Trial and Terror (5 page)

“Raines,” she said, “you are one evil, cold-hearted son of a bitch.”

“Easy, easy,” Levi said, pulling Summer away. “Sidney, my office is going to ride shotgun for Cruz all the way to the Supreme Court if we have to. You know as well as I do that coercing a witness can get you disbarred.”

Bragg said, “I can’t write that fast. Summer, did you call Sidney an evil, cold-hearted bastard, or a son of a bitch?” The smile on his face said it all:
scoop!

Raines pounded his fist into his palm to emphasize each point. “Bleeding heart liberals. Look at this guy’s rap sheet. It’s as long as my arm. Why shouldn’t he stew in the pen for twenty-five years?”

“A deal is a deal and the law is the law,” Summer said.

“What do you know about the law, sister?” Raines scoffed. “You think the penal code was designed to protect psychopaths like your video-rapist Marsalis or grubby parasites like Cruz?”

“I smell a vendetta, Sidney.” Levi explained to Bragg, “The D.A. lost the Marsalis case, a case they should have won, so they concocted this scheme to discredit Ms. Neuwirth.”

“That is complete, unadulterated”—Raines searched for the right words—“
dog poop!
” He frisbee’ed his briefcase across the floor.

“ ‘
Dog poop
’?” Summer, Levi, and Bragg guffawed.

Levi maneuvered Summer out of the courtroom, away from Bragg and to a block of elevators. “Stay out of Hightower’s court for a while,” he said.

Summer thought of the resignation letter she had drafted the night before. But now wasn’t the time. “What do you think will happen to Cruz?”

“Depends on what Bragg writes; depends on whether the mayor gets wind; depends on whether Raines is getting laid or not. Somehow I doubt he’ll have to do major time. Who’d have thunk a specimen like Cruz would have a conscience? The least I can do is try my damndest for him.”

They got into the elevator and Levi pushed ‘L’ for the lobby. “One more thing,” he said as the doors hushed closed, “Gundy’s funeral is tomorrow. I have to put in an appearance, but I advise you to stay away. No need to stir things up even more.”

Chapter 5

Rosie wanted to spend
Gundy’s funeral at a bar owned by a former client she had once defended on a morals charge, but Summer wanted to stay in, cook, maybe watch a movie. That was many martinis ago. Now they were picking Chinese food out of cartons. The DVD was still in a plastic bag, on top of the TV.

“Then what happened?” Rosie wore black nail polish and even blacker lipstick. Her way of mourning for Gundy.

“Hightower told me I’d better watch myself in his courtroom.” Summer licked hoisin sauce off her fingers. “I’m lucky Cruz hates authority.”

“You’re luckier that gutter triber likes pretty girls.” Rosie leaned back and lit a cigarette. “How are you getting on these days? You know, the, uh—”

Summer got up to open a window. “Rape? You can say it.”

“Fine. I said it.”

Air streamed in from the outside. “I feel guilty about raping the poor guy, though he had it coming.”

Rosie laughed, spilling martini on the floor. She soaked it up with a used napkin.

Summer looked out to the ocean, listening to the waves rumble.

“Are you still getting your head shrunk?” Rosie asked.

“I couldn’t see the point,” Summer said, “so I decided to work harder, give myself less time to think about it.”

“Too close to home? I’m the same way. Mother trouble? Father failings?”

“Mother trouble.” Summer settled at the table and took one of Rosie’s cigarettes. She broke it in half, sprinkling crumbs. She weighed whether to let Rosie in on the turmoil that absorbed more and more of her thoughts: the rape, her mother’s disappearance eight months ago, job stress, the fear that Marsalis would make good on his threats. Her reticence eroded by good gin, she started talking.

“From the time I could walk, my mother put rouge on my cheeks, painted my lips, stuck me in clingy dresses and tight pants, the same stuff she wore. She wouldn’t even let me call her ‘Mom.’ It was always ‘Sonia.’ When I was in grammar school, she’d confide in me, tell me all about her affairs with movie stars, her sexual hang-ups, her unfulfilled dreams of stardom.”

