Writ of Execution (38 page)
“It’s been a pleasure,” he said.
The men filed out, shaking hands, except for Riesner, who gave an inarticulate growl and rushed out the door without talking to anybody.
They were gone. “Cancel the press conference, Sandy,” Nina said. “The American public doesn’t want to hear this anyway.”
Sandy looked at her, a glint in the obsidian eyes.
“Well?” Nina said.
“I always said you had potential,” Sandy said. “There were doubters, but I always thought you’d get good eventually.”
“And I was good today,” Nina said.
“Yeah, you were. You finally got good.” The corner of her lip rose slightly.
“We’ve got court in the afternoon. We’re going to get this case dismissed, so let’s eat early, Sandy. I’m buying, and I’m thinking Mexican.”
“You’re always thinking Mexican.” But she got up and picked up her purse and Nina grabbed her wallet. They walked across the street to the Mexican restaurant and Nina had a margarita. And she thought about all the misery of practicing law, but then she thought about the scene in her conference room that had just occurred, and it felt like this:
She had never had so much fun in her entire life. And she wasn’t going to quit, because she had been made for this.
32
KENNY ASKED JESSIE to come with him to meet his parents.
“I don’t want to meet them like this,” she said in the car on the way over. “Can’t we wait for a better time?”
“There’s no better time. The lunch crowd will be gone. They close for an hour about now to rest before the dinner rush. And don’t worry.” He patted her thigh. “They’ll love you, I promise.”
They parked close to the restaurant.
“Pink and red,” Jessie said. “Bright.”
“My mother’s idea to attract the eye. Some people in the neighborhood think it’s tacky, but Mom’s right. No chance this business will recede tastefully into the forest.”
A “closed” sign hung in the window. He used a key.
Waving at his sister, who was clearing some tables, he sat Jessie down at a large, curved red leatherette booth. Colleen came over to introduce herself, set cups around, and poured tea. A few minutes later, following further introductions, Kenny’s parents were seated beside them, his father’s face long, his mother’s slightly alarmed.
“Where’s Tan-Mo?” Kenny asked.
“Gone back to school. Oh,” his father said nervously. “We need to speak to you about that, son.”
“You need your money.”
His parents glanced at Jessie. They looked deeply embarrassed.
“Don’t worry. Jessie knows everything, all about how generous you’ve been. And I came here to pay you back today, with interest.”
His parents beamed.
He told them almost all that had happened. The story took shape in his own mind as he told it to them, and as he spoke, leaving out the Glock but thinking about it, he saw that he had been about to kill himself over a fantasy. He stopped and bowed his head. But Jessie was there, and his family. He straightened up and went on.
Matt and his family waited at the dock, Matt bobbing in his new speedboat, the motor running. Troy and Brianna ran up to Bob, saying, “You’re late!”
“My mom,” Bob said. “She was busy.”
It was the morning of the last day of July, full sun, the air thin and pure, the water calm, the mountains ringing the lake all blue. Overhead, lake gulls wheeled and dipped.
Andrea helped Nina sling the picnic basket into the boat. Nina took Matt’s hand and got in, and the kids jumped in and sat in back where they could take the full force of the wind. Andrea was about to cast off the line when a big black pickup roared into the Ski Run Marina lot and stopped, the motor still running. Jessie Potter was driving. Kenny Leung was in the passenger seat. He held up a small face in the open window, grinning toothlessly. Gabe.
“I wanted to give you the key to the trailer,” Jessie said, running up. “Glad I caught you.” She passed over the keys and Nina stuck them in her pocket.
“Nice truck,” Matt said. “I’m jealous.”
“You like it? A Ford One-Fifty. Bought it yesterday.
I’m going to use it in my gardening business.” She grinned. “It’s what I always wanted. Somehow, compared to trying to do something new and brilliant like Kenny did, or going back to college, it seemed like a tiny dream to start my own landscape design and contracting business. But Kenny and I talked, and he’s right about something. It’s all about taking risks, and dreaming dreams and making them real and to hell with logic! Kenny and I have so much to do. He’s going to set up a Web site for me, a place where my clients can see their own properties come to life in 3-D. Right now, we’re going to Reno to buy tools and some computer stuff.”
