Skeleton justice mm-2

by Michael Baden

  Monserrat Sandoval's elegantly manicured hands traced the matted fur of a rescued mutt lying on a bed of rags at the Home Again shelter. The photo was one of the best in Manny's binder and it was having the desired effect. Manny saw Senora Sandoval's eyes brimming with tears as Jake, sitting next to her on the plush brocade sofa, offered his commentary.

  "Yes, Comet was found swimming in a polluted canal. He contracted a terrible case of giardiasis from drinking contaminated water."

  "He would drink this dirty water even though it must taste bad to him?" Senora Sandoval's English was fluent but strongly accented.

  Jake reached out and stroked the pristine Maltese in Senora Sandoval's lap. Here was a dog who'd never tasted anything other than sparkling springwater, a pet every bit as well groomed as its mistress. "Desperation," Jake said. "We all do what we have to do to survive."

  Manny prevented her smile from reaching her lips. For a man who claimed to have no acting ability, Jake was doing a mighty fine job. Robert De Niro, hang on to your Oscars; Jake Rosen's nipping at your heels.

  Things were going even better than she had expected. It was Friday, and Paco was at school, or, more accurately, on a daylong senior class field trip. In the next half hour, Manny had to find some clue to her client's whereabouts.

  Now that Jake had fully engaged Senora Sandoval's attention, Manny was free to scope out the apartment. The foyer separated the living area from the bedrooms. There were two closed doors in the foyer; Manny figured one must be a closet, the other a powder room. Luckily, the Sandovals didn't subscribe to the minimalist school of home decor. The apartment, while elegant, was quite crowded with art and antiques the family had acquired on their world travels. A large etagere packed with china and figurines partially blocked the view of the bedroom hallway from where they were sitting in the living room. Once she excused herself to go to the powder room, Manny was sure she could slip down that hallway unnoticed, as long as Jake kept Senora Sandoval occupied with the photos.

  Jake was turning a page in the binder and Manny made her move.

  "Excuse me, ma'am, but could I trouble you to use your powder room?"

  "Of course. Let me show you." Senora Sandoval moved to escort her guest there, but Manny motioned for her not to get up.

  "You just keep talking. Is it there in the hall?"

  "Yes, the second door."

  Manny crossed the room quickly, and when she reached the powder room, she glanced back and saw both heads bent over the book of photos. She reached into the powder room, switched on the light and the fan, shut the door, and slipped down the hallway. Dressing the part of the committed animal welfare worker, she had worn flat black Crocs-adorned with numerous multicolored Jibbitz poodles, of course-so she didn't make her usual high-heeled clatter.

  She suspected the door at the far end of the hall must be the master suite. That left a door on the left or the one on the right to be Paco's. She opened the door on the left and was about to back out, thinking that such an orderly, uncluttered space must be a guest room. Then she spotted the Monet Academy logo on a throw pillow and realized she was, in fact, in Paco's room.

  Manny stepped in and shut the door quietly behind her.

  What a difference from Travis's bedroom! No piles of clothes and unmade bed-the Sandovals had a maid to take care of that. But neither was there any sign of the occupant's personality. The crisply color-coordinated curtains and bedding revealed only the taste of an expensive decorator. Antique prints of sailboats hung in lieu of rock star and sports posters. And the desk looked like it belonged to the receptionist at a swanky Park Avenue law firm-no paper, no pens, just a perfectly placed computer and a phone. Kind of weird, really. What kind of kid lived like this?

  Her eyes lighted on a framed photo, the only personal touch in the room. It showed a smiling Paco with his arm around a man who looked to be about ten years older. Manny figured he must be an older brother, or maybe a cousin. They both had dark hair, wide smiles, and snappy blue blazers. A sparkling blue sea and brilliant sailboats formed the backdrop. A happy family vacation shot, no doubt.

  She began searching the bureau. Neatly folded sweaters and polo shirts, stacks of boxers and tees, a sock drawer that would make a drill sergeant weep with joy. The closet: no junk, no hiding places-just two poles of hanging shirts, jackets, and pants. The desk drawers were just as unrevealing-they looked like an advertisement for an office-supply store. Shit! All the effort she'd made to get herself in here, and this is what she'd found-an Ethan Allen model room.

