Writ of Execution (7 page)

Morning had broken, Blackbird had spoken. It was the end of the first day.

7

“I HAVE TO hand it to you,” Paul said when he called Nina eight hours later, but in spite of this encouraging conversation opener, he sounded disturbed.

She had slept into Monday afternoon. Sandy had called and woken her a half hour before Bob had busted in, back from the tennis camp she had put him in for the summer.

She was ministering to her caffeine habit out on the deck, her eyes crusty as though she’d gone through a sandstorm, the portable phone in its usual arthritis-provoking position between neck and chin. The check had been reverently placed in a small safe in a hole behind the bathroom mirror upstairs.

She could just see Bob, half-hidden in the limbs of a gnarly giant in the backyard, the only oak for blocks among the firs and pines. He sat there eating a baloney sandwich, his legs swinging, and she hadn’t had breakfast yet. Hitchcock, their black malamute, rushed around in disorderly circles under the tree, barking thunderously.

“You would have thought of it,” she said. Paul-style, he was starting with something easy to talk about. He would get around to whatever he would get around to soon enough. In preparation for that moment, she treated herself to an extralarge slug of coffee.

“The scarf and the sunglasses—yeah, I see now that you had a couple of things in mind, not just helping her avoid the reporters. You manipulated the situation so I had to drive her home,” he said.

“Guilty,” Nina said. “But thanks, Paul.”

“Even so, she got out at the entrance to the neighborhood, so I still don’t know exactly which house she lives in. Man, she is paranoid. And then I still had to park Kenny someplace and get back myself. So I just put Kenny up at Caesars where I am. On your credit card. He claimed he was broke.”

“That’s fine,” Nina said. “I’ll check with Jes—uh, Joya about the expense item, but I imagine she saw that coming. At least we can keep an eye on him there. She told me she was a Washoe, Paul, but I hadn’t had a chance to tell you. Sandy lives out that way. There’s a loose-knit colony there, although most of the tribe members live in Dresslerville out in the Carson Valley.”

“Why don’t they just call it ‘the rez,’ like other tribes?” Paul said.

“I don’t know. Maybe because there’s not a typical reservation.”

“Why not?”

“To make a long and tragic story short, so many of them had died off by 1880 that the government figured the Washoe were too close to extinction to bother even acknowledging. They weren’t officially recognized as a tribe until the twentieth century. But they survived, although there are only about fifteen hundred of them.”

“If Sandy and Jes-Joya are examples, I’m not surprised they made it,” Paul said.

Damn the man’s steel-trap mind. “Oh, they’re doing pretty well these days. They finally got some land back at Tahoe, and they’re about to develop some acreage along the highway near Dresslerville.”

“A casino, no doubt,” Paul said.

“That has been suggested. Sandy tells me that there’s a company which has brought in some limited partners to try to convince the tribe to build a casino. But so far most of the tribal council seem to be leaning toward putting in an office complex instead.”

“Why not gambling? Moral qualms?”

“You’d have to ask Sandy,” Nina said. “Anyway, we know where she lives. Sort of.”

“Seen the
Chronicle
?”

“I’m reading it now.”
The San Francisco Chronicle
had somehow gotten news of Jessie’s jackpot into its Monday morning paper. Her photo was on the front page of the Datebook section, a photo from the conference room at Prize’s, being hugged by John Jovanic, lost in his bulk and Nina’s scarf. The photo and accompanying story wouldn’t give the man she was afraid of many clues. “They must have held the presses on this one,” she said. “Didn’t make the Tahoe paper yet.”

“I watched a news program on CNN at noon,” Paul said. “There she was, shrouded in glamour and your blue scarf.”

“Don’t use that word, Paul.”

“What word?”

“Shrouded.”

“Do you believe all this stuff she said? About the stalker?”

“I can tell she’s scared. She was pretty convincing. Look what she went through to avoid having her name come out.”

“Well, something’s come up. Along those lines.”

Nina stiffened.

“We have a problem,” Paul said. “The gun—Leung’s Glock—I had it in my pocket after we left the office at one A.M. In all the excitement, I didn’t lock it in the glove compartment like I should have. I left it in my pocket. I remembered it when I woke up this morning, and I checked for it. It’s not there anymore. The only good thing I can say is, it wasn’t loaded.”

