, says he’s dangerous. To me personally.’’

  ‘‘Any specifics?’’

  ‘‘No.’’

  ‘‘This person who you trust—has he or she got any axes to grind?’’

  ‘‘Yes, but—’’

  ‘‘We’ve got a duty, Nina,’’ Artie said. ‘‘Our nerves may be shot, we may stop sleeping, our kids may be neglected, we may hate the crook whose hand we’re holding. But we’ve got a duty. Even when we have a failure of nerve.’’

  ‘‘It’s not a failure of nerve! It’s a failure of trust. I don’t trust him.’’

  Artie said, ‘‘I still don’t see what that has to do with it. Nothing says you have to trust him. Defendants aren’t trustworthy, in general. But he has to be able to trust you, because that’s your duty. And I see he can’t trust you.’’ Artie turned back around and acted like he was very interested in the case on the screen. She felt that she had lost a lot of luster in his eyes.

  ‘‘Well, thanks anyway,’’ she said.

  As she was walking out the door, Artie said, his eyes still on the screen, ‘‘I’ll still work with you, if you change your mind.’’

  19

  WHEN SANDY BROUGHT Jim into the inner office late that afternoon, Nina was sitting upright behind the desk, her hands folded in front of her, all business.

  ‘‘Thank you for coming,’’ she said as he threw himself into the chair. He looked like he had run all the way from the resort. He must have been working outside— sweating and hatless, he wore only a red wool shirt above his jeans, though it was in the thirties today.

  ‘‘I was coming anyway,’’ he said, the words rushing out before she could get her mouth open. ‘‘My father finally did it. He fired me. I knew it was coming. It’s been hanging over me. It’s almost a relief. No, it’s not a relief, it’s another hellish hit, is what it is.’’ He looked so disheveled and agitated, his news was so bad, that Nina decided her own agenda would have to wait a few minutes while she tried to help him absorb it.

  ‘‘It’s final? He didn’t ask you to do something else?’’

  ‘‘No. He came back from his trip and things were kind of in a mess—what did he expect? I’m the one facing a murder charge . . . but I’ve tried to keep things together, deal with the lodge employees and the equipment breakdowns and the Ski Patrol people, all of it, and this hearing was coming up. I mean, there’s an actual possibility I’ll go to jail! So what does he do? He leaves and dumps everything on my shoulders. He came in about six o’clock in the morning, and when I showed up at eight he called me in and said he wanted me off the property.’’

  ‘‘I don’t understand,’’ Nina said. ‘‘I really don’t. I take it that you feel his reason for firing you was a pretext, and it sure sounds like one. But if it’s got to do with your brother’s death, why go off and leave you in charge in the first place?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know either. He’s never been an easy person. Now we’re like strangers.’’ He paused, thinking. ‘‘Someone has poisoned his mind against me since he left. He wouldn’t even tell me where he’s been. But unfortunately for me, he has the power. He’s the managing partner. I’m out.’’

  ‘‘Was there—did the conversation get heated?’’ Nina asked.

  ‘‘No, no. I tell you, Nina, I just didn’t even have the heart to argue with him about it. I just turned around and left. I went home and tried to sleep. I did finally drop o
ff, about noon, but only for an hour. I’m so tired.’’

  ‘‘After things calm down,’’ Nina said, ‘‘your father may change his mind.’’

  Jim got up and paced. ‘‘He seems to hate me now. If I can’t convince him that I had nothing to do with Alex’s death, I don’t think he’ll ever have anything more to do with me. After everything I’ve done to make him . . .’’

  ‘‘To make him what?’’ Nina said. Then she thought, to make him love me. That was what Jim was choking back.

  ‘‘Give it a few days,’’ was all she could think of to say. She wasn’t going to suggest any of several legal remedies that had come to mind. This dilemma wasn’t a legal one, and the law couldn’t solve it.

  ‘‘I need you more than ever, Nina.’’

  ‘‘Well, let’s talk about what’s happening with your case. First, I’m sorry to tell you that there’s still no word on Heidi.’’

  Sitting down again, Jim bowed his head, effectively hiding his expression, but the humility of the gesture suggested to Nina that he had come to grips with Heidi’s absence.

  ‘‘At the moment, you’re free, but as you know, you can be rearrested and another hearing can be held on whether there’s probable cause to bind you over for trial.’’

  ‘‘Whatever happened to double jeopardy, anyhow?’’ Jim asked.

  ‘‘Let’s just say it’s been whittled away so much, there’s just a microscopic twig of that doctrine left,’’ Nina said. ‘‘However, if they lose two prelims, you’ll be home free.’’

  ‘‘This is too much! It’s eating up my money. It’s ruining my life!’’

  ‘‘I know. I know. But you have to prepare yourself.

  The police forensics lab is running more tests on those fibers found on your boots. They’re even looking for Alex’s DNA. They have the idea that if Alex sweated enough they might be able to link the fibers to his particular shirt.’’

  ‘‘They can find stuff like that?’’

  ‘‘Oh, they live in a science fiction world. Look at the navy blue dress that nailed Clinton.’’

  ‘‘If they don’t find anything, will that clear me?’’