“That’s great,” Nina said. “So, uh, how’s it going with Kenny?”
“We’re looking for a place to live. Has to be around Reno. There’s some nice country out past Sparks along the river.”
“You and Kenny?” Nina said.
Her healthy brown cheeks colored. “Me and Kenny.” She nodded. “That’s right. We’re shooting for a real wedding someday. Soon, if Kenny gets his way, but we’ll see. I promise, you’ll be invited if that ever comes off. Meanwhile, we went and saw his parents last week, and he paid them back. Next week, he’s cleaning out his condo in Mountain View.”
“Congratulations,” Andrea said. Jessie looked so strong and beautiful in her blue-striped shirt and tan shorts and hiking boots, and Kenny was hanging out the window now, helping the baby wave.
“Oh, and you probably don’t know it yet.” She was breathless with news and radiating happiness. “Kenny got a call yesterday. He went to talk to some people while I was out buying the truck. He lined up a great job working with computers in Reno. Isn’t that great? Starts next week.”
“Wonderful,” Nina said.
“We owe it all to you,” Jessie said. “The money’s the smallest part of it. You gave me my integrity back and saved Gabe’s life, maybe. This is for you.” It was a small white box with a green ribbon around it. “Come on, the motor’s running, open it!” Jessie cried, laughing. Nina pried off the ribbon and opened the lid. Inside under fluffy cotton was a thin gold chain. A golden charm dangled from it. Nina held it away from the sun, trying to get a good look at the charm.
“Why, it’s a slot machine!” Andrea said. It was about an inch square, with a minuscule handle. Nina touched the handle with the tip of her finger and it clicked down. The reels moved and three gold stars popped up. A tiny bell jingled.
“It’s a scream,” Andrea said. “Look at this, kids!”
“It always comes up stars. You always win. It’s for good luck,” Jessie said.
“I love it,” Nina said. Andrea helped her put it around her neck.
“Well, gotta go. Hope you’re going to get a few days off. Coming!” she called to Gabe, who was starting to holler. She said, “Bye!” and ran back to the truck.
“Cast off, Andrea,” Matt said. “Sit down, Nina.”
“Just a second. Kenny! Hey!”
Kenny leaned back out the window.
“Good luck in your new job!”
“Thanks! Prince Hatfield said to say hello!” They were shouting to be heard over the motor.
“Who?”
“Prince Hatfield!”
“From the Gaming Control Board? When did you see him?”
“Yesterday! He’s my new boss!”
Nina cupped an ear. She had sat down and Matt was moving slowly out.
“My new boss!” Kenny yelled, but it was faint on the wind. “I’m taking Miller’s job!” He waved and the truck left.
“Uh oh, shoot,” Nina said, dropping Jessie’s gift box. The small carton disassembled. Below the cotton that had held the charm snuggled a folded piece of paper. “What’s this?” She unfolded it.
A great big bonus check from Jessie. “For everything, with my thanks,” said the memo line.
“Jackpot,” Andrea said, peering over her shoulder at the amount. “Nina, I’m so glad for you! You are going to keep it?”
Nina put the check into her jacket pocket and zipped it tightly. “I certainly will, at least until Sandy gets her hands on it. Oh, Andrea! I can finally give Sandy a bonus.”
Ahead of them, water and wind. Matt pushed forward on the throttle and they roared out. Hitchcock dove to the floor and seemed to put his paws over his ears. Nina made sure she held his leash tight.
“Maybe she’ll take a vacation,” Andrea yelled over the engine. “Which you might find very restful!”
Nina pulled down her hat and hunkered down with the dog, laughing helplessly.
Clouds lay docile behind the mountains surrounded in blue as they cruised all the way across Lake Tahoe. The lake was so transparent Nina felt she could see a hundred feet down. At King’s Beach they dropped anchor and laid out blankets on the beach for a picnic. Matt and the kids went for a walk and Andrea went looking for birds to photograph. Nina pulled off her shirt and lay back in the sun, falling promptly into a doze. All the events of the past weeks rose around her like sand castles, the endless jackpot night, Atchison Potter holding the baby in her office, Dr. Jun’s testimony, the attack on Riesner at the casino, eavesdropping on the boys in the conference room . . .