  All that was left was the computer. Manny glanced at her watch. She'd been gone exactly two and one half minutes. Jake had instructions to explain her prolonged trip to the powder room by saying she had contracted a digestive disorder from the animals, which made her prone to episodes of nausea. Did she have enough time to boot up the computer and sort through Paco's documents? She had come this far. She might as well go whole hog.

  Unlike Travis, Paco had a standard-issue desktop computer with no bells and whistles. Manny moved the mouse and the screen sprang to life. Good, it had only been in sleep mode. She clicked on the documents icon. Would it be password-protected? No, it opened right up.

  There were folders labeled for every subject he took at school, as well as one for college essays and another for cover letters. Geez, the kid was really anal-retentive. She didn't have time to open every folder-she had to assume that they were what they claimed to be. Near the bottom of the alphabetical list of folders was one called "Stuff." That sounded more promising. Manny double-clicked and discovered three documents, each identified only with initials. One was entitled "TAH." Travis Andrew Heaton? She opened it.

  It was single-spaced, as a letter would be, but contained no salutation or closing. Was it the draft of a letter, some sort of plan? Manny's heart rate kicked up. Sure enough, Travis's name was repeated throughout the document. Unfortunately, the rest of the words were in Spanish. She could translate a few: problema, ayuda, solamente.

  Something about a problem and needing help. She needed a native speaker, or at least a good dictionary, to really understand what Paco was saying. She'd have to print this document out and take it with her.

  Manny crossed to the door and listened. She couldn't hear Jake and Senora Sandoval, so presumably they wouldn't be able to hear the printer. Time check: Five minutes had passed.

  She ran back to the computer and gave the command to print. The printer, a low-end ink-jet one, buzzed and clanked to life. A message appeared in a window on the monitor: "Printing page one of three." The printer made a strange digesting sound and laboriously pulled a sheet of paper into its maw. Slowly, slowly words began to appear. Manny stood anxiously by, silently urging it to hurry. C'mon, c'mon. You'd think the Sandovals could spring for a high-speed laser printer for their baby.

  Finally, the first page slid into the tray. Manny snatched it up and looked for the next page. The printer fell silent.

  What the hell? She sat down in front of the screen, trying to detect what was wrong. Just as she doubled-clicked the printer icon again, the printer lurched back to life, made the digesting sound, and pulled another sheet of paper through its feeder. Now she had commanded it to print again and she'd have to stay here while it coughed out six pages instead of three. Frantically, she began to look for a way to cancel the second print order.

  While she searched the control panel folder, the printer disgorged the second sheet. It paused, but now Manny knew it was just catching its breath. She took her eyes off the printer and went back to canceling the second print order. The digesting sound came again, followed by a horrible crackling and crunching. She looked up at the printer in time to see the final sheet of paper being sucked into the machine at a thirty-degree angle. The computer began to beep and a message window appeared. "A paper jam has occurred. Clear the paper path and resume printing."

  She glanced at her watch. Eight minutes gone, and now she had to repair a friggin' computer.

  She took
a deep breath. You can do this. You're good with electronics. A woman who's figured out every feature on her cell phone can figure out this printer. But the stupid machine was nothing like the printer she had at home, or the one in her office. She couldn't even see how to open it up. She tugged at the jammed paper and only succeeded in tearing it. Another deep breath. Focus. Look at it. See how it's put together.

  And then, for the first time since she had entered Paco's room, Manny heard a sound from outside the door.

  "Hi, Mama! I'm home!"

  For at least the hundredth time since Manny had left the room, Jake checked his watch. Eight minutes and forty-three seconds had passed. At the five-minute mark, Senora Sandoval had glanced up from the binder of animal photos and cast a quizzical look at the powder room's door. Jake had delivered the explanation about Manny's sudden bouts of nausea, and, amazingly, Senora Sandoval had murmured sympathy and gone right back to perusing the photos. Now, the sound of a door opening made both of them pause.

