Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love (27 page)

“Please,” Julie responded. “That’s not even close.”

“What time is the bond hearing?” Maggie asked.

“Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. It’s a general motion calendar, so I don’t know when it will be heard.”

Maggie checked her phone. “I can stay until ten, then, I have to leave for an appointment. Even if the motion isn’t heard while I’m there, I want to talk to Mrs. Fairmont. The firm isn’t directly responsible for what you’re considering, but I don’t feel comfortable letting you make the decision on your own.”

“Sister Dabney will be there, too,” I added, deciding it was better to avoid another surprise. “She’s going to post a property bond so Jessie can be released.”

Julie pressed her lips tightly together for a moment before she spoke. “I should have known she was behind this. That woman is going to ruin your life if you let her.”

“You thought she was right about Shannon,” I replied defensively.

“Maybe, but she thinks she’s right about everything and everyone! That’s dangerous.”

The tension created at the table stayed with us during the return trip to the office. There was no conversation in the car, and we immediately went to our offices and shut the doors. I suspected Maggie and Julie would have a private conversation later about the issue. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what Julie would say. Maggie’s reaction was less predictable.

T
HAT EVENING DURING SUPPER
I
REMINDED
M
RS.
F
AIRMONT OF
the hearing in the morning.

“What’s the child’s name?”

“I think it’s Jessie Whitewater, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. And she’s not a child. She may be eighteen.”

“Where is her family?”

“That’s unknown, too. Both the assistant district attorney and I suspect she may be running away from a bad situation, which would explain why she won’t help in locating them.”

“There are a lot of teenage runaways. I watched a TV show about it this afternoon. Usually, they don’t take off on their own but travel with another person, often someone older.”

I’d not considered Jessie might have a companion hiding out there.

“I don’t think that happened here.”

“Good. I talked to Christine.”

I put down my fork. “What did she say?”

“It was a first conversation, so I didn’t get very specific. All I mentioned was that you were interviewing a young woman who might be willing to stay with me for room and board in return for keeping an eye on me.”

“Did you say I interviewed her at the jail?”

“No, but she complimented you for taking the initiative to find someone to help when you’re at work. Of course, she wants to interview anyone before they come to stay.”

“When and where would that happen?”

“Here, after I make my decision.”

“But if you’ve already made your decision, and Mrs. Bartlett doesn’t agree—”

Mrs. Fairmont dismissed my words with a wave of her hand. “By the time I finish with Christine, she’ll go home and tell Ken it was really her idea in the first place.”

“Maybe, but Jessie isn’t polished and sophisticated.”

“Like you?” Mrs. Fairmont asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

I stared at her for a second and then burst out laughing.

E
ARLY THE NEXT MORNING,
I
DROVE TO THE JAIL.
A
FEMALE GUARD
escorted me to one of the interview rooms. A few minutes later Jessie came in wearing a white apron on top of her orange jumpsuit. She was slightly skinnier than I’d remembered.

“Why are you wearing that?” I asked, pointing to the apron.

“I work in the kitchen. I was scrambling eggs when the guard came to get me.”

“Did you get a copy of Judge Cannon’s order refusing to remove me from the case?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to appeal it to the United States Supreme Court.”

“What?”

“Appeal it to the United States Supreme Court. It’s in Washington, D.C.”

“I know where it is, but you can’t appeal an order like that to the Supreme Court.”

Jessie’s face looked resolute. “Watch me.”

I stifled a smile. “Okay. But until the Supreme Court reverses Judge Cannon’s order and takes me off your case, I’m still representing you. Would you like to sleep in a soft bed in a quiet place?”

“What?”

I repeated the offer. Jessie gave me a puzzled look.

“Are you trying to send me to a mental hospital?”

“Have you ever been to one in the past?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think I would remember if I’d ever been in a place like that. And I’ve never been locked up before either. Why did you say something about a soft bed, then start talking to me about other stuff?”

“I’ll get to the point. A nice elderly woman may be willing to let you stay with her if you can make bond and get out of here. Would you be interested in that?”