She was sound asleep when Andrea tapped her shoulder and said, “Wake up, sleepyhead, time to go.”
Bob sat up front with Matt on the way back so Matt could show him how to drive the boat. He took the wheel as they got closer to the shore and treated them to some fast water.
Nina watched Bob from the seat behind. His hair had grown out from the last buzz cut and it streamed in the wind. He wore sunglasses and kept his hands on the wheel, talking with Matt as they went.
She thought of Alex, and Alex’s mother. Brave people.
I’m so lucky. So lucky to be here today with people I love, she thought.
They got in about five and tied up.
“Good work, lieutenant,” Matt told Bob, giving him a soft sock on the chin. They gathered up the gear and Nina stashed the basket on the floor in the back of the Bronco.
“Come on over later if you want,” Andrea called from their car. “It’s Jet Li night around the old DVD.”
“Can’t,” Nina said. “We’re taking off. We’ll be back in a few days. Or so.”
Andrea came over to the Bronco and her practiced eye took in the backpacks in the back seat, the thermos, and the extra jackets.
“You’re taking a vacation?” she said. “How’d you talk her into it, Bob?”
“It was her idea,” Bob said, wiping sand off his feet with a towel.
“Let’s roll,” Nina said. Hitchcock jumped in and Bob climbed aboard and shut the passenger door. Andrea’s eyebrows were up around her hairline.
“Where . . .” she began.
“I’ll call,” Nina said. She reversed, backed up, and bumped out of the lot, leaving Andrea staring after them.
“Mom?” They had just passed Echo Summit.
“Uh huh. Don’t eat all those peanut butter crackers. You’ll be hungry later.”
“You sure this is a good idea?”
“I don’t know, Bob.”
“How long before we get there?”
“About five and a half hours.”
“I guess this means you love him.”
“No, it doesn’t, honey.”
“Well, what does it mean, that we’re going to Carmel where Paul lives?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Nina said. “All I know is it’s good to be alive.”
Bob lowered the window to let his hand catch the breeze.
They rolled down the mountain, away from Tahoe.
Don’t miss the new Nina Reilly novel
Perri O’Shaughnessy’s
UNFIT TO PRACTICE
Coming in hardcover
August, 2002
Please turn the page to read a preview.
PROLOGUE
AFTER BEING DROPPED OFF at a filthy parking lot underneath a gloomy concrete overpass, Nina Reilly stopped in for coffee at the Roastery on the corner of Howard and Main Street. A river of chilly air flowed through the tunnel-like streets around the skyscrapers of the Financial District. The buildings seemed to lean in at her, threatening. She had her pick of caffeine oases, not that it mattered. She was not here by choice. Any black bile would do.
At the bottom of Howard, the Embarcadero and Bay Bridge buzzed unseen, angry hives of energy. The tall building’s glass reflected the sun’s intense beams right at her. People glowed like aliens, or so she projected. San Francisco wasn’t her city anymore. The town of South Lake Tahoe had sheltered her for the last few years after she left the Montgomery Street law firm where she had begun the practice of law, and the city had become a stranger.
Nina sank into a rattan chair. A young man at the next table, his Chinese newspaper close to his nose, blew steam across his cup.
Women like her, wearing expensive jackets and gold earrings, waited anxiously in line, then carried their medicine right out the door, swallowing on the run.
Where was Jack?
She watched a boy from some cold country, bearing a heavy backpack, lounge against the counter, waiting for his espresso. Next to him a balding man, not very much older but with the suit and briefcase of one who has settled into his life, took an apple from a bowl while the woman behind the counter heated up a muffin. The scent of cinnamon moved through the room, smelling of home, its effect immediate and painful. She thought of Bob, who was staying with her brother, Matt, back in Tahoe. She needed her son beside her but she didn’t want to put him through this. It would hurt him too much.
