Motion to Suppress (8 page)

Before leaving, Nina drafted another letter of apology to Jack, which she added to the other yellow sheets in the wastebasket. She drove by the lake heading back to Matt’s, admiring the starry night in spite of memories it inspired, which she moved fast to quash.

At home at last, she hugged Bobby before changing into jeans. The living room, warm and redolent of garlic, olive oil, and wood smoke, enfolded the family in its atmosphere, muting the children’s voices, and the song of their mother, who made up words to an old tune, with the children’s names featured prominently. Matt greeted her, then went outside for wood, saying this would be their last fire of the season. "Summer’s coming," he announced. "Green sky at sunset."

"Is that really real, Uncle Matt?" asked Bobby, who was working on a page of multiplication problems on the floor.

"Good question, Bobby." Matt stroked his chin. "Brings up the issue of real reality versus virtual reality. Save that one for your mom at bedtime."

Nina’s plan had been to say nothing. Instead, she unloaded a censored account of her day on Andrea, who stirred hot noodles, strained them, and snapped fresh green beans in between sips of hot apple cider.

"Here you go again, Nina."

"I wish everyone would quit saying that. Bobby is starting to patronize me too. He’s started saying, ’Figures,’ when I ask him to do anything, like brush his teeth. I don’t think I’m so predictable. I surprise myself more than I care to admit."

Andrea smiled and passed her a noodle. "Too soft, huh? But the kids like them this way." She dug around in her cupboard for a can of tomatoes. "I have to make one batch for them, without any visible ingredients, your basic white noodles and smooth red sauce, and one for us, the lumpy, clean-out-your nose, spiced-up version." She pulled some sausage out of the refrigerator and chopped it. "You said you were going to work four days a week, start slow, leave lots of time for a rich and fulfilling personal life."

"I did say that, but not as eloquently."

Andrea poured oregano, chopped onion and garlic, pepper and salt into the pan where the sausage hissed and spit.

"This case will receive some attention, establish my practice. The money will set me up for a while."

"You could go at that more gradually," Andrea said.

Nina chewed on a breadstick. "I’m not the gradual type. Besides, I’m already in it. She wants me, whether her parents do or not. I hear Riesner’s competent, but this girl has a special problem."

Andrea handed her a pile of mismatched knives and forks and motioned her toward the dining room. "Which is?"

"She’s too fucking beautiful, if you’ll excuse the expression. She’s existing in sex-object limbo, with only male relationships. She would do better with a woman lawyer who could see past her body."

Andrea called from the kitchen, "What I would have given for such a problem in my salad days. But don’t you try to avoid tangling psyches with a client? I mean, you can’t fix everything. All you have to do is the legal part, right?"

"You know from the Tahoe Women’s Shelter how that works, Andrea. Poverty, divorce, support, mental illness, physical disability, employment problems, truant kids, aged grandmothers, bounced checks, alcohol, self-hatred—you name it, the social problems women have are always intertwined with their legal problems."

"But it’s too overwhelming to take all that on. Each of us professional helpers steps in to fix one little part of it, so we don’t end up all together in the psycho ward."

Nina sat down at the table, remembering a custody hearing a few years before. Just before the case was called, she had been arguing vehemently with the opposing counsel that her client, the mother, should have physical custody. After a couple of minutes the lawyer, an imposing, elderly man, had stepped back from her and said in an accusatory tone, "Why, you’ve become completely personally involved!" So what? Her client was about to lose her kids! But back then, all she had felt was shame, the shame of acting like a human being when she was supposed to be acting like a lawyer.

"I care enough about her to want to fight a legal battle for her. She’s got her own rounds to go, starting with her father."

After the spaghetti was wiped off the three smaller faces and Popsicles were inserted in their mouths, Matt pushed himself back from the big plank table he had built for his family. "Ever notice—"

"Don’t say it, Matt."

"How murder fascinates you?" he finished. In the silence that followed, Nina could feel her heart beating, fast.

"I hate it when you get so dramatic, Matt," Nina said to her brother.

"Murder fascinates you," he repeated. "The appeals you did in murder cases got you involved but kept you at a nice, safe, intellectual distance, but this is different. You’ll be dealing with the people and the raw emotion."

"I’m a big girl," Nina said.

