heavy winter.
The lawyers took their cut in traffic accidents, divorces, and business disputes. Sandy tried to fit in the new business. She knew that the courthouse would go as dark as a playless Broadway theater around the twentieth.
“If I were a serial killer, this would be the time,” she remarked to Nina the next morning.
Nina said, “I sent Bob’s presents to Germany this morning. Some clothes, a book, and a stuffed bear. Like he was still three years old.”
“This case’ll be over by Christmas.”
“If it isn’t, I’ll be separated from him.”
“You’ll come to Markleeville and eat with Joseph and me and the family.”
“That would be nice.”
“We do spaghetti on Christmas Eve. You’ll like it.”
“That’s nice. Thanks.”
The phone rang, and Sandy answered.
“Just a moment.” She wagged her head toward Nina’s office, and Nina went in, shut the door, and picked up.
“Ms. Reilly?”
“Yes?”
“The name is Branson. We met in Boston.”
Oh, no, not Branson. She had hoped Branson would not flap his leathery wings so far west.
“I am of counsel to the firm in Palo Alto that will be handling your suit against XYC. We would like to meet with you before this goes any farther.”
“Come on up.”
“We realize you are a busy lady. Could we fly you down tomorrow for a meeting?”
“Fly me down?”
“A private plane will be waiting at the Tahoe airport at eleven. I believe that’s only a few miles from your office.”
“True.” The Tahoe airport served only private pilots these days.
“We could have you back by four at the latest. It’s just a jaunt. I guarantee you a good lunch.”
“What is the purpose of this meeting?”
“To get to know each other. And see if something can be worked out.”
It was ear candy to a lawyer. Nina said, “I’m looking at my schedule now. It does appear that I could clear my calendar.”
“Very good. Just go out onto the landing strip at eleven and look for the blue-and-white Cessna.”
“Okay.”
“See you then.” Branson’s manner had been completely proper. Nina thought to herself: Ally? Or enemy?
Now, why in the world would she even begin to think of him as an ally? Cockeyed Irish optimism was the only way to explain it. She would gird her loins firmly on the morrow, assuming for purposes of argument that women have loins, and that girding would not involve tight spandex.
Tonight she was back home, Wish playing video games on her computer in the kitchen. Wish didn’t seem to mind acting as her shadow, and she was glad to have him. She had her couch to sit on, he had the yellow office chair by the refrigerator, and they were getting used to each other.
The phone rang. “I’ll get it,” Wish said, and picked up. “It’s a lawyer.”
“Nina?”
“Betty Jo?”
“We need to talk to you. Me and Jimmy. Right away.”
“It’s late, and I’d like to know how you got my home phone number,” Nina said.
“Everybody has your phone number. Jimmy got it off PrivateEye.com. And I know it’s late.”
“What is it?”
“Jimmy was attacked tonight. He wants to tell you about it. He was in the Ace High office taking over for Meredith, who by the way is in jail for obstructing justice, thank you very much. A man in a mask. It’s bizarre. You have to hear this.”
“I appreciate your call, but I’m confused. We’re on opposite sides, and-”
“Pish-tosh. You have to hear this.”
“Has he called the police?”
“They came and went already. I’m here in the office with him. Can you come down?”
“I’m on my way.” She hung up and said, “Wish, would you come with me? The Ace High had an incident today.”
“Let me lace up my boots.” He was already shutting down the computer. Nina pulled her parka and boots on over her jeans and they piled into the Bronco.
Adrenaline moved through her veins. She found herself talking to the shooter again. You’re here, all right, she thought. You won’t get me or mine. I’ll get you.
The No Vacancy sign lit up the frosty night. Someone, probably Meredith, had set out plastic reindeer on either side of the entry to the Ace High office. Their noses flashed on and off. The door moved heavily with its jingling wreath as Betty Jo let them in. She looked behind them, left and right, ready to slam it in their faces if anything moved.
And that ain’t good, Nina thought to herself.
Locking and testing the door, Betty Jo said, “I thought you might be able to help me figure this out.”
“How is he?” James Bova lay on a couch in the dark on his back, a pillow under his head. He held something to his nose.
“Broke it,” Betty Jo said. “Got kicked in the belly, too. I just spent two hours at Boulder Hospital with him. Nothing got kicked out of him, he’ll recover, but he wanted to talk to you right away.” Betty Jo turned on a low lamp and Wish checked the windows to make sure the blinds were fully shut. He hadn’t said a word. He took up a position in the corner and Nina was aware that her back was covered.
“Mr. Bova?”
Nina moved closer. Bova’s eyes opened. They were swollen above the bandages and he would have twin shiners in the morning. “It’s all your fault,” he said, moving his mouth with difficulty.