Rosie’s eyes widened over her near-empty glass, but she didn’t say anything. Summer knew Rosie wouldn’t push because that would mean she’d have to talk about her father.

But Summer needed to tell someone. “It was like instead of being my mom, she wanted to be my best friend. You know, for months after the rape, I felt like I had somehow brought it on myself. But then I had this major epiphany one night when I couldn’t sleep through the nightmares. It was all Sonia’s fault. She drilled into me the ways and means of beauty, taught me how to play the coquettish little whore, the charming schoolgirl, the mature woman. She showed me how to walk, how to flirt, how to trap a man, all before I was ten. Hell, if I did bring it on myself, then Sonia’s the one who brought it on me.”

“You know that’s bullshit: No woman brings on her own rape,” Rosie said. “You still get flashbacks? Ever scared?”

Summer held up her house keys, jangled them. Five just to get in her front door.

Rosie licked the rim of her glass. “Any word on the search for Sonia?”

“I don’t think anyone’s looking anymore. I put up some more flyers last weekend, but no one’s called.”

Rosie fished an inhaler out of her purse and puffed, holding the vapor in her lungs. After exhaling, she started another cigarette.

“I can’t believe you,” Summer said.

“I refuse to let asthma alter my life one bit. Almost everyone I grew up with has an inhaler. The air pollution in the
barrio
or some other bullshit environmental factor.” Rosie swilled the rest of her martini. “I’m more worried about our drinking.”

“You ever think about chucking the whole thing? You know, quitting?”

“Every fucking day; but then I ask myself, How many people can say the government pays them to fuck with it? The corporate world isn’t for me. Uptight Ivy grads would only assume I was an affirmative action case. Besides, I like life closer to the ground. You?”

“Lately, all I seem to think about is opting out. Running away to somewhere far away from here.”

“The judges, D.A.s, politicians, they all want you to feel that way. Attrition is their best friend. You quit, you’d just be giving in to them. Besides, running won’t solve anything. You still have to face your problems in the mirror.”

Summer wasn’t convinced. Sonia had run away. Maybe she wasn’t dead. Maybe she had found happiness. Maybe Summer could, too.

Rosie flicked ashes on her plate. “Promise you’ll call me before quitting. Give me a chance to talk you out of it.”

Summer didn’t tell Rosie she had already phoned Eddie Brockton, but he was out of town for a couple of days. Summer hadn’t left a message. “It’s a deal.”

“What do you think of Gundy getting it?”

Summer swirled her martini, then sipped. “Are any of us sorry he’s dead?”

“Who do you think did it?” Rosie asked. “I’m still banking on Marsalis.”

“If it was, they’ll never get him. He’ll concoct an airtight alibi, use phone records to prove he was at home at the time of the murder.”

“Are you saying he can alter phone company records?”

Summer held her empty glass up to the light and smiled.

“Shit.” Rosie took another drag. “You know what I hated most about Gundy? He was always staring at my tits and ass. I used to dread riding the elevator alone with him. The last time I saw him, he’d just resigned from Sex Crimes and signed on to the Gang Task Force. He told me the first thing he was going to do was investigate my relationship with The Latin Brothers. I told him the only contact I had with the old gang was as their court-appointed attorney. Know what he did?”

Summer waited.

“Pinched my ass.”

Touched by Rosie’s confidence, Summer said, “Gundy hit on me from day one. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. I finally told him if he didn’t cease and desist I’d file charges.”

Rosie’s eyes grew. The secrets women kept from one another. “I never knew
you
were going through it, too! What happened after that?”

“He turned off the little charm he had and made my life hell. I’m sure he sent me sex pics in the mail, the heads of the women cut out.”

“Seriously? I heard he was going to make a run for the Senate. Thank God the wicked hick
está muerte
.”

