Reilly 11 - Case of Lies (15 page)

“Absolutely. Jimmy, show it to her right now, okay?” Bova reached into his pocket and pulled out a small unsealed envelope. The Sierra Books receipt was inside.

“I still don’t know if it belonged to the witnesses,” he said. “Could have been the people in the motel room the day before.” He held it out and Nina examined it. Then she reached into her briefcase and got out a copy of it. Wish had slipped it under her office door the night before.

“Yes, that’s it,” she said. “I’ll be checking to make sure that goes into police evidence.”

“Wow!” Betty Jo said. “I’m outclassed, no doubt about it. We didn’t follow up, no need to since the case wasn’t happening. But what did you learn? I’m as curious as hell.”

“It was a cash purchase the day before the shooting,” Nina said. “The clerk can’t remember anything about the purchaser, not at this late date.”

“How did you learn there was a receipt, though?”

“Good investigative work,” Nina said briefly.

“I guess you’re not violating anybody’s privacy if it’s a cash purchase,” Betty Jo said as if to herself.

“Not at all,” Nina said.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Bova said. “I just didn’t feel it was important. Betty Jo didn’t hear about it until last week.”

“I scolded the shit out of him,” Betty Jo said. “He knows if you get any farther finding the shooter, he’s going to have to testify about it. He’s going to cooperate fully. So what books did the witnesses buy? Most bookstore receipts these days list the titles.”

“They do.”

“And?”

“That’s no longer your concern,” Nina said. “I’m letting you settle out of the case without making an issue out of this, but your client withheld evidence. I’m not in a position to share information I obtained in spite of his obstructive tactics.”

“Oh, come on,” Bova said. “Somebody bought a book. Big deal.” He gave her one of those speculative looks again, looked her up and down as if she were a doll propped up for viewing. It was obscurely exciting, and for the moment it took to catch that flashing glance Nina thought, Why not? He wanted her, and that was almost enough.

A whiff of his cologne reached her. He was from a world where men wear cologne. Not aftershave, not good soap, but a perfumy, expensive spritzer from a department store. Was this where she was heading? For anybody who asked? It struck her that she wasn’t looking for love anymore, that she had dropped out of that endeavor because it was just too hard.

Still. Not Bova. Not yet.

She looked away, toward the fountain, and Bova shrugged.

“Hush up, Jimmy. I understand, Nina. You’re right. It’s none of our business. Jimmy wants out, that’s the main thing. Let’s go in.”

They had to wait almost an hour while Judge Flaherty disposed of more urgent matters. Nina sat in her hard chair up front, watching the parade of the wronged with their petitions and their lawyers. Dave Hanna finally arrived about twenty minutes into the court session and took a seat in back.

Judge Flaherty, fiftyish and florid, had adopted a more judicious attitude since his elevation to the superior-court bench. He processed the cases efficiently and at ten-twenty he pulled out a file and said, “
Hanna versus Ace High Lodge,
motion to dismiss.”

“Good morning, Your Honor.” Betty Jo introduced herself and her client. Nina did the same, and sat down with Hanna.

“We have a stipulation,” Betty Jo said, “to dismiss the negligence case against the Ace High Lodge and James Bova as an individual and as an insured of his insurance company. Mr. Bova to continue to be available as required should the case proceed further as to other defendants. No admission of liability, limited release solely on the issue of negligent provision of security. In consideration for which a check in the amount of fifty thousand dollars to be paid by close of business today to Law Offices of Nina F. Reilly, made out to the plaintiff, David S. Hanna.”

A mouthful like this took a few seconds for Judge Flaherty to digest. He thumbed through the case file and said, “Just a minute. I see the proposed stipulation has been filed and I have it here. Let me read it.” He wiggled his glasses and got to work.

Flaherty had the power to refuse to accept the stipulation, and there were a couple of reasons he might do just that. Dave Hanna was sweating under the lights. He didn’t look well, though he had found a shirt and tie to wear.

“Why don’t I just dismiss the case?” Flaherty said eventually as he laid down the paperwork. “Ms. Reilly? There aren’t any defendants left.”

“There are still the John Does, Your Honor,” Nina said, getting up fast.

