by Midge Bubany
Chapter 14
May 28
Sixteen days missing.
When the clock read 5:30, I got up and peeked out the window to see if it was raining as predicted. The street looked wet, but it wasn’t currently raining. I saw a light on in what I believed to be Iris’s kitchen. I wondered if she was getting ready to take a run. Could attorneys socialize with clients after their case was settled? I was getting ahead of myself. She might be with someone or married, although she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and I hadn’t noticed any male presence around her house.
Bullet watched me dress. He knew if I put my running shoes on, he would get to go along. He’d taken to sleeping in Luke’s room when he lived here, now he was back sleeping on the floor alongside me. I didn’t mind being second best.
Bullet was confused when I jogged back and forth on Seventh Street waiting for Iris to come out. I was about to give up and take off for the park south of town when she burst out her door and ran straight toward me. I stopped as she got closer. She slowed.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said.
“Hi, didn’t mean to scare you, but I have something to run by you,” I said. “Want to run and talk?”
“I do the South Park Loop.”
“Just where I was headed.”
Her mouth curled in a tiny smile. She didn’t believe me because I was running parallel, not toward the park entrance.
We kept a comfortable pace while jogging. She had long legs and a stride that matched mine—better than Shannon’s—and what a petty sour-grapes thought to have.
“This speed okay for you?” I asked.
“A little slower than I usually run, but we can probably talk better at this rate.”
Huh.
“I spoke to Shannon and told her I was starting the divorce process.”
“And how did that go?”
“All right, I guess. She wants us to share an attorney to save money, but I have a concern with that.”
“Which is?”
“That I get screwed in the deal.”
“Look, you came to me first and if we can’t reach consensus, she’s the one I drop because your demands are reasonable. I’m not one of those attorneys who screws over either party.”
“Good. I want her to accept our proposal.”
“To expedite the process?”
“Yes, although she moved out only a few months ago, we’ve been emotionally separated for a year. I need to move on. She already has.”
“She has a boyfriend?”
“Yep.”
“Who is it?”
“Does this make a difference?”
“Not to me. I’d just like to put her indiscretion on the table if we need to.”
I smiled.
She smiled back.
“It’s Mac Wallace, the realtor.”
“The one on all the billboards?”
“Uh-huh. He’s the top seller. It says so on the billboards. You didn’t use him did you?”
“I bought my house from the owner.”
“Good.”
She giggled. “If she marries him, it’ll be better for your wallet.”
“I suppose I should start looking at him as a dollar sign. Hey, can I buy you coffee after our run?”
A hesitation then, “Okay, sure.”
Pleased with myself for making a move, I smiled broadly at her. She was beautiful and smart, and just maybe… and then I stumbled on the uneven sidewalk, my arms and legs flailing about like I was a complete clod. I recovered quickly and handled my embarrassment by saying, “And for my next act…”
“Are you all right?”
“The ol’ jock ego is a bit bruised.”
“I fell down on all fours as I walked into my first interview. I was wearing four-inch heels, and one caught on the carpet. I sprained a wrist and bruised my knees as well as my legal ego.”
“Did you get the job?”
“No, evidently being a klutz wasn’t part of the job description.”
“Their loss. So tell me why you moved to Prairie Falls? This is a big change from St. Paul.”
“My grandparents live here, and as a kid I always loved this town. I thought it was so cool when my sister and I could walk to the candy store with quarters jingling in our pockets.”
“And do you walk to the candy store with your quarters jingling now?”
“I’ve given up sugar.”
“And how are you liking the community as a sugar-free adult?”
“I love it—even though everywhere I go I get stared at like I’m some kind of freak. My lord, don’t people know it’s impolite?”
“Iris, you’re a stranger, a beautiful one. I like to stare at you too.”
“Do they stare at you because you’re a hunk?”
“I’m a hunk?”
“Pfft. You know you are.”
“Well, if you say so, but people generally don’t stare at law-enforcement. They ignore us to prove they aren’t doing anything wrong.”
“You’re right. I do that.”
“Hey, you should get a T-shirt made that says Don’t Stare at Me I’m Local.”
She let out a laugh. “When I passed the bar a friend of mine gave me one that said Lawyer for Sale or Rent. You know, it was a play on an old Roger Miller song called ‘King of the Road.’” She started singing “‘Trailer for sale or rent’… know it?”
“I do. My grandparents loved Roger Miller.”
“Must be a generational thing. Where did you live before you bought your house?”
“With my grandparents on South Walnut, and my grandma spoiled me: She cooked for me, did my laundry, but it was time I got my own place, so I could be an adult again… have a full life.”
“Ahh. So you don’t have to sneak a man in and out of the bedroom window at night?”
She let out a hearty laugh. “Something like that.”
Our non-stop conversation continued over coffee at Northwoods. I wanted to ask her out, but I also didn’t want to give her the chance to turn me down because I was her client. I would be patient with this one.
