Paper Castles (23 page)

P
HIL WAS back in full swing. Papers, forms, and files, neatly labeled, color-coded, and stacked across the desk. Whenever Savannah walked by the office, he was either on the phone, with his assistant, Cecil, or banging away on the typewriter.

“We have a lot of work ahead of us,” he said.

Savannah liked the action around her. It felt like things were being accomplished. She liked the flurry of other people coming and going, as well. Runners from the attorney’s office downtown, couriering papers back and forth. Without a license to practice law in the state of Georgia, Phil was required to be attached to a local office.

“Pro hac vice,”
he told Savannah.

“Pro what?”

“It’s Latin. It means ‘for this occasion.’ Basically I’m allowed to participate on this particular case, with the understanding that all paperwork presented to the court will be signed by local counsel.”

The thought snuck up and tapped her on the shoulder.
I missed him.

The D.A.’s office sent boxes of files from Price’s office. Phil pored through them, grabbing at far-flung clues, pulling them together, trying to create a cohesive picture. He never stopped looking for the
thing
. The one thing that world open the door to the answer they were looking for. Savannah couldn’t think what that one thing was. She just hoped Phil recognized it when he saw it.

“What’s on today’s agenda?” Savannah said.

“If we’re in agreement, we have to line up appointments with the psychiatrist.” Phil looked at her over his glasses.

He seemed all business today. No friendly banter, no in-depth conversation. Likely braced for her to unravel and slam the door in his face again.

“Okay.” She deliberately kept her answer short, her voice even.

“Kip assured me you were on board.”

“I am.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“You have a choice whether or not to trust me.” He took off his glasses. She stared back, falling into a blue sea where the waters were calm and the last of her indecision slipped away.

“I have to trust you,” she said. “And my brother and Daddy. It’s your job to protect me from myself.” She tried to smile but it was weak.

“We’re not pleading insanity. But when the D.A. tells his version of the story, the fact you don’t remember anything sounds pretty unbelievable.”

“I know.”

“It’s my job to maintain your credibility throughout the trial. If I’m shooting down all the D.A.’s theories, I have to use real ammunition. If there’s a legitimate excuse for the memory loss, then we need to give it to the jurors. They need it.”

“I understand. I’m on board.”

“Only if you’re sure.” His tone was like a door being held open. He wasn’t luring or coercing her inside. She had to step across the threshold herself.

“I’m good.”

“All right. I have the motions ready to file. The D.A. will be notified of our intent. You should know you’ll have appointments with the doctor we choose, as well as one for the State.”

“Kip explained it all to me. But I assume our doctor will testify in my favor and their doctor will say the opposite. Where does that leave us?”

“With reasonable doubt.” Phil cocked his head. “It’s my job to throw so much reasonable doubt onto the courtroom floor the jurors have to step over it to get to their seats.”

“Got it.”

“That’s why I’m still looking for anything I can use to distract the jurors from you. Still looking for the woman Price was having an affair with. She’s definitely some muddy water to throw out there. If we could find out who the hell she was...”

His voice trailed off as he thumbed through the stack of papers in front of him. Savannah sighed, thinking if only she’d thought of having Price tailed by a private-eye, she wouldn’t be sitting here preparing for a murder trial.

Her life was filled with
if only
.

Loud voices were coming from the kitchen. Claudia and Neenie were in there, but this wasn’t their usual bickering. This was angry, top-of-the-lungs shouting.

Savannah and Phil both got up to investigate. In the kitchen, they found Neenie with a death grip on a broom and Savannah thought she might sweep Claudia out with the day’s dirt.

“I said I was sorry,” Claudia shouted, not sounding a bit sorry.

“I don’t care if you’re sorry. It’s no excuse.”

“I told you there was a march today.”

“You’re gonna be marching in the streets all right. Carrying a sign. A sign saying you’re looking for work.”

“What’s going on?” Savannah said.

“I’m a little late for work, Miss Palmerton. I—”

“She thought it was more important to march in the streets than show up to work on time.” Neenie moved one hand to her hip, the other still brandishing the broom.

Claudia puffed up. “This is more important.”

“More important than your job? That’s the problem with you young people— always in a hurry. Everything has to be done right now. “

“Yes, it does. Because you older people are too happy to let things just roll on as usual. I’m not willing to sit here waiting for God to answer my prayers.”

“Now don’t you go blaspheming the Lord.”

Savannah stepped between them, before the Lord struck anybody. “Everyone simmer down.”

“I had to navigate my way through the throng on my way over here today,” Phil said. “It was quite a crowd. And it looked a little intense.”

“It was,” Claudia said. “Some fights broke out when a group of white men started shouting obscenities. Then the police moved in and started arresting people. There was plenty of pushing and shoving.”

“And you could’ve been hauled off to jail,” Neenie said.

Claudia rolled her eyes. “But I wasn’t.”