"Wouldn’t it be wiser to take the conservative path here?"

"I expected it, but I’m still surprised at you, Matt." Nina reached to push the curtain back on the window and sighed.

"Oh, just being brotherly. Talk to Jack yet?" Matt asked. "Not that it’s any of my business, but on the one hand you say you want to work things out with him, and on the other hand you move to Tahoe and leap into what looks to be a long, heavy case." Andrea gave him a look that silenced him.

"No, I haven’t. You’ll be the first to know."

"What the hell," he said. "I never did a safe thing in my life." He tugged his wife’s hair and smiled. Raising his voice so that the children could hear, he cried, "I’m going outside to look for the moons of Jupiter. Moons of green cheese with goats to eat it." Children ran for coats and gloves while Andrea shook her head.

"Nobody’s ever going to believe you if you keep that up," she told him while he maneuvered the telescope toward the French doors leading to the patio.

He stopped on the way out to rub tomato sauce from a finger onto her cheek and then kiss it. "What’s life without little mysteries?" he said.

Nina took some plates into the kitchen, stacking them too high and holding them too tightly. Matt and Andrea were afraid for her and it was catching. She didn’t want protection, she wanted support.

Standing there at the sink, yawning while she waited for the hot water, she realized one reason why she wanted the case. Misty trusted her. This time, she wouldn’t betray that trust.

8

NINA AWOKE THURSDAY morning to rain drumming on the metal roof. Carl Tengstedt called during breakfast. In a formal tone, he asked her to represent Misty. Just as formally, she agreed.

Misty had won. Now it began.

She drove Bobby and his cousins to school and arrived at the courthouse early. Misty’s bail hearing and arraignment had been scheduled together for 9:00 A.M. With twenty minutes to burn, she climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Nina peeked through the glass in the door of the main Superior Court courtroom and saw that court was in recess before entering. Collier Hallowell was joking with another man in a suit, his back to the door.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said. "I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Nina Reilly. I have the Patterson case."

Collier Hallowell turned, and she had an impression of kind eyes in a tired face. "Hi, Nina," Hallowell said. "Good to meet you. Do you know Jeff Riesner?" She shook hands with both men in turn, while Riesner’s eyes moved as furiously as an electric screwdriver through her. She wished she were wearing toweringly high heels. Their bodies, between her and the light, shadowed her. Both men had dressed their part. Hallowell wore an inconspicuous gray suit that looked like it had come off the rack of the Men’s Wearhouse, downplaying the terrible power of the State. Riesner was resplendent in tailored blue pinstripes and an Armani tie, to show judges and juries that the defendant had persuaded a man of substance to accept his story.

"Ah, the famous criminal lawyer from San Francisco," Riesner said. "Gracing us with your presence. I’ve certainly enjoyed hearing the phony stories you’re putting out to try to rope in some business. You’re quite a little self-aggrandizer."

"Shucks. I guess that means you don’t want to do lunch after all," Nina said.

"Don’t mind Jeff," Hallowell said. "He’s our resident dickhead."

"I wonder if could have a minute of your time, Collier," Nina said.

"I guess I’ll be running along downstairs," Riesner said. "Oh, one last thing, since I have your attention: Stolen any new clients from me recently?"

This time Hallowell did not come to her rescue. "They’ve all been over," Nina said, "but I have my standards."

Riesner smiled a smile so hollow it sucked up the air. "You’re in way over your head on the Patterson case, deeper than the dead guy. Maybe your client will get that in time."

"Good-bye, Mr. Riesner."

"See you around," Riesner said. "You betcha."

After Riesner left, Hallowell sat down on the counsel table and folded his arms. "You look at home," Nina said.

"With what the county pays me, it’s about all I can afford." She saw now that the tired eyes were friendly gray ones with an engaging smile for follow-up. Women jurors would like his style. "It’s true, I spend my days here."

"How many deputies are there here at the Lake?"

"Four, soon to be down to three in the next round of budget cuts. One for Child Support, one for Muni Court, one for Superior Court, Judge Milne’s bailiwick. That’s me. If we need to we can borrow from Placerville. Where are you from, Nina?"

"San Francisco for a few years, and before that, Monterey."

"You like pretty places."

"Yes, I do. How about you?"

