Unfit to Practice (13 page)

“Gag me,” Brandy said, when she finally came outside. “It smelled like vomit in there. That poor woman partied too hearty for her own good.”

“She did look terrible, except that I loved her hair,” Angel agreed. “Should have stuck to chocolate and wine like us, huh? No ill effects, except maybe that we're jumpy as little bunnies.” They walked through the darkness toward their camp.

“Wait!” Brandy whispered suddenly, putting a hand out to stop Angel. She pulled her sister back toward the side of the road.

“Is it a bear?”

“Shh!”

“Let's go. You're not three years old anymore. No need to be so damn scared of the dark.”

“Shut up!” Brandy hissed.

Angel shut up and looked in the direction Brandy's nose pointed, seeing nothing.

“It's so dark,” she whispered. “What are you looking at?”

Brandy's finger shook as she pointed toward the orange tent next to their site. “There's enough moon to see.”

Angel stared but saw nothing special.

“He's gone now.”

“Who?”

“I saw someone leaving that tent.”

“So what?” Angel said. “When you gotta whiz, you gotta whiz. You're living proof.”

“But, Angel, didn't Cody—the biker—leave after the ranger came around?”

“Yeah.”

“How come he's back, then?”

“No idea. You sure you saw Cody, Brandy?”

“Unless Mario suddenly grew his hair long, has lost about fifty pounds and gone all ugly, and looks just like Cody.”

“Where's the bike, then?”

“He knew he'd wake up the whole camp if he came in on that thing so he parked it out on the street?” Brandy guessed.

They puzzled about it for a minute or two, but the camp remained silent and peaceful, so they went on back to their tent, slept for the few remaining hours of the night, and got up the next morning, deciding to strike out early for a hike up to Beauty Lake and a new campsite at Wright's, out of town and out of the whole city campground B.S.

“They found her body in her sleeping bag, dead, the next morning when the ranger tried to roust them out of the site,” said Brandy. “Mario was still asleep, right next to her!”

“You seem sure Cody is responsible for the woman's death,” Nina said. She had paused in her note-taking. The office door, slightly ajar, told her Sandy was probably listening.

They stared at her. “Well, heck, I don't think there's much doubt,” Angel said. “Cody came back, Brandy saw him. And even a drunk wouldn't jump back into his sleeping bag and pass a peaceful night next to the dead body of his girlfriend like Mario did. If Mario had done it, he would have run straight across the state line, across Nevada, and all the way to Colorado before he stopped to breathe.”

“Ms. Guillaume, Angel, you mean to tell me your husband didn't mention a murder at a campground to you over the weekend? We don't get many up here.”

“He never saw the story or he would have freaked.”

“Why didn't you go straight to the police when you got back to town on Tuesday?” Nina asked them.

“I'm ashamed to say, we don't always read the papers,” said Angel. “We just saw an article about what happened this morning. It's so sad! It's just terrible! That poor girl. Cody must have snuck back and strangled her in the night. Mario was so drunk, maybe he didn't even wake up.”

Nina picked up the phone. “I'll arrange for you to speak with the police or the D.A.'s office as soon as possible. They should know what you saw.”

“Hold on. Did you read about these people?” Brandy said. “The camper, Mario Lopez, the one they arrested, had just gotten out of prison that day! He's a violent felon. He was in for assault for years. The other guy, Cody, he was in for drug trafficking last year, plus he has a whole bunch of other convictions. The truth is, we're scared to death to tell anybody.”

“If I have your story right, no one, except for the tourists you replaced, even knows you stayed at that campground that night,” Nina reminded her.

“Which is the one reason I can still sleep at night,” Angel said.

“I just don't want to talk to anyone about this until I've had a chance to talk to my fiancé,” Brandy said. “So we came here today for your free consultation. Besides, Angel told me all about how you kicked butt in the Misty Patterson case, even though you got hurt in the process. You're tough.”

“I'm lucky,” Nina said. She touched her hand to the scar on her chest. Did anyone realize how superstitious even the most pragmatic lawyer could be?

“Will it make any difference to Mario if we don't come forward today? I mean, is he in some horrible place where he's going to get brutalized or something?” Brandy asked.

