Reilly 09 - Presumption of Death (11 page)

“We don’t want him out,” Jaime said. “We ask that this be made a no-bail case. This is the third fire in a month. This defendant can’t control himself.”

“Mr. Whitefeather didn’t do anything, Your Honor,” Nina said rapidly. “It’s a mistake that comes from moving too fast. Mr. Whitefeather and Mr. Cervantes were present at the last fire because they were trying to catch the arsonist. He had never been on the mountain before-”

“That’s not what we hear from a witness who chased Mr. Cervantes home during a previous fire,” Jaime said, jumping on her words.

“I don’t want to hear any evidence,” Salas said in a complaining voice. “Am I supposed to try the case today? It’s a bail hearing. He won’t even be entering a plea for a couple of days.”

“Okay, then,” Jaime said. “First-degree murder charge. No bail is the appropriate response. Further, this guy is not a local. He stayed out of sight until the Monterey County Sheriff’s Office, acting on a tip, found him at-sorry, Nina-his lawyer’s condo in Carmel.”

“Is that right.” Salas turned baleful eyes on Nina. “I don’t know you, Counselor,” he said.

“As I mentioned, Your Honor, my offices are-were-in Tahoe.”

“Were?”

“I have closed them and am spending the summer here.”

“And where are you practicing law?”

“I share space in the Eastwood Building in Carmel.”

“Hmm.”

“The same office the defendant is allegedly working out of,” Jaime said.

“I am appearing for purposes of the bail hearing and arraignment, if it comes to that,” Nina said. “Naturally, Mr. Whitefeather might prefer local counsel in the event this goes much further.”

Jaime said, “We have a nonlocal vouching for a nonlocal. These fires-a lot more people could die. We owe it to the public to hold on to Mr. Whitefeather.”

“We are asking for reasonable bail to be set, Your Honor. Any reasonable bail. Mr. Whitefeather makes two thousand dollars a month. Something that will make it possible for him to get out.”

“I’m going to allow bail,” Salas said abruptly.

“But, Judge…” Jaime started.

Salas flung down the file. “One million five,” he said.

Angels must have flown over, because the courtroom got reverent for a moment. Even the regulars in back stopped shifting from buttock to buttock along the benches. A small smile cracked Jaime’s young-old face.

She wasn’t a local like Jaime anymore. Salas was letting her know he didn’t like out-of-towners.

“That would require that Mr. Whitefeather put up a hundred fifty thousand dollars for a cash bond,” Nina said steadily. “His family can’t raise that amount of money, and they certainly don’t have collateral for the remainder either. I request that the court reconsider.”

“One million five,” the judge said again, addressing Nina directly. “You want bail, you got bail.”

“That kind of bail I can do without.”

“Then do without. You want no bail? You smart-mouthing me?”

“No, Your Honor.” Geez, Nina thought, the first in 155 years and he’s gonna make up for it all this month. She suppressed that unworthy thought.

The judge glanced at the clock on the wall and the roll of his eyes said, Judge to defense counsel: You are wasting your time.

“Anything else?” Salas said. Nina and Jaime stood silent.

“So ordered.” The judge picked up his shiny gavel and gave it a rap. Only new judges did that.

She had a moment with Wish before the bailiff took him back to jail. “I wouldn’t even let me out,” Wish said. “Not the way it sounds. My camera! The firebug-he must’ve picked it up and hit Danny with it. Why did I give in? Danny and his dumb ideas!”

“Keep your spirits up, Wish. You’ll be arraigned soon.” She explained the purposes of arraignment. “I’ll see you then.”

“Nina, you and Paul have to find out who set those fires. That’s all I can think about. Who did it. Who…”-he choked on his words-“who killed Danny. Who put me in jail.”

Huge questions. “Your mom is flying in tonight. She’ll come to see you after supper.”

“Yikes! That’s all I need.”

“I’ll try to explain it all to her at dinner.”

“Well, at least I finally have a topic for my term paper next semester,” Wish said. “‘Life in the Joint.’ Like the title? I’m keeping a journal.”

Nina tried to smile. “So something good will come of this.”

“It’s an experience few law-enforcement officers get to have. That is, if I ever get to be a law-enforcement officer.”

“I’m very sorry I couldn’t get you out-” Nina said.

“If you couldn’t, nobody could-”

“But you won’t be in there long, Wish. I promise you that.”

