State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller (15 page)

“Yes.” Ortega flashed a weak smile. “I need
to talk to you.”

She stared at him for another moment or two
before closing the door and removing the chain. The door opened
again and he was invited in.

Ortega found the small living room cluttered,
but in an orderly way. A television was on and a cat scurried
across the floor, jumping over his shoes and onto a tattered
couch.

“You want somethin’ to eat or drink?” Isabel
asked hesitantly.

“No thanks.”

Ortega studied her. He guessed she was at
least seventy with thinning hair white as snow and a face with more
than a few wrinkles. She wore an ill-fitted floral print dress that
looked as if it had long since seen its better days.

Walking with a slight limp, Isabel sat down
next to the cat and put it in her lap. “Is Rafael in big trouble
again?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“Yes, I’m afraid he is, Ma’am.” Ortega sat on
a chair, facing her.

“Ever since coming here from Cuba, the boy’s
been in trouble.”

“Well it’s his current situation I need to
discuss with you,” Ortega told her. “I’m sure you’re aware that
Rafael’s been charged with murdering a judge and sexually
assaulting his wife.”

“Judge Crawford,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I know all about the judge. He put Rafael away twelve years
ago—”

“For murdering his pregnant girlfriend,”
emphasized Ortega.

Isabel nodded reluctantly. “He did his time.
Lost a good chunk of his life,” she said almost bitterly. “Now all
Rafael wants to do is try and make a new life for himself. Then
they try to blame him for this—” She rolled her eyes.

“Your son says he was here all night when the
Crawfords were being attacked.” Ortega favored her keenly. “Is that
true?”

“Yes,” she said without blinking. “Rafael
never left the apartment that day.”

“Did you?” he questioned curiously. If so, it
would mean she couldn’t account for his whereabouts every minute of
the day, besides the time in his presence.

“No. I hardly ever leave this apartment,”
Isabel responded swiftly. “Can’t get around that much these days.
Also, it ain’t safe when the sun goes down. Too many gang fights
and drug dealing happening in the neighborhood for an old lady to
venture out very often. That day me and Rafael sat in here watching
TV and talking.”

“Are you telling me Rafael didn’t go out at
all?” Ortega asked skeptically. Santiago didn’t strike him as a man
who could say holed up in a tiny apartment for any length of time.
Not after being confined in a tiny cell for a dozen years.

“The police already asked me,” she replied
bitterly. “I tell them the same thing. Rafael was here
all day
and
night
. But they don’t believe me. They think I’m
just trying to protect my son.”

“Are you?” Ortega raised his chin
skeptically.

“No!” Isabel’s voice rose. “I’ll do anything
for Rafael, but I won’t lie for him.”

Maybe not.

Or maybe you’re lying right now
, mused
Ortega, uncertain.

“If this goes to trial,” he told her, “we’ll
need you to testify in court, under oath. Can you do that?”

Isabel considered this. She nodded. “I’ll do
what you want to help my son.”

“Good.” Truthfully, Ortega knew she would be
raked over the coals by the prosecution, probably rendering her
testimony useless. But right now she could be the most important
thing standing between her son and a death sentence.

He stood, noting the boarded windows that
seemed to blend in, as if they came with the territory.

Isabel tossed the cat to the floor, watching
it sprint out of the room yowling like it had stepped on a piece of
glass. “Thank you for taking Rafael’s case,” she said sincerely.
“He has no one else to stand up for him.”

Except for you.
Unfortunately the two
of them might not be enough. Not when the State had Maxine Crawford
as their star witness and sympathetic victim.

And the ghost of her slain judge husband on
their side.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Beverly helped Jaime put his tie on, against
the backdrop of a pale pink shirt and a navy suit. It was one of
the few times he had worn the suit she had bought for him last
Easter. And, even then, he had worn it under protest.

“Why do I have to wear a suit just to go to
dinner with
him
?” he whined.

“Because Grant is a judge now,” Beverly told
him respectfully. “And he’s invited us both to a fancy restaurant
that has a dress code.”

“I don’t wanna go,” Jaime whined. “I’d rather
play on my computer or watch TV.”