  Jake immediately focused on the dimly lighted hallway that led back to the bedrooms. If Manny emerged from there, he hoped to hell she'd have a plausible explanation to offer their hostess. But there was no movement from that direction, giving him hope that she'd already made it out of Paco's room and was about to make her grand reentry from the powder room. But when his glance flicked to the powder room's door, he saw that it was still closed, a band of light visible at the bottom.

  So what door had opened?

  "Hi, Mama! I'm home!"

  Jake felt sudden chest pain and tensing of his leg muscles, a spontaneous headache on his left side, and a racing heart. This was not supposed to happen. Paco was supposed to be on the senior social studies field trip all day.

  A slender young man with dark, wavy hair appeared in the foyer and looked into the living room.

  "Paco, darling. This is a surprise. Why are you home so early?"

  "The field trip was dismissed early because of the rain."

  "Ah, que malo. Come here and meet Mr. Rose. He is talking to me about the animal-rescue efforts on the Gulf Coast. You must see these photos, darling. They are so tragic!"

  Jake locked eyes with Paco, willing him to come into the living room and join them on the sofa. "So many young people volunteer in our organization," Jake said, trying to keep his voice casual. "Paco might like to learn about the opportunities we offer."

  Paco smiled, a dazzling flash of white in his handsome olive-toned face. "Oh, yes. I love animals. I would like to hear all about it."

  Jake's heart rate began to slow down.

  Paco extended one foot. "Just let me put away my school things and change my socks. I stepped in a puddle on the way home."

  It took every ounce of self-control Jake possessed to keep from leaping up and shouting, "No! Come here right now."

  He watched in dread as Paco turned toward the long hallway. What would the kid do when he discovered a strange woman in his bedroom? What would Manny do when that bedroom door opened? Was she even aware that Paco had arrived home? Did she have some lame explanation to offer up, or, cornered, would she just blurt out the truth?

  The truth might work for her. Senora Sandoval was clearly kindhearted. Manny could throw herself on the woman's mercy and explain that she was an overly dedicated defense attorney just trying to save her client from harm. But what excuse could he possibly offer for why a deputy medical examiner of the City of New York was aiding and abetting her? He was already skating on thin ice with Pederson. This would be all the justification his boss would need to get rid of a troublesome employee who brought shame on the ME's office.

  He could no longer see Paco, but he heard the click of a door opening. He held his breath and waited for the calamity to follow. This was the spot in the movies where the intrepid heroine would duck behind the flowing draperies to hide out. Except the rooms on movie sets never had simple tailored valances and matching Roman shades. Manny glanced around the ridiculously tidy room for another place to hide. The bed was a platform-style one with a solid base that sat directly on the carpet. She considered diving into the closet, but what good would that do? Paco would notice his computer was on, see the paper jammed in the printer. When he opened the closet door, she would be right there, cowering like a trapped animal, with no justifiable excuse for her behavior.

  More was at stake here than just being embarrassed. If Senora Sandoval suspected she and Jake were scam artists, she'd call the police. And when she found out who they were, the shit would really hit the fan. The vision of a disciplinary hearing before the Bar Association appeared in startling detail in her mind's eye. Then she saw herself in prison garb. Even though they'd discontinued the old black and white horizontal stripes-a nightmare for the hips-the new neon orange jumpsuits just wouldn't accessorize with her Chanel.

  There were no workable defensive positions open to her. Her only option was a bold offense.

  Manny flattened herself against the wall next to the bedroom door and waited.

  The seconds crawled by. She heard voices but couldn't make out what they were saying. Maybe Paco wasn't going to come into the room after all. Maybe Jake had found some way to keep him out there. Maybe she was squandering the few seconds she had to get out of the room unseen. What to do? Her heart felt huge in her chest, hammering against her ribs, pressing the air out of her lungs.

  Indecision was intolerable to her. Manny decided she would open the door a crack and see what was happening out there. Anything was better than just standing here waiting.

  Manny stepped forward and faced the door. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the knob.

