Inherit the Shoes

by E. J. Copperman

  Son of a bitch!

  ‘Ms Moss?’ Franklin admonished me.

  ‘Your Honor, may I approach the bench?’ The judge waved me forward, and I tried to search his eyes for compassion. What I got was confusion.

  ‘Your Honor,’ I said, ‘what this witness is saying completely contradicts what she told us before she testified. I can only assume she was lying to us then, or is perjuring herself now.’

  ‘Ms Moss, I know this is your first trial in my court, but I’m going to assume you’ve been in a courtroom before.’

  ‘Yes, Your Honor.’

  ‘Then why do you think this is my problem? Your witness hasn’t given you the answer you wanted, and that, I can only assume, is due to poor preparation on your part.’

  The weeks of sleep deprivation, worry, and sexual abstinence finally took their toll, and I had to restrain myself from shouting in the courtroom. ‘To be fair, Your Honor, given the short time I had to prepare for this trial, it’s a miracle I was able to prepare this well.’

  Franklin took off his glasses and frowned at me. ‘This is hardly the time to complain about that, Ms Moss,’ he said. ‘If you had a problem with the short court date, you should have filed for a continuance.’

  I wanted to speak. Really, I did. But the part of my brain that normally communicated with my vocal chords wasn’t linked to my mouth at that moment. Finally, I managed, ‘I did file for a continuance, Judge. You denied it.’

  ‘I assure you, I never saw any such motion,’ he said. ‘I would have given you more time. I thought this court date was a disgrace, considering the charges, but I never saw anything from you.’

  My brain reeled. Everything I’d relied upon was crumbling around me. The surprise witness had surprised me, and the continuance I’d been cruelly denied had never been …

  Plus, someone had leaked information to Bach and the D.A. about his wife. Someone had given away my plans. Someone had countered my every move and frustrated my best strategies.

  I spun as the obvious finally came into focus. I faced my table – my own table! – where the only person who could possibly be responsible was sitting, looking at me with the most innocent, trusting eyes in the room.

  Evan.

  Son of a bitch!

  FORTY-TWO

  ‘Son of a bitch!’ I screamed at Evan. After requesting, and being granted, a recess until the next day, I managed to hold it together on the drive home (in Angie’s car, but with Evan in the back seat, so I couldn’t say anything). I invited Evan up to the apartment ‘to talk about the case,’ but hadn’t said much else. I’d felt like I would burst with anger, but I couldn’t show it until we were alone. I looked for signs I was wrong, and found none. Angie and Evan probably thought I was being sullen because of the beating I’d taken at the hands of Melanie and Mrs Bach.

  The difference was, one of them was happy about it.

  Angie, clearly astonished by my outburst, held me back from Evan, who was standing in front of the sofa. I could have launched myself at him – I wanted to – but if he’d ducked, I would have gone through the living room window and into the Los Angeles night below.

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ I don’t think Angie had ever seen me this angry before. She spun and faced Evan. ‘Did she just find out you’re married?’

  ‘No,’ Evan said. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then, what?’

  I could barely talk through my clenched teeth. ‘He knows. Go ahead. Tell her. But if you think I’m upset …’

  ‘Tell me what?’

  Evan’s face relaxed into what I now understood it must have looked like when he wasn’t lying, if that was ever a possibility. He seemed to age three years, his eyebrows dropped two inches, and his mouth, whose innocence I’d so admired, pursed into a hardened cynicism I’d have thought impossible the day before.

  ‘Sandy’s going to tell you I’ve been working for Junius Bach the whole time, that I’ve done everything I can to sabotage this case, and that I am, in her opinion, the lowest form of life on the planet.’ He turned to me. ‘How am I doing so far?’

  ‘At least you have the good taste not to deny it.’

  Angie, however, was not handling the news well. I watched as her hands took on a claw-like appearance, her eyes widened, and her forearms tensed to the point you could count the veins. Luckily, I’d moved past the violent stage, and was trying my best to catch my friend’s eye.

  ‘Ang. Ang, forget it. He’s not worth it.’

  ‘Yes, he is! He’s worth every minute of it! Even if I end up doing time, he’ll be worth it!’ Now it was my turn to do the restraining.

