by E. M. Shea
Dusty nodded approvingly. “Police work obviously agrees with you. But then, it always has.”
“And how about you? I was a bit worried about whether you could make this hike with your leg.”
Nick knew Dusty had come a long way since a bullet had shattered his femur 12 years ago, but having several metal plates in your leg couldn’t be a comfortable predicament under any circumstance—confirmed by Dusty’s still noticeable limp.
“You kidding me? Hiking these mountains is what’s given me strength back in this leg. Mind you, I can’t zoom through these trails like the old days, but at my age, I’d be saying the same even without a bum leg.” He held up a five-foot-long smooth wooden stick. “Plus, I’ve got my trusted walking stick—carved it myself.”
Now it was Nick’s turn to pat Dusty on the back. “All right, then. Looks like we’re ready to go.”
After all-around introductions with the boys and a final adjustment of everyone’s walking gear, they started up the trail.
“So,” Dusty began about ten minutes into the hike, turning to Nick with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Been doing anything for charity lately?”
Nick cast him a sideway glance. He couldn’t possibly be referring to …. “Uh, charity?” Nick gulped.
Dusty let out his high-pitched tee hee hee laughter that always caught newcomers off-guard. They would be expecting a deep-throated rumble in keeping with the rest of his good-natured gruffness, only to be greeted by a near giggle that was far more fitting for a schoolgirl. He extracted a newspaper clipping from his back pocket and handed it to Nick. “One thing Avril was not willing to give up when we moved up here was her daily edition of The Boston Globe. She found this on the society page.”
Nick unfolded the paper with dread. He had known that various media were covering the charity auction. It had been hard to miss despite temporary blind spots in front of his eyes due to all the camera flashes while he was up on stage. Still, he couldn’t imagine that out of all the participants at the event, he would be the one to merit a photo in the Globe. He viewed the clipping and sighed, his imagination once again failing him. “Well, at least I wasn’t wearing a leopard print thong,” he said tersely.
“Say what?”
“Never mind.”
Dusty let loose another round of high-pitched laughter that sent all the surrounding tree-dwelling birds aflutter, then stomped his walking stick on the ground for emphasis. “Well, kudos to you. It was all for a good cause, right?”
“Yup, that’s why I did it.” Okay, let’s move on. He upped the pace just a bit—not so much as to put an extra strain on Dusty’s leg, but just enough to leave the topic behind. Or so he hoped. But as Dusty instantly sidled up next to him, he knew he had to brace for the worst.
“So what happened with that winning bidder there? She looks a bit like a deer caught in the headlights in that photo, but you can tell that if she let herself breathe, she would actually be quite attractive. The caption says she’s a lawyer at some bigwig firm.” He turned to Nick in mid-step. “Sounds like quite a catch. You did go on a date with her, right?”
“It’s a long story.”
Dusty looked at his watch, which also doubled as a GPS. “We have approximately forty-five minutes before we reach the peak. We got time.”
As Colin and Gregory chortled with laughter behind them, Nick could only hope they weren’t following the conversation. He was relieved when he tuned in just long enough to hear them discussing an earlier basketball court incident that they had both found amusing.
“I’m waiting,” Dusty said impatiently. “Spill.”
Fifteen minutes later, Nick had indeed spilled enough words that if they had instead been marbles, everyone would be rolling backwards down the mountain. Though he avoided any mention of date night canoodling, he did admit to being surprised at his attraction to Dani, especially given their less-than-friendly run-ins prior to the date. And though he usually kept his true feelings close to the vest, he spared little when describing the frustration he felt at their head-butting career paths.
When he was finished, Dusty was surprisingly silent—but not for long. “Did I ever tell you how Avril and I met?”
“I don’t think you did.”
“It was when I arrested her for swinging around her bra in public.”
Nick stopped in his tracks so abruptly that Jorge plowed into him.
“Sorry, Sarge!”
He patted Jorge’s shoulder. “No worries—my fault.”