She looked around. Jack should be here by now.
What a strange and terrible day, she thought, taking in the sounds of traffic and the city through the open doors.
Here she sat waiting for her ex-husband, a man she had never expected to see again, but as a result of this six-month-old legal case they had a closer relationship now than when they were married. Jack as a colleague was a savvy, reassuring presence beside her; a much better lawyer than he had been a husband.
Jack blew through the door from Main Street, tossing a raincoat on the chair next to hers. “Sorry I’m late.”
“I just got here myself. We got stuck in traffic coming off the Bay Bridge. How much time do we have?”
“A few minutes. What time did you leave Tahoe?”
“Four-thirty.” A long, long time before the dawn. She tried to smile back, remembering that attitude is everything. Reinforcements had arrived and she should straighten up.
Jack looked spiffy in his suit, his square jaw scraped clean. Fresh from the blow-dryer, his ginger hair stuck out as if fired by electricity.
Smoothing his hair down with one hand, he read from the green boards. “I’ll be right back,” he said, getting up and walking over to the counter.
Nina watched him sneak in front of a pale office worker, apologizing as if he hadn’t seen her, offering to wait in line behind her, but the girl was already bewitched and said, oh, no, you go ahead. Jack had charm, that rare quality that eased the tensions in the courtroom as well as in life. Good. He would need that magnetism over the next few days.
He returned and slurped, careful of his white collar. Then he took her hand. “Relax, now. It’s just another day in court.” His eyes moved over her in a mix of personal and professional interest. “I like the suit. You could pull your hair back.”
Nina considered the measure of control Jack now had over her, found a barrette in her purse, and pulled her long brown hair back.
“We should go in a couple of minutes. We’ll be more comfortable if we have a minute to settle in before the judge shows up. You look worried. No, you look mad. Mad and worried. What’s up?”
“I’m ready to fight, only who are we fighting? I can’t stand this feeling that we’re being manipulated.”
“So we use the hearing to find out. We focus on that. Meanwhile, don’t get weird on me.”
“I’ll look confident. But don’t tell me how to feel.” His eyes moved to her hand, where she had bitten a nail down to the quick. She rubbed her lips with her finger, opened her briefcase and withdrew a delicate mirror, then looked herself in the eye. The eye was still brown and showed no panic. Amazing.
“Why didn’t you come down from Tahoe yesterday? I can see how tired you are, and we’re just starting. You should have stayed with me in Bernal Heights last night, saved yourself that drive. What did you think I would do? Jump you?”
She didn’t answer, telling herself, this is not the time. Lack of sleep and the months of tension building to this moment were unfettering them both.
“Sorry,” Jack said after a moment. “The shoes are nice. You look remarkably respectable today. Like someone I might marry.” He smiled, and the smile invited her to play along. He always wanted to brush the edge off, smooth things over with humor. “Life is folly,” his eyes told her. When she didn’t smile back, his face hardened and he turned back into Jack the Knife, his lawyer-self. She preferred that. She believed it to be the real him.
His eyes flitted to his watch. “Time to go.”
They left, hustling although they were still early.
Nina’s new briefcase felt heavier with every step. Its contents, tagged paper exhibits, represented months of work. This was the most important hearing of her career. Still, she was not ready. She could never be ready for this.
They moved through a warren of skyscrapers into a dank alleyway. At an outdoor stand, more coffee shot into impatiently jiggling cups. The whole city seemed to be fueled with caffeine, hyper, irritable, on the move. Pushing through double doors, they walked up to a security desk. “Good morning. Do we need to sign in?” Jack asked.
A friendly black woman eyed their attachés. “You going up to the court?”
“That’s us. Is the judge in a good mood?”
“You tell me when you see him. Sign in up there,” she said. “Sixth floor.”
The elevator gleamed bronze and silver. They rode up in silence, exited toward a sign that read, “Quiet, please. Court in session,” and laid their nail clippers, keys, and coins on a brown plastic tray before passing through the metal detector. As Nina walked through, the alarm sounded. The attendant, a young man in a starched white shirt, motioned her back. He looked down at her feet. “Hmm. No buckles,” he said.