“No. Remember, this man just got out of state prison. The jail in Placerville can't compare to that. But, Brandy, you have to tell the prosecutors what you saw as soon as possible.”

“What about the chances of Cody leaving town before I say anything?” Brandy said.

Nina said, “The article mentions the fight, then it says Cody Stinson has a local friend who says he spent the rest of the night with her. She's his alibi. He's also on probation. Probably isn't allowed to go far. Although I'm sure the police will be questioning him, since they have a suspect in custody, he has no reason right now to worry about getting arrested.”

“He will when he hears what Brandy has to say,” said Angel.

“We'll explain our concerns about your safety. The D.A.'s office won't reveal your names or anything about what's happened until you're well protected.”

“I won't talk. Not until I reach Bruce,” Brandy said. “Tomorrow, first thing?”

“You can call him from here,” Nina pushed.

“Like I told you, we're at a rough patch,” Brandy said. “Bruce and I haven't been speaking, so it makes everything more complicated. After a week of calling me nonstop, he quit answering his phone. Just give me some time. Meanwhile, don't worry. I won't let Mario go down without telling the police Cody came back that night. I just can't do it yet.”

“The longer you hold off, the more complicated your situation becomes,” Nina warned. She got names, addresses, and phone numbers for both the women. After they left, she tucked her intake notes into the manila file she planned to take home in her briefcase that night. Maybe Brandy would decide she was able to go first thing in the morning. Nina wanted to review her notes and prepare for anything.

The whole story was scribbled on yellow legal sheets and sitting in that damned file, the one she took home that night.

And here in front of her on Monday afternoon sat the sisters, Angel with her platinum-tipped bristles, Brandy with her dimples. But there were no smiles. They said they hoped Nina wasn't too upset that they didn't get back to her on Friday. They had their reasons. They knew she might insist that they go talk to Henry McFarland, the assistant district attorney for El Dorado County based out of Tahoe, right away, but they hoped that wasn't necessary.

Well, they did have to go right away, Nina told them.

“We can't go,” Brandy said, tearing up. Nina got up and shut the door.

Angel spoke up, her tone very serious. “Brandy's fiancé has taken off. We have to find him first.”

“Taken off?” Nina said.

“I mean, I know he was upset at me, probably, but why would he leave home like that? Angel drove me home to Palo Alto over the weekend so that we could maybe work some things out, but he was gone!”

“We talked about it on the way over here,” Angel said. “Bruce took his wallet, but he didn't take his mobile phone. He doesn't exist without that phone. Brandy says he starts yakking on it when he brushes his teeth in the morning and doesn't let up all day long. He took some clothes, but stuff Brandy says he hates.” Her voice dropped. “So we had this thought. We're thinking him being gone is suspicious. We're scared. We're thinking, maybe Cody found out somehow and went over to the house and did something. To Bruce. You know?” She put her arm around Brandy. “You know what I'm saying?”

Now Nina had to speak. She said she understood, but unfortunately had to add to their fear. She told them that someone had the file with all their information, the names, the addresses, the phone numbers. She told them that she was worried, too. Their concerns about Bruce just added to the all-around bad news.

Two sets of frightened gray eyes stared back at her.

“I'm going back to Palo Alto tonight,” Brandy said. “I have to try again to talk to Bruce.”

“Not alone you're not,” Angel said. “I'm coming. Sam's taking some time off. He's taking the kids to Oregon to visit his mother. I'm supposed to join them, which I will when I get around to it.”

“We can stay at Maria's. Cody won't have that address.”

Angel turned to Nina. “We'll make you a deal,” she said. “We'll drive back up first thing in the morning. I'll make some arrangements at the salon. We'll meet you there.”

“Don't go,” Nina said. “Let's talk to the D.A. today. It's not safe.”

Brandy's jaw set. Angel looked at her, looked at Nina, and shrugged. “That's the deal,” she said. “We'll be careful.”

They looked unbudgeable. “My investigator, Paul van Wagoner, will pick you both up at your beauty salon at ten tomorrow morning,” Nina said.

“Okay,” Angel and Brandy said together.

“Give me Maria's address and phone number.”

“No offense,” Brandy said, “but you've already got my mobile phone number.”

Only after they left did Nina realize what she meant. They didn't feel safe entrusting her with the information. They didn't, in fact, want to pay much attention to her advice at all.