“This definitely requires more explanation,” Nick said with an incredulous grin as they all resumed walking.
“It was back in the early seventies, and Avril was attending one of those ERA rallies.” He turned to Nick. “Equal Rights Amendment—it was a big thing back then.”
Nick nodded. “Yup. Still is, I would say.”
“Good point. Anyways, these protests were held all over the country. You heard a lot about women burning their bras, but I think some of that was just an urban myth. In my experience at least, they settled for pulling them off and swinging them around their head like lassos.”
“I just can’t believe that! Avril? Who taught grade school kids? A bra waver?”
“Hell, yeah. We had orders to arrest anyone who got out of hand. You know, public indecency, inciting a riot, that sort of thing. Well, Avril was nothing short of the ringleader at that protest, and I’ll tell you, somehow she managed to be so darn cute and so damn defiant at the same time. I was just a newbie starting out on the force, and she was right up in my face, screaming and pinging me in the head with her bra strap. A few months later, we were both out with friends at the same watering hole when she came up to me and asked if I wanted to see her bra again. And the rest is history.”
Nick threw back his head and laughed. “I think there’s a moral to the story buried here somewhere, but I’m not sure what it is.”
“Just trying to make the point that sometimes opposites do attract. And in our case—thirty-two years of marriage and four children later—we’re still going strong. In fact, it’s that free-spirited side of her that keeps things interesting.” He paused. “Drives me looney tunes crazy at times, too, but you learn to take the good with the bad.”
“I get what you’re saying—I really do. But the situation with Dani … I mean, you’ve been in law enforcement all of your life. Do you really think you could be in a relationship with a defense lawyer? Someone who’s siding with the person who you might have personally charged with a crime?”
“Now that’s a tough one, I will say. Avril’s brother is a defense lawyer out in Western Mass. We’ve had many conversations about this over the years, and let me tell you, some of them have been pretty heated. He mostly represents white collar criminals …” He paused to roll his eyes. “Still lowlifes, just with a lot more money, and his argument is that it’s not a perfect system, but it’s a heck of a lot better than some societies where the accused don’t get their day in court and innocent people are jailed—or killed—as a result. And in principle, I agree with him one-hundred percent. But sure, when you’ve crossed your i’s and dotted your t’s in a case, and the person still gets off on a technicality, it can be a bitter pill to swallow.”
He slowed his pace as he looked up at the expansive, rich blue sky. “And I’ve been on the other side of the equation, too. One of my first arrests was a young guy in his early twenties. Jessie was his name. Killed a popular shop owner during an armed robbery. Or so it seemed. Most stores didn’t have surveillance cameras like they do now, and of course, DNA testing didn’t exist. But a couple of witnesses swore it was him, and he couldn’t prove his whereabouts at the time. That, plus a petty theft on his record—I think it was something like stealing gum when he was twelve—was enough to put him in the slammer for life. It wasn’t until eighteen years later that the real killer came forward. Said he had found God and his conscience was eating away at him. Knew details of the crime scene that only the killer could know
. Jessie was released, but he was a broken man by then. I often wonder if he had had a good defense lawyer on his side—someone who would go the extra mile to prove his innocence—how differently his life would have turned out. I still carry around a load of guilt about that case to this day.”
Nick was quiet as he digested Dusty’s words. Clearly, there were philosophical and ethical issues that went far beyond his personal dilemma with Dani. And it only made him further appreciate Dusty’s willingness to share such deeply felt revelations.
“Look, I don’t mean to give you a hard time about any of this,” Dusty continued. “You know that, right? I mean, I never even met this woman, and for all I know, lawyer or no lawyer, she could be bad news. I didn’t get that impression from what you shared so far, but just saying. I guess I just thought it would be nice if you had someone special in your life. I’m sure you have plenty of ladies lining up on a regular basis more than willing to apply for the job, but from what I recall, you can be rather picky.”
Nick smirked slightly. “Me? Picky?”
