Reilly 12 - Show No Fear (25 page)

“C
OULD
I
TALK TO YOU ALONE FOR JUST A COUPLE OF
minutes, Dad?” Nina had planned to stop by Harlan’s office at lunchtime on Thursday, but they told her he would not be in until two. When she arrived at the house, Harlan and Angie were in the middle of a tiff. She heard everything through the front door. Her father bellowed once, Angie replied reasonably, then quiet resumed. Nina gave them a moment and knocked. They came to the door together. Angie, now serene and looking happy, had linked her arm into Harlan’s.

They talked for a few minutes, and Angie excused herself.

“You’ve met your match, Dad,” Nina said, entering the house. She located a place on the couch not too thick with pillows and sat down.

“You got that right.” Harlan sat down in the well-worn La-Z-Boy she remembered from the house she had grown up in. He had noted her somber manner and seemed a little nervous.

“I need to talk to you about that time Mom got hit and had to go to the hospital.”

“Okay, then. All the family secrets coming out I guess.”

Nina hated how nice he looked sitting there, how caring. She steeled herself. “Matt says you never touched Mom. He hit her.”

Her father frowned. “Matt’s a junkie.” His big, handsome face wrinkled. He looked too old to be Angie’s husband, too old to be Nina’s vigorous, fun-loving father.

Nina chose her words carefully, examining his broad face. “You say he lied. Why would he?”

Harlan shifted. His shoulders fell. “Honey, you have a right to the truth.”

“I do.”

“I came into the kitchen just as Matt hit her. She fell against the stove and got hurt. He hit her, slapped her really. What bad luck it all turned out so bad.”

“Why lie to me? Why?”

Her father sighed. “We saw you as the tough one, Nina, the one that would survive all the mistakes we made and come out smelling sweet.” He smiled. “And you have, doll. But Matt was born with a chip on his shoulder. He held the opinion that the world owed him everything just for being his handsome, charming self. Your mother encouraged that. Maybe I sabotaged him, too. I don’t know.

“Truth is, he was fragile, young when your mother and I started having problems, still at home. So, when this happened, your mother and I felt he needed our protection. We wanted him in treatment, not in jail. Give him a chance to redeem his life, somehow.” He brushed dust off the coffee table with his hand. “Do you understand how many regrets parents have? You’re a mother now.”

Nina got up and stood beside her father. She put a hand on his shoulder, and he put his hand over hers. “I hated you.”

“Yeah.”

Their eyes met. Hers lowered. “So, I went to see him. He looks better than he has in years. He seems to have come back to us, Dad. He was tearful, too, but it was normal crying—you know? He has been prescribed a medication for a mood disorder, a drug to stabilize his moods. He says at first he was groggy, but his body is adjusting. He also claims they have a great cook there, can you believe it?”

“He hates anything gooey.”

“He’s so picky. I think they must go heavy on the desserts or the boxed mac and cheese.”

“He loves chocolate.” Harlan sighed.

“Yep.” They sat surrounded by old ghosts.

“Did you ask him—” Harlan tried to form the words to finish his thought, but he couldn’t do it.

“He swears he never touched Mom. He would never have hurt her again.”

“Do you believe him?”

Nina struggled. “Yes and no. Sometimes, late at night, I suspect he’s been so nuts he might believe her death would be a mercy.”

“For that reason only.” Harlan nodded sadly.

“Then I wonder, if not Matt, who?”

Harlan was apparently following his own train of thought. He wandered into the kitchen and talked to her over the bar, putting dishes into the dishwasher. “When I left your mother, it wasn’t so obvious to me how hard it was going to be on you and Matt. I never cheated on her, never wanted to hurt her. Yes, money made us fight, but that was just a kind of last gasp for our marriage. We would have worked that out eventually. When I left, I was thinking about my own life, how to salvage it. I wasn’t in love with her anymore. And then I fell in love with Angie. Life’s complicated. I never expected that.”

“Well, don’t worry about Matt. He’s in good hands. They pay attention to him and disregard his mind games.”

For a quiet minute, they both thought their separate thoughts.