“You have to go,” she insisted. “I promised
Grant you would. Besides, he’s been really good to me and I want
you two to get to know each other.”

But at what cost? Beverly wondered. Would
Jaime forever resent her involvement with a man? Any man?

This man?

Could Grant ever see Jaime as more than her
son? Beverly pondered if the day might come when Jaime could be
their
son.

Was that what she wanted? A substitute father
for Jaime, whose real father was missing in action?

Or am I really looking for a husband with a
man who may no longer be the marrying type?

Beverly feared that both would be an uphill
battle. Especially since she wasn’t sure if marriage was something
she truly desired again in her own future after successfully
separating romance and independence for so long.

“There...” She smiled at Jaime in the mirror.
“You look very handsome this evening, Mr. Mendoza.”

Jaime blushed, admiring himself in the suit.
“You really think so?”

“Of course I do.” Beverly beamed. “You’ll
have to wear your suit more often.”

“You look nice, too,” Jaime said
approvingly.

Beverly looked at her reflection in the
mirror. She had chosen a halter dress for the occasion that
flattered her figure while not overdoing it. She put her hair up in
a chignon and wore only enough makeup to add a bit of color to her
sallow skin.

She laughed. “Yes, I think I do.”

“Did you think Dad was handsome?” asked
Jaime, a brow raised curiously.

Beverly hesitated, knowing he considered the
question important. “Yes, I did. Your father was one of the most
handsome men I’ve ever met. It wasn’t Diego’s looks that was the
problem. It was his character and selfishness that were
unattractive.”

“Why did he have to be such a bastard?” Jaime
snorted.

Beverly widened her eyes in surprise. Till
now she had never heard him say a bad thing about his father. Or
use profanity. Jaime had always managed to keep Diego alive in his
head by believing him to be a better person than he ever was.

Now it was time for Jaime to take Diego off
the pedestal. Beverly gave her son a frank stare. “I asked myself
the same question time and time again,” she admitted. “And never
came up with the answer.” She doubted she ever would.

“I’ll never leave you,” promised Jaime.

Beverly hugged him and kissed the side of his
head. “And I’ll never leave you, sweetheart.” It was a promise she
knew only one of them would be able to keep. But that didn’t mean
they couldn’t extend being together for as long as possible.

Even if a third party should join them for
the ride.

* * *

The Creekside restaurant sat on the banks of
Eagles Lake. Grant was already there when they arrived. Beverly
thought it was better that they break Jaime in slowly to the idea
that they were a couple. She ventured a half wave to Grant at the
table and he waved back.

He stood to greet them, wearing a tan sport
coat with a yellow shirt over dark brown trousers. Beverly couldn’t
help but admire what she saw. Turned on was more like it, though
this was hardly the time or place.

“Hello, Beverly,” Grant said in an almost
businesslike fashion. He gave her a friendly peck on the cheek and
thought she looked gorgeous this evening. He felt like the luckiest
man around.

“Grant,” she responded, wondering if he was
overdoing it a bit in his attempt to appear the perfect
gentleman.

“Nice to see you, Jaime.” Grant stuck out his
hand.
Maybe you’ll let me get to know you a little
better.

Jaime seemed surprised, maybe even
suspicious, but put his hand forward. “Hi,” he said meekly.

After an awkward moment or two they sat down
and the waiter brought over menus.

“I’d recommend the roast duck,” Grant said as
an authority. “Along with a stuffed baked potato.”

“Sounds good to me,” seconded Beverly. “How
about you, Jaime?”

He frowned over his menu. “I’d rather have
the grilled steak and fries,” he answered defiantly.

“That’s a good choice, too.” Grant glanced at
Beverly with a smile. “Then it’s settled. Three grilled steak and
fries dinners coming up.”

They ordered. Beverly and Grant had coffee,
while Jaime sipped lemonade through a straw.

“Your mother tells me you’re doing very well
in school these days.” Grant looked at the boy across the table. He
wondered if Jaime resembled his father, though he definitely had
characteristics that reminded Grant of his mother.

Jaime looked at Beverly through narrowed
eyes, as if embarrassed or resentful that she had shared
information about him with Grant. “I’m doing okay.”