She had lost her credibility with them and they were spending another night on the road. She could only hope they wouldn't look back and find Cody's motorcycle on their tail.

10

A
T FOUR-THIRTY
that Monday afternoon, while stumbling toward the rental car with the large gift she had just picked up for Matt's wife Andrea's party that night, Nina saw Officer Jean Scholl in the parking lot outside her office. The policewoman stood by while Nina strained to open the trunk of the rental car and ended up dumping the big gift box on the asphalt while she fooled with her key.

Scholl watched, detached, while Nina stuffed the present into the trunk, adjusting it into several positions before it would fit. Only then did Scholl say, “We found your truck. Let's go get it.” She led the way to her patrol car, clanking and clinking all the way.

Behind a chain-link fence, the pockmarked, lava-colored sea of asphalt that constituted South Lake Tahoe's impound lot was not far from the police station and courthouse. Officer Scholl, driving Nina in her patrol car, waved to the security man on duty, got out, and used a key to unlock the gate.

“Where did you find it?”

“In the Heavenly parking lot.” Heavenly Resort was only a few miles away, straight uphill from where they stood at the foot of a ten-thousand-foot mountain, the highest ski resort this side of the Rockies.

“I spotted it in a nicely painted parking spot at the base of the World Cup run, not that anyone's skiing this time of year. Lots of hikers and gondola riders leave their cars up there. Logical place to dump a joyride if you don't drive it straight out of town. And then it's pretty easy to catch a ride down Ski Run Boulevard back to town. Or just walk. It's only a mile or so.”

The big, dirty SUV looked foreign to her, but the Hawaiian-print seat covers told her that the Bronco was her old familiar mountain buggy.

“Not too much harm done,” Scholl said, her finger inserted into a long scratch on the left bumper. “That's old.” She reached into her pocket and tossed Nina the metal key. “We found it on the front seat.” She sounded bored as ever, but Nina sniffed out the contempt in her words. Officer Scholl didn't bother to conceal her antipathy.

Nina walked around the Bronco, noting the nicks and scratches.

“Any new dings?” Scholl asked.

Her truck led a visibly hard life. Nina couldn't distinguish new dings from old. “I don't know. Can I get in?”

“It's your truck, or so the registration says.” She opened the driver's-side door.

“You didn't lock it?”

“The barn door's already open.”

I'll say, Nina thought. She climbed in, bent toward the backseat, and began to hunt.

Scholl let her look awhile, then said, “No briefcase, if that's what you're hoping.”

Nina sat up, disappointed, rubbing her forehead. “My files?”

“No sign of them.”

“Did you dust for fingerprints?”

“We did our jobs.”

Nina straightened up wearily.

“What I wonder is, were they ever even in the truck?” Scholl said.

“I told you they were. What do you mean?”

“Maybe you lost the files some way you don't want to talk about. Maybe they've been lost awhile. Maybe one of your crook clients took them from your office and you invented this cute cover story.” She came over to Nina, looking down at her through those anachronistic reflective sunglasses, and said, “Maybe you're lying.”

“I resent that. I told you the absolute truth,” Nina said.

“Yeah, like you tell the judge the absolute truth about your clients.”

“Like you never exaggerated a word in your police reports. You seem to have a problem with me, Officer,” Nina said. “But whatever you think of my work as a lawyer, what's happened here is that my truck was stolen and I'm grateful to you for finding it.”

Scholl didn't answer. The police radio blasted out a call and she went to answer it.

“I represent police officers, too,” Nina called after her.

Nina called Sandy. “No files in the Bronco. But the truck's okay.”

“So the files have been stolen,” Sandy said. “I never would have believed it. The briefcase?”

“Gone. Thanks for staying late tonight.”

“I would sure like to know what is going on,” Sandy said. “Wish is coming in tomorrow morning. I cleared the decks for an hour.”

“Paul and I will be there. He's driving up from Carmel as we speak.”

“Bring doughnuts. Cinnamon-sugar and glazed. Good for thinking.”

“Anything else?”

“There's a Minute Order in the Cruz case.”

Much too fast. It should have taken ten days for the judge to rule. “Damn,” Nina said. “Physical custody to the mother?”

