Motion to Dismiss (14 page)

A thought struck me. "Was the door locked when the sister arrived?"

Marc shuffled through the pages of the report. "Nothing here about it. I can't believe they didn't ask her."

Hal's laugh had a slightly superior edge to it. "Just because it's not in the report doesn't mean they didn't ask. They're not going to give you any more than they have to."

"But they
do
have to," Marc said, alluding to the rules of discovery.

"Only if you force them."

"How about the little girl," I asked, again jumping in to defuse the tension. "Do we have her full statement?"

"Just the summary. She apparently woke up when she heard someone knocking on the door. When she looked out the window, she saw a silver convertible. And she heard a man's voice."

"In the house?"

"That's not clear."

"Any idea of the time?"

"Ten. Or so she says. With a kid that age, though, who knows?"

Hal scratched his chin. "This is the digital era, don't forget."

"Did she get a look at the man?" I asked.

"Doesn't appear that way."

This, at least, was something in our favor. "What about other witnesses? Any of the neighbors see a man there?"

"The guy next door said he heard a dog start barking around ten-fifteen."

"Which could mean nothing more than a cat in the yard," Hal said. He offered us each a section of grapefruit. Marc declined, but I accepted.

"Yeah, but with the girl's statement about time..."

"Where does Grady say he was at ten that night?" Hal asked.

"Work."

"Alone," Marc added.

"Offhand, I don't know the number of silver convertibles in the Bay Area, but we ought to be able to find out. Unless she got a license number or something, there's no way they can say with certainty that it was Grady's car."

"What about the boyfriend?" I asked. "Tony Rodale. Did the police check what kind of car he drives?"

"She had a boyfriend?" Hal's interest was clearly piqued. "That bears looking into."

I nodded. "Especially in light of the fact that their relationship seemed unsettled."

Marc scowled. "I'm sure the cops already checked on him. They'd have followed up if there was anything there."

The look Hal gave Marc in return was pointed. "With cops you can't be sure of anything. Once they find their man, they kind of get tunnel vision, if you know what I mean." He turned back to me. "What do you know about this guy Tony?"

"He has money and he's a jerk."

"That narrows it down to a few thousand," Hal said, heavy on the sarcasm.

Marc didn't crack a smile.

I filled him in on what I'd learned from Deirdre's coworkers at Rapunzel. "And I have a phone number for him." I passed Hal the number. "I'll get you a copy of her testimony at the rape hearing. She said that the two of them had a 'complicated relationship,' if I'm remembering correctly. And there was some uncertainty about his name."

"Before you two get too far afield," Marc said, clearing his throat, "can we come back to the matter of Grady's defense?"

"There was a sort of party in the canyon below the house." I explained about the loud music several of the neighbors had heard. "It's possible someone saw what happened that night."

Marc looked through the report. "They haven't come forward yet."

Hal hedged. "That we're aware of."

The defense is supposed to get everything the prosecution does so there are no surprises at trial. But that doesn't mean everything gets handed over up front. A witness who could place Grady at the scene would just about sink our chances of acquittal.

"There's apparently a gathering there most Saturday nights," I said. "I think I'll drop by and ask around. Either of you gentlemen up for a hot date?"

Hal tossed the pile of grapefruit peels into the trash. "Unfortunately, I've already got one."

"Take her with you," Marc grumbled. "This is the kind of stuff that you should be doing, not Kali."

Hal sucked on his cheek. "It's a
him
, not a her, and I'm afraid we've got plans that can't be changed." He turned to me. "Marc's right though. I should be the one to follow up on this."

"Except if we don't do it this weekend, we have to wait another week. I don't mind going."

Marc muttered something indecipherable, then rocked forward. "Okay,
I'll
go."

He made a good martyr, but I wasn't so sure he'd make a good detective. "We'll both go," I said.

Marc shrugged. "I've got to tell you, I think you're stretching it a bit if you expect to find anyone who saw what happened."

"Speaking of stretching." Hal stood. "Are we about finished here?"