“Dad? I have to ask.”

“I didn’t kill anybody, sweetheart,” he said, looking right at her.

Angie arrived and planted a hand on Harlan’s shoulder. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, I’ve got to go.” Kissing both the women, Harlan grabbed a briefcase and headed out the door.

Angie and Nina looked after him.

“He’s impossible,” Nina said.

“Oh, no.” Angie picked up fingernail polish from the kitchen table. “He’s a fusser. He worries about you, your brother, me, and our baby too much.”

“He’s happy in this new life. You must be a good influence.”

“I am,” said Angie matter-of-factly. She daubed pink on her index fingernail. “He does a good job on me, too.” Nina watched her apply polish quickly to her left hand, then her right. She wiggled her fingers in the air to dry them. “I feel ugly. So fat.”

“Oh, Angie. You’re perfect. Pregnancy suits you.”

Angie’s skin was like a soft peach, smooth as an infant’s. She was wearing her hair now in a soft, natural style and had stopped dyeing it. Her dress swelled softly under her breasts, and she kept touching herself, as if to make sure it was really true, there was indeed a baby growing.

“He tries to make me believe that, too.” She looked at Nina. “You free for dinner, by any chance? On me? At the Tradewinds? I’d love to chat with you some more.”

“That would be nice, sometime. Not tonight.”

“Soon, then. I want to run some baby names by you.”

Perry Tompkins looked harrowed. Nina was halfway through her iced tea before he appeared at her table at the busy restaurant with its brick walls.

“Oh, hello. Thanks for coming.”

“Hello.” He sat down opposite her. Just sat. Sober, there wasn’t much of a there there. She hadn’t seen him except professionally until the recent debacle at the Hog’s Breath bar. She wasn’t going to refer to that stupid trick he had pulled if he didn’t, and she sincerely hoped he had blacked it out of his mind.

She gave him her full attention. He had attended the Santa Clara School of Law. He didn’t inspire gossip at the law dinners because he never attended. He had been too busy keeping Richard’s firm going, she supposed, and he had always seemed shy by nature. Today he wore suit pants and a pale blue shirt, no tie. He had the softness of a guy who spends too much time in front of a computer, and a hairline heading north. His eyes snapped with intelligence behind the specs, though. He was not stupid.

They ordered. Perry had begun looking around as if expecting gunmen to burst in with AK-47s.

“I don’t have much time,” he said. “You can imagine. The clients. The custody case. It’s dismissed. Here.” He handed her some file-stamped court pleadings.

Nina took the papers. Joy filled her, and sorrow. “Thank you. That was prompt.”

“Just clearing the decks.”

“What about the DNA results?”

Perry shrugged. “You’ll get the results directly from the lab, and I’ll toss whatever comes my way.”

“Not so fast.”

Perry’s eyes opened wider, and for the first time he appeared to be paying attention.

“Did Richard leave a will?” Nina raised a hand. “I have a very good reason for asking. My son.”

“Your—” The color drained from his face as the full implications of that sank in.

“Exactly,” Nina said.

“But—but—Richard has never been legally established to be the father. He never will be, unless—”

“Unless I have reason to make a claim on Richard’s estate. As Bob’s guardian. Will there be a probate of Richard’s estate, Perry?”

“I—I—”

“Was there a will?” The food came, but neither of them picked up a fork. Perry seemed to have sunk deep into himself.

“Okay. Yes. There was. I’m the executor. He left the firm to me, lock, stock, barrel. It was the right thing to do, I had a big hand in building the firm; it’s more or less my life. He left all his other possessions to his grandmother, his only other—”

“Did he specifically disinherit Bob?” The question hung there while Perry struggled to take it all in. Nina, too, was making some mental readjustments. She knew how Richard had treated this guy, and she was starting to wonder what Richard’s law office might be worth.

“But this is—I never thought—”

“Can’t blame you for overlooking this, my friend,” Nina said. “Did the will mention Bob?”

“No. Doctrine of the—”

“Pretermitted heir. That old, old saw. Still has life in the courts though. Still happens now and then.”