Beverly seized the moment, deciding this was
a good subject to build on. “Jaime is getting all A’s and B’s right
now,” she said, mindful that his last science test had produced a
B.

“What do want to be when you grow up?” Grant
asked. “A lawyer like your Mom?”

Jaime sneered. “What do you care?”

Beverly glared. “Jaime!”

“That’s all right,” Grant told her, prepared
for such resistance. It was up to him to see if he could melt the
boy’s icy resolve to keep him at arm’s length. “It’s a good
question. What do I care? Actually, Jaime, I care a lot. I’ve grown
to care for your mother very much. That means I also care about you
and what you choose to do with your life now and in the
future.”

Jaime weighed this, sipping more lemonade.
Beverly knew that he was intimidated by Grant, as well as uncertain
about his role in their lives. She hoped this might allay some of
his fears.

Either that, or it could backfire and Jaime
might grow even more distant from Grant. Beverly suspected it could
impact her relationship with both her son and Grant.

“I want to be a doctor,” Jaime said,
surprising Beverly. Last she knew, he had talked about wanting to
be a hip-hop singer. Or an entomologist.

“Good choice.” Grant nodded, impressed. “Why
a doctor?”

“That way maybe I can find a cure for my
Grandpa’s Alzheimer’s disease and people like him.”

Beverly and Grant exchanged sad glances. She
had not realized that Jaime was so deeply affected by his
grandfather’s condition, so as to influence his career choice at
this stage of his young life. She wondered if he somehow feared
that it might be genetic, and that she and eventually he would come
down with it.

“Maybe you can,” Grant said with feeling.
“Who says you can’t make a difference someday in battling this
terrible disease?”

Yes, why not? At some point someone had to
develop a means to fight the ravages of Alzheimer’s disease. If
Jaime really wanted to be a doctor—and that was a big if at age
twelve—then she would do everything in her power to see to it that
he achieved his dream.

But she suspected that he was speaking more
out of frustration and fears than real dreams. Only time would
tell.

The waiter brought their food.

Grant and Beverly spoke briefly about the
Rafael Santiago case before returning to other conversation as they
strove to keep Jaime part of the dinner chat.

“Are you a Golden State Warriors fan?” Grant
asked Jaime, knowing they were the nearest pro sports team to
Eagles Landing, albeit some fifty miles away.

“Not really,” he said dispassionately. “They
suck.”

Grant chuckled. “Can’t argue with you there.
Well, how about the Orlando Magic?”

“Dwight Howard is awesome!” Jaime said
animatedly.

Looks like I may have found a soft spot in
him
, Grant mused. “If you’re interested, I can get tickets to
the upcoming Warriors/Magic game.”

Jaime’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really.” Grant smiled, aware that he had
indeed made a breakthrough. One that was sorely needed if he was to
succeed in getting closer to Beverly. “I have a friend who works in
the team’s front office. He can get me front row seats. Maybe even
arrange for an autograph or two from players.” Hopefully Howard
would do the honors.

“Cool.” Jaime’s face flushed with excitement.
“Can I bring my friend Paco? He loves the Warriors, even though
they suck.”

Grant laughed, even as Beverly winced. “Yes,
certainly Paco is more than welcome to join us,” he promised, and
eyed Beverly. “And even your mother.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Beverly declared,
ecstatic over the prospect of some Grant and Jaime male bonding as
well as the three of them spending more quality time together.

Grant smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.
We can even drop by my judge’s chambers beforehand. I can give
Jaime and Paco the grand tour.”

“Wow!” Jaime smiled broadly. “That would be
great! Paco will think it’s cool, too.”

Beverly watched with amusement, as she hadn’t
seen Jaime this excited in a long time. She was seeing a whole new
side of Grant. Evidently he had more of a way with kids than he’d
let on. She wondered what other secrets he may have been keeping
bottled up inside.

“I think it’s great as well,” she offered
enthusiastically. Especially considering that she had not seen
Grant’s new chambers since he had taken Judge Crawford’s place.
Beverly imagined that as Judge Nunez, Grant would make an immediate
impact in the war against crime, leaving his own mark.