I arrived back at the house, and sure enough Vicki was still sound asleep.
“Vic,” I called out as I undressed for the shower. “Get up. We’ve got to go the jail.”
She threw a pillow at me. I caught it, laughed, and then flopped on the bed.
“Oh, God,” she mumbled and rolled over. “You smell.”
I laughed mischievously and then edged right up into her personal space.
“Henry,” she yelled. “Get away. Seriously. You smell like..ugh.”
I laughed and she threw another pillow at me. But she was awake now, and laid back on a pillow. I edged my offensive body odor a few inches away and grabbed a pillow.
“James Matthews wife is in jail,” I told her.
She rolled her eyes. “Fifty bucks says she killed him.”
“No bet,” I replied and she laughed.
“She says she’s been arrested for smuggling elephant tusks,” I told her.
“Elephant tusks?” she repeated. “That’s one we haven’t had before.”
“Right?” I muttered. “We got murder. Tigers. Zebras. Feuding girlfriends. Art scam. Mobsters. Car chases. Meth dealers. But, nothing on elephant tusks yet.”
“Have the charges been filed?” her voice was still hoarse with sleep.
“She doesn’t really know,” I said. “She’s a basketcase.”
“I’ll bet,” Vicki mumbled.
“She wants us to go down there,” I said.
“She have bail yet?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “We’ll find out more once we get there.”
She nodded slowly, and rubbed her face. “I thought today was going to be relaxing.”
“Apparently not,” I said as I rose from the bed. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Please do,” her morning voice still croaked. “I’ll put on some coffee.”
Once I got out of the shower, Vicki was fully dressed and transformed into superwoman mode.
“I’m making breakfast,” she said. “It’s eggs and…”
“Eggs and what?” I laughed as I looked into her sad little pan.
Vicki and I were both horrible cooks. So we just didn’t do it. We ate out virtually every meal. This was fine for us, because even if we did cook, we wouldn’t have the time for it anyway.
All of this meant we didn’t really keep groceries either. So on the rare occasion that Vicki decided to think perhaps she was Martha Stewart in a previous life, we didn’t have the supplies.
Now we both peered into the yellow goo solidifying in the frying pan.
“Hmm,” I said as I picked a bite out. “You know I love you, baby. But, I just don’t think this is edible.”
She nodded and swished the pan around as if she could somehow undo the chemical reactions that had come and gone.
“Fine,” she said.
She tossed the pan in the sink and rinsed it.
“Let’s go get a woman out of jail,” I said as I rubbed her drooping shoulders. “We’re better at that.”
She laughed and we walked out to my car.
“You know,” she said as I backed out of our driveway. “I do think we should take those cooking classes. It would be fun.”
She had mentioned that before we left for Tahiti. I had marginally agreed to it at the time, but now the idea seemed superfluous.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Would we have time? We’re planning a wedding, and building a house, and now we might have another big case.”
“Okay,” she said. “How about one session, and we’ll see if we like it?”
“Alright,” I said. “But if I hate it, I’m spending the rest of the class outside on the phone.”
“You’ll do that anyway,” she said.
“I don’t know that I like you knowing me this well,” I replied.
She just laughed.
We arrived at the Sedona Police Department in the mid morning. Usually visiting clients in jail was a dismal, lonely affair populated by bored small town officers. But today was different.
“Oh my god,” Vicki said.
About ten law enforcement vehicles sat empty, running flashing lights.
“FBI,” I said. “State Troopers, Sheriff’s office, and SPD.”
“Wow,” Vicki said. “She’s in a shit load of trouble.”
“Smuggling contraband overseas,” I said as I parked. “Yeah. That’ll get you in some hot water.”
We walked in through the glass doors, and it was mayhem. It’s usually pretty much empty, and I just sign in, make small talk with the officer on duty and they go find whoever I want. But, as soon as I walked in.
“Sir,” a voice barked in my direction from somewhere. “Sir, Ma’am, you’re going to have to step over here.”
I finally placed a person with the orders. It was a petite black woman in an FBI vest with a metal detector wand. I held up my palms in surrender, and she approached both Vicki and me. Then three other officers swarmed us.
Someone demanded I place my bag on a table, and then some guy frisked me up and down with a detector wand. I found myself involuntarily relieved of shoes, socks, belt, phone, keys, and wallet. I was basically mugged.
I glanced over at Vicki, and she frowned as she was getting the same royal treatment that I was. She was now barefoot, and the pockets on dress slacks had a tiny metal rivet that kept setting off the wand and this caused great concern. There was talk of a full body search.
The FBI was fully within their rights to search anyone going into the jail when they have a suspect in custody, so there was not much I could do. But a full body search? I had to at least try.
“My name is Henry Irving,” I said, “and I’m an attorney. Would you mind telling me what the premise of this search is?”
“You’re a lawyer?” the tiny woman with the wand eyed me warily.
“We both are,” I said. “We’re here to see our client, Kelsi Matthews.”
The search stopped and the milieu of federal and state agents glanced at
