'The lawyers?'
Judy laughed. 'That's not funny.'
'Yes, it is. You laughed.'
'You're missing the point.'
'No, you are. I have a motion to write and Napoleon will be here any minute.'
'Is that all you're worried about?'
'No, but we'll talk about it on the way.' Mary stood up and headed for the conference room, with Judy dripping behind.
* * *
Fueled by a pot of blistering Hawaiian Kona, Judy and Mary started to draft the motion, but they kept getting distracted talking about whether Heb Darnton was Eb Darning and Steere's color blindness. The more Judy thought about it, the fishier it got, and her suspicions solidified into theory. 'Is it really possible that Steere intended to kill Darning?' Judy asked.
'Why? What's his motive?' Mary couldn't ignore the draft of the motion on her laptop and wondered how much time they had before Marta got back. 'Where do you think Marta called from?'
'I don't know, you talked to her.'
'I think she was at the hotel.' Mary hit a key on the laptop and read the beginning of the last paragraph: Traul courts aroudn the country have long held such evidence inadmisssable. Goddamn Mavis Beacon. Betty Crocker wannabe. Mary rolled the trackball to the icon for Spellcheck. 'So how long until Marta gets here and starts screaming?'
'A half hour if she takes a cab.'
'Think that's enough time to finish the brief?'
'No.'
'Okay, so what's his motive?' It was intriguing, but it wasn't work. Mary hit the SAVE key on the computer, to save her job. Maybe that's why they called it SAVE.
'I'm not exactly sure about motive, but think what we know about Steere. He's an egotist. Arrogant. Ruthless. A heartless asshole.'
'Don't mince words now. And plenty of people are assholes. They don't commit murder because of it. It's not enough for motive.' Mary noticed her laptop screen turn blank and her brief drift into power-saving sleep.
'Yes it is, in a way. It's a power thing. When some poor black guy tries to carjack Steere, he knows he can kill him and get away with it.'
'That's quite a stretch, isn't it?' Mary reached into the center of the table and picked up the printout of Darnton/Darning's photo from the computer archives.
'It's consistent with Steere's personality.'
'True, but it's not enough. If Steere killed intentionally, it has something to do with Darnton, if he is Darnton. Because he's Darnton, not because he's homeless.' Mary scrutinized the photo for the umpteenth time and mentally compared it with the gruesome autopsy photos. 'I bet Heb Darnton is the same man as Eb Darning. He'd be the right age, about fifty-one, fifty-two. Does it look like the same man to you, only older?' She slid the photo across the table to Judy, who caught it midway.
'He didn't age well, did he?' Judy asked, studying the photo. 'You got a theory? Go with it.'
'Let's say Darnton— Darning— is the man in the photo,' Mary said tentatively. 'He used to be a guy with a job, but now he's homeless. It happens every day. We know he was alcoholic, the neighbors told us that. Let's say he started drinking after he left the bank teller job and went downhill from there. Lost his job, his girl. Grew a beard.'
Judy set down the photo, thinking aloud. 'So you think this has to do with Darning?'
'Maybe. Maybe it wasn't a chance meeting between Darning and Steere. Maybe they knew each other.'
'That's even dopier than what I said.' Judy screwed up her large features, and Mary raised her hand like the Pope.
'Hear me out. Put together what we learned. Let's say Steere didn't know the traffic light was red. If he didn't, his actions don't make any sense, right?'
'Right. Unless he was really blitzed, which he wasn't, according to his blood tests.'
'Besides, Steere's a big guy. He can absorb a lot of booze.' Mary sipped coffee from her mug, more for courage than caffeine. 'Steere's stopping under the bridge doesn't make sense unless you assume he wanted to meet Darning. They could have arranged to meet under the bridge. Assume Steere was stopping regardless of the light, to kill Darning. Then he made up the whole carjacking story.'
'The carjacking was a lie?'
Mary shook her head. 'Not a lie, a
'Let me double-check.' Judy rose and went to the third accordion file. She flipped through the manila folders until she found the right one, yanked it out, and opened it up. 'Here we go. The bill of sale for Steere's new car. It was three weeks old. $120,000! Wow!'
'What did he trade in? Bet it didn't look like the Snotmobile.' By that Mary meant her ancient BMW 2002, the only chartreuse car ever sold.
'Look at all this stuff.' Judy was agog. ' 'Air-bags, leather-covered steering wheel and gear lever, speaker