Summer picked up the glasses and weaved into the kitchen. Through a window she could see lights skimming off the ocean, a ship pulling away from shore, and wondered where it was heading. She lived alone, surrounded by wood and windows. No boyfriend. No cat, no dog. No plants. Because nothing survived for long in her world. She suddenly felt the prick of her isolation and wondered if she wasn’t, like Sonia, trying to make herself disappear.

She shook two more martinis: gin, straight up, very cold, very dry, pickled tomatoes instead of olives, and overflowed both glasses. Summer tried to calculate how much gin she would have to drink before the depression would lift. A quarter of a bottle left: not enough.

She balanced the glasses on a plate and carried them to the living room. Rosie was scanning Summer’s bookcase. Summer thought about telling her:
Soon you’ll have to carry on without me
.

The telephone buzzed and Summer steadied herself. “Hi.”

“It’s Jon.”

Summer was careful not to slur. “Just the man I wanted to talk to.” She paused, searching for the best way to tell him. But not in front of Rosie.

Levi’s voice crackled over the phone line. “Turn on Channel Six.”

Summer fumbled for the remote and zapped the set. Policemen were chasing a woman, running wildly, who then slipped through a fence. The picture was grainy.

Summer tried to sober up enough to digest what was happening.

“What’s this?” Rosie asked, crouching in front of the TV.

Summer turned up the sound. A local news anchor was saying, “…police were searching the home and dojo of feminist martial artist Stephanie Killington, known by the initials SK, when she bolted. This was captured on video by a bystander with a cell phone. Police caught up to SK at the old Willoughby Warehouse, where a party was in progress.”

Summer moved closer to the set, watching as the scene shifted to the building’s interior. A crush of twenty-somethings, their minds swelled by ecstasy and cocaine, were dancing and making out in various states of dress and undress. A rave. When SK tore through—the police hurtling after—pandemonium ensued.

“A-fuckin’-mazin’,” Levi said, bringing Summer back to the phone. “I go out to dinner and a movie with the wife and kids, come home, turn on the tube, and this is what I see. They’ve been replaying it as an exclusive.”

“When did this happen?” Summer asked.

“About six hours ago.”

“Give yourself up, girl,” Rosie called to the TV. “You’re just making it worse.”

Levi said, “Is that Rosie?”

“Yes.” Summer whispered, “Oh my god. Motive.”

“The strongest motive,” Levi said. “Revenge.”

The TV flickered. SK was cornered. A dozen cops, wary of her martial arts skills, trained their weapons on her, but didn’t move in until she was face-down. They cuffed her and led her away. Then a commercial break. Rosie used the remote to sift for more news.

“I’ve been told she’s going to need a free attorney, so I’m putting you on your first murder case,” Levi said. “Reward for winning that video-rape case.”

Summer felt a chill. “SK? I… I can’t do it.”

Rosie put down the remote. “Who’s on the phone?”

“Jon.”

“You’ve been bugging me for a murder case for months,” Levi said. “Now you’re going to bail on me?”

“I’ve decided… been thinking.” This wasn’t going like she’d imagined it would.

Rosie crowded her. “SK? He wants you to defend SK?”

“It’s funny,” Levi said. “You used to pester me for felony cases, wanting to advance your career. Then you were like, ‘No more felony cases, Jon, I got too many as is, but when you’re ready to give me a murder case, dot dot dot.’ So here I am offering you the juiciest murder case we’ve had in years, and you’re turning it down? The local press is all over this. She’s a feminist, a lot of Haze County folk detest her, and I need the best P.D. I’ve got on the case. And facts being facts, it’s important that it be a woman. Take the case. You owe me.”

“He wants you to defend SK?” Rosie tugged at Summer’s elbow.

Summer nodded until she was dizzy.

“Holy shit,” Rosie said.

Being around Gundy in the afterworld was more than Summer had bargained for. “I know I owe you—”

“The arraignment’s tomorrow,” Levi interrupted.

Summer trapped the phone between her neck and shoulder.

“Court Nine, one o’clock,” Levi added. “Be prepared for a media circus.”

Summer sighed. “OK, OK.”