“Not a bad thing. Just as long as you’re not picky-ing your way to lifelong bachelorhood.” Dusty grinned. “Picky-ing, I think I just created a new word.”
Nick’s cellphone vibrated in his back pocket. He had been so busy giving instructions to the boys about securely tucking phones away in their backpacks that he forgot to tend to his own. As he unlocked the screen with a swipe, Colin cleared his throat.
“Um, I thought phones were off-limits on the trail.” As a bemused Nick turned around, he added, “We could all end up tumbling down the side of the mountain, remember?”
“You’re right.” It was important to set a good example. “I’ll put it away.” But when Dani’s name popped up on the text icon, he couldn’t resist opening the message.
Looks like a beautiful day to be in the mountains. Happy hiking with the boys!—Dani
Nick smiled. So much so that his cheeks almost hurt. He had forgotten that he had mentioned the hiking trip to Dani during their dinner, but clearly she remembered. And the fact that she was reaching out to him about something that truly mattered in his life—spending quality time with the boys—only served to chisel away at some of the doubts that had been weighing him down.
“Everything okay?” Dusty asked as he glanced at the phone.
Nick quickly typed back: We’re about a quarter way up the mountain and you’re right—it’s beautiful! He hesitated for a moment, then added: Wish you here. Staring at the three words for what seemed like an eternity, he finally backspaced to erase them. Let’s not go overboard. Considering his short but rocky-to-the-point-of-boulders history with Dani, this brief, assumption-free exchange of pleasantries was progress enough.
Nick sent his modified text over, then stuffed the phone into his backpack and turned to Dusty. “Yup, everything’s fine.” He looked back at the slightly drained but still determined group behind him. “Okay, guys. Let’s all drink some water to make sure we stay hydrated, and then it’s onward bound!”
A minute later, they resumed their trek along the trail. Only this time, Nick had an extra spring of optimism in his step.
Chapter Ten
Dani extended her hand as Rich Pearlman entered a small, warmly furnished conference room that was the designated Schulman, Heinz & Associates meeting place for more intimate, one-on-one client interviews. Though she didn’t have a preconceived image in mind prior to this initial meeting, Rich’s physical appearance nevertheless surprised her. With nearly shoulder-length, shaggy hair and straight, heavy bangs—all dyed to a bluish black tinge and framing his doughy face—he reminded her of a cross between Moe from the Three Stooges and Billy Ray Cyrus in his mullet days. And while she could appreciate the signature looks in both men as a product of their times, the combination as it now materialized in Rich was a bit disconcerting.
“Hello,” he said, shaking her hand vigorously. After several bone-crushing moments, she managed to slide her hand free.
“Have a seat.” She gestured to a plush, plump-pillowed couch, then sank into the matching love seat across from him. “So I read through your file, and I have all the facts of the case, but I’d like to hear your take on what happened.”
“Well,” Rich began matter-of-factly, “I was a douchebag.”
Dani did a double-take, wondering if he had been a fly on the wall during her conversation with Brynn. “Okay, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said wryly. “But that’s not something you can get arrested for.”
“No, but it can make me do stupid things that can get me arrested.”
“So I think what you’re trying to say is that you were in fact selling the Adderall at the country club. Unless you’re referring to another stupid thing that you did.”
“Yeah—I got caught. It doesn’t get more stupid than that.”
“Well, that’s why you’re here. So let’s see what we can do to prepare the best possible defense for your trial. I should let you know upfront that the D.A. is preparing to throw the book at you. He’s up for reelection in the fall, and this is just the kind of case that he knows will attract a lot of attention among voters.”
Rich appeared to suddenly realize the potential consequences of his actions. “Seriously? Look, like I said, I did something stupid. But I’m not some crime lord or drug kingpin or anything like that.”
“I know that. And you don’t have a record, so that’s obviously a plus. But you were selling drugs to kids whose parents are well known in the community. They want to make an example of you, and believe me, the D.A. has no qualms about doing so.”