“Who is she?”

“Mrs. Margaret Fairmont. I have an apartment in her basement.”

Surprise flashed across Jessie’s face. “You want me to live with you?”

“Both of us. Sister Dabney is willing to post a property bond to get you out if you agree to stay with Mrs. Fairmont and me while I work on your case.”

“Post a property bond? What does that mean?”

“She would put up her house in return for the police releasing you from jail while your case is pending. If you run away, she would have to pay the bond or lose her home.”

And in an instant Jessie Whitewater changed from a hardened young woman into a girl. Her eyes watered and she rubbed them with the back of her hand.

“Why would she do that?” she asked with a sniffle.

“Because she cares what happens to you. I’ve filed a motion to reduce your bond so it will be less of a risk for her. But the only way Sister Dabney agreed to do this is if you agree to stay with Mrs. Fairmont. The judge is going to hear the motion later this morning. You’ll be brought over to the courthouse from the jail. Mrs. Fairmont will be there, so she can meet you and decide for sure if she’s willing to help.”

“And I’d stay at the house where you live?”

“Yes.”

“Would I have to go to church?”

“Not unless you wanted to. Sister Dabney would be glad to see you, but it wasn’t a requirement for the bond.”

I could see Jessie trying to process what she was hearing.

“This is real,” I said. “You’re not dreaming, although you might think you are when you see the house. It’s a beautiful old home in the historic area of the city.”

“Where would I sleep?”

“Probably on a bed in my apartment.”

“And I would eat there?”

“Yes, all the good food you want. Mrs. Fairmont’s health isn’t that great. She’s had several strokes. You’d be expected to check on her during the day and call me or 911 if she has a serious problem.”

Jessie nodded. “My cousin Barry’s grandfather had a stroke. He couldn’t move his right arm when he came home from the hospital. I used to open jars for him.”

“Where did he live?”

“Not far from my stepmother and me after we moved to—” Jessie stopped. “I wish you would stop trying to trick me.”

“I’m not trying to trick you; I’m trying to help you. Getting out on bond doesn’t mean the burglary case against you is going to be dropped. The best way to take care of that is to get the case transferred to juvenile court, but my hands are tied until you give me enough information to prove you’re a minor.”

Jessie shook her head. “I can’t.”

“What could be so bad about where you came from that you’d risk going to prison as an adult convicted of a felony? Remember, everything you tell me is confidential.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, not even the judge can make me tell him.”

Jessie looked puzzled. “If everything I tell you is secret, how could you get my case sent to juvenile court? My age would have to come out in the open.”

Finally, Jessie had admitted she wasn’t eighteen.

“Juvenile court proceedings are closed to the public; the judge would hear the evidence in private. The only people who would have to know would be the judge, the assistant district attorney, and a caseworker.”

“And if I’m not eighteen, the police would try to find my stepmother and tell her where I am, wouldn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“And send me to live with her?”

“I don’t know. If the situation is bad enough, you could be removed from the home.”

“And sent to foster care?”

“Maybe. There are a lot of good foster parents. A family in my hometown took in several kids over the years. Many of those children came back when they grew up to thank them.”

Jessie shook her head. “No. I’ve talked to a woman who works back in the kitchen with me. She told me that even if I broke the window at the store and took some food, the judge won’t send me to prison. The worst thing that will happen is prohibition.”

“You mean probation.”

“Yeah.”

“She may be right unless you’re charged with multiple thefts and burglaries. In that case, a prison sentence is much more likely. And with even one felony conviction on your record, it would make it harder to find a job, buy a car, rent an apartment, lots of things.”

I could tell from the look on Jessie’s face that she had no interest in thinking about any of those things. She was living in the moment. And her main concern was maintaining her anonymity. Her lips were tightly shut.

“Okay,” I said. “Do you want to talk to Mrs. Fairmont?”

“Yeah.”

I started to coach Jessie in what to say but hesitated. I didn’t want to manipulate the situation. Mrs. Fairmont needed to appreciate what she was getting into.

