Obstruction of Justice (10 page)

8

ON THE WAY TO WORK THE NEXT MORNING NINA stopped at the cemetery where Ray de Beers’s body had been laid to rest.

The main Tahoe cemetery lay in a neatly wooded square field near Truckee Marsh, not far from her office. She had never seen the cemetery up close before.

Iron gates stood open at the entrance and dew still sat lightly upon the green grass beyond. She didn’t know what she had expected, maybe white crypts like ones she had seen in a photo of a New Orleans cemetery, but like most California places, this one had little feeling of history or event. Each grave had its own modest little stone or brass marker set in the ground. She went into the brick office building and asked for help.

"Are you with the press?" the caretaker, who was reading the paper, asked her.

"No."

"Who are you with, then?"

"Nobody. I’m just here to pay my respects," Nina said, bewildered.

"I guess it doesn’t matter," the man said to himself. "Come on, I have to go out there and look at it anyway." They walked up a narrow path alongside the markers, Nina mulling over his attitude.

Next to the brick building and entrance were older graves, marked with larger stones and etched with a more floral style. They walked almost to the back and picked their way across the wet lawn, Nina avoiding markers when she came to them, until they arrived at a large burnished brass plate set well into the ground. Fresh grass grew beneath it. A large wreath of chrysanthemums obscured the inscription: RAYMOND CHARLES DE BEERS, 1949-1997.

That was all. No words of praise or pity.

Her guide was kicking at the compacted dirt. "I could have told them," he said. "You here to check on the condition of the grave?"

"What? Oh, it looks fine," said Nina heartily. "Perfectly adequate ..."

"You see, right here." He squatted down. "The ants have made a nice trail from this plot to the one next door. Their trail hasn’t been disturbed, so the site hasn’t been disturbed either. The whole thing is a mistake, if you want my opinion, and you probably don’t, since nobody right down to my daughter does. But this thing looks just like it did a couple of days ago when I smoothed it over. Nobody else has touched it."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Nina said, unable to puzzle it out.

"You ain’t here from the City?"

"No."

"Well, see this paper here?" He pulled out several folded sheets of paper from his pocket. "A deputy brought it. Somebody wants to dig this one up."

"May I see the papers?" Nina said.

"Why?"

"As it happens, I’m a lawyer. Maybe I could explain to you what’s going on."

"My boss’ll be here soon enough with his lawyer." But he handed her the papers. They walked over to the nearest bench while she scanned them.

Quentin de Beers had moved fast. Somehow, between late yesterday and this morning, he had persuaded the firm of Caplan, Stamp, Powell, and Riesner to work for him. Some frayed associate at the firm had undoubtedly stayed up all night drafting the paperwork in order to get the hearing set.

"Petition and Motion for Disinterment," the motion was entitled. The summons was directed at the coroner, the cemetery, and Sarah de Beers. Judge Milne had issued an Order Shortening Time to permit the hearing to be held on Thursday, only two days away.

Her compassion for Quentin evaporated. He’d misused the information he’d learned from her. He hadn’t gone to Jeff Riesner’s firm with his wild suspicions of foul play. No hints in this paperwork revealed that he thought his son had been murdered.

Instead, the basis of the motion was that Quentin had been offered Ray de Beers’s gold wedding ring by some unspecified person who claimed to have purchased it from the deceased shortly before his death. However, Quentin claimed, the wedding ring was still on de Beers’s finger during the viewing of the open casket, and had been buried with him. Accompanying the papers, a declaration signed by the mortician stated that de Beers had been wearing the ring at the burial.

The papers alleged that someone had disinterred the coffin and stolen the ring and other valuables buried with de Beers. The Court was respectfully requested to order a disinterment to ascertain the extent of loss and aid in a criminal investigation pursuant to assorted sections of the Penal Code and the Health & Safety Code.

The whole legal proceeding was Quentin’s spurious attempt to get his son’s body aboveground legally. He had never said anything about a ring to her; he must have dreamed that story up after he left the office, based on the information she had given him, and then pressured or bribed the mortician.

Nina read on, furious about the way the information she had provided had been used.