  ‘But I couldn’t finish the case without you,’ I said.

  ‘Finish the case?’ Evan gloated. ‘The case is finished. Oh, you were clever, weren’t you, bringing in Bach’s wife? And for what? So she could be the last nail in Patrick McNabb’s coffin!’

  Angie’s voice dropped to a growl. ‘Are you sure he’s not worth it?’

  ‘Positive.’

  I addressed Evan. ‘You did it all. You pretended to file for a continuance, which the judge told me he would have granted, and then you told me it had been denied. You gave every last piece of strategy to Bach, and he passed it on to the D.A. And then you pretended to have a romantic interest in me … so you could get better information.’

  ‘It sure as hell wasn’t for the sex,’ Evan said.

  ‘What sex?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Angie’s eyes never left Evan. ‘I’m really thinking he’s worth it, Sand.’

  ‘In another minute, I might agree.’ I looked at Evan again. ‘You were willing to … to sleep with me in order to report back to Junius Bach? What kind of paralegal are you?’

  ‘My God, you’re dense,’ Evan sneered. ‘I’m a lawyer. I’ve been a lawyer for four years. Bach thought it would be a good idea for me to pretend you were my mentor, but I thought I could be more effective as a lover.’

  ‘Not after I get through with you,’ Angie snarled. Evan might have blanched a bit at that.

  ‘OK. OK. I have to think.’ I sat down. Evan wasn’t Evan. At least, not the Evan I thought he was. And I’d told him everything about the case … Wait a second. Not everything. I looked at him, eyes as cold as I could make them. ‘I want you to leave now,’ I said. ‘I want you to never come back.’

  ‘Suits me fine. I have someone waiting for me, anyway.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Angie said. ‘You are married, aren’t you?’

  ‘No,’ Evan said. ‘But I’m living with Robin Flynn, the bathing suit model.’

  Too fast, I thought. It’s happening too fast. Next I’ll find out he drives stock cars for a hobby on the weekends.

  ‘I’d really like to kill him,’ Angie said.

  ‘Go ahead,’ I replied.

  Evan laughed coldly. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

  ‘They never did find that guy you used to date from Keasbey, did they?’ I asked.

  ‘Not all of him, no,’ answered Angie.

  Evan was out the door without a response.

  ‘Well, that was a mistake,’ I finally admitted.

  ‘You can’t blame yourself,’ Angie answered. ‘There was no way you could have known.’

  ‘No, that’s not what I meant,’ I said. ‘It was their mistake. Now they’ve made me mad.’

  FORTY-THREE

  Patrick had not gloated, as I thought he might, when told of Evan’s treachery. He merely nodded, said something about ‘young D’Artagnan’ having ‘left the service of the queen for the evil Cardinal Richelieu,’ and asked what was next.

  Lizz Warnell was next, and I began by asking her, on the witness stand, if Patrick’s behavior on the set of Legality had ever been affected by his marital problems.

  ‘No,’ Lizz answered. ‘I don’t recall him ever being anything but delightful on the set. Patrick didn’t let his personal life intrude on his work.’

  ‘You also knew him on a social basis, didn�
�t you?’ I asked.

  ‘Those were only rumors,’ Lizz said. ‘We were both married at the time.’

  ‘I meant, you saw Patrick and his wife socially away from work, didn’t you?’ I had to be careful not to let Lizz’s somewhat delusional comments taint the jury’s perception of Patrick.

  ‘Oh, yes. We on Legality are a family,’ said Lizz, who evidenced her desire to get with the program. ‘We saw each other quite often. I was shocked when I heard Patrick and Patsy were splitting up. They seemed so happy.’

  ‘I’m sure it was quite surprising. Now, Ms Warnell, you heard testimony from some cast members and crew that Mr McNabb was a regular at the Beverly Hills Bow Club, where he practiced his archery. Did you belong to that club as well?’

  ‘I did, and I do,’ Lizz answered. ‘I find it exhilarating.’

  ‘Do you, the cast members, and the crew ever compete while you’re at the club?’ I asked wide-eyed.

  ‘Oh, yes. We make little side wagers on who’ll score the highest, or get the most arrows on the inner circle – things like that.’ Lizz, always ready to play with – and beat – the boys, was pleased to discuss her hobby.

