All The Stars In Heaven (10 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Kirk left the courtroom and walked down the hall of the Middlesex County courthouse. He stopped to get a drink from the closest fountain, and his phone started ringing just as the cool water reached his lips. Stepping back, he pulled his cell out and saw that it was Christa. He exhaled, feeling a little of the stress leave his body.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m just leaving now—running a few minutes late—but I haven’t forgotten I need to stop at the store. Knee-high pantyhose for your costume and a carton of ice cream for the babysitter and the boys,” he said, reciting the instructions she’d given him earlier.

“Never mind stopping.” Christa sighed into the phone. “Challise just called. She has strep. We’re out of luck for a babysitter for the party tonight.”

“What about her little sister?”

“That’s who she caught strep from,” Christa said. “And I’ve already tried the other two girls in the ward that I trust. They’re both going to the Halloween dance at their school. So unless you can pull a babysitter out of your back pocket . . .”

Kirk frowned. “You want me to ask Detective Brandt?”

Christa snorted. “Hardly. I hate to think what the boys would learn—and eat—if they spent an hour in his company. I guess we’re sunk.” She paused. “How was your day? How’d the trial go?”

It was Kirk’s turn to sigh. “‘Not guilty’ on four out of the five trafficking charges. Minimum sentence on the last.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not the verdict I was hoping for.”

“Not guilty—how can that be?” Christa asked, her astonishment carrying through the phone lines. “You guys had photos and witnesses and—”

“His attorney knew all the loopholes. Made sure the photos were inadmissible and did a great job discrediting the witnesses. I should have known something was up when he wasn’t even interested in the plea.”

Kirk looked down the hall where Steve Nicholsine, of the Holt and Nicholsine law firm, was just leaving the courtroom. For a split second he looked at Kirk, and their eyes met, challenging each other.
You got him off this time,
Kirk thought.
But we’re not finished with this. Sooner or later, he’s gonna screw up again.

Nicholsine broke their gaze and walked in the opposite direction.

“Kirk?” Christa asked. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Um. Yeah,” he answered absently. “We should take the boys to that corn maze tonight?”

“
Tomorrow,
” Christa said. “What I suggested is that you pick up a movie on your way home. I would’ve liked to go out, but I guess renting a DVD will have to do.”

“Okay.” Kirk resisted the urge to turn around and watch the attorney until he left the building.

“Why don’t you get some really romantic chick flick?” Christa said.

“Sure.”
Bet he drives a BMW or something—funded by the criminal wealth of his clientele.

“Maybe a period piece set in England.”

“Okay.”

“Now I
know
you’re not listening,” Christa accused, but there was concern in her voice. “Kirk, are you okay?”

“Fine.” He realized he was still standing in the same spot and staring at the courtroom door. “Just distracted. Sorry. We can get whatever you want.” He started walking down the hall and forced his attention back to Christa and the weekend with his family.

“No thanks,” Christa said. “You’d be a million miles away for sure. On second thought, I think you’d better just come home. I’ll put the boys to bed early and we’ll talk.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, but maybe we could think of something else to get my mind off work . . . I’ll get ice cream for us instead, all right?”

“With nuts?”

“Loads of them.” He smiled. “And some quadruple-bypass chocolate flavor.”

“I’ll get the boys in their pajamas right now.”

“See you in about twenty minutes,” Kirk said. He left the building and walked to his car, trying to forget about the case and the reality that J.D. Rossi was not going to be behind bars for long—if at all. Not only had he gotten off easy, but the Summerfield PD had missed another opportunity to get closer to busting up the local meth market.

First Eddie’s death, and now this.
For the moment, the police had nowhere else to turn.

If we could just get to their distributor,
Kirk thought. Chances were Eddie Martin and J.D. Rossi had the same supplier, and given the increasing volume of meth on the streets, it was likely an East Coast source. Chances were also good that if things continued as they were, the Boston/Cambridge area was soon going to rival some of the West Coast cities for methamphetamine use. It was a chilling thought.

Kirk climbed in his cruiser and started the engine. He drove up Thorndike Street, watching pedestrians out of the corner of his eye. He doubted he’d see Nicholsine again—probably a good thing, as he wasn’t feeling too charitable toward the man.

