roost and start his own business. Wish didn’t have Paul’s experience, but he was tireless and devoted. Paul, the master, had trained him well.
They sat down at the conference table, Paul’s absence as active as a poltergeist in the room. But lovers break up, and they don’t often work together afterward, and Nina had high hopes for Wish. She knew how important he considered the work, and how excited he was.
“Mom already gave me the files,” Wish said. Sandy nodded. “I have some ideas.”
“Go ahead,” Nina said.
“Point one, the obvious thing, we find out who shot Sarah Hanna two years ago, locate the individual, and collect evidence against him. But at the moment, we don’t have a description. We don’t have anything on this individual. Our client doesn’t seem to remember a thing about him.”
“Except that he was masked.”
“Right, even though this all happened in October, he wore the good old ski mask. Except at Tahoe it doesn’t look totally crazy, even in early fall. People just think he’s some skidoggy who rents helicopters to take him to the top of Job’s Peak or some other ten-thousand-footer so he can keep skiing through spring and maybe even into summer.”
“The shooting happened after midnight,” Sandy reminded him. Sitting across the table from him, she took computer notes just in case something important was said. “It can get cold any time of the year.”
“My point is that anyone seeing this individual on the street wouldn’t automatically call 911, not up here in the mountains,” Wish said.
“He entered the parking lot of the Ace High,” Nina said, “and probably slipped on the mask then. The motel clerk was instant-messaging her boyfriend in Thailand from the cybercafe next door, so nobody saw him.”
“Except the three individuals he proceeded to rob, who gave fake IDs to the motel to start with, and split in a hurry. I recommend we start with the witnesses.”
“Be my guest,” Nina said. “Book ’em, Danno.”
“If the police couldn’t find them, where do we start?” Sandy asked.
“First, we contact the authorities. Try Sergeant Fred Cheney of the South Lake Tahoe police,” Nina told them. “He’s worked with Paul.”
The name hung like a cloud in the air for a moment, then dissipated. Sandy liked Paul, too, and while she was no doubt proud of her son, Nina knew she missed him.
Wish wrote the name down. “And reconnoiter the premises.”
“You mean the Ace High?” Sandy asked.
“That’s it, Mom. The premises. The crime scene, where the shooting occurred. I’ll interview the clerk, Meredith Assa-Assawaroj.”
“Go for it,” Nina said, pleased at his careful attempt to pronounce the unfamiliar name. “Then I’ve got something special for you.”
“Oh?” Wish said. “What’s that?”
“I think the motel owner, James Bova, knows something about the witnesses,” Nina said, “but he’s represented by counsel. Now, I can’t talk with him directly.”
“Does that mean I shouldn’t?” Wish asked.
“No ethical rule forbids you from talking to his wife or his drinking buddy. Or anybody else he might be inclined to unload on.”
“Excellent,” Wish said. “It’s so useful, working for attorneys. You people know rules nobody else knows.”
“Keeps you out of trouble,” Sandy said.
The comment made them all smile. Wish had had his share of trouble. They all had.
Flipping through some papers, giving him a home address, Sandy said, “Maybe he talked to the motel clerk. The Meredith individual.”
“See what you can find out,” Nina agreed. “Also, these three young people-the witnesses-they were outside, evidently on their way back to their rooms. That means they had just returned from somewhere. This is harder, Wish, but if you can get decent descriptions from the clerk, you should check the casinos. It was too late for theaters and restaurants, after midnight.”
“But if they were kickin’ it at certain eating establishments earlier, someone might remember them. Because, who do you talk to at the casinos? There are a dozen of them, with all kinds of staff, and they’re all on privacy patrol,” Wish said.
Nina nodded. This made sense. “They had to eat somewhere, and it might have been close.”
“So first we find the witnesses, and from those individuals we get the shooter’s description so we can find him.”
“Child’s play,” Sandy said, “for an individual of your vast potential.”
“That is correct,” Wish said. “I hope.” He swiveled to eyeball his mother. “Are you teasing?”
“Far be it.”
“Because if you are, now’s not a good time. A woman died. I intend to help Nina find out how it happened.”
Appearing chastened for the first time Nina had ever witnessed, Sandy nodded. “I know you will, Willis.” As quietly as the breeze floating through the pines outside the window, she added, “I hope you realize your dad and I are proud of you.”
Wish sat up straight and firmed his jaw. He and Sandy looked away from each other.
