Writ of Execution (26 page)

He would make it look like a hit. She worked with money at The Horizon. The cops would have a thousand theories.

Satisfied that he had a plan, he took a few deep breaths. His heart was racing and he felt like he was going to scream if he had to stay here much longer. But Donna hadn’t had much attention lately.

He wouldn’t survive if she left him too. He could not be alone. So he was trying hard today, even though he felt like his eyeballs were about to pop out of his head.

Donna put a hand on his bare arm and squeezed.

“It’s deserted here, honey. No one around.” She looked at him meaningfully.

She wanted to get laid. Of course she did. She hadn’t been laid in a couple of months.

The quicker she got laid, the quicker they got the hell off the beach. The quicker he got to his business of the day. Plus, it would keep Donna happy. Soon he would be able to fill up the IRA again, to pay off the bills, take her on a trip. She’d shut up for good about the gambling.

Could he do it, that was the question. He hadn’t been interested lately.

He pulled his pants down and rolled over on top of her. Her eyes fluttered and she spread her legs and gave him a moan.

One thing about taking speed, if you start up about two hours after you popped, you could go all afternoon. Maybe never come.

He concentrated. Not too fast. Crawling, the way she liked it. Like those waves coming into shore, one after another, just touching the sand here and climbing right on top, smothering it there . . .

Happy anniversary, Donna.

After returning the rental boat at the marina, wondering just how long his credit would continue to be good on the card he had used, he dropped his smiling wife off at the house. She wasn’t going to make any scenes for a few days. While she waved from the doorway, he drove away, fortifying himself with a couple more pills and more whiskey, a combination he’d tinkered with until he had created the right brew of confidence, energy, and coolheadedness.

He opened the bottle between his legs and drank again, putting his foot down hard on the gas.

This time in the afternoon, Amanda usually worked. However, he knew for a fact, right before her shift started she usually took a spin down to the lake to enjoy the summer sunshine. He had been with her a few times on these jaunts, but why think about that now?

He spotted her parked on Wildwood Avenue at Beach Road, where she could get the best view without the hassle of leaving her van. She had her head leaned back against the headrest, her eyes half closed. She was dreaming.

For a moment, he wondered what her dreams were. He’d never asked.

He cruised Lake Tahoe Boulevard a couple of times before all the necessary elements came together, all the time operating at fever pitch, his hands on the steering wheel moving constantly, roaming for the best spot, his eyes on the alert for a policeman, the gun loaded and ready on the seat beside him.

The moment came like a gentle breeze over the lake, and it was like something he remembered from movies, freeze-frame, everything stopped for an instant while one character continued to move forward through the frozen scene, gun in hand.

Amanda, silhouetted by the twinkling azure lake behind her, eyes closed, caught totally off guard.

No traffic, no cops. He unrolled his window. Hers was higher but it was open and he could manage.

Boom, boom, you’re dead.

She slumped in the car seat and began to slide down.

Sad.

He sped away.

21

“KENNY? WHY AREN’T you ready?” Jessie came out of the tiny back bedroom of the trailer dressed in a skirt and blouse, carrying Gabe. “We have to leave right now for Nina’s office and drop Gabe off with Sandy, or we’ll be late for court. Who was on the phone?”

“I’m not going.” Kenny sat in the dining nook which was also his bedroom, his fingers playing over the keys of the laptop.

“Are you kidding? This is it! What’s the matter?”

“Nina called. She has some work I have to do. You tell me how it goes.”

“What are you doing?” She set Gabe in the Portacrib and leaned over the table. Kenny wouldn’t let himself be distracted. He was on a mission.

“Amanda Lewis is dead,” he said. “Nina just heard. I confirmed it half an hour ago on the Tahoe Police Department internal Web site. Last night. Shot in her car at Tahoe. Like Charlie Kemp. It didn’t make the morning
Tahoe Mirror
.”

Jessie sat down beside him. “Shot,” she said. He didn’t look at her.

“I’m going to figure out who did this,” he said. “It has to be the jackpot. Kemp was on my right. Amanda was on my left.”

“What about us?” Jessie said.

“They tried,” Kenny said. “They lost track of us. For now. You have to be very careful to stay with people at all times. Make sure no one follows you back.”

“But—what about Gabe?”

“Gabe?”

“Would they try to hurt him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand. But I am going to understand it. Leave Gabe here.”

“No. I want him close to me. Sandy won’t let anyone hurt him.”

“Okay. I’ll concentrate a lot better anyway.”

“Kenny, you don’t sound like yourself.”

“I liked Amanda. I was worried about her. I think I should have done better when I talked to her.”

“Nina thought you did very well.”

“No. Amanda didn’t tell me who the biker is, and now I have to find him myself. I feel responsible.”

Jessie touched his back. She said, “All right, buddy, get him.”

Kenny nodded, his eyes on the monitor.

“This is the time and place set for the Motion to Vacate a Judgment entered in California based upon a Money Judgment issued by the State of Hawaii on November twelve, 2000.”

