Woman in Red (22 page)

“That it is.” Extreme as a dive into an icy-cold lake—just the wake-up call he needed. “Maybe that’s why I like the idea.”

“Does this mean you’re giving up on lawyering?” He caught a flicker of consternation in her eyes, and wondered
why it should matter to her one way or the other.

He shrugged. “Looks that way. For now, at least.”

She lapsed into silence, and he caught that preoccupied look on her face again. Then she roused herself and put on a smile, saying, “Well, good luck with it. I guess we’re sort of in the same boat. I just hope the gamble pays off for both of us. If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, I’m sure that’s true of failed enterprises.”

“Look at the bright side,” he said. “You’ll have at least one customer you can count on. If your cooking is any better than mine, which is a pretty sure bet, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

She smiled then, a slow-breaking smile that lit up her whole face. All at once he felt absurdly happy to have her here. It was the first time since Nadine’s death that he’d felt that way about another woman. With Alice, he knew he didn’t have to fake being okay. He could just be himself, wounds, warts, and all.

“What a lovely place,” she said, as he led the way into the living room carrying the tea tray. “I can see why you and your grandfather were so close.” He shot her an inquiring look, and she explained, “You can tell a lot about a person from their house, and it’s obvious what kind of person he was. Very unpretentious, I’d say. Someone who didn’t put style over comfort and who probably didn’t give a hoot what anyone thought. The kind of man,” her eyes, dancing with bemusement, dropped to the tray Colin was lowering onto the coffee table, “who’d serve tea in chipped mugs and sugar out of a box.”

Colin smiled somewhat sheepishly. “I’m sorry it’s not fancier, but it’s the best I can do on such short notice. As for my grandfather, that’s him in a nutshell.”

While he poured the tea, she moved in to get a closer look at the portrait. For the longest while she didn’t speak. She appeared dumbstruck.

He stepped up alongside her. “Nothing prepares you for it, does it?” The reproductions he’d seen were a classic case of something being lost in the translation. “Do you think it looks like her?”

Alice studied it, frowning. “In a way, yes. But she looks . . . more at ease than I remember her. My grandmother was always running around doing six things at once. She didn’t have a lot of time to sit and relax.” She sounded sad, for some reason.

“As for whether or not she meant something to your grandfather, I asked my mother about it,” she went on. “Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell me much. Either she doesn’t know, or she didn’t want to tarnish Nana’s memory. I have a feeling they might have been lovers, though, and seeing this . . .” she gestured toward the portrait, “I’m almost sure of it.” She turned to face Colin. “I know this is going to sound strange, but I can’t say I disapprove. She deserved to be happy, even if it was with someone other than my grandfather. Not that she didn’t love Grandpa Joe, but it wasn’t a marriage in the typical sense. He wasn’t . . . all there.”

“I guess we’ll never know the real story,” Colin said.

“No, but thank you for this. I’m glad I finally got to see it,” she said, her gaze returning to the painting. “I would have come sooner, but—” She broke off, turning to him with a contrite look. “Look, I have a confession to make. I had an ulterior motive in coming here.” She retreated, sinking down on the sofa. “It’s my son. He’s in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Colin asked, thinking it was the kind of trouble that needed a male perspective, or maybe
someone to counsel the boy. Her next words took him completely by surprise.

“He needs a lawyer.”

“I see.” Colin blinked in surprise, and sat down.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” she rushed to qualify. “He’s being falsely accused.”

“Of what?”

Some of the color went out of her cheeks. “Rape.”

“That’s pretty serious.”

“If you knew Jeremy, you’d know he isn’t remotely capable of doing such a thing. It’s all a big mistake. Or . . .” Her expression darkened. “He’s being set up.”

“Where is he now?” Colin asked.

“At home, with his dad. They booked him down at the station, but his uncle—my sister’s husband—arranged it so he could get out on bail before the arraignment.”

“His uncle’s a lawyer?”

“A cop, actually. Deputy chief of police.” She paused. “Which is where you come in. We need a good criminal attorney, and the lawyers around here . . .” She spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “Let’s just say they haven’t had a lot of experience with this kind of thing.”

Colin, feeling something akin to panic at the thought of climbing back into the saddle, hastened to set her straight. “I wish I could help, but the thing is, I’m not practicing anymore. Of course, I’ll do whatever I can, to help you find someone else to represent him, if you’d like.”

Her face fell, but she quickly rallied, saying, “I don’t want just anyone. I need someone I can trust.”

But Colin was already shaking his head. No, he’d left all that behind. The mere thought of entering a courtroom . . . “I understand, and believe me, if it were anything else—”

She didn’t let him finish. “When you said you weren’t practicing, does that mean you can’t or you won’t?”

“I’m still licensed, if that’s what you mean. But that’s not the point. I haven’t been inside a courtroom since . . . ”
I lost my job for being drunk twenty-four seven.
He sat back. “Well, you know the story. Trust me, I’m not just saying this for my own sake. Your son deserves better than someone on as shaky legs as me.”

Alice went on eyeing him with a directness he found unnerving. “Tell me something,” she said, her eyes piercing through his defenses. “Were you good at it?”

“Yes, I was good at it,” he replied wearily. So good, in fact, that his boss had continued to cut him slack long after he would have fired anyone else.