“The court hearing on the motion to dismiss the lawsuit is set for Tuesday,” Nina announced.
“Say no more,” Wish said, getting up.
“How’s the old brown van working these days?” It had been Paul’s before he passed it on to Wish and bought himself a Mustang. It had been Paul’s when she met him, and danced with him, and fell in love with him.
“Perfectly, as long as you fill the tank every five minutes.”
“Well, good luck, Wish.”
“Thanks, boss,” Wish said, donning his sunglasses. “I’ll check in on Monday.”
Nina and Sandy worked through the morning. Finally, Nina said, “Enough. I have to pick up Bob.”
Sandy squared up her file pile, asking, “What’s he doing this fall? Besides high school?”
“Well, he started a business. He wants to make some money.”
“What’s he doing, yard work?”
“No,” Nina said. “He collects hazardous waste all around Tahoe Paradise and takes it to the dump. He has a partner, Taylor Nordholm, his friend at school.”
“Hazardous waste?”
“Paint, mostly.”
“And how does he get it to the dump? He’s only fourteen, right?”
“ Taylor ’s father takes them in his pickup. But I think the neighbors are driving hard bargains. They ask the boys to take washing machines, car parts, all kinds of stuff that’s hard to dispose of. And they want to pay later.”
“I’ll have a talk with Bob next time he comes in the office about getting paid and what’s legal.”
“Great. Uh, speaking of pay, I can’t give you that raise for a couple more months. When some of the receivables come in.”
“I should know. I cook the books.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No problem,” Sandy said. She shut down the Macintosh and pushed her chair back, her earrings faintly tinkling. “Of course, you could give me a raise effective today and make a back payment when the checks come in.”
“Good suggestion. I’ll think about it. Well, got to get going,” Nina said.
“Me, too.”
“What are you up to on this beautiful Saturday afternoon?” Nina asked as she packed up her briefcase.
“Job interview,” Sandy said. She checked her watch, her face serene.
“What?”
“Michael Stamp’s office. His secretary quit to have twins. Very inconsiderate of her, he said. I hear the pay is good.”
Nina snapped the briefcase shut. “Very funny. Stop kidding around, Sandy. You gave me a bad shock for a minute there.”
“I never kid,” Sandy said. She wiped a speck of dust off the telephone with her finger. Nina stared at the competent brown hand, the varnished fingernails, the silver ring with its three turquoises. Sandy bent down and blew on the phone receiver, inspected it critically, seemed satisfied. She picked up her tote.
Nina said, “Hang on. I’ll walk out with you.” She locked the door and they walked at Sandy ’s dignified pace down the hall to the exterior door of the Starlake Building, Nina deep in thought. The hell of it was, Sandy didn’t kid, not much anyway.
“See you Monday,” Sandy said.
“So what I’m thinking is, when some of the big checks come in, you’ll get your raise retroactive to today,” Nina said.
Sandy shaded her eyes and looked east toward the mountains.
“Okay?”
“I was just thinking I better get home right away. Clouds risin’ up from the coast. Might storm. Joe’s getting lazy. He needs to make sure the animals make it into the barn.”
Late in the afternoon, just as Nina, Bob, and their dog, Hitchcock, reached the far side of Spooner Lake, the clouds did boil up and blow, offering them the choice to run for twenty minutes through the downpour or seek shelter. They decided to run for it, Bob recklessly crashing along the trail with its clutter of roots and pine cones, Hitchcock at his heels, running with his nose to the ground, Nina picking her way behind, the brim of her baseball cap pulled low. They jumped into the Bronco, laughing wildly, Hitchcock making a mess in the back seat.
Nina turned the key in the ignition, and stopped laughing. “Our truck appears to be dead,” she said. Rain pounded on the roof, and she shivered and reached back for her emergency sweatshirt.
Bob scratched his head and leaned over. “It’s in gear. It won’t start in second gear, y’know, Mom.”
“Of course I know. Did you put it in second for some reason?” She moved into park, started up, shifted to drive, and turned on the wipers. Bob found some paper towels in the glove compartment and dried his face. Hitchcock poked his furry head between them and Bob carefully wiped the dog’s face too, saying, “That’s it, blame me.”
“Well, I didn’t do it.”
“You did it by accident. You’re getting absentminded.”
At fourteen, he thought the worst of her. “Not so. Why would I do such a thing?” She pulled onto the wet road.
“Why would I?”
She had no answer for that.