"Born and raised in Tahoe, except for law school at Boalt. It’s a good town, if you can stick it out the first year or two. Quite a few lawyers come up the Hill for a season and decide to move on."

"I’m staying," Nina said.

"Glad to hear it. So we’ll be working together. I have to tell you, the reports have been slow to get to my desk. I don’t have anything to offer in the way of a plea bargain at this point."

"I didn’t come for that. I’d like to be sure I get all the reports you have as they come in."

"Sure. Judge Milne has a standing discovery disclosure order. You don’t even have to ask, we have to give you everything. You can pick up what we have tomorrow morning. You married?"

Should she zing him for that one? "Yes and no," she said. "Why do you ask?"

"Know your enemy." He flashed a winning smile, then checked his watch. "We’d better get downstairs. Judge Flaherty awaits."

"You’re going to do the Muni Court work this morning?"

"Just the Patterson case. I like to work the murder cases from the start." Hallowell walked downstairs with her.

Defendants and their families filled the Municipal Courtroom aisles and seats. The defendants who had not made bail or who were here for bail hearings had already been led in in their orange jumpsuits, sitting together in their own set of pews up front like a bad boys’ church choir. Misty was there, in the back row, an attractive nuisance, her teased hair a flag for the bulls. It was hard to take her seriously. She looked like a babe in a heavy-metal video. Nina gave her an encouraging smile.

The attorneys lounged up front, too, in their own special row of seats near the action. Riesner sat on one end, deep in conversation with an older man who laughed in a low voice as she came up and sat down at the other end. Collier stepped up to the counsel table on the right and started pulling out files. The public defender, a mournful-looking young man with the expression of one who has endured much, had already set up his stacks on the other table.

"Remain seated," said the bailiff. A regal rustling preceded Judge Flaherty to the bench. He popped out of some hidden place, a white-haired, rotund man with a ruddy face.

"Mr. Hallowell?" he said immediately. "You have something down here this morning?"

Collier said, ’’Just one case, your Honor. Patterson. Bail and arraignment."

The judge riffled through his files and said, "Okay, People v. Patterson. Bring the defendant up. Is she represented by counsel?" Nina already stood at the counsel table, and a deputy walked Misty over to stand by her.

"Yes, Your Honor. Nina Reilly, representing the defendant."

"We’ll do the bail hearing first. Mr. Hallowell?"

"As the Court can see from the paperwork, it’s our position that no bail be granted at this time," Collier said. He spoke softly, drawing attention to every word. "Ms. Patterson has no family here and no other real ties. She rents her home and has lived in the area only three years. The charge is as serious as it gets. She is a flight risk."

"Mrs. Reilly?"

Mrs. Reilly would do, though there had never been a Mr. Reilly, except Dad. "There are no statements or actions to show this defendant would flee the jurisdiction, Your Honor. This lady has a full-time job locally, which she has held for eighteen months. The charges against her will certainly be reduced if not dismissed at the preliminary hearing. She has never been charged with any other offense, much less convicted of one. There is no indication that releasing her would cause any danger to others. Request bail be set in the amount of fifty thousand dollars."

The judge raised his eyebrows. "Mr. Hallowell, fifty thousand dollars is ridiculously low for the charge, but three years is almost an old-timer up here. And this young lady has no priors. There are allegations of a struggle just prior to the incident. Is it likely that the Murder One charge will be reduced?"

"It’s too early to say, Your Honor. But she took off when the police tried to question her, Your Honor. If the Court is inclined to grant bail, we would request it be set in the amount of two hundred and fifty thousand."

"Too much," the judge said. He stared at Misty for a moment, then said, "Split the difference. Does one hundred and seventy-five thousand sound reasonable, Mrs. Reilly?"

"I think the defendant’s parents could make one hundred thousand dollars bail, Your Honor. Her father owns a small car dealership in Fresno. The defendant has no assets at the moment, as we have not been able to access a separate bank account of her husband’s yet."

"Mr. Hallowell?"

"Way too low, Your Honor."

"Bail’s set at one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars," the judge said. "Let’s arraign her."

Nina accepted a copy of the charges and waived a reading. "How do you plead?"

Misty looked at Nina, who nodded. "Not guilty," she said.

"Want to set a date for the prelim?" Judge Flaherty asked Hallowell, who already thumbed through his appointment book.