“It was Adderall, not heroin!”
“Drugs are drugs—whether prescription or street. And while we’re on the subject, why were you selling to them? Did you need the money?”
Rich sighed. “I went on a Twinkie binge and lost my mind.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know—the Twinkie defense! I say we dredge it back up for my trial. I’ll even put on a few more pounds to make it more believable if I have to.”
“Wow. The Twinkie defense. Now that’s something I haven’t heard since my law school days. Looks like someone’s been conducting some Internet searches.” As Rich’s face lit up, she quickly added, “But I don’t think this will fly.”
In fact, the infamous defense argument—that a Twinkie-induced sugar high had led to the high-profile murders of a San Francisco mayor and political official—failed to produce more than eye-popping headlines when it was used back in the 1970s.
But Rich was just getting started. “Ummm … I know! How about we say that I’m a wannabe movie actor and I was practicing for a part. You know, the whole method actor thing.” He looked up at the ceiling, nodding his head. “Yeah … I really think this could work! We say that I was trying out for a role as a drug pusher, and, you know, things got misconstrued.”
“Rich, if I’m going to help you, I need to know the real story. Believe me, whatever it is, I won’t be shocked.”
“Okay, okay.” He stood up and began pacing in front of the couch. “I have a prescription for Adderall because my doctor thinks I have attention deficit disorder. Can you believe that?”
Dani feigned surprise. “I’ll be damned.”
“Anyways, I happened to mention it to a few of the guys at the country club.”
“By guys, do you mean the high-school seniors who bought the pills?”
“Yeah. I know—why am I hanging out with kids instead of adults at the club. That’s what you’re thinking, right?”
“Actually, I wasn’t thinking that—”
“You want to know the truth? Here’s the truth. My life has gone to shit in the last few years. My wife left me. My mistress that my wife left me for, left me. I had three restaurants, and two have gone bankrupt. Believe it or not, I was one of those trust fund kids back in the day, so even with my businesses going belly-up, I’m still doing okay money-wise. But you’d never know it the way I get treated
at the club. It’s like I’m a piranha.”
Dani raised an eyebrow, almost certain that Rich didn’t mean to compare himself with a ferocious fish. Almost. “A piranha? You mean a pariah?”
“Yeah, something like that. Anyways, these kids—they think I’m the dawg. I roll into the club in a nineteen-sixty-five Stingray Corvette, throw a hundred-dollar bill at the bartender for a tip, ogle some of the hot young waitresses, get a phone number or two—or at least pretend—and I’m the guy they all want to be.”
Somehow, Dani was having a very hard time believing that there were any aspiring down-on-their-luck, Moe-Billy-Ray-Cyrus-cross wannabes amongst the teenagers, but she didn’t have the heart to shatter Rich’s highly flattering—but also highly warped—sense of self.
“I don’t even remember how the whole Adderall thing first came up,” he continued. “I think I just mentioned it in passing that I had a prescription. That’s when they said they wanted to try some.”
Dani glanced down at the file on her lap. “By they, you mean Grant Schuster, Martin Goodman and Blake Covington.”
“Right. Little jerk-offs. I should have known better to take it any further. Especially with that Goodman kid.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Let’s just say his father is a big jerk-off. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Dani scribbled on her notepad. “We’ll get back to that in a bit. But I want to stay on course here. The kids said they wanted to try the Adderall. So why not just give them the pills? Not that this wouldn’t have its own legal repercussions. But why ask for the exchange of money, especially when you say money isn’t an issue?”
Rich shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking.” He froze, an ‘aha’ moment etched on his face. “Hey, can we say I had stopped taking the Adderall and that led to my faulty thinking and—”
“Let’s stick to the facts,” Dani interjected before Rich’s latest hairbrained suggestion had a chance to take root. “Once we get everything hashed out, then we’ll consider what all the options are.” Seeing a look of dejection ripple across his face, she added, “But good imagination, I must say.”