“Kenny? Maybe he—it belonged to him, after all.”

“I already called him. He’s two floors down. Woke him up. He says no. So let’s go through my movements. I picked up the gun off Sandy’s desk and went out with Leung and the girl and drove them to Reno. The girl sat up front with me. I waited in the car while they got the license downtown. Then we drove to the Reno Hilton and went down to the wedding chapel. I stuck close to them throughout. The minister and his helpers never came within fifteen feet of me. Then I drove them to the parking lot at Prize’s where you met us. Then we went through the casino and up to the second floor and sweated out the victory party. Then we made the switch with the scarf and I drove her to Markleeville, came back to Caesars, and hit the rack.”

“You’ve searched the Mustang?”

“Yeah. The gun was lifted. I didn’t lose it. There’s a flap on my jacket pocket. The flap was down.” He paused to let this sink in. “I was careless sticking it in my jacket pocket like that. It made a shape, if you knew guns.”

“It was late.”

“I was careless. No excuses.”

“You know the word that comes to my mind?” Nina said. “Ominous.”

“From the root ‘omen,’ a threatening portent. In other words, disaster coming. Anticipate it or bail now.”

“She sat right next to you in the car.”

“She was closest, longest,” Paul agreed. “I was in a crowd as we walked through the casino, though, and upstairs.”

“How would anyone else know you had a gun?”

“Exactly. Unless it was opportunistic, which is always possible where there are people who are losing money left and right.”

“What’s that girl going to do with a gun, Paul?” Nina asked. “We have to get it back.”

“When you talk to her, why not ask her to bring it in?” Paul said. “Never know. Maybe she will. I don’t have a phone number and I don’t know just where she is. I can’t waltz in there and search the neighborhood.”

“If she has it, I’ll get it.”

“Hope you’re right. She said she’d call you this afternoon.”

“We obviously have a few things to talk about.” Nina felt alarmed and disappointed. She harbored some vestiges of idealism about her clients, and it hurt when they persisted in acting like clients, namely, people in trouble.

“Okay. Brand-new subject. Let me get to the final reason for my call. I know how to take away that ominous feeling. It appears that we have the afternoon and evening off, and I have plans for you. This time there will be no phone for miles.”

Nina said, “I’m sorry.”

Silence at the other end.

“I have to deposit that check right away. Sandy has a couple of late appointments lined up for me at the office. The day’s shot, and I have to work late. And I’ve got to do the laundry tonight. Bob’s down to one pair of skivvies. And I have to hit the grocery store. I can’t leave Bob again tonight. He’s spending half his life at Matt and Andrea’s as it is.” Bob, in his tree, hung from one arm like a monkey. “Careful,” she called to him. “Use two hands!”

That was all she needed, a kid with a broken leg. Paul had just gotten over a broken leg himself. They were both getting over things, and maybe she had knocked them both askew, running off to his room. In the shadow of night obscure motives had seized her, and they were unimaginable to her now.

“I can hardly believe my ears. You can’t see me because you have laundry to do. Do I have that right? Is that what you want to tell me?”

She didn’t know what to tell him. She had had time to think; the mood had passed and the memory of her appearance at his door wearing nothing but a coat embarrassed her. “No,” she said. “Yes.”

“Was last night—I mean when you came to my room—a dream? Or some kind of impulsive thing that came over you and will never be repeated?” Paul said, reading her mind.

“I’m not sure, Paul.”

“You’re not sure. Woman, do you know what you did to me? You’re an underground seismic movement and I’m—I’m magma. I’m a great big flow of disturbed magma, and the channel out just closed up. I can’t stand this, Nina. We need to spend some time together. When are you going to be free for a few hours in the evening?”

“You were so wonderful last night. Lighten up. We have so much going on. . . .”

“Nothing’s going on,” Paul muttered, “and that’s the problem.”

Apparently, lightening up wasn’t in his daily planner for today. “I can’t talk about this right now,” Nina said. “I can’t even think about it. Come in to the office first thing tomorrow morning. Where are you on the Brink divorce investigation? We have to finish that. The new client’s going to need a lot of my time.” Nina made it sound casual.