“'Fraid so.”

“Damn,” Nina said again. Defeat struck hard. “I'll call Kevin.”

“Call later. Andrea called. She says it's okay to come late. You go on over and visit with your family.”

A compulsive demon took hold of Nina. After finishing her call, she stopped at the first gas station she saw to fill the almost-empty tank, then ran the truck through the automatic carwash twice. When she got back to the office, she transferred the big box from her rental car to the Bronco. Sandy arranged to get the white subcompact back to the rental agency while Nina drove to Raley's for cleaning supplies.

After removing the seat covers and tossing them into the back for laundering, she used an entire roll of paper towels and nearly a bottle of ammonia-laden cleaner on the interior. Sandy left for home.

Nina was exhausted, but the Bronco was hers again. Dark descended, and the parking lot emptied. Dinner would be waiting, and she would sit on the old couch and visit with Matt and Andrea and the kids, and gather the strength to call Kevin—who dashed her plans to procrastinate by driving up in an unmarked police car just as she completed this thought.

“Hey,” he said, leaning out the window. “Lisa called me to crow. I can't stand this. What can we do now? Where can we talk? Listen, let me treat you to something at that Mexican place across the street. It's true, isn't it? I lost?”

“It's true. I'm so sorry, Kevin, but I have to be somewhere. Of course we'll talk. I'll call you at about ten tonight.”

“Just a drink,” he pleaded.

“I'm sorry—people are waiting.”

“Sure wish I could say the same for my son and daughter.”

He had just had the worst news of his life. “I have ten minutes, Kevin,” she said.

They crossed the busy highway together, Kevin's long legs in khakis progressing two steps ahead for every one of hers. Taking a booth by a window facing a side road with a glimpse of mountains, they were both silent for a moment. Kevin's emotional hell had hollowed his usually blunt, fleshy face. “I have to hit the head,” he said suddenly and left.

She leaned back against the upholstery of the booth and drifted back to an afternoon she and Paul had spent across from his office in Carmel at the Club Jalapeño. He had work to do but blew it off in favor of a long lunch, later walking her down to the beach, removing her shoes, and spreading a blanket on the sand at sunset. She licked the salty rim of her margarita, remembering Paul's kisses, thinking she would see him in just a few minutes. Right now, she wanted him fiercely.

Anything to stop thinking about the files. And the loss in court.

“Bottoms up,” Kevin said, returning. He downed half his beer in a gulp. She snapped back to attention. No way could she make this easy on him. “Kevin, I'm sorry. It's true, what Lisa told you. The judge awarded Lisa temporary physical custody of Heather and Joey.”

Kevin leaned forward and jabbed a finger into her face. “There has been a huge mistake here,” he said. “I mean, huge. They can't get away with it. I'm starting to figure out exactly how I have been abused by Lisa. And I won't be abused. Not by her and not by her stinking lawyer. You know, there is absolutely no justice in this stinkin' world.”

“It's very hard, I know, but remember this was a hearing about temporary custody. The permanent-custody hearing is another opportunity.”

“That doesn't happen for months. I already waited nine months for the temporary hearing. We both know how the system works. Mom gets temporary custody, the kids get used to her place, they get comfortable, they don't want to live with their dad anymore. They tell the county investigator they want to stay with Mom and the investigator sees, yeah, it's working okay. So now they have a known quantity, the kids are doing all right living with Mom, leave 'em alone, they don't need another move. I've lost, and it wasn't supposed to be that way. Now I don't have anything.”

She patted his hand. But he spoke the truth. “I am also very concerned—” she said, then stopped.

“About the file you left in the Bronco? Yeah, I talked to Jean Scholl at the station today. She found your vehicle, no files.”

“Yes.” Nina looked at the tablecloth.

“You shouldn't have left them there. Easy to lift. Hey. We all make mistakes. I made my own mistakes in my time.” He looked to the side, shook his head.

“That's very kind of you to say, Kevin.”

“But my kids mean everything to me. You understand?”

“I know how hard it is for you. We'll make sure you get plenty of time with them, I promise. Kevin, I'm going to ask you to do something for me. You should know this could be risky, considering your possible legal problems, now that your relationship with Ali is public knowledge.”

“Legal problems?”