Judge Simeon Amagosian spoke these words in a calm strong voice. Even in the lurid yellow light of Courtroom Two, he exuded healthy outdoor vitality, as if he’d ridden to court on horseback that morning. Amagosian had really changed in the past year. Nina had heard he was on a health kick. The notoriously intemperate outbreaks of rage had become fewer, and even his formerly purple complexion could now be kindly described as ruddy rather than florid. Nina had heard he was spending more time out on his land and less in court, shifting his focus as he edged toward retirement.

He looked up from the paperwork in front of him and his eye again rested on Jessie’s face. Nina thought, He’s curious about her. He didn’t usually look at the parties at all, as if afraid he would be prejudiced inadvertently by some quirk of the person. He did sneak one quick peek at Nina’s legs and new shoes. Some things never changed.

Jeff Riesner, at the plaintiff’s table with Atchison Potter, was smiling as though Potter had just told him a funny joke. If Amagosian had just cantered in, Riesner seemed to have just flown there on the Concorde. He was immaculate, his balding spot carefully stranded over, his nails manicured, his—did he pluck his eyebrows? The area between the brows seemed to have lost something.

Or so Nina thought, meanly. As for Mr. Potter, he was hunched in his seat like a blue-jawed Eastern European refugee on a ship bound for Ellis Island—okay, also mean. She was in a mean mood today.

Mutual glares were exchanged. The high road had been abandoned the moment they entered court.

Jessie wore a starched white blouse and a straight brown skirt which set off her caramel coloring and short jet hair. She looked straight ahead. Gabe had just gone through another bout of his fever and Nina knew she would rather be with him. Sandy was watching him at the office today, the Portacrib right by her desk, so Jessie could run over there at the lunch break.

She had just come in, breathless, as court was going into session, and asked Nina and Paul about Amanda Lewis.

“They don’t have the gun on this one either,” Paul whispered while Amagosian was still opening his files.

“It must be a coincidence! Just because she was sitting by Kenny for a few minutes—she was murdered? Is that what you think?”

“I just heard,” Paul whispered back to Jessie. “I’ll find out everything I can today and report to Nina. You can talk to her later.”

Nina touched his arm and he fell silent.

Paul sat to Nina’s right, farthest away from Riesner’s table. He had met both Byron Eppley and Dr. Jun when their connecting flight came into Reno the night before. Nina had been prepping them since seven A.M. They were both waiting outside, both supportive, both hanging in there. The question was whether Amagosian would allow them to take the stand at all. This hearing was unexplored territory for Nina. There was relatively little law on challenging final judgments which had been filed in another state.

Paul reached his hand over under the table and squeezed Nina’s hand. Nina glanced over her shoulder and saw that the gesture had been noticed by the group of men seated behind the bar. Old friends by now—Thomas Munzinger, thin-lipped, riding the range for Global Gaming; Ully Miller, frowning, looking around as if expecting to discover the other people already in court all hid slot machine jimmies in their pockets; John Jovanic, standing with Deputy Kimura; two lawyers trailing Munzinger, trolling for trouble; a lawyer from the bank. And Barbet Schroeder of the
Tahoe Mirror,
with several more reporters.

Riesner and Nina stood up and stated their appearances. Amagosian said to Riesner, “Let’s see. This court granted a
pendente lite
order of attachment of funds from a Global Gaming check, deposited into a trust account in the name of Nina Reilly, Attorney at Law, at California Republic Bank. Those funds still frozen? No trouble there?”

They both nodded. “Today we have a contested hearing before the monies can actually be seized by a Writ of Execution. Am I in the ballpark?”

More nods.

Amagosian said to Riesner, “Okay. You want the Writ of Execution, Counsel. It’s your ball.” Nina sat down and wrote the date on her legal pad.

She had a lot on her mind, and one major complicating factor: she was under strict orders not to let Potter find out about Gabe.

Riesner began by introducing into evidence a flurry of certified pleadings from Hawaii: the Judgment, the original complaint for wrongful death, the notices of publication, and the other papers which would firmly establish that all technical requirements had been met. When he asked that the Hawaii pleadings be accepted into evidence, Nina said, “No objection, Your Honor. In fact, we could save some time by adding the only written exhibit I have from the Hawaii court case.”

“Which is?”

“A certified transcript of the testimony taken at the Default Hearing.”

“All right,” Riesner said, standing up and putting his hands up as if they were in a fight, which they were, “let’s get right to it. I have an objection to the transcript. This is a final judgment, Judge. That has to mean something, even with all the erosion of every legal rule I can think of lately. That’s why the United States Constitution gives full force and credit to the legal decisions of other states. A final judgment means it can’t be reopened on the testimony for this court to reweigh the evidence. The only question legitimately before us is whether the judgment is void because of some gross procedural error.”

“Not true, Your Honor,” Nina said. “The moment Mr.

Potter decided to try to get a California court to enforce this shoddy piece of legal work, he made the judgment re-viewable. Section 1710.40 of the California Code of Civil Procedure provides that such a judgment may be vacated upon any ground which would be a defense to an action in California. This court has the discretion to correct a manifest injustice today by vacating this judgment.”

