Obstruction of Justice (11 page)

Nina doodled rings on her pad, as mystified as ever about the family.

"He knows I can’t admit I took it off Ray’s finger!" she said. "I’m sorry, but it sounds so awful, like I was so greedy and heartless that I would remove a dead man’s wedding ring."

"Just say it was a memento you wanted to keep."

"Everyone would know I was lying. A reporter from the Mirror called just before I left and tried to ask me some questions about these papers. I couldn’t stand for that to be made public."

"Sarah, have you thought... I understand Mr. de Beers was out of town when Ray’s death occurred. I ... heard that he was unable to get back in time for the funeral."

"So?"

"Maybe he has developed some silly ideas about Ray’s death because he couldn’t see the body. Sometimes that’s important when a loved one dies," Nina said, treading carefully. "I understand your feelings. But I wonder—if he’s going to obsess about this, come up with wild accusations and so on—maybe we should just let him have a look, and make sure the casket is buried again right away."

"No! That isn’t what he wants, Nina! It won’t satisfy him! I called him this morning and tried to talk to him, but he won’t listen. He said some things—I couldn’t believe what he was thinking."

"What did he say?"

"He wants to persuade the world that Leo killed Ray. He’ll find someone who’ll lie for him, someone who’ll frame Leo. I don’t know how he’ll do it; I just know he will."

"Why would he think that, Sarah?"

"He thinks that Leo and I are having an affair," Sarah said in a choked voice.

"Are you?"

"No! Leo has been a tremendous help to me and the kids. He’s a friend, one I don’t want to lose because of Quentin’s dirty mind. Besides, I was with Leo when Ray was killed. And how would Leo make lightning strike Ray? It’s insane...."

"Were you thinking of leaving Ray?"

Sarah stopped, her mouth open. "Yes," she whispered. "I suppose I was. I hadn’t told him yet, but he knew it. I was... a little afraid of Ray."

"If your marriage was so unhappy, Sarah, I don’t understand why Ray would object."

"Ray had his fears too," Sarah said. "Jason was his life. I think Ray knew that if I went, Jason would go with me. He wanted Jason to come into the business with him. If I was here with Molly, he knew he could keep Jason here, and there wouldn’t be much else Jason could do in Tahoe.

"Or maybe Ray just couldn’t bear to give up one possession, even an old one he hardly ever used anymore." She laughed again, a dry, hard sound that ended abruptly. "Maybe he remembered loving me once. Anyway, he’s dead now.

"But you see, Quentin feels the same way about us. He wants us all here, close by. He has this need to keep us under his thumb, just like Ray had. He wants Jason to come into the business, just like Ray did. Jason’s the heir to the de Beers name, you see. Quentin is very proud of the family name. He once told me he had the family traced back to Charlemagne."

A long silence. Sarah had run down, and Nina had to make a decision. It would be best not to get enmeshed in this messy family brawl, and there was the possible conflict of interest—but Sarah was really trying; she deserved to be able to move on, and Quentin was wrong....

"Okay. I can deal with the conflict problem," Nina said. "As to the motion, I believe the cemetery caretaker might be able to state for the record that in his opinion the grave hasn’t been disturbed. Let me ask you one more time. Are you willing to file a declaration stating that you removed the ring prior to your husband’s burial?"

"No. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find another way."

"I don’t know if I can, but I believe your wishes in this matter should carry a lot of weight anyway."

"I’m sorry—I know I’m not making it easy."

"You don’t have to apologize all the time," Nina said, "Even though, I admit, it’s a nice change from what I usually hear."

"Oh! I’m sorry—I didn’t know I was apologizing." Then she heard what she had just said and had the grace to smile. "I’ll try to do better," she said.

"I might be able to get the hearing put over for a week or even two. I could use some extra time."

"No, no. Until this is over... Nina, my life is in shambles. And it’s the same for Molly and Jason. We can’t wait."

"All right. I’ll help you, Sarah. I’ll draft some responsive papers for you to sign. I’d like to get declarations from your son and daughter as well, opposing the exhumation. There isn’t much time."