  A floorboard creaked on the other side of the wall. Instantly, she pressed herself against the wall beside the door again.

  The door opened.

  Paco stood two steps in front of Manny, oblivious to her presence. She estimated that he was only three inches taller than she, and very lean. Still, a young athletic man would be stronger than a female lawyer who visited the gym half as often as she intended to. All she had in her favor was the element of surprise. Hesitate, and all would be lost.

  Paco closed the door behind him. Manny sprang.

  She jumped right on his back and wrapped her legs around his hips, like a kid playing piggyback. Placing one hand tightly over his mouth, she steadied herself with the other across his chest. He staggered slightly under her weight but kept his balance. "Don't say a word," Manny whispered into his ear. "I read the document you wrote about Travis. I want to know where he is. When I let you go, you're not going to scream. If you do, I'll show the letter to your mother. Understand?"

  Paco nodded.

  "All right. I'm going to get off you. Don't say a word until you've turned on some music. Go." She slipped off his back.

  Paco headed toward the music system on his bookshelf, glancing over his shoulder as if trying to keep an eye on the unpredictable three-headed alien threatening to abduct him.

  "I'm Travis Heaton's defense attorney," Manny said, once the music was playing. "I want to know why you've been refusing to cooperate with me. Who planted that bomb? Where is Travis now?" There was so much to find out and so little time.

  Manny saw the expression on Paco's face change from fearful to merely cautious. "It's too complicated to explain it all right now. Let's make a plan to meet somewhere else."

  "Yeah, right. You talk here or I'll show your mother the document."

  Even though she didn't understand everything the document said, Manny could tell she possessed a powerful weapon. She watched as Paco weighed his risks, his eyes darting back and forth.

  "No!" His fingers, slender but strong, pressed into her forearm. "Travis is at an apartment in Brooklyn. Three twenty-nine Rosamond Street, 4E. He called me from there yesterday, but he couldn't talk."

  "What-" But Manny was interrupted by a high-pitched voice nearby.

  "Ms. Medford? Are you ill? Do you need help?"

  Manny pushed Paco toward the door. "Get your mother
back in the living room. Tell her you ran into me in the hall and sent me to the kitchen for a drink. I'll follow you out there in a few seconds." The rain had stopped. Jake loped down First Avenue, trying to put as much Manhattan real estate between himself and the Sandovals' apartment building as possible.

  As he walked, he delivered a diatribe. "Totally irresponsible… reckless and immature… only concerned with what's important to you…"

  From where she trotted four steps behind him, Manny could hear only parts of the harangue, but she caught the drift. She didn't attempt to defend herself. Jake was right: She had put him at terrible professional risk. She should have thought of the long-term consequences had they been caught. But the bottom line was, they had pulled it off. So why all the outrage? She hated when he pulled this indignant father crap. "Slow down," she gasped. "You're more of a workout than spinning class."

  "Take your time. No need to keep up with me. I've served my purpose, so let me go."

  Oh, now we've switched to used and abused boy toy. "Why are you so touchy? Everything worked out brilliantly. I have this document, which is going to help me figure out what's happening here, and I found out where Travis is. And"-Manny reached into her pocket and pulled out a small yellow rectangle-"we even got a check for five thousand dollars."

  "What the hell are you going to do with that?"

  "I'm going to send it to Home Again. When I tell them what a great fund-raiser you are, I bet they'll put you on their board."

  Not even a glimmer of a smile. Geez, he really was pissed. Manny tried again.

  "Jake, look! Souvlaki King." She grabbed his arm and dragged him to a halt. "Let's stop and eat. I'm starving."

  "Eat! How can you even think about food at a time like this? I've got so much adrenaline pumping through my body, I won't be able to eat or sleep until next Tuesday."

  "I have a parasitic infestation, remember? It must be a tapeworm."

  Jake stared at her for a long moment. Then his upper lip twitched. Soon, his shoulders were shaking. By the time they stumbled into Souvlaki King, they were both laughing so hard, all they could do was point to the gyro special and collapse in the red vinyl booth.