“I’ll see you in court in a couple of hours,” I said.

Jessie got up to leave the room. I came to the door and watched her walk toward the cell block. She stopped and turned around. Her face had a more mature sadness.

“Thanks for helping me.”

I
SPENT AN HOUR AT THE OFFICE, CONFIRMED THE TIME OF THE
hearing with Maggie, then drove home to pick up Mrs. Fairmont. I walked into a quiet house. I checked my watch. If Mrs. Fairmont wasn’t ready, there wouldn’t be time for her to get dressed. She wasn’t in the den or either parlor. I called upstairs.

“Mrs. Fairmont! It’s Tami. Are you ready to go?”

At the sound of my voice, Flip raced down the steps. I met him a few steps from the bottom.

“I’m looking for something!” Mrs. Fairmont replied.

I took the steps two at a time. The elderly woman was in her bedroom, wearing an attractive green dress with a colorful scarf. She’d already put on her shoes.

“I have a necklace that goes with this outfit,” she said, rummaging through the bottom drawer of one of her three jewelry boxes.

I’d never helped Mrs. Fairmont find a piece of jewelry and considered the boxes off-limits. Seeing them on top of her dresser made me nervous.

“It has a few emeralds that set off the diamonds nicely.”

“Should you wear something that fancy to the courthouse? I think the scarf is pretty enough.”

“It would be for you. I need more help than a scrap of cloth.”

She pulled out a drawer in one of the other jewelry boxes.

“Here it is!” She held up a narrow necklace in front of the mirror. The precious stones glistened.

“It’s beautiful,” I admitted.

“Please help me with the clasp. I don’t want it to fall off.”

I fastened it securely around Mrs. Fairmont’s neck. She adjusted it with her right hand.

“This used to be snug. Now it hangs down. I’m shriveling up like a prune.”

“A sweet prune.”

She smiled at me in the reflection in the mirror. “I hope so. I can count on you for compliments. If your young woman comes to live with us, I’ll put the expensive pieces in the safe-deposit box at the bank. There’s no use providing unnecessary temptation.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I quickly agreed. “And there might be other items that should be taken from the house.”

“We’ll see. The silver tea set in the blue parlor is a museum piece, but to an untrained eye it just looks old.” She smiled. “Like me.”

W
E ARRIVED EARLY AT THE COURTHOUSE SO
M
RS.
F
AIRMONT
wouldn’t be rushed. A handful of people were seated in the spectator section in the courtroom. Neither Sister Dabney nor Maggie had arrived. I led Mrs. Fairmont to the same row where she’d sat for the swearing-in ceremony.

“Please, sit here. I want to introduce you to Jessie and let you talk before the case is called. I don’t think Judge Cannon will have any questions for you, but it may come up where Jessie will stay if her bond is reduced.”

People began to drift into the room. I’d attended a few of these motion calendars the previous summer. What struck me then and now were the faces of the men and women. The public read crime statistics. But there were no numbers in the courtroom, only people with unique problems and feelings. Most were probably family and friends of defendants who were being brought over from the jail. For them, the calendar call was a chance to see a loved one, even if only briefly from a distance.

Jan Crittenden and two other employees of the district attorney’s office arrived with a thick stack of files. Jan came over to Mrs. Fairmont and greeted both of us.

“Here to watch?” she asked the elderly lady.

“You could say that. Give my regards to your aunt when you see her.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jan turned to me. “Any new information?”

“Not yet. I’m still working on it.”

“Okay. I’m sticking with what I told you the other day. I won’t put up any evidence or argue against reduction in the bond. It’s up to the judge.”

“Thanks.”

Jan left. The back door of the courtroom opened and Sister Dabney entered. Her face was red, her hair plastered to her head with sweat. When I saw her my stomach tightened. She must have walked several blocks in the morning heat. She slipped into one of the back rows. I sighed in relief.

“Sister Dabney is here,” I said in a low voice to Mrs. Fairmont when I sat down.

The elderly woman turned her head.

“Where is she?” she asked. “I don’t see her.”