“After two years, nobody else has been served in this case.”

“The individual who killed Mr. Hanna’s wife is still at large,” Nina said.

“Sometimes we can’t get full justice,” Flaherty said directly to Hanna. “I’m sorry, sir, but this court can’t hold your civil case open forever. There’s no statute of limitations on murder, so if the person who shot Mrs. Hanna is ever apprehended by the police, you will have some justice in seeing him punished. But it doesn’t appear that you will be able to maintain this case here before me right now. Because I’m going to dismiss it based on Code of Civil Procedure Section 583.420, providing for a discretionary dismissal after two years when the remaining defendants haven’t been served.”

“Your Honor,” Nina said, “the Ace High has dropped its request for a full dismissal.”

“This is on the court’s motion. We can’t go forward on this, so we’ll have to end it.”

“With respect,” Nina said firmly, “this court does not have jurisdiction to do that.”

The famous flush spread across Flaherty’s cheeks. “Because?”

“Because it has not yet been two full years since the date the suit was filed.”

Flaherty went back to the file while Nina stood behind the table, waiting for him to have another look.

“I see that we are two weeks shy of the two-year discretionary limit,” he said finally. “You are correct, Counsel. May I ask if you expect to identify and serve another defendant in the next two weeks?”

“We hope to,” Nina said. “We intend to move forward much more rapidly from now on.”

“Well, give it your best shot,” Flaherty said. “I’m going to take this matter under submission until”-he looked at his clerk, who gave him a date two weeks away-“November twenty-seventh. On that date I will look at this file again. And if the plaintiff hasn’t found somebody else to sue I will dismiss the entire case at that time.”

Now Betty Jo was on her feet. “There would be no reason for the court not to approve the settlement with the Ace High today.”

“In the current state of the paperwork we have an all-or-nothing situation,” Flaherty told her. “Your client hasn’t made a move in two years, either. He can wait another two weeks, then we’ll sort out the whole thing. You don’t need to appear in court again. You’ll get a minute order and that’ll be that.”

“But-” Nina and Betty Jo said together.

“If you don’t like my decision, you can bring a different motion,” Flaherty told the two lawyers. “Of course, that will take longer than two weeks. Anything else?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“So ordered. The court will take its midmorning recess.” He stepped down and the audience straggled out.

Betty Jo came over to Nina’s table. “Sometimes I want to kick him right in the
cojones,
” she said. She and Bova went out.

Dave Hanna said, “We’re going nowhere fast, it seems. Why did he stop the settlement?”

“He postponed it. He doesn’t like cases to hang on. It messes up his calendar. He wants to dispose of the suit.”

“Why didn’t we just agree to end the whole thing?”

“Because we have a line on the man who shot your wife.”

Hanna looked startled. “We do? What are you talking about?”

“Let’s go outside and I’ll explain.” They went downstairs and out the doors to the fountain and sat down on Nina’s favorite concrete bench in the sunlight. Nina gave Hanna her copy of the bookstore receipt and said, “Dave, I think we can find at least one of the witnesses with this.” She explained its history.

“So what?” Hanna said. “One of them bought some books, and one of them mentioned a Professor Brown, and they flew to Boston, but that might have been a ploy. You think that’s enough to find them? I don’t.”

“Not just any books,” Nina said. “Wish found out the names of the books. They were texts in advanced mathematics. Now, I agree that there will be a number of Professor Browns on the East Coast. But there won’t be too many teaching graduate-level math. And we have descriptions of the three witnesses. Dave, as soon as I have a list of the Browns, I’ll call them. I think one of them will remember this trio. I think we can find them. I think we can give Judge Flaherty the name of one or more new defendants within two weeks.”

“Even if you find the witnesses, that doesn’t mean you have the man with the gun. The man who shot Sarah.”

“Leave it to me,” Nina said. “Did you drive up alone?”

“Yeah. Rog and Chelsi have gotten way too involved in this.”

“Well, sorry about the check from the motel. It’ll still be there in two weeks, though. Mr. Bova is going to want out even worse in two weeks, if we get lucky.”

Hanna said, “I’ll get going, then. Keep me posted.”

“Stay strong,” Nina said. She watched him walk down the path toward the side parking lot, sorry that he just didn’t seem to care about anything anymore.