“That’s all I need to know.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” he started to say, but she cut him off again.

“Look, I realize it’s a lot to ask. We barely know one another. But this is my
son
. If anything happens to him—” She broke off with a small, choked sound. He could see that she was struggling not to give in to tears. “I already lost one son,” she said, when she’d regained some of her composure. “I can’t lose another one.”

Colin wavered, torn between the strong desire to come to her rescue and the equally strong desire to rescue himself. At last, he came to a decision. Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he told her, “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

She looked so relieved that for a moment he thought she was going to burst into tears. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”

Colin, feeling as if he were digging himself in deeper with each passing minute, said only, “You can thank me when I’ve actually accomplished something.”

“So what happens now?”

“If we’re lucky, the judge will let him off with probation. He’s young and he’s had a clean record up until now. That counts for a lot.” Colin paused, asking, “He
hasn’t
been in trouble before, has he?”

“No, of course not. At least, not as far as I know,” she added, more hesitantly. Color rose in her cheeks. It had to pain her that she’d been so out of the loop. Then her expression hardened. “But one thing I
do
know: He didn’t rape anyone.”

Colin felt obligated to caution her, “That may be the case, but if he pleads not guilty, it’ll mean a trial, and believe me you don’t want that.” This was his standard rap in situations like this. In his role as assistant D.A., his job had been to put criminals away, even if it meant having them cop to a lesser plea. “Don’t look so worried,” he said, more gently. “If what you’re saying is true, the case could be dismissed due to lack of evidence. We’ll know more after I’ve spoken with the D.A. I’ll also need to have a word with Jeremy.”

She perked up. “We could drive over there now.”

Colin pondered it a moment, a grayness settling over him like the thick fog that had engulfed him in the months after Nadine’s death. Was he only giving her false hope? And putting himself at risk of drinking again? It wasn’t too late to back out, he told himself. He hadn’t committed to anything yet.

At last, he rose heavily to his feet. “Let me get my coat.”

She was quiet on the drive to her ex-husband’s. Colin didn’t doubt the situation would be complicated by some residual tension there. She hadn’t spoken a word against her ex, but he sensed there was some history. How could there not be? In any event, it was bound to make a bad situation that much worse, which made Colin wonder again if he was doing the right thing.

But then he’d look at Alice, and think about all she’d been through, what she was still going through, and his reservations would fade. She needed him, and it had been a long time since Colin had felt needed.

After a series of winding roads they finally pulled up in front of a split-level ranch house on a street lined with other, similar looking houses. He was getting out of the car when she placed a hand on his arm. “I’m not asking you to go easy on him, but he’s had a pretty rough time of it,” she said, in a voice soft with appeal. “Just . . . keep that in mind, okay?”

“And if he’s not telling me everything I need to know?” said Colin, testing her to see if she was capable of dealing with the fact that her son might not be as innocent as she believed.

“Then you’ll do what you have to,” she said. Her face was pale but her tone firm. She clearly wanted the truth, at whatever cost.

Jeremy Kessler was nothing like the punks Colin was used to dealing with. The boy who rose from the living room sofa to offer him a limp handshake was slightly built, with curly dark hair and his mother’s watchful gray-green eyes. He looked younger than his age and utterly defenseless. The kind of kid who’d probably been picked on in school. He didn’t strike Colin as sexually experienced,
much less someone who would force unwanted attentions on a girl. On the other hand, Colin knew that looks could be deceiving. One of the most difficult cases he’d ever tried had been a baby-faced fourteen-year-old from the Bronx, who with several fellow gang members had robbed a bodega at gunpoint, pistol-whipping the owner to within an inch of his life. At his sentencing, the boy had cried for his mommy.

Jeremy’s father—tall, fair-haired, with the look of an aging high school athlete—stepped forward to introduce himself. “Hi, I’m Randy. Thanks for coming on such short notice.” He had a salesman’s ready smile and firm handshake, but beneath Randy’s manufactured grin, Colin sensed the man was just as worried as his ex-wife.

“No problem,” Colin said. He cast a quick glance at Alice, who wore a carefully neutral expression, before he turned his attention to the boy. In a mild, conversational tone, he observed, “I understand you’re in a bit of trouble, Jeremy.” Jeremy gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Colin went on, “First time?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy replied, in a voice that was barely above a squeak.

“How about school-related? Detention, suspension, that kind of thing.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” interjected Randy, the bonhomie of a moment ago giving way to an impatient scowl. “But let’s be clear on one thing:
He’s
the injured party here.”

Colin turned to Randy, saying, “I can’t help him unless I know all the facts.”

“The only thing you need to know is that he’s being railroaded.” Randy rushed once more to his son’s defense.

Colin ignored him to address Jeremy. “Is there someplace we can talk in private?”

Jeremy looked to his dad for approval, but before Randy could weigh in, Alice spoke up. “Jeremy, why don’t you take Mister McGinty to your room?” Jeremy shot her a veiled look, but he didn’t offer any protest.

Colin still wasn’t sure he would take the case; some of it depended on how cooperative Jeremy was going to be. So it was with surprise and no small degree of concern that he found himself slipping easily into that role, the gears meshing as smoothly as if the machinery hadn’t stood idle for the past five years.