7

P AUL WORKED ON DINNER WHILE NINA left to pick up Sandy at the airport, borrowing the Mustang. They spoke in monosyllables to each other. They had quarreled, and neither of them seemed to want to clear the air yet.

Sandy waited outside the small terminal in the fog, wearing her familiar square purple coat, bag at her side. Nina loaded the bag into the trunk while Sandy maneuvered herself into the front seat, grumbling. She was a sizable lady and the Mustang rode low to the ground.

“You aren’t driving with the top down,” Sandy said, and it wasn’t a question.

“Of course not.” Nina raised the Mustang’s roof and clamped it into place. “Good flight?” she asked.

“What do you think?”

Uh-oh. Sandy was not going to be conventionally polite. She was, perhaps, in a mood of towering fury. Nina braced herself. “You’ll like Paul’s condo,” she said. “View of the ocean, up high on a hill. Private.” She was trying for conventional politeness just in case.

Sandy swatted this small talk away. “Have you seen Wish?”

“Yes. This afternoon. He’s okay, Sandy. Says it’ll be a learning experience, being in jail.”

“In jail,” she repeated. “You call that okay.” She folded her arms and looked out at the scenery for the rest of the ride without further comment.

Although they had invited her to stay at the condo, Sandy had decided to spend the night at a motel in Seaside. She had lined up a rental car and would be doing a blitz trip to Tahoe to see Joseph Whitefeather, Wish’s father, before returning east, so she needed to leave early.

Sitting at the dinner table, she eyed the meal Paul had made especially for her, turned her obsidian gaze on Paul and Nina, and said, “I knew nothing good would come of this.”

“I thought you liked meat loaf,” Paul said.

The glare intensified. “Closing the office. Running away. Bringing Willis down here.” She had a sip of ice water.

“I thought you were glad to go to Washington,” Nina said, feeling defensive. “How’s your work going?”

“Ever been there?” Sandy asked.

“No,” Nina said.

“You never saw so many pink-cheeked little old men in one place at one time before in your life.”

“I’ve heard,” Nina said, “you’re doing good work up there, Sandy. The people in Tahoe are really proud of you. I saved an article from the
Mirror
about how much you’ve already improved the visibility of the Washoe tribe. ‘An effective and vigorous presence in Washington,’ they called you.”

“What do they know?” Sandy said, although Nina thought she detected a minuscule relaxation of the stern crease between her eyebrows.

“How long will you be working there?” Paul asked. “Must be hard on Joseph, you working on the East Coast.”

“Maybe a couple of months, if these people working with me are ready to take over then. Then I’m back at the ranch with Joseph at Tahoe. And visiting my son, the convict, the way things look.”

“Is Joseph coming down?”

“He’s laid up for a month. He had a little accident and can’t get around.”

“Don’t worry,” Nina said. “We’ll find a way out of this.”

“At least he came to you as soon as he could.”

“He’s feeling very bad about his poor judgment in following Danny. And he’s lost a friend. Don’t be too hard on him.”

“I won’t be hard on him. Joseph’s the one who’s gonna be hard on him. Joseph was so proud of Willis. He was going to be the first one in our family with a college degree.”

Shocked, Nina said, “Wait a minute, Sandy. Wish isn’t going to be convicted of anything. Maybe you have the wrong impression. He didn’t do anything.”

Sandy picked up her fork. “Well,
bon appétit,
” she said. “He did something, all right. Got himself in legal trouble.”

Nina couldn’t deny that. After a moment she went on, “There’s something I need to ask you about. This arson investigator, David Crockett…”

Her mouth opened slightly, an expression tantamount to astonishment in her. “Who? Are you kidding me?”

“Not at all.”

“Davy Crockett? That’s not a good sign. Oh, boy. You know who he was?” Sandy asked.

“The historic Davy? Sure. He was the king of the wild frontier, the buckskin buccaneer. Kilt him a bear when he was only three,” Paul said.

“His grandparents were killed by the Creek and Cherokees when the grandparents tried to steal tribal land in eastern Tennessee,” Sandy said.

“I didn’t know that,” Nina said.

“No friend to the Indians. Killed as many as he could. Commanded a battalion in the war to bring down the Creek Indians in 1813.”

“This guy’s name is just a fluke,” Nina said. “I’m sure his politics aren’t affected by anything so remote.”

“Did you ask him?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know? It’s too much of a coincidence. It must mean something.”