“Sure. Is your young nameless client going to need any of mine? Because otherwise, I’m done here. I’m still putting the business back together in Carmel. I’ve got a home there that I need to tend to. I’m not going to stand around in front of Caesars baaing whenever you walk by.”

“I’m sorry! Okay? I’ve got to work and take care of Bobby, those are the first priorities. . . .”

“Don’t give me that,” Paul said. “Don’t give me that, Nina. You’re backing off. That’s you all the way. Make a move from the heart, then get scared and backtrack. And use Bob as the excuse.”

“Don’t. I try. . . .”

“Try harder.”

“I can’t try any harder! I—”

“Aw, shit,” he interrupted. “We’ve been through all this before. You know what? I hate repeating myself. It offends me. You’ve offended me. So screw it.”

“Then make your report and go home. Because—”

He wasn’t on the line anymore, so she didn’t have to finish that thought. Just as well. The heat had escalated moment by moment, and a flush composed of frustration, self-pity, desire, and fatigue burned through her cheeks. She had wanted to scream at him, really let loose.

Tears came up. She had lost a certain amount of emotional control in the past year. All feelings, not just those connected with her husband’s death, were stronger. She was going to have to get that control back or forget about courtroom work.

Forget about Paul. Take a shower and go to work.

She put the mug to her lips for another swallow of her milky brew, but only dregs dribbled out. “Bob!” she called. “Five more minutes.” She wanted him out of that damn tree, reading a book, eating, unloading dishes, doing anything at all inside where he couldn’t break his neck and his mother’s heart. She went through the sliding glass door into the kitchen to fry some eggs and to refill Hitchcock’s water bowl, keeping a nervous eye on Bob as he made like a chimp.

The phone rang again. She sighed, put it against her ear, and turned the eggs in the pan with a spatula.

“It’s me. Jessie.”

“Hi! How are you?”

“Everybody here knows about it. But they’re pretty cool. I haven’t seen any reporters around and I asked everyone not to tell.”

“I’m glad you’re in Markleeville. Your neighborhood seems like a good place to be left alone, since that’s what you want.”

“Oh. So Mr. van Wagoner—Paul—told you.”

“You said you were staying with an aunt?”

“Yes. I was raised here. I’m very hard to find. I feel safe.” She didn’t add any more.

Nina really didn’t feel like getting into the gun question yet. She needed to eat, settle down. She couldn’t face another confrontation this soon. Maybe, before the accusations started, Jessie would mention it herself.

“So what’s up?” Nina said. “Other than that it’s your first day as a wealthy young woman?”

“I wanted to thank you again for last night. No matter what happens, I’m so glad you were there.”

“You’re very welcome. I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“And I—I feel like if I don’t talk to someone, I’m going to explode. Are you—I realize I’m taking up so much of your time. . . .”

“Well, I’ll let you take up another hour of it. How’s that?”

“Thank you. Uh, I was thinking about Mr. van Wagoner. Paul.”

Nina turned off the fire and slid two of the eggs, salted and peppered and curry-powdered, onto a paper plate.

“Would he be willing to go to Hawaii for me?”

The curiosity this aroused in Nina overcame her hunger. Story coming, she thought, sitting down at the table, her heart beating faster. She put the forkful of egg down and said, “Is that where this problem of yours started?”

“It’s where I was posted, with Combat Service Support Group Three at the Marine Corps base, Hawaii, at Kaneohe.”

“You were in the Marines?”

“I joined right after high school. For two years. I thought the Corps would be my career.” Little things about Jessie began to add up. Her physical fitness, the stalwart way she had gotten through the night, her confident negotiation with Kenny Leung.

“I fell in love,” Jessie said. “It was the first time I’d ever been in love. I fell in love and I got married. He died in an accident.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I lost my husband too, very suddenly.”

“Then you know. It’s like the future is here, you know who will be in it, you finally have a center to your life. You relax. Then it’s gone. You fly apart. You’re not like before. It’s like being shot in the gut. You’re weak in the one place where you had been so strong. It’s very hard to go on.”

“Yes. I know.” Nina looked down at her left hand, at the rings she still wore, and flashed through her brief marriage, the anguish of losing the one she had loved more than herself.

“When I met Dan, he was a Punahou boy who was a junior at the University of Hawaii,” Jessie said at last.