  ‘So, who’s the best?’

  Lizz looked a little startled. ‘I’m sorry?’

  Cates stood up, making a show of his impatience. ‘Objection, Your Honor. What relevance does this have?’

  ‘What relevance?’ I said to Judge Franklin. ‘The victim in this case is shot through the heart with a bow and arrow – one arrow, a miracle of a shot – and the district attorney doesn’t understand the relevance of the defendant’s prowess in archery?’

  ‘If Ms Moss wishes to make the point that her client is very good with a bow and arrow, I have no problem, Your Honor,’ said Cates, ‘but asking Ms Warnell for her opinion, and not presenting her as an expert witness, appears to make no point at all.’ I realized that Cates wanted to suggest to the jury that Patrick was an expert archer without running the risk that Lizz would say someone else shot better than he did.

  ‘Ms Warnell is not an expert, but she can have an opinion,’ I countered. ‘She shot arrows with Mr McNabb and the others on a regular basis, and was present when they competed. If you were at the final game, you don’t have to be the Commissioner of Baseball to know who won the World Series.’

  ‘Overruled,’ Franklin said with just a touch of admiration in his voice. Coming from a woman, the baseball analogy must have hit a home run with him. He didn’t know I had three brothers and hit better than all of them.

  ‘Ms Warnell, who, of the cast and crew, is the best at archery, in your opinion?’

  During my exchange with Cates, Lizz’s eyes had been darting back and forth, betraying no preference for either of our arguments. Her dilemma – one I’d planned – was exquisite: should she boast about her own prowess, and thereby implicate herself in the minds of the jury, or concede that Patrick was the better shot, and publicly admit she wasn’t the best at some activity? If there was one thing I’d learned in my short time in Hollywood, it was that ego would always prevail.

  ‘I’d have to say I’m the best,’ Lizz said.

  ‘But there was a visitor once who was better. Isn’t that true?’ I knew Lizz hadn’t seen this one coming – I hadn’t prepared her for the question.

  ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’

  ‘Didn’t Patsy DeNunzio visit with her husband once, not long before they separated? And didn’t she show a remarkable talent for archery?’

  ‘Objection!’ Cates barely made it out of his chair. ‘Is Ms Moss actually suggesting that Ms DeNunzio shot herself with the arrow?’

  ‘Of course not, Your Honor,’ I answered with a condescending laugh. ‘I’m trying to establish the nature of the competition that goes on at the club.’

  ‘Overruled.’

  I turned back in Lizz’s direction. ‘Ms Warnell, did Patsy show herself to be a remarkable archer during her one visit to the club?’

  Lizz gritted her teeth so severely, I wasn’t sure she’d be able to open her mouth, but she managed. ‘Yes,’ was all she said.

  ‘Would you say she was better than you?’

  The transformation in Lizz’s face was astounding: her skin took on a much darker, redder hue; her eyes widened and took on a bloodshot quality; her hair appeared to absorb humidity and puff out on either side of her head. She was trying as hard as she could to keep it together, but the pressure from inside her head must have been tremendous. Any physician watching from the last row would have leapt up and administered blood pressure medication intravenously.

  ‘Better? Than I am?’

  ‘Yes. In your opinion, was Ms DeNunzio, without any lessons, training, or practice, a better shot than you? Was she, in fact, better than anyone in the cast and crew of Legality?’ I kept my voice light, conversational. You’d never have known from my tone that I was forcing a woman to dissolve in public.

  Lizz mumbled something very short, but it was unintelligible. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said sweetly. ‘We couldn’t hear you.’

  ‘YES!’ Lizz bellowed. ‘She was better! The little brat came right off the street and shot a record score! Just like that!’

  I raised my eyebrows in innocent surprise. ‘Really? How did that make the regulars, like you, feel?’

  ‘Pissed off!’ Lizz shouted. ‘How would you feel if the janitor walked up here and started trying this case better than you are?’

  ‘Relieved,’ I admitted. ‘No further questions.’

  Cates’ cross-examination, which lasted only ten minutes, was uneventful, after which the judge called a lunch break and Patrick, Angie, and I walked into the hallway’s usual crush of reporters, fans, and celebrity stalkers. Angie and Patrick turned toward the conference room, where we’d made a habit of having lunch, but I didn’t follow.

