“Shoe Guy.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Birthday.” Molly flipped through a catalog, looking for a page she had marked.
“What are we talking about in terms of price?”
“Price is no obstacle, but let’s keep it under fifty bucks.” Molly found the page. “How about this?” She handed Corbin the catalog and indicated a lamp she had circled.
Corbin frowned. “A lamp? Is his place dark or something?”
“No, but his decorating stinks.”
“Ok, hold on. Before we go any further, I need a little clarification. Are you trying to get him something
Molly pursed her lips.
“I see. The key element is that it makes you happy that he has it.”
“Close enough.”
“What are his interests?” Corbin asked.
Molly shrugged her shoulders. “We spend a lot of time at the movies. Sometimes we watch TV at his place. We go to restaurants. He seems to like Italian food.”
“Stop.”
“What?”
“What does he do when you aren’t with him?”
“How the heck would I know?”
“Don’t you talk?”
Molly again pursed her lips. “You really are testy today, aren’t you? Trouble with the perfect girlfriend?”
“No, everything’s fine,” Corbin answered defensively. He’d blown Penny off three nights in a row and he knew that was a mistake.
“Well, you look stressed. I’d offer you a massage, but I don’t like you that much.” Molly smirked.
“Is this your attempt to change the subject?”
“No, but you’re not being helpful asking me about things I couldn’t possibly know,” Molly said defensively as she grabbed the catalog from Corbin. “Just answer the question: what should I buy him?”
“Buy him a book.”
Molly’s eyes lit up. “A book?!”
“Yes, a book.”
“Good idea! They’re cheap. He might even learn something.” She smiled. “This is why it’s good to keep some of you people around.”
Corbin and Penny sat at a table near the window. They were waiting for their meals to arrive. She looked mostly at the table and rarely at Corbin, and she hadn’t smiled. Corbin noticed, but hadn’t said anything yet.
“You look tired,” Penny said.
“I feel tired. It’s been a long week.” He sipped his Coke.
“How’s your aunt?”
“I don’t know yet,” he replied. “The next few weeks could make all the difference.”
“Did you call Blue?” she asked, despite knowing the answer. She’d spent the week trying to convince Blue that Corbin had merely forgotten to call. Blue was particularly upset Corbin never returned the message where he explained how Rex wanted to sign him to a record deal and how it was urgent that Corbin call him. Corbin deleted that message without listening to it.
Corbin winced and slapped his forehead. “Shoot, I forgot to call him,” he lied.
“You should call him. He’s got some great news for you.”
“What is it?”
“Why don’t you ask
“Because I’m asking you!” Corbin blurted out, surprising both Penny and himself. “Wow, I’m sorry. I’ve been dealing with some difficult people all week. That has me on edge. I didn’t mean that. I really didn’t.”
Penny kept looking at the table.
“I really am sorry,” he repeated. “Forgive me?”
“Is that why you didn’t return my calls all week?”
“Yes. I’m sorry about that. I just got so carried away with everything going on. I literally never had a moment to myself.”
“You’ll call Blue?”
“Yes, I’ll call Blue. I swear.”
Penny seemed placated, but for the first time they ran out of things to talk about.
Chapter 29
Corbin returned to Philadelphia the day before the hearing. It was 11:30 in the morning. Beckett was on the phone trying to track down witnesses. Ever since he bombed Corbin’s cross examination, Beaumont had started oozing helpfulness; witnesses were his latest offering. Corbin knew Beckett would be tied up for at least an hour. This presented him with the chance he had been waiting for to search Beckett’s hotel.
To make sure Beckett wouldn’t leave the office, Corbin asked Beckett to watch for a fax they were expecting from Judge Sutherlin’s clerk, regarding their first scheduled hearing. He told Beckett the fax would contain the hearing date and time and might need an immediate reply. In truth, the fax was already safely hidden in Corbin’s briefcase. Corbin then excused himself, ostensibly to get some lunch.
As he stepped into the Tribune Building elevator, Corbin double-checked his pocket to make sure he had the electronic keycard which would let him into Beckett’s hotel room. Corbin took the key earlier from Beckett’s desk when Beckett visited the restroom. The name and address of the hotel and Beckett’s room number were on the paper sleeve in which the card rested.
The hotel was six blocks away. Corbin jogged most of the way. As he entered the hotel, he walked right past the front desk without stopping. The clerk hardly noticed him. When he reached room 214, Corbin inserted the key. It clicked. Corbin entered the room. Beckett’s personal effects were spread everywhere. Corbin searched everything, even between the mattresses, but found no wallet and no stacks of cash. After replacing everything the way he found it, Corbin made his way to the parking garage. He knew Beckett’s car, as he’d been in it many times. He also knew the driver-side door lock was broken, so he didn’t need to smash a window. His search came up empty.
An annoyed Corbin returned to the office, where he found Beckett watching television in the conference room.
“Guess what?” Beckett pointed to the television.
Eddie Pierce, the District Attorney, was on television talking about Beaumont’s case. Behind him stood the grim Hillary Morales. “Yes, this is part of our zero-tolerance policy,” Pierce said. He had the manner of a circus ringmaster with the permanent smile of a car salesman. “I’m determined to get these criminals off our streets no matter what it takes. If that means taking them down for less serious crimes, that’s fine by me. Every day someone like Mr. Beaumont is off the streets, the safer our community will be. It worked with Al Capone, it will work here. Sometimes the tried and true methods are the best.”
“Could you give us some background on Beaumont,” asked one of the reporters.
“Certainly, Beaumont’s been implicated in a series of crimes in the past. He’s the sole suspect in a double homicide that occurred two years ago, though he could not be prosecuted when the witness against him turned up beaten to death in the river.”
“Do you have enough evidence to convict him on this new charge?” asked another reporter.
“That’s up to the jury. All I can say is I’m confident of our case.”
“How long would he serve?”
“If convicted of all charges, he could serve up to seventy-five years.”