We walked home together and when it was time to split off to our respective homes, I said, “I enjoyed our talk.”
“Me too. See you soon.”
“I’m dropping the financial documents off today.”
“I look forward to seeing you again.”
Yee-haw. Things were definitely looking up.
Now, to face the day—testifying against Victoria, the arsonist, Lewis. Her attorneys were sharks circling and ready to attack me in cross-examination because of my short relationship with their client. I had been single at the time, but still, who wanted their personal life part of a court record and plastered all over the local newspapers? Victoria had remained absent though all the pre-trial hearings, and no one expected her to show up for her own trial, so I had to give Oliver credit for taking on the case.
I showered, shaved, and dressed in the dark-gray suit I got married in. As I adjusted my conservative blue tie in the mirror, I decided to give this one to charity and buy a new one.
On the drive over to the courthouse, I had a call from Tamika. She wanted to update me on what she’d learned from Hawk’s office staff.
“Michael’s company was accommodating. They gave me an empty office to use, and the staff came in one by one. Everybody loved your friend, by the way.”
Past tense.
“Did you get anything else? Any office rumors?”
“Nothing about him doing anybody, if that’s what you mean. I came right out and asked.”
“What about his secretary? Val?”
“Valerie? Was he into big girls?”
“Not that I know o
f.”
“You may not have noticed it, but I’m no skinny mini, and that gal’s way bigger than me. She’s like the super-sized version of Jessica Simpson. She wears the make-up, does the Jessica Simpson hair, polishes her nails, dresses real nice and all, but there ain’t no way your friend was on that stuff—unless he was into big girls. Now, my Anton, on the other hand, might find her attractive.”
“Okay, I get it. So what about the sales team?”
“Just so happens today is the second of a two-day sales meeting, and I’m gonna interview the sales staff before and after the meeting. In between times, I’m going shopping.”
“What? No.”
She broke out in a chuckle. “I can just see your face. No, thought I’d question more of Hawk’s neighbors, like you asked.”
“Would you also talk to Haldis Moore at North Cross Shipping and see if Wynn still works there? I want to know why he was in town on Monday, May 12. He said he was delivering a pump of some kind, but I don’t trust a word any of those bozos said, except for a portion of Glenn Hayes’s statement.”
“I’ll do that. Good luck today kicking Snow White’s ass.”
Tamika had been called to the crash scene when Victoria rear-ended me. She’d made the remark she looked like Snow White. Turned out, she was her evil twin.
“Thank you. Okay, I just pulled up to the courthouse now and have a brief meeting with Bakken before court.”
“Catch ya later.”
As usual, a shock of Oliver’s blond hair hung down over his forehead just below his eyebrow. The more nervous he was, the more frequently he tried to push it back up. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms and looked at me like he was the principal, and I was the naughty kid. I didn’t particularly like being around him.
“You ready for today?”
I sat forward. “You bet.”
“You know Judge Susan Patterson is presiding. She’s Birch County’s Gloria Steinem. A real man-eater.”
“I heard. A bit of bad luck there.”
He pushed his hair back. “I’m not worried.”
Okay then.
At nine o’clock I was in the witness room watching the clock inch it’s way to ten. I played Battleship on my phone to distract myself. When the door opened, Deputy Matt Hauser poked his head and said, “You’re up, Cal.”
I turned off my phone.
“The defendant show up?”
“Nope,” he said, a wide grin on his face.
Matt Hauser always worked courts. At forty-six he was in better shape than most deputies. Everyone called him “The Howitzer”—like the artillery cannon, because of his size. He looked like a force, but he was a gentle man who’d raised four kids by himself after his wife died from a stroke during childbirth. It happened during my first week of work, and all the deputies stood as honor guards from the hearse to the church when the casket was taken into and out. Matt never remarried.
“Hey, Matt, have you been to Eleanor’s Bakery? She makes a mean cinnamon roll.”
“Oh, yeah? I’ll have to give them a try.”
We walked together from the waiting area through the hallway and into the solemn courtroom. After I was sworn in, I glanced at the defense table where two men and a woman, all impeccably dressed, were seated and sizing me up as a witness. They emitted an air of importance and confidence, like they had the case all wrapped up and tied with a bow.
Oliver and Assistant County Attorney John Mertz sat at the prosecutor’s table. John smiled and nodded at me. Part of Oliver’s strategy was to get my relationship with Victoria on the table, so it wouldn’t be the bomb the defense attorneys wanted it to be. He stood and asked me to state my name and position, then asked how long I had been employed by Birch County.
“Twelve years,” I said.
“When did you first meet Victoria Lewis?” he asked.
“On October 7, 2012, when she rear-ended my vehicle…”
“Objection!”