When he had gone, Marc tossed the report into my lap. "I can't believe you want to use that guy, Kali. This is a big case. Grady is a friend as well as a client. We can do better than some aging, ponytailed queer."

I shot him a nasty look. "He's a good investigator."

"He's a boor."

"Not everyone wants to look like Yves Saint Laurent."

"Grady's in deep shit, Kali. He's in jail for murder, his company is leveraged to the hilt, the investors have backed off. We've got to get this settled. Soon."

"Isn't that what we're working on?"

Marc sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and gave me a halfhearted smile. "Let's just make sure we do it."

"Nina's on the phone," Rose said, poking her head into my office.

I pushed aside the police report, which I'd been going over in greater detail now that I was alone, and picked up the receiver.

"Hi, Nina. How are you feeling?"

She managed a small laugh. "I've been better."

"Is it the headache still or ... or everything else?"

"The headache was just an excuse." Her voice was so thin I thought for a minute she was on the verge of tears, but she drew in a breath and continued. "I wanted to thank you for taking time with Emily last night."

"I enjoyed it."

"So did she. I felt so bad abandoning her to Simon and Elsa, but I just couldn't cope. The last thing she needed was to hang out with a mother who was falling apart at the seams."

I felt an ache in my throat thinking of what Nina must be going through.

"I keep reminding myself to take things a step at a time," Nina said.

"That's the only way to get through this."

She hesitated, then asked, "You haven't talked to Grady this morning, have you?"

"No." I felt a momentary alarm. "Why?"

"They won't let me speak to him," Nina said. She again sounded as though she were fighting to keep herself in control. "They said I had to come during regular visiting hours. I explained that I was confined to bed under doctor's orders, but it didn't seem to make any difference."

Alarm gave way to guilt. I should have thought to make arrangements for Nina to speak to Grady yesterday. "Let me see what I can do. I'm sure we'll be able to work something out."

Another deep breath. "Thanks. I'll feel better once I can talk to him."

I knew she'd be anxious, though, until Grady was back home. With luck, that might be only months, but it might also be a lifetime.

"Did you get a chance to see the police reports yet?" Nina asked.

"I was just looking at them."

"And?"

"And there's nothing there that we can't refute. The evidence is all circumstantial." My voice carried more conviction than I felt.

"No surprises?"

I thought of Grady's handkerchief in the hallway and the eight-minute conversation logged from Deirdre's phone to Grady's private number at ComTech. I decided Nina had enough to worry about already.

"Not really," I told her. "And there are a few angles the police may have overlooked. I've got Hal Fisher working on them."

"Hal? I haven't seen him in a couple of years. How is he?"

"A little grayer, a little heavier. As much of a free spirit as ever."

I'd introduced Hal to Nina when she was in the throes of divorcing her first husband, Jerry Allen. He'd managed to trace the assets Allen had hidden, and to get enough dirt on the guy that he hadn't followed through with his threat to contest custody.

"He and Marc didn't exactly hit it off," I added.

Nina laughed. "No, I imagine they wouldn't. It's funny how you can be so fond of two people and have them not get along at all."

"Seems to happen surprisingly often."

She sighed. "It does, doesn't it?"

I wondered if she was thinking of Grady and myself when she'd made the comment. Nina was quiet a moment. I couldn't tell if she was thinking or building up to a panic.

"He didn't do it," she said after a moment. "I know the question has got to be on your mind."

Technically, that wasn't an issue. Defense attorneys often represent clients they suspect might be guilty. She was right, though, that my doubts about Grady made me uneasy. For Nina's sake, I hoped I was wrong.

"It's something I try not to think about," I said, lying through my teeth.

"I know my husband," Nina said vehemently. "You don't live with a man without learning about his character. There's no way he killed Deirdre Nichols."

"I'm going to do my best to get him off, Nina. I promise."

"I know you will." She paused. "I'm counting on you, Kali."