“I’m sure it will be all over the news,” Savannah said. “That’s one thing this city is used to. As usual, Savannah is ahead of her time.”

Phil caught her eye and grinned. “Yes she is.”

N
EENIE WAS packing a beach picnic: cold fried chicken and hard boiled eggs went into a large wicker basket, with all kinds of goodies piled on top. Savannah and Phil would never be able to eat it all.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come, Neenie?” Savannah glanced at Phil and winked, already knowing the answer.

“You may have salt water in your veins,” Neenie said. “But count me out. Your daddy always said you were a tadpole. Always had to have one foot in the water. Why anyone wants to walk around with grit in their shoes and salt blowing in their face is beyond me. Besides, I’d spend the entire day sweeping that sand back out where it came from.”

“All right, calm down,” Savannah said. “No one is making you go to the beach. You stay here and relax. Read a book. Visit a friend. Sleep in. Live a little.”

“Right.”

“Neenie.”

“What?”

“Absolutely no fighting with Claudia.”

Neenie put her nose up in the air. “With who? I don’t know anybody by that name.”

“Come here, you.” Savannah locked her arms around Neenie’s neck and gave her a loud smooch on the cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you more than biscuits and gravy.” Neenie kissed her back, then swatted her behind.

Phil drove to Tybee Island with the top down on his new rental car. Savannah laid her head back, her face soaking up the sun. The closer she got to the ocean, the easier it was to breathe.

She rolled her head towards Phil, studying his hands on the steering wheel. She loved a man’s hands in general, and liked watching Phil’s in particular. The veins like pulsing currents just under his skin. Fingers twirling a pencil when he was thinking, or running through his hair when he was frustrated.

She turned away, looking out her own window. Lately, she’d spent too much time watching Phil. Obviously it was why she dreamt about him last night.

And his hands.

On her.

She woke up out of breath and flushed. She sat there in bed, the straps of her nightgown loose on her arms, and warm arousal on her thighs.

She tried to be reasonable. It was only natural that she dreamt of him. They spent hours together. She trusted him. Her fate was in his hands.

Oh God, those hands. Maybe coming to the island together wasn’t such a great idea after all.

A tropical storm was forecasted for the general vicinity and Savannah, eager to get a break from the city, decided to go shutter the house. When Phil asked if she’d need any help, and mentioned he’d love a couple of days at the beach, what could she say?

She was happy to have him along. He could sleep in the little guest house and be perfectly comfortable.

But that was before her dream last night.

Reel it in, Savannah.

As soon as they pulled up to the house, Savannah had her car door open. Daisy jumped out from the back seat and raced Savannah to the shore.

Phil joined them on the beach minutes later.

“Enjoying your welcome home, golden girl?”

Savannah squinted up at him. “Golden girl?”

“Yeah. Everything about you is golden. Even your dog.”

Savannah laughed, but shook her head. “Gold doesn’t tarnish.”

Phil brought the basket down and they had an early dinner on the beach. They feasted on Neenie’s fried chicken, with fresh cucumbers, onions and cherry tomatoes bathed in a vinaigrette dressing. Savannah watched Phil lick his fingers, roll his eyes and grin with pure satisfaction. She smiled too, but not about the food.

Phil refilled her glass from the bottle of wine they’d wedged in the sand.

“Neenie is something else,” he said.

“What brought that up?”

“Just thinking about this fabulous chicken,” Phil said, eyeing her over his drumstick. “She’s pretty special to you, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea.”

“What’s the story between you two?”

“Why does there have to be a story?”

Phil wiped his hands on his napkin, then leaned back on his elbows. “I’ve been watching the two of you.”

“You’re always watching.”

“I
observe
.”

“Excuse me.” Savannah nodded. “You’re right. Observe sounds so much more professional. Watching makes you a peeping Tom.”

“Now you’re completely off track,” he said, laughing. “It’s my job to watch
and
observe people, especially in the courtroom. Not just the judge and the D.A., but he jury, as well.”

“What do you mean?

“I watch them constantly. Gauging their reaction to testimony. See if they fidget, lean in, take notes, raise their eyebrows, look bored, look away. It’s a science.”

“And you’re a professor.”

“Of sorts.”

A comfortable moment passed between them. The sun hung low in the sky, the breeze, blew and the wine knocked on the door where secrets were kept.

Savannah looked at Phil stretched out on the blanket, beach shorts showing long, lean legs. A casual knit shirt hanging loose. He looked like he belonged at the beach.

Like he belonged in this moment.

Trust him
.

“You’re right,” she said.

Phil looked up. “About what?”

She took a deep breath. “I have a story.”

“Want to tell me?”

“I do.” She was surprised she did and the words came slowly at first. They’d been locked up for so long; they didn’t know how to behave in the open air. Like moles coming out of their dark holes, blinking and blinded by the sunlight.