Perry stared at his plate. “The fucking pretermitted heir. What do you know. This is all so fucked up I just feel like—I wish—” He pushed the plate back. “Let me extrapolate. You’re going to go after my law firm.”

“It isn’t yours yet,” Nina reminded him. He was looking away again, having some sort of titanic struggle within himself. She almost felt like apologizing. His oversight, though; he had the same information she had, and he hadn’t thought it through as she had.

“Fucking fool,” he muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry. I was referring to Richard.”

“I’m with you there.”

“He fucked up every single thing he touched.”

“Right on.” She gave in. After all, she had only had a couple of months with Richard. Perry had had years. “Sorry.” It was an acknowledgment that they had things in common.

Perry began to weep. “He was a fucking blackmailer. Did his best to fuck up all my hard work, bring it all down. Ah, fucking hell.”

“Really? Who was he blackmailing?” Nina asked quickly.

“I have to go now.” Perry pushed his chair back and rushed out.

“W
HATEVER YOU DO,” SAID
J
ACK, TOSSING THE
Monterey Herald
on Astrid’s desk, “don’t fall off that chair.” Astrid stood unsteadily on her swivel, attaching sprigs of mistletoe to a chandelier hanging in the office reception area. Nina, observing from a file cabinet nearby, felt cheered by his presence.

Spotting her, he said, “Nina Reilly. Just the woman I need.”

She felt a smile, then went on down the hall and into his office. He sat at his desk casting a brief look at his callbacks.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“How are you doing?”

“Getting along.”

“Matt?”

She thought about the normal responses, how he was doing fine, making progress, and said, “I’m scared for him. Our dad has agreed to pay for further treatment. We’ll put him into a private facility. Full-out rehab.” She sighed.

“Good. What else can you do?”

“I don’t know, kiss the boo-boo, make him all better?”

“I don’t have any siblings. I only have Paul, a former best friend I can’t trust. Ha-ha.”

“Well, then you know exactly how it is having my brother.” They both laughed one of those laughs that didn’t extend to their eyes.

Later that afternoon, Astrid and Griffin tried to get Nina involved in preparations for the next evening’s Christmas party. They played madrigals on the sound system and played with the decorations while four clients waited, exhibiting varying degrees of impatience.

Nina pled work, closing the door on her office. She knew everyone wanted to cheer her up. She appreciated their effort. Christmas without her mother would not be merry. Songs and decorations, however well-intentioned, could never extinguish her grief. If only she could skip to January.

On the other hand, she was on a new trail. She had been thinking a lot about Perry.

At about 4 p.m., Astrid came into her office to gossip. Nina poured her a cup of coffee.

“I have such a thing for Griffin,” Astrid said. “He’s only twenty-five, but what’s ten years if you keep in shape like me?”

“Sure.” Nina had so much work to finish, and so much prep for her class that night, she didn’t have time for this. Still, she appreciated Astrid’s effort to keep things normal, so she listened for fifteen minutes while Astrid weighed the relative virtues of her imaginary relationship.

When Astrid finally left, Nina picked up the phone to call her father, then set it down again. She had told Angie about the office Christmas party at lunch. Angie said she would try to convince Harlan they should come, but she couldn’t promise he would. “If I don’t force him out, he stays home,” she had said.

Angie was part of Nina’s family now. Nina was almost ready to grow up and accept it.

Jack came in a few minutes later, a little the worse for wear after court. He said, “Guess who I saw over at Muni Court this morning on his way to the sheriff’s office?”

“Who?”

“Dr. Albert Wu, that’s who. Paul says he’s being reinterviewed. They seem to feel they have a lot of circumstantial evidence pointing to him in both of the murders. Some shit is hitting the fan in Paul’s office. I think they feel somewhat battered by the newspapers. They’d like to make the arrest. The prosecutor’s office hasn’t come out and openly criticized their handling of the case, but that’s hanging in the wind. I plan to drop by the DA’s office this afternoon and talk to them.”

“They have proof Wu killed my mother?”