"Thank you. Thank you so much." This time her smile was relieved. "Molly gets home from the college about four. If you want to see her, it might be best to come by the house this afternoon after you leave work. We have a place near Regan Beach—400 Dartmouth Way. "

"I’ll drop by, if I can manage to get a draft put together by then," Nina said. "And Jason?"

"I can give you his address. Kenny’s phone has been turned off. What about a retainer?"

"A thousand will get us started, I think. Billed against hours worked, of course."

Sarah wrote out the check. After she left, Nina, trying to make a picture out of all the colors and pieces Sarah had supplied, noticed the check number, 106. Sarah couldn’t have had this account long. SARAH DE BEERS, read the top, 400 DARTMOUTH WAY. No sign of Ray’s name.

Sarah was trying to shake Ray de Beers off like a nagging old cough.

Paul stopped by the Tahoe courthouse to catch Collier Hallowell just before noon. He found him in the law library, sitting at a scratched oak table and whispering to another attorney while other leather-dress-shoe types scribbled at other tables.

"Excuse the interruption," Paul said, keeping his voice down.

"No problem, Paul. Meet Jeremy Stamp. Jeremy is—"

"I know your firm, Mr. Stamp. I’ve been in court with Nina Reilly opposite Jeff Riesner." He pulled up a chair, and shook Stamp’s hand at the same time.

Stamp had the lean body and calorie-deprived look of a fitness freak. Long-distance runner, Paul thought. He was about five-nine or thereabouts, so he probably didn’t weigh more than one-forty. Paul felt like a rhino sitting next to him.

The suit, watch, shoes, and haircut all said major money. He had the easy smile of the man who has made it by fifty and only works because he enjoys it. "What a coincidence," Stamp said. "I received a phone call from Ms. Reilly’s office this morning. Will you be working on the de Beers case?"

"Not that I know of," Paul said. "I’m up here on other business at the moment."

"Really." Stamp glanced at his watch. Paul had seen that heavy gold I.W.C. model in a catalog that also sold yachts and airplanes. "See you later, Collier. I’m afraid I’ll be unavailable this afternoon. I’m playing golf at the Edgewood course." He rose, waving to Paul. "Don’t you boys work too hard."

"Ah, get outta here," Collier said. Carrying his briefcase as lightly as an empty file folder, Stamp breezed out the open door.

"Nina better watch out," Paul observed. "He’s the type with a squadron of eager legal groupies laboring away back at the office. He’ll show up in court fresh and rested after a round of golf."

"He’s what we all aspire to," Collier said, back up to his shirtsleeved elbows in law books. "Rich, respected, and semiretired."

"Lunch?" Paul said.

"Can’t. I have a trial resuming at one-thirty. Judge Milne wants to meet the lawyers in chambers at one to work out a couple of problems. I’m researching those now." He didn’t exactly sound impatient—that wasn’t his style—but there was a zone of high pressure around him.

"It’s past noon, man. You have to eat."

"I’ll eat later. Anything to report, Paul? I can spare five minutes." Other patrons of the law library had taken Paul’s side and gone to lunch, leaving behind stacks of books and scraps of paper.

"I took some samples at the scene. It’s a long shot, but I have Ginger Hirabayashi in Sacramento doing some lab work. I also put an ad in the paper. Reward for information, and so on. Anonymous, of course." Paul gave Hallowell a copy of the ad.

"I tried that three years ago."

"Let’s try it again. We have to get the word out. We’re going to have to make our luck in this case."

"Yeah. You’re right."

"And I talked to Kim Voss."

Hallowell looked up. "She’s interesting, isn’t she? Could she add anything?"

"Hard to say. I’m still working on that. We had dinner last night." Paul warmed to this irresistible topic. "Collier, you remember that scene in The Hustler where Paul Newman is standing with Piper Laurie at her door? She’s wearing a tight skirt and this little cardigan and pearls, and he’s lost everything; he’s finished; he’s got nobody; and he’s with this girl. She’s just met him; she’s a little afraid of him; and suddenly Newman moves in on her and they start kissing. Only he’s so intense, it gets heavier and heavier until you know he’s out of control. You remember that?"