Back at the office, she held a deposition in a medical-malpractice case in her office. The doc didn’t give an inch, and by the time she and Sandy slid into the booth at Margarita’s across the street she felt like she’d had a full day.

Sandy slid a printout of a long list across the table to Nina. “Colleges within a twenty-mile circle around Boston,” she said. “There’s one on every block, like convenience stores. There are hundreds. Think of all those heads in the clouds.”

“Good work! How’d you get this?”

“Off the Web. It took about five minutes. I’m going to look at the faculty listings this afternoon with Wish while you’re back at court.”

“That’s going to take longer,” Nina said. “Maybe we should prioritize.”

“Maybe we should eat.” The quesadillas had arrived and they took a break from talking. The little cantina was almost empty. The dark booth with its border of Christmas lights soothed Nina. She leaned back against the red vinyl and said, “The big universities first. Because they have the most professors.”

“Like Harvard?”

“Harvard, Tufts, Boston University, UMass Boston, MIT, uh, I can’t think of any more. But those are big places with graduate schools. Let’s start there.”

“Can Wish use your computer at your desk while you’re out?”

“Sure.”

“And all we know is Professor Brown. Why couldn’t he have been named Professor Rastafarian or something?”

“Might be a she,” Nina said. “Might be a high school. Might be the motel clerk remembered the wrong name. Let’s be grateful for what we have.”

“Hmph.” Sandy put out a twenty on the table.

“That’s way too much for your share.”

“I’m treating today. In honor of my raise. Which I hope to see in my lifetime.”

Sandy called Nina at the courthouse at four that afternoon. Nina was out in the hall, trying to set up a visitation schedule for another client, a father of twin toddlers whose estranged wife didn’t want him to see them. “Excuse me,” she told the client, and went into the bathroom.

“We found three Browns so far,” she said. “Plus a B-r-a-u-n and a B-r-e-h-o-n. All teaching math courses. Just with the five places you wanted to start with. Should we keep going, or do you want to make a few calls?”

“It’s already seven on the East Coast,” Nina said. “Try to find a few more before you go home. I’ll make some calls in the morning.”

She went back out into the hall. Her client was sitting on the bench, head between his hands. “Sometimes I feel like killing her,” he said to Nina. So she dealt with that, and didn’t get home until after six.

Dinner, a walk, a bath. Then sweet, sweet bed.

PART TWO

God doesn’t throw the dice.

– EINSTEIN

12

IN THE FALL OF HIS JUNIOR year, Elliott tried to steal Silke away from Raj. He calculated his odds at fifty-fifty. He attempted to impose rationality on what was essentially an irrational urge, deciding to go for it and risk losing Silke, losing face, and losing Raj’s friendship.

He had recently undergone a sea change in his thinking. He would be reading a paper from the Moscow Math Institute online and would lose his concentration, remembering how beautiful Silke looked when she sat at the blackjack tables, tossing back watered-down booze and joshing around with naive tourists.

A girl he dated a few times when he was sixteen accused him of never thinking about anything except math. He didn’t correct her, because it would have been rude, but he also thought about sex. Sometimes both things churned around inside him simultaneously, good whiskey mixed with rich food.

And all good things converged in Silke.

Carleen had the flu, but the rest of them had just taken their first junket of the year to Atlantic City. During one enormous night at Harrah’s, Elliott won seventeen thousand dollars. They flew back, drinks all around, euphoric, Silke squashed between Elliott and Raj on the plane.

At Logan Airport all three shared a cab back to Everett Street. Elliott went inside with the others, ostensibly to see how Carleen was doing and to have a drink of the Chivas that Silke always kept in the kitchen, but actually to plot moves.

Raj, unknowingly cooperative, yawned and excused himself. Silke checked on Carleen but found her sound asleep, “Snoring, poor thing,” so she and Elliott hung around downstairs, laughing, carving equations into the pitted pine table. When she yawned for the second time, she looked in on Raj, and returned in her nightgown. “Raj crashed, but I could use one more tiny nightcap. How about you?”

“I should go.” He played true to type to avoid warning her, scaring her off too soon. He didn’t intend to go.