Motion to Suppress (7 page)

"Really? Hmmm. That’s going to startle a few people," he said, slowing down to study her. "You’re new here, also, I understand."

Nina nodded.

"Well, I heard she is one good-looking ... defendant," Lam said. His broad face under the heavy glasses spread into a big smile. "Really, you should wait and talk to Collier."

"I’m good about favors," she said. Whatever it was he thought she meant, it worked. His eyes were calculating.

"You can call me Burton, and I hope you will," he said. "On one condition. You didn’t hear this from our office."

"Duly sworn. Just tell me what you know about the body, Burton."

"Ah, yes, the corpus submarinus ... Well, I heard the Coast Guard found a stolen boat floating empty out on Lake Tahoe, about a half mile out from the Keys. They found traces of blood in the boat. Maybe somebody had sloshed lake water around in the galley or maybe the storm last weekend got it, because it was semiwashed, but the blood wasn’t totally gone. Because of the blood, a diver was sent down to have a look around. Bad luck for the defendant." Lam shifted his files. "I have to be in court two minutes ago."

"So tell me fast," Nina said.

"You know all the stories about Lake Tahoe being so deep and cold, people who drown never get seen again? It’s normally a couple hundred feet deep there, and murky from the boat traffic. The lake was much shallower than usual a long way out and was unusually clear yesterday, like in the old days. They picked him off clean sand thirty-five feet down. You know why bodies don’t float on Lake Tahoe? Because it’s melted snow. And corpses sinking into melted snow don’t decompose like they would in warmer water. They don’t form gases and puff up.

"Probably a bunch of dead things hanging around on the bottom from way back," he added thoughtfully. "Like in a dinosaur tar pit. Bodies just waiting to be discovered. The diver said Patterson wasn’t lying there. He was sitting, leaning over a little, head up and bobbing. And his eyes and mouth were open. Looked like he was just about to say something. Not a nibble on him. Perfectly preserved, like a woolly mammoth. Or good ol’ T. rex."

7

NINA MARCHED BY the jail for the second time just as an older couple stopped in consternation at the locked door. "Push the buzzer," Nina advised, passing them on her way to the county clerk’s office. First-timers. It was not what most people expected when they went to visit a jail. She walked on, hearing behind her some argument over the intercom.

"Tengstedt," the man at the door said, and began to spell the name.

"No visitors until five o’clock, sir."

"But my daughter—"

"The hours are posted on the door," said the voice on the intercom firmly. The man stared fixedly at the grille, as if considering ways to damage the speaker. His wife took his arm, leading him to a concrete bench in the shadows.

Nina walked back and introduced herself. "You must be Misty Patterson’s parents." Nina held out her hand and Misty’s father, after an initial hesitation, clasped it in a crushing handshake. Nina had forgotten to squeeze hard and was sure she had lost a few points already in the appraisal that was being made.

"We can’t see Michelle until five," Carl Tengstedt said.

"They have visiting hours only twice a week," Nina said. "Since you drove all the way from Fresno, it’s fortunate you picked one of the two days. At least you’ll get a chance to see her today."

"Our daughter is in jail," Tengstedt said. "Of course we got here as soon as we could."

A short man, uncomfortable in a pin-striped suit, he looked as though he missed his uniform. "You say you are her attorney?"

"I do represent Misty, in another legal matter. I just learned about her arrest, and I talked to her a few minutes ago. She asked me then to represent her in the criminal proceeding," Nina said. She suggested they reconvene in her office. They walked out to the cars in strained silence.

"Misty. I guess Anthony Patterson gave Michelle that nickname. Young lady," Carl Tengstedt said a half hour later from the tapestry chair facing Nina’s desk, "just what kind of law do you practice?" He looked at the certificates on the wall, showing she had graduated from the Monterey School of Law five years before, showing she had been admitted to the California Supreme Court the next year, and the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals about then. Suddenly the prized certificates seemed a little skimpy.

Tengstedt continued looking around the room, his unfriendly gaze lighting upon the stacks of paperwork on the floor she kept meaning to pick up, photos pinned up and not yet framed, the rug that needed vacuuming because people had tracked in mud from the parking lot. He was about sixty, but his hair was still reddish, what you could still see of it. His left hand, on her desk, made a fist as though he still had some use in mind for it.