"Three weeks from today, if the defendant is willing to waive time," he said.

"Contingent on my receiving the police reports by tomorrow, we’ll waive time," Nina said. She had no need to consult an appointment book yet. "May twenty-fourth is fine."

"Ten o’clock," the clerk said.

It was over. "I’ll be over to talk to you in a minute," Nina whispered to Misty as she was led away.

Collier Hallowell headed for the hall, with a cluster of people around him. He waved as she turned toward the outer doors.

Nina had checked him out. He had won a statewide reputation for ten years of successful prosecuting. He’d had many offers to move up to the big cities, but he refused to leave Tahoe. He would be running for district attorney next year.

Collier Hallowell, not Jeff Riesner, worried her, with his good looks, mild manner, and that sweet self-deprecation. He was the good old boy to beat.

Misty Patterson looked glad to see her back at the jail. "My dad said he left a check for you at your office in the slot last night, Nina. Did you get it?"

"Haven’t been by there yet, but he called this morning to tell me."

"He’s not exactly ... but I’m glad you’re going to be my attorney. I felt safe standing next to you today."

Nina shook off the superstitious shiver inspired by this vote of confidence from a girl who did not seem to have the good judgment of a fly. "I’ll do everything I can."

"I believe that." Misty looked slightly more relaxed today. Her eyes showed signs of life.

"How are you?"

"Better. I met somebody I can talk to in here, Delores. That helps. The food is terrible. That makes me want to throw up."

"Don’t trust anybody," Nina said.

The girl rubbed her hands together. "Yeah, I got you. You told me not to talk about my case. I don’t."

"Good. I talked to your parents a few minutes ago, Misty. They are going to have to get a loan on their house. Unfortunately, that means we can’t get you out of here immediately."

"Oh, no."

"We’ll get you out as soon as possible. I promise. I’m going to need some time to investigate the facts. I won’t even have the lab reports and police reports until tomorrow."

"I keep going over and over it in my mind," Misty said. "I hit him, but I swear he was conscious when I went into the kitchen. I told him I was calling the doctor and he nodded his head. Want to hear something totally odd?"

"What?"

"I miss him. Inside, all the old feelings are still there, comfortable, like his old shirts I used to wear, only there’s no place to hang them."

"Some of those feelings can’t have been good ones," said Nina.

The girl shook her head and chewed a piece of hair. "I used to feel lousy about going home in case he was in a bad mood, but I was kind of used to that. Now I’m pretty much tripping all the time. I don’t have a clue about what to do, and Anthony is still harassing me. He’s still deciding what I wear and get to eat, where I sleep. Like he’s not really gone, he just figured out a way to squeeze me tighter. It will never be over now, I’ve got my own private ghost."

"It doesn’t have to be that way...."

"If I killed him, I wish I’d done it better. I should have hid him out deeper. If nobody found him, I wouldn’t be in jail, would I?"

"Let’s talk about something else. Who were Anthony’s friends, business associates? Can you give me a list?"

"All I know is his ex-wife, Sharon Otis, the one I told you about already. He still did some business with her, I don’t know what. And Peter La Russa at Prize’s. He and Anthony used to go out drinking together. Then there’s Rick Eich, our neighbor, who used to sit out on the deck with him in the summer. Anthony never talked about his Fresno days. Before that, I know he grew up in Philadelphia and his mom supported him and his sister. He was smart but he couldn’t afford college."

"Where’s his family?"

"His sister is somewhere, but they don’t get along. She’s got some problem. She’s disabled or something. He started working when he was fourteen, he told me once. I think he lived with an aunt for a while."

"Did he stay in touch with his sister or his aunt?"

"I don’t think so."

"Had anyone threatened him? Who were his enemies?"

"Anybody who crossed him. Nobody specific I know of right now. He always had some kind of deal going. He did make enemies."

"Tom Clarke was angry at the way Anthony treated you. He wanted you to leave him. How serious are you two?"

"He hasn’t tried to call me once since we came to see you. I think he’s all done with me. I was just a diversion for him. He was just interested in the sex."

"I don’t get this," Nina said. "Misty, tell me something. Since you started going through adolescence and all that, how many ... relationships have you had?"

"With different guys?"

"Different men. Things you never thought would last."