'The word has been passed around,' I said.
'What?'
'Any inmate who gets Little Edward to service him receives preferential treatment. Your boy is going to be the bitch of his block.' I walked away without waiting for a reaction. Muse stumbled after me.
'That was classy,' she said. I kept moving. It was a false threat, of course – the sins of the father should never fall to the son-but if that image stuck when EJ laid his head on his goose-down pillow, so be it.
Muse jumped in front of me. 'You gotta calm down, Cope.'
'I forget, Muse-are you my investigator or my shrink?'
She put her hands up in a surrender gesture and let me pass. I sat at my seat and waited for the judge. What the hell had Bob been thinking? Some days, court is about sound and fury signifying nothing. This was one of them. Flair and Mort knew that they were in deep trouble. They wanted to exclude the pornographic DVD because we hadn't produced it earlier. They tried for a mistrial. They made motions and handed in findings and research and papers. Their interns and paralegals must have been up all night.
Judge Pierce listened, the bushy eyebrows low. He had his hand on his chin and looked very, well, judicial. He did not comment. He used terms like 'under advisement.' I wasn't worried. They had nothing. But a thought began to worm its way in and gnaw. They had gone after me. They had gone after me hard.
Might they not do the same with the judge?
I watched his face. It gave away nothing. I looked at his eyes, looked for some sort of telltale sign that he wasn't sleeping. There was nothing there, but that didn't mean anything.
We finished up by three p.m. I went back to my office and checked my messages. Nothing from Greta. I called her again. Still no answer. I tried Bob's cell too. More nothing. I left a message.
I looked at those two photographs-the aged Gil Perez, the dead Manolo Santiago. Then I called Lucy. She picked up on the first ring. 'Hey,' Lucy answered. And unlike last night, there was a lilt in her voice. I was thrown back again.
'Hey.'
There was a weird, almost happy pause.
'I got the address for Mr. and Mrs. Perez,' I said. 'I want to take another run at them.'
'When?'
'Now. They don't live far from you. I can pick you up on the way.'
'I'll be ready.'
Chapter 23
Lucy looked fabulous. She wore a green snug pullover that clung exactly as it should. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. She tucked a strand behind her ear. She wore glasses tonight, and I liked the way they looked. As soon as she got into the car, Lucy checked out the CDs. 'Counting Crows,' she said. 'August and Everything After'
'You like it?'
'Best debut of the past two decades.'
I nodded.
She slid it into the slot. 'Round Here' came on. We drove and listened. When Adam Duritz sang about a woman saying you should take a shot, that her walls were crumbling, I risked a glance. Lucy’s eyes were wet.
'You okay?'
'What other CDs you got?'
'What do you want?'
'Something hot and sexy.'
'Meat Loaf.' I lifted the CD case into view. 'A little 'Bat Out of Hell'' 'Oh my,' she said. 'You remember?'
'I rarely travel without it.'
'God, you always were a hopeless romantic,' she said.
'How about a little 'Paradise By The Dashboard Light'?'
'Yes, but skip to the part where she makes him promise to love her forever before she gives it up.'
'Gives it up,' I repeated. 'Love that phrase.'
She turned so her body faced me. 'What line did you use on me?'
'Probably my patented seducer.'
'Which is?'
I put a whine in my voice. 'Please? Come on, pretty please?'
She laughed.
'Hey, it worked on you.'
“But I’m easy.”
'Right, forgot that.'
She playfully slapped my arm. I smiled. She turned away. We listened to Meat Loaf in silence for a little while. 'Cope?' 'What?' 'You were my first.' I almost slammed on the brakes. 'I know I pretended otherwise. My father and I and that whole crazy free-love lifestyle. But I never. You were my first. You were the first man I ever loved.'
The silence was heavy.
'Of course, after you, I boinked everybody.'
I shook my head, looked to my right. She was smiling again.
I made the right turn per the perky voice of my navigation system.
The Perezes lived in a condo development in Park Ridge.
'Are they expecting us?' Lucy asked.
No.
'How do you know they're home?' she asked.
'I called right before I picked you up. My number comes up private on caller ID. When I heard Mrs. Perez answer, I disguised my voice and asked for Harold. She said I had the wrong number. I said I was sorry and hung up.'
'Wow, you're good at this.'
'I try to remain humble.'
We headed out of the car. The property was neatly landscaped. The air was syrupy with some kind of blossom. I couldn't place it. Lilacs maybe. The smell was too strong, cloying, like someone had spilled cheap shampoo.
Before I knocked, the door opened. It was Mrs. Perez. She did not say hi or offer up much of a greeting. She looked at me with hooded eyes and waited.
'We need to talk,' I said.
Her eyes moved toward Lucy. 'Who are you?'
'Lucy Silverstein,' she said.
Mrs. Perez closed her eyes. 'Ira's daughter.'
'Yes.'
Her shoulders seemed to sag.
'Maybe come in?' I said.
'If I say no?'
I met her eye. 'I'm not letting this go.'
'What go? That man was not my son.'
'Please,' I said. 'Five minutes.'
Mrs. Perez sighed and stepped back. We entered. The shampoo smell was even stronger in here. Too strong. She closed the door and led us to a couch.
'Is Mr. Perez home?'
'No.'
There were noises coming from one of the bedrooms. In the corner were some cardboard boxes. The inscription on the side indicated that they were medical supplies. I looked around the room. Everything, other than those boxes, was so in place, so coordinated, you would swear they bought the model unit.
The unit had a fireplace. I stood and walked over to the mantel. There were family photographs. I looked at them. There were no pictures of the Perez parents. There were no pictures of Gil. The mantel was full of images of people I assumed to be Gil's two brothers and one sister.
One brother was in a wheelchair.
'That's Tomas,' she said, pointing to a picture of the smiling boy in the wheelchair graduating from Kean University. 'He has CP. Do you know what that is?'
'Cerebral palsy.'
'Yes.'
'How old is he?'
