Legally Wasted (22 page)

A big line.

His mind raced though the moments that had
brought him there. Six hours of planning had resulted in a lot of
talk and little else other than drinking. After a long telephone
conversation with Anthony on speaker phone - - Trevor had refused
to meet with him in person - - a true plan of action had been
hatched. With the mission objective clear, Larkin and Trevor had
brought their wrists together over the remains of their ribeyes and
feigned timepiece synchronization.

With the rendezvous location and time agreed
upon, Larkin had returned home to ready himself. It wasn’t every
day that he chose to break into the home of a prominent political
figure in order to prove a murder. He had allotted two hours to
change into stealth clothes and pack whatever he needed for the
mission. After twenty minutes of rummaging through his tool box,
his eye caught the spot in the basement where Rusty used to curl
into a tight ball of purring slumber. He instantly dropped his pry
bar and phoned Madeline.

His heart throbbed with each ring. It was the
same feeling of anticipation, exhilaration, and terror that he had
felt when climbing aboard a roller coaster as a child or walking
into his first jury trial as a spanking new attorney. Why did he
think that Madeline would calm him down? He hung up the phone and
returned to his tool box. A small voice in his mind prayed quietly
as he looked once more for some object that would undoubtedly prove
invaluable on the mission. After debating the usefulness of his
caterpillar-decimating blowtorch, he decided against bringing
it.

Eventually, he met Trevor. His friend had
insisted on driving his James Bond car, but Larkin refused. This
was his life on the line after all.

Now, as the green glow of the digital keypad
seemed to grow brighter and brighter with each passing second, all
he could do was think of the law. It was a defense mechanism,
something almost as automatic as a reflex. When cornered in court,
his mind would race through the law. He found that when he mentally
recited the elements of the crime du jour, his nerves calmed. A
strange mantra perhaps, but it had worked before. Larkin never
attended law school. His legal education had been boiled down to
passing a test.

“Did you forget the code?” asked Trevor. The
cicadas hummed so loudly, Trevor had to raise his voice to be
audible. He drummed his fingers against the dashboard. During the
forty minute moonlit drive from Big Lick, Trevor had actually sung
along to a few tunes on the radio. He seemed to regard home
invasion like other men regarded going to a barbecue. “Come on,” he
whined. “Let’s get in there.”

Larkin had not forgotten the pass code that
Anthony had divulged. In fact, those particular buttons on the
keypad glowed the brightest.

“Breaking and entering,” Larkin finally said.
“That’s a class three felony. Minimum is five years, max is
twenty.”

Trevor lunged across Larkin’s seat in an
attempt to reach the keypad. Larkin pushed his arm away. “Come on!”
snapped Trevor. “He might have cameras on us right now.”

“He doesn’t,” said Larkin. “Anthony said
there was no video surveillance.”

“Yeah, well then why are we waiting here for
the local Sheriff to drive by and ask some questions? Come on,
Larkin.” Trevor reached into his pocket and withdrew a large buck
knife. The blade was still tucked in the sheath. Moonlight
reflected off of Trevor’s face and Larkin knew instantly that
Trevor was just waiting for the perfect moment to use the
knife.

“Burglary with a deadly weapon,” said Larkin.
“That will get you life.”

“Jesus, Larkin. Is it even breaking and
entering when you know the code to the damn door?”

“I . . .” Larkin chomped on his lip again. “I
don’t know,” he finally answered.

“Remind me to never hire you again.” He
flipped the knife around his fingers and sighed about as loudly as
one could. “We agreed on this Larkin. The whole plan. It’s the best
way out for you.”

“Agreed,” repeated Larkin. “That’s criminal
conspiracy, its own separate charge.”

“Knock it off. I knew we should have taken my
car.”

“Just give me a minute,” said Larkin. His
eyebrows sunk. This was his goddamned life after all, not Trevor’s.
If he wanted to pause and rethink the plan, that’s what was going
to happen.

“Stop trying to pause and rethink everything.
If that was your intention all along, you picked a piss-poor place
to do it.

Larkin nodded. Half of him wanted to belt
Trevor in his perfect picture-in-the-frame smile, but the other
half knew he was just reflecting his anxiety.