Bang! The courtroom door swung open. In walked Victoria. Her face was flushed; her hair—once again dark brown—stuck up in odd places. Her red leather jacket was falling off a shoulder. What an entrance! I stifled my urge to laugh. Her attorneys looked back to see what was happening. Their jaws went slack when they saw their client.
But it was the person coming in behind her who gave me pause—Bobby Lopez. He slipped in behind her and took a seat in the back row.
What. The. Hell?
The entire courtroom was still, except for tiny moans coming from Victoria. Oliver waited to speak while one of her male attorneys met her halfway down the aisle to guide her to the table. But there wasn’t even a chair for her. Oliver grabbed an extra from the prosecution side and set it down with a thud. He couldn’t contain his smirk as he walked directly toward me and stood a few feet in front of me. He raised his eyebrows and mouthed, “Do you believe this?”
“Deputy Sheehan, I’ll repeat the question. When and how did you first meet Victoria Lewis?”
“We met when she rear-ended my vehicle.”
Oliver took advantage of the fact that Victoria’s attorneys were busy whispering to each other and temporarily not paying attention to his line of questioning.
“Did Miss Lewis call you and ask you for a date?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You then had a short relationship with her?”
I said, “We dated only a couple weeks.”
At that point, Victoria’s attorney snapped to attention and began to object to nearly every question Oliver asked, causing Judge Patterson to scowl with annoyance. But when I was asked about Victoria inviting me to her father’s wedding in Las Vegas, or how I hadn’t been told the bride was Adriana, there were no objections because this was going to come back and bite us in the butt.
Once the relationship was in the open, Oliver moved on to the early nuisance acts of vandalism in and around Adriana’s house. As I recounted the facts of the case, Victoria kept her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed like a member of the Temperance Union at Sturgis during a motorcycle rally. I couldn’t help but wonder what she would do to retaliate. Pour paint on my truck? Burn my house down?
The time dragged as Oliver meticulously questioned me on every factoid of the case, having me point out specific evidence on the slides, slowly building his case.
At eleven o’clock the judge recessed the proceedings for lunch. We were to be back at one o’clock.
As I was making my way down the hall, I heard someone call my name. I turned to see Bobby Lopez scurrying to catch up with me. He had an amused expression on his face.
“You’re pleased with yourself for some reason,” I said.
“I found Ms. Lewis for you.”
“Why on earth would you get involved?”
He shrugged.
I lifted my brows and sighed. “How did you find her?”
One side of his mouth curled in a smile. “I have skills,” he said.
“Skills?” I waited for two people to pass by before I asked. “Where?”
“In her suite at the Rivers Inn. It wasn’t difficult.”
“You forced her to come?”
He wagged his head. “Force is too strong of a word. Maybe encouraged would be more accurate.”
“Were there any threats or weapons involved?”
He scowled. “No, of course not.”
“Did you mention my name in this encouragement?”
“No. Gee whiz, Joe Friday, I should think you’d be more grateful.”
“What did you call me?”
“Kids, these days.” He shook his head and sauntered away in the opposite direction.
What the hell? Why would he bring Victoria in? What was he up to? I tried to shake off the creepy-crawly feeling that began in the
pit of my stomach and radiated out to all my limbs.
I made my way down the wide marble stairs to the basement of the courthouse to pick up a sandwich at the cafeteria. As I ate a ham and Swiss on rye, I thought about Bobby Lopez doing me a so-called favor, and I shivered in revulsion. I turned on my phone to check for messages. I deleted a text from my mother and opened one from an undisclosed number. It contained a You Tube film called Dragnet to be a Cop—Joe Friday. I clicked on it and watched as Joe Friday told what it was like to be a cop. How did Bobby Lopez get my phone number?
After I finished eating, I drove over to Warner Law Office to drop off my financial statement. I asked for Iris. The secretary said she was at lunch, so I handed her the file folder.
I was just walking out of the building when Iris was walking in. She looked stunning in a royal blue sleeveless dress.
“You clean up nicely,” she said.
“Court today. I just dropped off the paperwork.”
“That was quick turnaround.”
“Was it?”
She smiled. “Well, I have an appointment. See you later.”
“Okay.”
Phillip sure liked to surround himself with beautiful women.
Oliver Bakken and I met briefly in his office before court.
“Looks like we got enough to convict the three amigos on the Brooks’s burglary,” he said.
“Good.”
“Without a body, there’s no murder charge.”
“I figured as much. Did you talk to Glenn Hayes?”
“Haven’t had time with this trial going on.”
“How do you think it went?”
“That asshole objected just to object. This afternoon I’ll concentrate on the destruction of Adriana’s car with paint and the arson. Then possibly there’ll be time for the cross-examination.”
“I didn’t investigate the fire.”
“You don’t think I know that? I have other witnesses,” he snapped.
Yeah, I don’t like him much.
“I should have charged her with fraud and attempted murder two years ago.”
“I understand why you didn’t. It would cost too much to extradite her from France.”