She removed her watch and walked through again. Again it rang. By this time other people in a small waiting area to the left, several that she knew, were staring at her. She swallowed and tried to think what in the world she was wearing that would make the thing go off. An underwire bra? No, she’d gone for the soft athletic one, invisible under her suit jacket and more comfortable for a long court day. She was already ridiculous. She felt an urge to flee.
“Your barrette, Nina,” Jack said.
Nodding, she removed it. Her hair billowed out, but she walked through soundlessly this time. The guard smiled at her and handed her the barrette. “Sign in here.” He pushed a lined pad toward her. “Put 9:22 as when you checked in. You don’t have to sign out if you leave for a few minutes. Just at the end of the day.”
“Can we go on in?” Jack asked. “We’re scheduled in Courtroom Two, I believe.”
“The clerk is already in there. Go ahead.”
Nina felt the eyes on her back as they walked inside. “Your hair,” Jack reminded her.
“To hell with it.” She slid her barrette into her pocket.
Small and windowless except for two lengths of frosted glass that ran alongside the door to the waiting area, the courtroom formed a long rectangle. On the right, the trial counsel for the California State Bar, Gayle Nolan, sat at an L-shaped table behind two large black notebooks. Nina and Jack took seats at an identical table on the left, Jack seated on the outside, Nina tucked into the L, feeling the unnatural chill of an overactive ventilation system, grateful for a warm jacket.
Jack put papers on the table and handed her one of two bottles of spring water that were sitting there. She unpacked the briefcase swiftly and efficiently as she had done so many times before in her legal career, getting into it, appreciating the tight organization resulting from so many hours of work.
A study in neutrality, the courtroom walls were brown, white, and gray. The chairs they sat in bore innocuous stripes. The furnishings were affectless, designed to suck moods right out of the air. Details like the clock on the wall, circular, simply numbered, the judge’s podium, and a large digital clock, right now showing dashes instead of numbers, were strictly functional. Behind them a dozen chairs for observers or witnesses lined the back wall of the court.
She could be in Chicago or New York. She could be back in her home courtroom in South Lake Tahoe, the room was so stylized. It reminded her of the set of a play she had seen not too long ago at a little theater, Sartre’s
No
Exit
, a black place presumably surrounded by the Void. Purgatory, timeless and eternal.
But this wasn’t Tahoe. The mountains outside beyond the gray were tall buildings. The dreamlike element, the clash between the bland courtroom and the often terrible events that brought people there, gripped her. What am I doing here? she thought. Who has done this to me?
Jack reached over and ran his hand along her arm.
“Okay?” he whispered.
“Totally freaked out,” Nina whispered back.
“How you can feel that way and still look so Darth Vader-tough I’ll never understand.” Jack fingered an empty Styrofoam cup, a scraping, ghastly wakeup. Gayle Nolan got up, ignoring them, and wheeled in a cart marked Chief Trial Counsel weighted down with thick notebooks, folders in file boxes, and code books. So many papers. Nina tried to enjoy the sight of her struggling with the load. No eager law clerks helping here. Light gleamed off Nolan’s specs as she stacked the paperwork onto her table. Finally, she sat back down.
“Hey, Gayle,” Jack said. “And how are you on this fine morning?”
“Hello, Jack.”
“You can still back out.”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“This whole thing is a laugh.”
“Yeah? I notice she’s not laughing.”
“She wants the last laugh.”
The judge entered from one of three doors at the front of the room behind the podium. They all stood. Extra tall, with a full head of gray hair he had brushed back, he sported a small, neat moustache, not bushy like the one Jack used to wear. He didn’t look at them. The file engaged his attention as he sat down, allowing them to sit too.
A placard at the front of his desk read, Judge Hugo Brock. “We’ll go on the record,” he said. Sitting on his left with headphones over her ears, the clerk clicked on a keyboard. The digital clock at the front flashed to brilliant red life. It was the brightest spot in the courtroom, and they all stared at it as if the day had exploded.
“California State Bar Proceeding SB 76356. In the matter of Reilly,” said the judge.