Jack shrugged. “They didn’t say that, no. They managed to locate Wu’s accountant. She told them about another client who had threatened a lawsuit a few years ago. He’s dead now, too. But she swears it was all settled with a big under-the-table payoff from Wu. She insists that Dr. Wu is not capable of that level of violence.”

“Maybe it wasn’t Wu.”

Jack came closer. “Yeah? You have some thoughts?”

“I’m thinking about Perry Tompkins a lot, Jack. He told me Richard was running the firm into the ground with his unsavory practices. Said he was a blackmailer. You don’t know him very well, do you? He’s not much of a socializer. Jack, he’s taking over Richard’s law practice.”

Jack took a moment to reflect on this.

Nina said, “When I think I was sitting opposite him yesterday, and he might be the person who killed my mother and tried to harm me, I feel very odd, you know, Jack? I’m not afraid of him though. I’m just not.”

“Well, now,” Jack said. “But Wu’s so perfect.”

“Do they have hard evidence? Witnesses? Have they linked him to the gun that was found at Filsen’s? Or to the white car that drove my mother—”

“They haven’t traced the gun or the car. But you used to be able to buy handguns in California at flea markets in Salinas. Anybody can get an unregistered gun. And how many white cars are there in this state? They’re still looking. Wu knows how to shoot. Turns out he hunts.”

“I called Paul,” Nina said. “Told him about Perry. Asked him to find out who Richard was blackmailing.”

“Wow. Perry Tompkins? He’s, like, hardly alive.”

Remy came in for a moment to put some papers on Nina’s desk. She looked coolly at the two of them, then gave Nina a stack of paperwork. “If you have any questions about this, call me. Astrid has my number in Hawaii, and of course after that, I’ll be back in town.”

Jack had moved away from Nina when Remy came in. He stood patiently to one side of Nina’s desk.

As he started to leave, Remy tilted her head toward him. “Come see me when you have a second.” She picked up a photo on Nina’s desk. “How’s your little boy getting along?” Nina nodded. Remy examined the picture. “He looks so much like you.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Defiant. Jack’s told me a few things.” Remy smiled and left.

The air flattened. Nina replaced the photograph of her son Remy had left lying on the desk. She wondered if Jack noticed how much quieter the room seemed without Remy in it. She wondered when Jack had told Remy her history. She felt a tiny pain in her heart, which she set aside. This wasn’t a question of competition between her and Remy. This was a question about her and Jack. And she would try to trust Jack because Jack was not Richard. Jack was a good guy.

When Jack arrived in Remy’s office, she gave him papers on some cases he was taking over for her. Boxes of files were stacked in all four corners in preparation for her move. She talked breathlessly and brushed a tendril of hair out of her face. She would be gone soon. The place would not be the same. Jack suddenly realized she had never seen things between them the way he did, as a relationship with a future.

He was smarting, but resolved to be polite. They were in the office talking business. He would be professional.

“I hear they are moving in on Dr. Wu. I talked to the DA’s office this morning. I’m glad they figured out who’s responsible,” she said, sipping black coffee. “What do you think about all this?”

“I think you have a hell of a nerve looking me in the eye.”

Remy had the grace to look away.

“I’m a lot better guy than that cheesy slimebag I used to call my buddy.”

“Stop, please. This isn’t the—”

“How could you?” Jack said, hearing his voice rise like Joan Crawford’s in a forties movie.

“Shut up,” Remy hissed. “The clients will hear you.”

“Think I care? I don’t care. Now there’s a truth. I don’t care anymore, Remy. We’re through.”

“No kidding.”

Remy hadn’t even blinked at his outburst. Jack remembered where he was, took hold of his shrieking heart, and muffled it.

“Any more thoughts about getting out of the business?” Remy was asking calmly.

Did this follow from the preceding conversation? Was she hoping he would leave town? So cold, this thought. Jack didn’t answer.

“I know I’ve said some things in the past that maybe made you feel that I don’t entirely—” She stopped. “Let me start again. I think your clients are lucky to get you. I hope you decide to stick it out.”