"Not really," Hallowell said.

"And she breaks away. She looks at him. Her lips are swollen up and she’s got these smoky eyes, and she says to him— You don’t remember this?"

"Not ringing a bell yet, Paul."

"She says in this low voice that you have to strain your ears to hear, ’You’re too hungry.’ Amazing statement, isn’t it? ’You’re too hungry,’ she says. And she runs through her door and locks it from the other side. You hear the latch and Newman’s standing there with this hound-dog face staring at her door, like he’s gonna burn holes through it with his hot eyes, and for a minute there you think he’s gonna break the door down—"

"I take it you liked Kim," Hallowell said.

"That’s how it went, no shit. She had to run from me. I haven’t felt that way for a long, long time, buddy."

"I thought that you and Nina had something going," Hallowell said.

"Pure Plato from here on out," Paul said. "Nina dumped me. She used the ’friends and colleagues’ speech. She’s got something against me. You should be glad. You’re the lucky fellow she dumped me for."

"I doubt that," Hallowell said, looking startled.

"Come on. I know you’ve taken at least one long look hello into those big brown eyes."

"Let’s not talk about Nina again right this minute, okay, Paul? I’m in trial, and whatever else I’ve got left, I’m putting toward Anna. Remember her? You’re working the case, aren’t you, in addition to your other interests?"

"Yeah, I’m working."

"Good. Then I can relax and do the same." Hallowell hunched back over the books and papers on the table in front of him.

Paul returned to his van, hesitated, and decided to pick up the painting he wanted to buy from Kim, and any other lucky thing that came his way. The Eagle radio station from Sacramento was belting out classic rock from his quadraphonic sound system, the traffic was light, and he was Newman on his way to see a woman.

Meantime, he would do a little business. Picking up the cell phone with his free hand, he called the lab in Sacramento.

The long day passed like a dream. Nina talked to people until she was hoarse, zipped over to court for a sentencing hearing, signed things, dictated things, and went to her lunch meeting. Sandy finished typing up the responsive paperwork in the de Beers case just before five, and Nina took it out to the house.

An area of vacation houses hidden down a long street off Lake Tahoe Boulevard, Regan Beach had only a few large properties, most set at some distance from the lake in sparse woods. The de Beers home, a brand-new three-story edifice with oversize chimneys in the pseudo-Tudor style Nina loved to hate, must have replaced an older structure. From the street all that could be seen was a parking area and heavy foliage.

A walkway led to the side, where she pushed open an unlocked wooden gate. Fringed by trees, a large expanse of lawn and formal flower gardens speckled with cobbled pathways made up the generous backyard, bordered at the far end by a white gazebo with a vista of the distant lake. A gardener in a straw cowboy hat was stooping over one of the flower beds.

Close to the gazebo, Sarah de Beers lay on a white wicker lawn chair shaded from the low late-afternoon sun by a canvas canopy. From all appearances she had been there for quite some time. Her shoes lay kicked aside and forgotten on the soft green tendrils of grass next to the table.

"Sit down," she said, patting the chair beside her. "Time for a nice cool drink." She sounded too relaxed, and Nina thought again that she was probably medicating herself with something. Well, whether it was booze, tobacco, or caffeine, everybody else in America was doing it too.

"Thanks, but I have to drive—"

"Stay long enough to sober up, then." Taking a martini glass from a tray on the table, she asked Nina, "What’s your preference? Seven to one, like publishers prefer their martinis? Or do you like your vermouth the way they say Winston Churchill took it, across the room, to be glanced at briefly?"

"You’re going to laugh, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a martini," Nina said, giving in to her curiosity. She couldn’t imagine a life where you had an afternoon available to pour gin down your throat, but she had had a difficult day, and the thought held a certain appeal.

She stretched out on the padded chaise beside Sarah, letting her back de-kink. The afternoon breeze caressed her knees. Lake Tahoe was a twenty-six-mile-long glossy sheet under the blue North Shore mountains right in front of her, but her thoughts were still on the job.