“That’s what they all say,” Nina said. “How do you feel?”
“Vicodin. I’m going to sleep pretty soon.” He moved a little and grimaced, but the drug was keeping him comfortable.
“He’s goin’ home with me,” Betty Jo said. “Hector borrowed the neighbor’s Rottweiler just in case we’re followed. That makes three animals in the house. Nobody’ll get through. Let’s make this quick. Jimmy just met Mr. Lee Flint.”
“He waltzed into the office,” Bova said. “Ski mask. Brown with yellow around the eyes. I knew right away it had to be the same guy. I tried to call 911, but he pushed me against the wall and started beating me. Not talking, just hitting. He broke my nose and blood was spurting all over him. I thought he was going to beat me to death. I’ve got two kids in Sparks. I didn’t want to die.”
Nina had arrived with the usual suspicions-maybe Bova had faked an attack, maybe Betty Jo was pulling something-but seeing Bova now, hearing him, it was plain that someone had set out to hurt him.
“He wasn’t huge, but he knew how to punch and kick. He pushed me onto my knees and started talking to me in this eerie voice, low and harsh, asking me questions. He was mad with fury. That’s the only way I can describe it.” Bova sniffed and grimaced again and Betty Jo adjusted the pillow. “I’m going to sell this place. I can’t stand this.”
Nina sat down on the scuffed floor beside him. “Take your time,” she said gently.
“The only reason I’m alive is that he believed me when I told him. He knew every word was God’s truth.”
“What did he say, Mr. Bova?”
“He said nobody rides piggyback on him. He made it sound-I don’t know, sexual. ‘Nobody rides piggyback on me.’ Then he hit me hard and I lost a tooth. ‘It had to be you,’ he says, like the old song.
“I said, ‘What? What did I do? Whatever it is, I’ll make it right.’ I just made him madder. ‘You know damn well,’ he says. ‘Stop that fucking bleeding. I’m talking to you.’ He made me take off my shirt and hold it over my face, and he says, ‘You killed that woman and you’re trying to bust me.’
“I said, ‘No! I never killed anybody! I swear!’ He said again, ‘It had to be you. You were in the office, you saw me with the kids. You ran out when I dropped the gun and shot the woman. Why?’ Then I got it. He was talking about the robbery. The Hanna case. I told him-told him I was home in bed with my girlfriend when that happened. The cops called me. I live in Sparks. That’s an hour away. I couldn’t have got home fast enough to take that call.
“I said, ‘I’ll prove it to you! I’ll prove it! I’ll give you the phone records. Just leave me alone, let me catch my breath, we’ll talk.’
“He went over it and over it. He got my girlfriend’s name. He stopped beating me and he was just pushing me, still really mad, but he was starting to believe me. Cussing. He pushed me back on the floor and he stomped around. ‘Then who?’ he says.
“‘I don’t know who,’ I said, and I said he could have the cash-register money if he wanted it. He let me get up and give him the money. I was afraid the whole time he would change his mind and kill me after all. He kept his fists balled and he shoved and pushed me the whole time.
“When the money was in his pocket, he pulled out a knife. ‘That was for you,’ he says, ‘if you didn’t convince me.’
“‘I swear to God,’ I said, ‘why would I kill that poor lady?’ and I could see he believed me.
“‘All right,’ he says. ‘You give somebody a message for me.’ I said, ‘Anything.’ He says, ‘Tell Nina Reilly I didn’t kill Hanna’s wife.’ I said, sure. He said, ‘Some other fucker did her. Tell her. You going to tell her like I said?’ I told him I would tell you.
“So here’s your message,” Bova said. He had lifted his head as the words rushed out. Now he lay back and a groan issued from his torn lips.
Nina bit her lip. She sat back on her heels. Betty Jo and Wish watched.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly. The ice machine next to the vending machine right through the wall made clunking sounds. From somewhere came faint laughter.
“You have any more questions, you can ask tomorrow,” Betty Jo said. “Let’s get you back to Incline,” she told Bova. Wish helped Bova, who was still holding the towel with ice to his face, to his feet, and Betty Jo opened the door and looked around carefully. Her Porsche SUV was right out front.
“It looks safe,” she said. “But then, we don’t know anything anymore, do we?” All three of them got Bova into the passenger seat, lying almost flat and covered with a blanket.
Betty Jo shut the passenger door. “Well?” she said to Nina. “I’m not a criminal lawyer. I’m not used to this. I like Jimmy. You have any explanation for Flint’s statements?”
“Sounds like he didn’t shoot Mrs. Hanna,” Wish said.
“That’s what the man said,” Betty Jo told him drily.