“What is it?” he asked. He rolled his eyes.
“You know, I had just enough alcohol in my system when we left to
carry this mission through completion. You’re point man is losing
his vim and vigor.”

“The onset of sobriety is nothing to be
feared,” said Larkin, even though he despised his own words. He
took a deep breath, the kind a deep sea diver takes before the
plunge. He shut his eyes and tried to calm his mind. “I still love
Madeline.”

“Well of course you do.”

Larkin opened his eyes. “I didn’t see that
one coming,” he whispered. He thought his words were lost to the
hum of the cicadas, but Trevor had hearing as sharp as his buck
knife.

“What did you think I was going to say?”
asked Trevor. “You’re a fool? A loser?”

“No,” started Larkin, “I . . . I guess I just
don’t know why I said that just then.” He turned to his friend. “Am
I that transparent?”

“Like Bianca’s panties.”

Larkin grinned and shook his head. “Now
that’s a sight.”

Trevor laughed. “I mean, look at it. You two
will have been separated for a while now. You haven’t even
considered dating anyone else.”

“Well I . . . um.”

“Shut it,” spat Trevor. “Don’t even start
degrading yourself. Sometimes when we speak I feel like I’m talking
to Eeyore. Every chance you get, you give yourself a good knock.
You’ve still got years left in you and you’re not half bad looking.
And don’t forget that you’re a lawyer in a mountain town. Chicks
dig that.”

“Why? What can I offer? Stability? Money?
Those ships have sailed.”

“You can still offer those things if you just
pull your damn head out of your ass. And I think you just did. You
can offer those things to the right woman, and now you know who
that is.”

“I do.” Larkin hoped the green glow from the
digital keypad did not illuminate his face. He was certain that his
eyes had moistened a bit. “I need to get her back.”

“And you will.”

“How?”

“You’ll find a way. You’re very smart.”

“Right.”

“Well for starters,” said Trevor, “I don’t
think she’s going to fall back in love with a murderer.”

Larkin nodded.

“So we’re doing this, right?”

Attempt. A criminal attempt occurs when a
person, with the intent to commit an offense, performs any act that
constitutes a substantial step toward the commission of that
offense. In no event shall the punishment for an attempt to commit
an offense exceed the maximum punishment had the offense been
committed.

Larkin swallowed. Even if the mission
resulted in utter failure, both he and Trevor would have certainly
acted with sufficient criminal intent to ruin both of their lives.
“But it’s the only way,” he said, grasping for even a thimble’s
worth of confidence.

“Bolstering yourself?”

“Just stating the facts.” He took another
deep breath and pounded Anthony’s code into the keypad. The huge
metal gate made a number of loud mechanical clanks before sliding
open to reveal a dark driveway that disappeared as it wound its way
around a stand of tall pines.

“I’m going to get her back,” Larkin said
softly as he tapped the accelerator.

Trespass
.
Misdemeanor and civil
liability. One is subject to liability to another for trespass,
irrespective of whether he thereby causes harm to any legally
protected interest of the other, if he intentionally (a) enters
land in the possession of the other, or causes a thing or a third
person to do so, or (b) remains on the land, or (c) fails to remove
from the land a thing which he is under a duty to remove.

Without the headlights engaged, Larkin was
forced to drive barely above engine idle. The road was narrow and
the trees blocked most of the moonlight.

“Always wanted a home at the lake,” Trevor
whispered, his voice uncharacteristically hushed. The thrill of the
adventure coupled with the darkness around them demanded silence.
The outrageousness of the situation required a modicum of respect
for their circumstances. Both of their hearts pounded. Larkin was a
sweaty mess. Trevor smiled.

“If this plan works,” said Larkin, “this
house might be on the market in a year or two. And then - - Jesus!”
Larkin shouted as he stomped on the brake pedal. A large doe,
glared at them from no more than two or three feet from the front
of Larkin’s car. Both men breathed heavily, their eyes wide. The
deer stomped her front right hoof, apparently unafraid. She
repeated this movement as if to declare something of great import.
Though the light was dim, the form of her - - nutmeg fur wrapped
around lean powerful muscles - - was evident by her silhouette.

“Thank God you saw that,” said Trevor.

“Thank God my tires didn’t squeal against the
pavement.”