“You’re the one bowing out right now.”

“Not exactly,” she bristled. “As attorneys, we play judge in secret. I’m just coming out of the closet.”

“Oh, please.”

“In my heart of hearts, I never doubted I would get here. Although back in Chicago, at the DA’s office, I did something.” Remy paused. “I let a guy go to jail who wasn’t guilty. I just let the jury decide even though I was pretty sure he was innocent. He killed himself in jail. His family got him a pardon after his death.

“They let me leave quietly out of respect for all the honest years I put in, I guess. I told them about it when I went up to Sacramento. I just couldn’t let the past hang over me like that, nag
ging me forever. And look what happened. They loved me for my truthfulness. Confession’s not good for the soul, it’s good for the reputation!”

“You made a judgment call that went sour, so forgive yourself,” Jack told her.

“That’s a very generous thing for you to say under the circumstances.”

Remy colored the air with her mood, swiveling around in her chair, a blur of life. In the past, when Jack ran into an old girlfriend somewhere, he always wondered what in the world had attracted him in the first place, but Remy continued to pull. Her happiness reddened her cheeks. Her thinness—boniness he had called it—made her eyes large and important. They continued to invite him back into her world. How could he not admire the power she wielded?

Remy stopped swiveling in her chair and looked at Jack. “I want to tell you about Paul.”

“Totally unnecessary. I already know the snake.”

“I asked him to come to Sacramento with me. I was mad at you and he was curious about me, maybe jealous of you.”

“I don’t want to hear this.”

She lifted her hand. “You should know what happened. I don’t take it seriously and he certainly doesn’t. See, Jack, I don’t intend to marry anybody. I like my life the way it is. Nothing I said made you believe it. I guess I thought this would.”

“Can I help you plow through any of this stuff?” Jack asked when it was clear she had finished.

Remy grabbed his eyes, then said, “Thanks, but Astrid promised to help me put everything in order before I move. She understands these files better than I do, and Nina’s helping. Oh, Jack, before you leave, here’s something I want to give you.” She handed him a small photograph framed in sleek modern silver. He tucked it into his pocket, still looking at her.

What did you say to a woman you’d loved, fought with, slept with, included for a short while, however incompetently, in your dream? He walked to the doorway with his eyebrows furrowed.
“Buy you a hot dog for lunch sometime?” She said yes, then added, laughing, so long as he didn’t insist she eat it.

Dr. Wu’s office was locked and the
CLOSED
sign gave a phone number. Nina called it.

“Hello?”

“This is Nina Reilly,” she said.

Silence.

“I’d like to talk with you.”

“Sorry, that’s impossible.”

“Not really, not when it’s about blackmail. Richard Filsen blackmailing you, to be specific.”

After a moment, Dr. Wu said in a tired voice, “I did not kill your mother. I would like to say that to you.”

“I appreciate that statement. But that is not why I called. I need to know how much you paid Mr. Filsen. I don’t care why he was blackmailing you.”

“And why do you need to know that? Why should I tell you anything? I am about to be arrested for killing two people, and all I ever did was try to help. You have been part of the lynch mob. Why should I talk to you?”

“It might help you. And how can it harm you? Did you make some sort of cash payout to Mr. Filsen?”

“I must again ask, why do you want to know? You aren’t asking to help me, I’m sure of that.”

“My son is one of Mr. Filsen’s heirs.”

Wu began to laugh. He had a rich laugh, but it went on a little too long.

“Sure,” he said. “Why not? Your son’s father extorted twenty thousand dollars from me. In cash.”

“Did Mr. Tompkins know about it?”

“Who?”

“His associate. Perry Tompkins.”

“I don’t know. No one has returned the money to me.”

Perry must know about the money, Nina thought, or maybe Richard hid it, or put it in his personal account?

“Thank you, Dr. Wu.”

“Do you believe me? That I did not kill your mother? I am not capable of such a thing.”

“Do you admit you inserted needles into her fingertips, knowing she was a Raynaud’s patient?”

Silence. Nina hung up, thought a moment, called Paul and left a message.