I hung up the phone feeling, for the first time, the weight of what I'd agreed to take on. Nina's assurances aside, I wasn't convinced that Grady was leveling with us. And perhaps equally important, I was afraid that the friend in me might find herself at odds with the attorney.

Hal phoned the following afternoon when I was deep into reviewing the file on another matter.

"I told you we shouldn't be too quick to write off the boyfriend," he said. The words were embellished with a touch of good-humored self-righteousness.

With my mind still focused on the papers in front of me, it took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about. "You mean Tony Rodale?"

"That's the one. Turns out the police paid him a visit a couple of months ago, a domestic violence call. They hauled him in for assault, but his
assaultee
" -- he gave the word emphasis with a phony accent -- "the now-infamous Ms. Deirdre Nichols, refused to press charges. She had a black eye and a cut lip but insisted she got them walking into an open door."

I felt a ray of sunshine peeking out from the gloom. Pointing the finger is a time-honored defense strategy, and an abusive boyfriend could prove useful in deflecting guilt from Grady. "Any other incidents?"

"There's just that one in the system, but that doesn't mean he didn't go after her on other occasions as well. I'm on my way to pay him a visit right now. Want to come along?"

I glanced at the document I'd been reviewing, a book-length stack of papers with a story line only the most committed lawyer could love. I was only a third of the way through and already hopelessly lost in the tangle of minutiae. A change of pace held great appeal.

"Sure. When are you leaving?"

"I'll be by in about fifteen minutes. That okay with you?"

"Fine."

I was on my way out the door, when the phone rang again.

"Byron Spencer," Rose said, holding her hand over the mouthpiece. "You want to talk to him, or should I take a message?"

"Are you sure it's me he wants and not Marc?"

Spencer had not only accepted Marc's apology, but in true journalist fashion turned what might have been an ugly barroom scene into a valued contact. At least that's what Spencer seemed to be hoping. So far Marc had been less than forthcoming as an off-the-record source, but he seemed to dish out enough to keep Spencer coming back for more.

"He asked for you by name," Rose said.

"Take his number and I'll call him back when I get a chance."

I'd told Rose that I was meeting Hal, but I hadn't said a word to Marc. And I met Hal out front on the street rather than having him come into the office. The less Marc saw of Hal, the better, I thought. There was no point looking for contention.

"What do you know about this guy?" I asked Hal after I'd buckled myself into his Mazda and adjusted the air vents so they weren't directing heavy blasts of arctic air in my direction. I'd forgotten that Hal had a thing about fresh air.

"So far, not much. He's thirty-four years old, divorced. Has a clean record except for one DUI a couple of years back. He runs a small investment company -- limited partnerships and that sort of thing. Lives well, judging by his address and car registration. And he travels fairly frequently, always first class."

"How do you find this stuff?"

Hal smiled. "You don't want to know, trust me."

"Forget I even asked."

"Rodale grew up in Fresno. One of eight children. Went to the local community college, then transferred to Chico State. He never graduated though."

"How come?"

Hal gave me a sideways look. "Hey, I'm good, but I'm not a mind reader." He gunned the engine and switched lanes, squeezing into an opening in traffic that was only an inch longer than his car.

I braced myself. "You're not much of a driver either."

"I haven't had an accident in thirty years."

"Better thank your guardian angel."

Hal took his hands off the steering wheel and pressed them together in prayer.

"Not now!"

Hal grinned.

When he returned his hands to the wheel, I leaned back and started breathing again. "Anything on the Carsons yet?"

"The people Deirdre Nichols was house-sitting for? I haven't been able to trace them. From what I hear, the police haven't had any luck either. They're in the import business, and apparently went on one of their buying trips to the far corners of the world. The business phone is an answering machine; the address a post office box."

"Silly way to run a business."

Hal shrugged. "It's becoming more and more common." He was silent a moment. "I can cancel out of my date tomorrow night if you want me to check on those kids partying in the canyon for you."

"Thanks, but I don't want to impinge on your personal life."

"It's a relationship that's headed south anyway."