“Too slow,” said Trevor. “Too slow.”

“Why isn’t she moving?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t recommend honking
your horn. Maybe if you just turned on the lights.”

“Don’t headlights freeze deer?”

“This one’s already frozen. Maybe it will
un-freeze her.”

Larkin bit his lip. “We haven’t even made it
to the house and we’ve almost already failed.” Larkin engaged his
fog lamps.

The deer’s nostrils flared. She cocked her
head and stared straight
through
Larkin. The glare was
intense. He turned from the animal’s gaze and followed the simple
strong curves of her body. Her back legs appeared both powerful and
graceful. This was an animal of purpose, thought Larkin. It did not
meander or wallow in pity. It simply acted.

She opened and shut her long mouth as if she
chewed something. “I can’t drive around,” said Larkin. “There’s no
room on this road.”

“I could step out and,” began Trevor, but the
deer had made her decision. “There she goes!”

Appearing so shortly after making such a
major decision, Larkin considered the significance of the deer. His
right foot hovered above the gas pedal. “Why do I feel like nature
just judged us?”

Trevor extended his tongue and made a crude
noise. “Please. I’m not doing metaphors. Deer in the road means
watch out for deer shit. Let’s move.”

Larkin nodded, although down deep, he humored
himself. If nature had judged him, he felt fairly secure that he
had passed the test. He tapped the accelerator. They remained
silent as a large home appeared and quickly hogged the horizon.
With a simple clapboard exterior coupled with half a dozen spacious
balconies, the home was rustic farmhouse by way of seven figures
and Savannah. The driveway looped and Larkin parked his car in
front of a massive door framed by two tall off-white columns.

“This guy’s entire life is spent between
columns,” Larkin muttered.

“I guess he wanted to feel as equally
important while off the clock.”

“I’m sure of that.” Larkin and Trevor exited
the car and stood before the door. Larkin glanced over his
shoulder. He half expected to see the deer watching him from the
edge of the wood giving further encouragement. He saw nothing but
shadows and trees.

He turned and regarded the door. Larkin
studied the fish-eye peephole. Anthony had been correct about the
code. This gave him a bit of confidence. Hours ago, it had seemed
too good to be true.

With alcohol flowing through his system,
Larkin had easily believed Anthony when the law clerk had said that
no one would be in the house. Alcohol still tickled his blood but
standing face to face with a door that was likely worth more than
his office, skepticism struck him. He looked up. The windows above
and adjacent to the balconies showed only darkness. It was all
falling perfectly into place. According to Anthony, just inside the
home, after taking the first left beyond the foyer, they would come
across the Justice’s private study. There, within the center drawer
of the desk, he would find letters written from Alex Jordan.
Scintillating letters. Letters indicating an inappropriate affair.
Letters that would implicate the Justice, save Larkin’s ass, and
allow him to pursue Madeline. The letters would be enough for
Detective Kincaid to fix things. That is, if the cop ever got some
sleep.

There it was. His path to freedom. He only
needed to break about a dozen or so laws in the process.

He looked down at the painted brick patio.
Allegedly, one of the bricks on the left side of the stoop would be
loose. Its removal would reveal a key to the unalarmed front door.
Unalarmed. The hubris of the Justice knew no bounds. But what if
the key wasn’t there? Could they break down the door? A window?

Destruction of Property. If any person
unlawfully destroys, defaces, damages or removes without the intent
to steal any property, real or personal, not his own, he shall be
guilty of a Class 3 misdemeanor. (B.) If any person intentionally
causes such injury, he shall be guilty of a Class 1
misdemeanor.

Larkin dabbed the perspiration with the back
of his hand. His mind raced, scattered, regrouped and raced again.
“Will you look?” he asked Trevor. No one’s home, he thought. No
one’s home.

Trevor nodded.

Larkin closed his eyes and listened to the
chalkboard sound of brick scraping brick.

“Got it,” said Trevor. He had lowered himself
to one knee to examine the brick and now held the key out to
Larkin. It was a gesture that demonstrated more than a simple
offering. Trevor’s wild eyes telegraphed much.
This is the key
that will allow me to break into this mansion and cause havoc,
and I’m giving it to you
. Trevor was being polite.