How do people like that sleep at night?
Kirk wondered.
Don’t they have any conscience? Don’t they worry that the guys they get off may harm someone else, or sell drugs to their own kids?

“Too many crooked lawyers,” he mumbled. “And more on the way,” he noted, seeing a group of law clerk interns walking down the sidewalk.

Recognizing one of them, Kirk’s mood took an upward swing, and he pulled over to the curb. Rolling down his window, he called to the man walking ahead of the others. “Hey, Jay. Need a ride?”

Jay looked over and lifted a hand in recognition. “Depends on if you’re offering the front or back seat.”

“Today it’s the front, though after you pass the bar . . .” Kirk grinned.

Jay laughed and walked toward the car. “Which one’s got you angry now?”

“Nicholsine,” Kirk said. “But interns like you give me hope for the profession. Get in. I’ll give you a lift. Is your motorcycle nearby?”

“Not exactly.” Jay pulled the sedan door open and climbed in the passenger seat. “It’s kind of out of commission right now.”

“Must make it difficult to take the ladies out on Friday night.” Kirk pulled away from the curb as Jay fastened his seat belt.

“It would,” Jay said, “if that were an issue.”

“Still not dating, huh? I could introduce you . . .” Kirk let the offer hang in the air. He’d been impressed with Jay since meeting him last June when they worked on a case together. That had led to an invitation to a barbeque that Kirk and Christa hosted for the young single adults in their stake. A few of the women there that night had asked about Jay. But, so far, he’d shown no interest in seeing any of them again or attending the other LDS singles’ activities Kirk and Christa had invited him to.

“No thanks,” Jay said.

Oh well,
Kirk thought.
No harm in trying.
“So how’s the third year so far?” he asked. “You haven’t come by the house for a while.”

“It’s busy,” Jay said. “In fact I’m thinking of quitting my job at the club. I enjoy playing there, and it pays the rent, but I really need the time to study.”

“I guess the internship looks a little better than night club performer on a résumé,” Kirk said.

“Just a little,” Jay agreed. “If I quit, it’ll probably mean an additional student loan next semester, but I want to finish strong, and right now there just isn’t enough time to do everything.”

“Hate to tell you this,” Kirk said. “But it doesn’t get any better. After school, other stuff fills in the time you thought you were going to have.” He signaled and changed lanes. “Drop you off at your apartment?”

“Yeah. I really appreciate this,” Jay said. “How are Christa and your boys?”

“The boys are so wild you’d think they’re already on the sugar high from Halloween, and Christa’s not too happy right now. We were supposed to go to a costume party tonight, but our sitter canceled at the last minute.”

“I’ll do it. I can watch the boys for you.”

Kirk shook his head. “Are you kidding? You just got through telling me how much you have on your plate and how little time you have.”

“True. But tonight’s a bit different. There’s a big Halloween party, and my roommate’s girlfriend is really pressuring me to come. I was going to if I got a date—”

“But you didn’t,” Kirk guessed.

“I tried. Honestly,” Jay said. “I asked a girl, took the night off . . . But it didn’t work out, and now I’m the charity case for my roommate’s girlfriend—which, of course, doesn’t make my roommate all that happy. It’s not a good situation.”

“Must be bad if you want to hang out with a couple of monkeys all night.”

Jay shrugged. “Jeffrey and James are great. And when they go to bed I can study.”

Kirk looked at him sideways. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Jay said. “In fact, don’t even take me home. That way I can avoid the whole party issue.”

“Okay. It’s your Friday. If you want to spend it on the floor with a couple of kids climbing all over you . . .”

“Sounds like the best Friday night I’ll have had in quite a while,” Jay said.

Kirk could tell he meant it. “You know, you’re not the typical college student.”

“Yeah, I’m a lot older.”

“I’m not talking about age, and your difference is
good,
” Kirk assured him.

* * *

“Well, what do you think?” Christa asked Jay as she hobbled into the living room, leaning heavily on a cane.

“You look really—
old,
” Jay said.
Really awful. I didn’t say that, did I?
He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to stare at Christa’s ugly house dress or the nylons pooling at her ankles. Looking at her gray-streaked hair and wrinkled face wasn’t any better. He racked his brain for a better comment.