  ‘Sand,’ Angie said, ‘where you going?’

  ‘I’m going to skip lunch today,’ I told her. ‘You two go. I have someone I need to go see.’

  ‘Is it Evan?’ Angie asked. ‘Because I’d like to go along as an armed guard.’

  ‘It’s not Evan,’ I chuckled. ‘I have a meeting scheduled here in the courthouse. Tell you about it later.’

  I walked away, ignoring the reporters, fans, celebrity stalkers, and Angie and Patrick’s puzzled expressions.

  Evelyn Draper wasn’t a great beauty, but in prison fatigues, courthouse lighting, and no makeup, Scarlett Johansson wouldn’t have launched a thousand ships, either. When Evelyn sat down across the table from me, her eyes began to moisten. Having been a prosecutor for years, I was used to prisoners getting emotional after some time in prison, but I’ll admit it – I hadn’t expected this.

  ‘I’m so sorry about your shirt!’ Evelyn wailed. ‘I didn’t mean to get that stuff on you – it was supposed to hit Patrick McNabb.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘It washed right out.’ (Actually, I’d thrown the blouse away, after trying three times to wash it myself, and one dry cleaning fiasco. Food coloring is not terribly forgiving.) ‘I don’t understand why you’re still here.’

  ‘I couldn’t make the bail: they wanted ten thousand dollars! And I don’t have that kind of money.’ Evelyn stared at her hands for a moment.

  ‘Couldn’t you get a bail bondsman to put up that much?’ To a bondsman, it wasn’t a lot of money in the grand scheme of things.

  ‘They charge a fee,’ Evelyn said. ‘I’m not exactly living large at the moment.’

  ‘How about PIOUS? They wouldn’t spring for you?’ I knew the answers to these questions, but I wanted to drive them home for Evelyn, to make her a little more receptive to what I was about to propose.

  ‘It’s not like there’s a PIOUS headquarters in town, or a central office, or anything,’ Evelyn answered. ‘It’s just a bunch of people, mostly girls, who really liked Patsy’s music.’

  ‘Well, I guess they’ll be happy when the new album is released,’ I said.

  Beat, two, three …

  ‘Ne
w album?’ Evelyn’s face lit up, and suddenly she was Scarlett Johansson for a moment. ‘There’s going to be a new Patsy album? How’s that possible?’

  ‘Tracks she recorded before she died. Patrick owns the rights to them, and he’s instructed me to sell them to the highest bidder. I haven’t had time to contact the record companies yet, but …’

  ‘Oh, you’ve got to,’ Evelyn gushed. ‘You can’t imagine what it’ll mean to the fans!’

  ‘Well, I’ll get to it, I’m sure. I came here because I wanted to talk about your situation. You know I’m not pressing charges. You’re being held on the authority of the court.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Evelyn stared at her hands again as reality set back in.

  ‘I think I can help,’ I told her. ‘Suppose I see to it that your bail money is put up today? And at trial, I’ll defend you pro bono. Do you know what that means?’

  ‘That’s free, right?’ Evelyn’s voice was small – she was wondering whether to believe Patrick McNabb’s attorney.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. You won’t have to pay me to represent you in court. It’ll be free.’ I waited and watched. Evelyn had to guess there’d be a catch, and slowly, she looked up and met my gaze. Her voice was a little less reedy, a little more wary.

  ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘Nothing. I’ll defend you either way. But I do have a favor to ask. If you say no, I’ll still help you out, and it’ll still be free. But as a friend, you might want to do this thing for me.’

  A friend? OK, maybe that was pushing it. Evelyn’s face registered a trace of cynicism. I knew the PIOUS people must have told her not to trust Patrick or anyone around him, that he was the killer who took Patsy away from them and ruined their lives. But prison always gave people time to think, and Evelyn had clearly not forgiven herself for the ‘blood’ throwing incident. I was just a sweet young woman – a lot like her – offering to help her when none of those PIOUS people had come to her aid. Besides, I’d made myself the vulnerable one, offering to represent her for free, no strings attached. I couldn’t have made the decision any easier for her.