“Anyway,” Nina said. “If I may return to my point, Detective Crockett told us that Wish was arrested as a juvenile for some kind of arson.”

“Now, how would he know that?”

“Was he?”

“You know how many boys take fireworks out into a field and try to blow things up?” Sandy asked.

“Yeah, we had some fun,” Paul said.

“They sure made a big deal of a pile of kids blasting out a dead stump,” Sandy said. “Too bad they don’t put as much energy into saving the live ones. And aren’t those records supposed to be sealed?”

“Yes,” Nina said, “but you can’t always depend on the rules working properly. People…”

“Bend them,” Sandy said. “Davy Crockett. Oh, boy.” She took a bite of meat loaf, chewed slowly, tried some more, and then ate down to the bare plate.

“Now then,” she said. “Let’s get the money straight.” She opened her purse and took out her checkbook. “I’m retaining you both.”

“I knew it. You do love my meat loaf,” Paul said. “Consider that my payment.”

“It was good. Lots of ketchup, and the crumbs were toasted right.”

“There you have it,” Paul told Nina. “Now for some strawberry shortcake.”

“But I want to hire you. Now, don’t turn this into something mushy. Joseph and I are giving you this check.” She tried to hand Nina a check for a thousand dollars. Nina wouldn’t take it.

“We insist,” Sandy said. “And there’s more available when you need it.”

“I can’t take your money, Sandy,” Nina said.

“Why not? My money’s not good enough for you? My boy’s a charity case?”

“Of course not-”

“I’ll write out the receipt for myself. And watch out for that Crockett man.”

Nina let the check lie on the table. For now.

They finished the meal quickly, then Nina and Paul dropped Sandy off at the jail to talk with Wish. Before she got out of the car, Sandy said to Nina, “When you coming home?”

“You mean to Tahoe? I just got here.”

“Seen your dad?”

“Not yet.”

“You should do that.”

“What is bothering you about me being here?”

“Look around you.” Sandy waved her arm with its silver bracelets. “See any mountains here? And what about this gray cloud you live in?”

“I’m glad she’s here,” Paul told her, squeezing Nina’s hand, “and I’m glad Wish came down. In spite of everything.” He seemed to remember something and withdrew his hand hastily. Nina knew it was their argument he had remembered. She let him move away.

Stepping away from the car, Sandy smoothed her coat, working up to something. Finally, she said, “Find out who’s behind this, Paul. I’m trusting you.”

“Wish is in good hands,” Paul said. “Hard, craggy, experienced hands.”

“Hmph.” She went into the jail building.

“Have a good flight back,” Paul called to her. Nina got into the front passenger seat and threw her arms around him before he could turn the key in the ignition.

“Paul, I’m exhausted. I forgot how she is.”

His body felt stiff, but she held on anyway and pressed her face into his collar, because she needed him and didn’t care about the stupid argument anymore.

“Ah, Nina,” he said finally, and kissed her.

“Let’s get home,” she said. “That Sandy.”

“She’s stressed out. She’ll get her sense of humor back. I’ll send her a coonskin cap to wear in Washington.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I sure wouldn’t.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. Let’s go have a look at the Robles Ridge fire site.”

“Not early.”

“Not early.”

8

“I’ M JUST GETTING OVER POISON OAK. I’m not bushwhacking. Promise we’ll stay strictly on a trail. And we can’t take Hitchcock.”

“You won’t have to touch him. We’ll take the Bronco and keep him in back on the way home, and I’ll give him the bath of his life.”

“We ought to see it,” Nina said. “I agree.”

“Notice how well we work together this morning.”

“Two peas in a pod,” Nina said. She changed the shorts to long pants, pulled on knee-high cotton socks and her hiking boots, and stuffed cotton gloves in her pocket. How to protect her hair and face from brushing against the evil leaves? A scarf.

“You make a charming babushka,” Paul said.

Outside in the mist, she tossed the day pack with the water bottles into the back seat with Hitchcock, who stood on the bench seat, tongue hanging out the window, ready for anything. The oak trees were dripping and they might as well be underwater. She looked from Hitchcock to Paul, already strapped in, studying a map, leaning forward eagerly. “Two peas in a pod,” she said.

They drove out of the fog bank in five minutes and blinked into brilliant sunshine. Carmel Valley Road followed the river, although you never saw it, just the fields and oak forests and houses and golf courses it irrigated. The river was actually only a trickle now that summer had arrived.