Christa laughed at his obvious dismay. “That bad, huh? I’ll take it as a good sign.”

“You look like Great-Grandma,” Jeffrey said.

James’s brow wrinkled, and his mouth puckered like he was getting ready to cry. “Grandma?”

“No, silly. Mommy.” Christa abandoned the cane and walked lithely toward the couch. She sat between the boys so they could get a closer look at her. “Mommy’s dressing up, the same way you’re going to dress up for trick-or-treating.”

“You don’t look like a cowboy,” Jeffrey said. “You don’t even got a hat. And you’re using that stick wrong.” He jumped up from the couch and grabbed the cane, straddling it. “You got to sit on it like this.” He galloped around the room. “Then people know you’re riding a horse.”

Christa laughed again. “I’ll remember that.” She reached out to tickle him as he came closer to the couch. “You two better get into the kitchen and eat your ice cream before it melts.”

“You hear that, Arrow?” Jeffrey asked his imaginary horse. “We get ice cream.” He swung his leg over the cane and handed it to his mother.

“Be good tonight,” Christa said, grabbing his arm and pulling him close. “Be Jay’s helper, and don’t tease your brother.”

“Don’t tease,” James echoed.

“That’s right.” Christa gave him a hug before he ran after Jeffrey.

Kirk appeared in the doorway. If Jay had thought Christa’s costume strange, he was even more bewildered by Kirk’s attire—a loose Hawaiian shirt made from the same gaudy fabric of Christa’s house dress, a pair of Bermuda shorts, argyle socks with geriatric-looking white tennis shoes, a broken straw hat, a half-inflated pool ring around his middle, and a walker with some type of mini surfboard wired on top.

“You’re quite the pair,” Jay said. “Is this party at the old folks' home or something?” He said it jokingly then wished he hadn’t as he realized the idea wasn’t that far-fetched. In the five or so months he’d known Kirk and Christa, he’d discovered they were very involved in their church—always serving someone or hosting activities. Kirk wasn’t kidding about all his time being filled up.

“No,” Kirk said. “Though maybe we’ll swing by if it turns out the party isn’t that great.”

“It’s a costume party with a twist,” Christa explained. “Mormons are big on discovering their ancestors, so as a sort of tie-in, everyone was supposed to dress up in something that has to do with their heritage.”

“And yours would be . . . old people?” Jay asked.

“No—oo,” Christa said, rolling her eyes. “C’mon Mr. Law Student. You’re smart. Think harder.”

Jay scratched his head. “I’m not
that
smart, I guess.”

“You are,” Kirk assured him. “Think about what state we’re from.”

“California,” Jay said. “You’re retired snowbirds?”

Kirk shook his head and started humming a Beach Boys song, but Jay still didn’t get it.

Christa finally took pity. “I’m ‘The Little Old Lady from Pasadena.’”

“
Oh-h,
” Jay said. “That’s clever—and funny.” He turned to Kirk. “Who or what are you?”

“I’m a beach
ed
boy,” Kirk explained. “You know, like the band, except old and all washed up.”

Jay laughed. “That’s great. Did you think of that, Christa?”

She nodded. “Neither Kirk or I have the pioneer ancestry many people in our church claim. We’re first-generation converts from a state considered to be radical, so I decided to have some fun with it.”

“How long did it take to get your skin to look like that?” Jay asked. He stepped closer, inspecting their wrinkles. “Because you look pretty authentic.”

“An hour or so. Just some tricks that I learned in beauty school,” Christa said.

“It’s a very useful profession,” Kirk pointed out. “If I ever need to go undercover, she can dye my hair, alter my face—pretty much whatever I need. I keep trying to persuade the chief to let Christa set up shop at the station. You wouldn’t believe the stuff people spill while getting their hair cut.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jay said, his fingers brushing the hair curling at the base of his neck. Christa had been after him to let her cut it since July.

“How about taking our picture?” Kirk asked. He pulled a digital camera from his shirt pocket.

“Sure.” Jay took the camera and held it up as Kirk and Christa moved close together. Kirk turned to her, leaned over, and planted a kiss on her cheek as Jay snapped the photo.

“Hey. You’re going to mess up my wrinkles,” she complained.