He had been clever, the scheming, shifty old reprobate. He might at least get the body aboveground.

Nina remembered his last questions to her, about whether there were penalties for taking a dead body already aboveground even if it wasn’t for the purpose of sale or dissection.

How did he think he could steal the body from under Doc Clauson’s watchful eye? What was he going to do, hire a pathologist to perform a secret examination in the dead of night in some motel room? Did he understand that even if any foul play was discovered the evidence couldn’t be presented in a court of law?

Obviously, he didn’t care. She had an unpleasant feeling that he would convince himself he’d found evidence of foul play, and then something might happen to Leo Tarrant.

He must have felt he had nothing to lose. With his connections, his age, and his status as a grieving family member, if he couldn’t find anything at all, he would return the body and take his slap on the wrist.

Now she was worried. The old man was a menace. He had too much power and not a rational thought in his head. But what could she do about this wily hoax? She knew and the old man knew that the conversation they had had in her office couldn’t be discussed with anyone, even if the result might be a fraud on the Court. The attorney-client privilege had to be guarded even in a bizarre situation like this.

She drove back to the office seething, trying to figure out how to stop the old man without getting her license revoked.

Sarah de Beers was waiting for her in the outer office. When Nina walked in she came over quickly and said, "I have to see you."

Sandy announced, "I told her to make an appointment. We like appointments."

"It’s okay, Sandy."

"You have Law and Motion at ten." She handed Nina the introductory paperwork.

In the inner office, Sarah sank down into one of Nina’s client chairs. The glamorous gambler had vanished. So had the hiker. Today she was a middle-class housewife in a gray running suit. She would blend into any crowd at the supermarket in this new disguise, except for the dark circles under her eyes and the troubled expression.

"I want to hire you," she said, wresting some familiar papers out of her purse and thrusting them at Nina.

Without looking at them, or acknowledging their existence, Nina said, "Why would you want to hire me, Mrs. de Beers? The last time we met, you seemed convinced I was part of some plot to persecute you."

"I’m sorry about that. I was confused and upset that night, and Leo thought going out to a club might cheer me up. The martinis 1 was drinking didn’t help. I—I thought Quentin had gotten to you too. The whole town belongs to Quentin, I sometimes think."

Nina accepted this. Sarah de Beers didn’t seem dishonest, just uncertain, as though her sense of self had gone underground during the Ray years. She seemed to Nina like a mole, buried for a long time, gamely digging toward dimly seen light.

"How are you doing now? And the twins?"

"We’re all pretty unsteady. Wobbly. We need to find a new footing, but things keep happening that knock us off our feet. We all need more time—a chance to adjust to Ray’s death. It changes so many things. I almost feel hopeful. Hopeful! I hardly dare say the word. I’m sorry. I’m not making much sense. These papers ..."

"No offense, but I noticed Molly and Jason didn’t seem to be overwhelmed by Ray’s death."

"No, not the way you mean, anyway. But they are overwhelmed. I don’t seem to be able to comfort them yet. They’ve drawn away from me instead of coming closer, yet I know they love me—I know they do. Molly locks herself in her room and won’t talk to me.... I think she feels guilty. They didn’t get along."

Nina nodded. "I saw that. On the mountain."

"And Jason has moved in with a friend of his from high school, Kenny Munger. He says he needs some space. He’s always been so responsible, taken everything on his shoulders. It’s not like him to run away when we need him. I suppose the atmosphere at home is too depressing for him. And he’ll feel even worse when he hears about this move by Quentin."

"How did Leo take Ray’s death?" asked Nina. She wasn’t surprised to hear the casino jaunt had been Leo’s idea. Leo the ever-helpful, always on hand to comfort the widow... Quentin de Beers’s words about Leo’s interest in Sarah came back to her.

"I can’t really say he was devastated," Sarah said. "I’m trying to be honest with you. Please, read these court papers. I know Quentin came to see you yesterday and that you refused to help him. He told me. He’s hired Jeremy Stamp’s firm to ... dig Ray up. Please, help us stop him before he has the chance to drag what’s left of our family through hell with him."