“A potential statutory-rape charge.”

He flushed red all over. “It won't come to that. It was consensual. She was nearly an adult.”

“It doesn't seem likely,” Nina agreed. “But you should be thinking about the possibility.”

“What is it you want me to do?”

“Call Ali. Jeff Riesner said that someone contacted him. Was it Ali, and if it was, why did she do that? Why, at the very last minute? Would she talk to you about it?”

“Oh, geez. Call her? Her parents must be so pissed. Now that she had to go to court—” He took note of Nina's face and a puzzled expression came into his eyes. “Would it help me get my kids? Could Lisa have stolen my file? It's so complicated. I'm all confused. I get mixed up and I make mistakes.”

He has a big heart and a small brain, she thought, then mentally kicked herself. “Never mind, Kevin. It's all right. I'll find out another way. I just want to know if her appearance in court was somehow related to the loss of my files.”

“Why? Who cares at this point?”

“Well, there were two other files.”

“Oh, right. Big problems for you. Listen. I'll talk to her. I want to talk to her. Don't worry, I'll be careful. I just don't want to make things worse, is all.”

“Maybe I'm wrong to ask you, but I think it would really help,” Nina said. “You're a police officer, Kevin. You can do this carefully. This might be useful to you in other ways, too. Maybe talking to Ali will help you find out whether the D.A.'s considering a charge against you. And we really need to find out what happened, how Lisa's lawyer learned about Ali.”

“Why don't you just ask Riesner?”

“Because he and I have a history. We don't get along.”

Darkness shrouded Kevin's face, and Nina thought, I have to be careful not to make Kevin any more angry. She knew it was tricky, putting him in contact with Ali. But she wanted to start fighting back, and Ali was a lead.

Kevin was settling in. He waved at the waitress, who swooped down in a flash.

“Ready to order?”

Nina checked her watch. “I told you. I have to go.”

“Don't leave!” Kevin said. He sent the waitress away. “I'm so alone right now. Please don't leave me.” He gave her those sad eyes. She could see how he might look in ten years. He would age fast, the slight pouches under his eyes and chin would coarsen his face, the sad expression would harden to bitterness, the extra bulk would lead to a big belly, and too much smoking would lead to wheezing breath and coughing spells when he woke up in the morning.

She hoped she was wrong, that he would find happiness with someone new, that he would see the kids regularly and develop a sane visitation schedule with Lisa. That he would quit smoking. She wished that she could fix all that had gone wrong for him.

But some people never got past the divorce. It cleaved their lives too deeply.

“Call me tomorrow. We'll talk some more,” was all she could say.

“I'll walk you back across the street. It's dark.”

“Don't bother. It's the middle of town.”

“It's no bother.”

When they got to the truck, Nina said, “Good night. Try to get some sleep.” She touched his arm.

Kevin fell onto her like a drowning man hugging a life preserver. Bending his head down, he broke into heavy sobs. The big cop cried on her shoulder. After a few seconds, she patted his wide back. She got into the truck, putting distance between them, reminding him that they still might turn things around later.

After giving the dog his dinner, she and Bob drove straight to Matt's house, spotting Paul pulling up in his Mustang right out front. Bob ran for the house as she walked up to greet Paul.

He opened his arms and she rushed into them. Her arms went around him and she held him tightly, kissing his slightly stubbly cheek, smelling the leather he wore on cold nights. His mouth was warm and as she pressed against him she felt his instant readiness. He was attuned to her physically, and she, melting against him, was helplessly responsive.

“Paul,” she said. She buried her face in his shoulder.

“What is it, honey?”

“Just a hard day. I missed you.”

“Me, too.”

“I'm afraid I'm starting to depend on you.”

“Is that so bad?” He caressed her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “I want you to depend on me.”

“All right, then,” she said, holding his face in her hands and looking into his eyes. A few droplets fell on them, and she released him slowly.

Paul smiled at her, then turned to the Bronco. He walked all the way around it, kicked the tires, patted its hood. “Good to see you again,” he told it as Nina described the impound yard and her words with Jean Scholl. The drizzle turned to rain, and Nina began to shiver. “In we go,” Paul said. “There's some kind of party going on in there.”

“Wait. Can you help me with this thing?”