“A discretion that is rarely used,” Riesner said. “And for good reason. The loser in a court case can dance all over the country and try venue-shopping forever unless the Constitution is followed. The only discretion this court has is to remedy a gross error by the other court. There’s no error at all here, Judge. As you can see, the pleadings are perfectly in order. She wants to open it all up again, Judge, take testimony all day and all night, as if a judge hadn’t already gone through this.”

Nina said, “Again, not true. The Hawaii court didn’t have a full opportunity to hear the issues. The defendant, my client, had no chance to appear—”

“The proper notice by publication appears to have been given, however,” Amagosian said. “The law isn’t omnipotent. We have to set some practical limits, or a defendant can avoid all responsibility simply by running off somewhere where she can’t be found.”

“That’s exactly what she tried to do, Judge—” Riesner said.

“Just a moment,” Nina said, very firmly. “I’m not saying that the notice was improperly given. I’m saying that because there was no actual notice, Mr. Potter was able to subvert the processes of the court and obtain a fraudulent judgment.”

Words have power, and these were very powerful words. Amagosian stopped shuffling the papers and stared at her. Riesner just stood there, absorbing this all-barrels attack. Somebody in back said, “Whew!”

Riesner found his voice. He turned to the court reporter and said furiously, “Did you get that? Did you get that?” When she nodded, Riesner said to Amagosian, “I respectfully request that the court note for the record that this scurrilous attack on my client accuses him of a criminal act as well as moral turpitude. It’s beyond outrageous. Counsel can’t seem to muzzle herself. I hold Counsel personally responsible for that statement. I—I am giving notice that I intend to pursue this slander and—”

Nina interrupted in as dry and measured a tone as she could muster, “Well, let’s see if I can back that scurrilous statement up. I only request limited testimony, Your Honor. Mr. Potter himself, and two witnesses who have voluntarily flown in from Hawaii in order to correct what they see as—”

“Stop right there,” Riesner said. “Now she’s going to moralize and twist and try to prejudice the court. I request that Counsel be held in contempt of court for the way she is subverting the court’s process.”

Amagosian stroked his chin, then answered, “Well, that doesn’t seem quite called for yet. And I believe I’m the one who decides whether a lawyer in my courtroom is in contempt, Counsel.”

Riesner huffed and said, “It’s only the start. She hasn’t even gotten going.”

“So you object to any testimony whatsoever being taken?” Amagosian said. “Have you received timely notice that Counsel intended to call witnesses at this hearing?”

“It’s absurd to reopen the Judgment! The court shouldn’t reweigh the evidence!”

“But one of these witnesses, it is claimed, will testify that he was bribed, which means bought and paid for, Counsel, by your client. And the other, it is claimed, wants to change his testimony appreciably. And don’t presume to tell me what this court should or shouldn’t do.”

“I apologize, Your Honor. That wasn’t my intent.”

“You may be assured, Mr. Riesner, that if these claims are not borne out by the sworn testimony of these witnesses, this court will consider the Declarations filed by Ms. Reilly on behalf of her client as perjury,” Amagosian said. These last words were spoken in Nina’s direction, and her throat went dry. If Byron Eppley and Dr. Jun, who were waiting out in the hall right now, changed their minds or got their minds changed, she was probably going to go to jail for contempt that very night.

Should have packed an overnight bag. She had made a serious allegation and she sure hoped she could substantiate it.

“I’m going to allow a limited review of the underlying judgment based on these specific allegations,” Amagosian said. “The transcript of the evidence taken in the Hawaii trial is hereby admitted along with the legal pleadings previously marked. I’m going to allow the three witnesses you requested, Ms. Reilly. Mr. Riesner, you will have the opportunity to rebut with independent testimony.

“Now. Having said that, I am also going to find at this time that the judgment creditor, Mr. Potter, has made a
prima facie
case that the judgment is valid and enforceable. Therefore, unless the presumption of validity is overcome by some very clear and convincing evidence of fraud, Ms. Reilly, the judgment will stand.”

“I understand, Your Honor.” The burden was on her. The stone had to be rolled uphill. Fair enough.

“I call Mr. Byron Eppley to the stand,” she said, and Deputy Kimura went outside to bring him in.

Eppley didn’t look good. The hair growing halfway down his neck looked unkempt. He overflowed from the witness chair. He wore a wrinkled black T-shirt, and Paul hadn’t been able to talk him out of sandals so well-worn they had taken on the shape of his foot. He looked around the courtroom, blinking, and when his eyes fell on Atchison Potter, who surely should patent that look of burning malice, he recoiled visibly.

“Good morning, Mr. Eppley,” Nina said.

Eppley mumbled something.

“Please be sure to speak up so the reporter can hear you,” Nina said.

“Good morning.”

“You are here voluntarily today? You have not been subpoenaed?”

“Yes. No.”

“You are not being paid for your testimony today in any way?”

“Well, you paid for the plane ticket. And the room at the Royal Valhalla last night. The breakfast was included, I guess.”

“Other than direct travel expenses, did you receive any other payment from me or anyone associated with this trip?”

“No.”

“All right. You knew Daniel Potter in Hawaii?”

“Yes. We roomed together before he got married. We were close friends, in the same department at UH.”