Nina said reluctantly, "If you want to consult me regarding a matter in which Mr. de Beers consulted me yesterday, I probably won’t be able to assist you. There may be a conflict of interest."

"But you know all about this whole thing! And if I read the papers right, we only have a day or two to do something! I don’t know anyone else, except Jeremy Stamp from the business." Her eyes brimmed. "Try to imagine how I feel."

Nina offered her the always well-stocked box of tissue. Sarah was as vehemently against an exhumation as Quentin de Beers was vehement in wanting one. All this emotion over a dead body! For a moment Nina allowed herself to wonder—could someone have killed Ray? Then she thought back over the lightning strike and remembered Clauson’s absolute certainty about cause of death. Ray had died from being struck by lightning, and no amount of struggling over his body was going to change that.

"I suppose I can talk to you long enough to see if there is a conflict," she said. "Also, theoretically, even if there is, Mr. de Beers could agree to allow me to represent you."

"I have money," Sarah de Beers said. "The coroner was right about accidental death. Our policy paid double. I can pay you."

"Forgive me for saying this, but I thought De Beers Construction—"

"You thought we were well-off? No. Quentin and Ray tried to keep up appearances. But the company has been close to bankruptcy. Leo is turning it around now, though." She was looking out the window, toward Tallac. Nina turned to look at the mountain.

"It’s cloudless at the summit today. Hard to believe we were up there," Nina said. "Look, see the final ridge there, at the top? I still see that lightning bolt at night before I go to sleep."

"Ray made me go," Sarah said with some bitterness. "I’ve been doing physical therapy—for my legs—for some time, and Dr. Lee recommended that I try some hiking. So Ray decided to take me on that trail. When Leo heard I was going, he decided to come, and talked Jason and Molly into it. I think Ray was surprised at how far I got."

"He wanted you to fail?"

"It’s complicated. I was hurt at a job site. Leo and Jason thought it was Ray’s fault. It caused quite a crisis in our family. Ray became angry at me, as though I had hurt myself on purpose to make him look bad. So he was—oh, I know this sounds very strange—he’s been punishing me since then. Here I am talking nonsense again. Sorry." She laughed, painfully.

"Not at all. I understand."

She sat up straight, as if she had just remembered why she had come. "What do you charge? Two hundred an hour? I’ll pay it."

"Let’s hold off on that for a minute, Mrs. de Beers."

"Call me Sarah."

Nina picked up the motion with its supporting papers. She read it more carefully this time, noting errors of law and fact that might be capitalized upon if she chose to teach Quentin de Beers a well-deserved lesson. De Beers wouldn’t dare assert that she had a conflict of interest, because then she would be able to break confidentiality enough to alert the coroner and the police about his own damn perjury.

Really, the wife—or widow, as Sarah was now—was consulting her on a different matter, if you wanted to get technical about it, and Nina did want to get technical about it. Quentin had never mentioned a gold wedding ring, nor suspicions of grave robbing.

"What’s this about your husband’s wedding ring, Sarah?" Nina said.

"It’s a lie, that’s what it is. That ring was long gone before Ray was buried."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because I took the ring when I went to the coroner’s office to identify him formally. They gave me a moment alone with him. When I got home, I put it into my lingerie drawer, thinking I’d decide whether to throw it down the toilet later."

"You have the ring?"

"Not anymore. Quentin came by yesterday, he said to look through some paperwork on Ray’s desk upstairs. He must have sneaked into the master bedroom and stolen it out of my drawer."

"Hmm. You really think he would search your bedroom?"

"He’s been acting strangely since he came back from Singapore. I know he’s grieving for Ray, but his grief is expressed in this anger and irritation.... He’s always been controlling, like Ray, but now he’s worse than ever. He doesn’t seem to trust us to be able to make any decisions. He comes to the house every day. He built it and gave it to Ray, so I suppose he still thinks it’s his."

"Why did you take the ring? As a ... remembrance?"

She blushed to the roots of her hair. "No. I didn’t want Ray to go down in the ground linked like that to me. I’m ashamed to say it."

"Wouldn’t the ring be yours for the asking? Why didn’t you just ask for it?"

"Quentin bought the rings. I know him. He would have raised a stink."