"I didn’t say I have agreed to represent your daughter on the charge against her," Nina said. "Up here, like most of the attorneys, I practice whatever law is required by the client. Everything but tax and workers’ compensation."

"You handle divorces," Tengstedt said.

"Those too."

Tengstedt leaned forward, while his wife sat still beside him, her shoulders curved in toward her body. Nina had a sense of déjà vu. Misty had sat just like that before Nina had stopped listening to Tom Clarke and forced her to tell her story. Barbara Tengstedt wore her blond hair in a smooth chin-length pageboy. She wore a beige wool skirt and sweater. She had Misty’s pale skin and slimness, but hollow eyes and thin lips aged her.

"What I’m trying to figure out is why you think you can take this case," Tengstedt said. "No offense."

"None taken. I understand you want your daughter to be well represented. There are several other attorneys in town she could retain. The most experienced one is Jeffrey Riesner at Caplan, Stamp, Powell, and Riesner, and I’ll have Sandy give you his phone number so you can talk to him. I don’t know him personally, because I am new here, but if Misty wishes, I can refer you to San Francisco counsel." She heard a sniff from the outer office, and got up to shut the office door firmly.

"As it happens, I do have some experience in this area. For the past four years, at Rothman, Akers, and Teeter in San Francisco, my practice has emphasized criminal law as well as family law. Although my criminal trial work hasn’t specifically included a homicide to this point, I have handled appeals of people convicted of homicide. I argued the appeals in the First District Court of Appeals and in the California Supreme Court. I’m current on the law."

Tengstedt did not seem impressed. "You defended people convicted of murder?" he asked finally, his voice thin. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. Her office was too small. Her secretary looked like a refugee from the homeless mission. Looking at herself through his eyes, she saw a young woman with brown hair that was too long and a skirt that was too short. No gold jewelry, no Mont Blanc pen, no Chanel suit, none of the trappings of a rich and successful businesswoman. Even his coffee mug advertised the local Thrifty. He wanted bigness, a deep voice, an impression of physical power. For him, the physical and mental power showed up together. Nina blamed Raymond Burr.

"Well, I would like to get some references."

"Sure," Nina said.

"And I’d like to know how much you would charge."

"Twenty-five thousand dollars as an initial retainer, billed against my usual hourly rate of two hundred dollars per hour. Plus expenses," Nina said. "Including the investigator’s time."

"I’m sure you can understand we need to talk to Michelle about this," Tengstedt said.

"You know, she can also request a public defender. You aren’t obligated to pay for her attorney," Nina said. "And it appears she may have some funds of her own." If she could get into Anthony’s bank account.

"No, no, we can help her. We just ... need to know where she stands. You say she has already asked you to represent her. Do you think that’s a good idea?"

"I don’t have the same amount of felony trial experience as, for example, Mr. Riesner. But other factors in a particular case may balance that out. For one thing, your daughter has expressed confidence in me, and—"

"She hasn’t got a clue about people," Carl Tengstedt said. "Look who she married."

"Let me finish," Nina said. "I believe that she has told me the truth, at least as she understands it, about the events surrounding Mr. Patterson’s death."

"So?"

"Some of the things she has told me are, frankly, hard to believe. And another lawyer, who does not believe her, might be inclined to handle the case in a very different way than I would."

"So?"

"I think it is important to her case that her ideas and feelings not be disregarded. We have established rapport— that could mean the difference between success and failure in a situation like this one, where there’s a lot of confusion to clear up."

Tengstedt’s frown had been deepening as she spoke. "Sorry," Tengstedt said. "You’ve lost me. We’ll talk to her and get back to you."

"Please keep in mind that I have not agreed to represent her yet. I told her I will let her know tomorrow. There is a bail hearing coming up and I would suggest that I at least cover that for her, since I’m familiar with what’s going on."

"That would be helpful," Tengstedt said, seeming to soften slightly. They talked about the no-bail recommendation for several minutes.

"Fresno is three hours’ drive from here," Nina said then. "If I do represent your daughter, I’ll need to ask you to come up again very soon to meet with me."

"I run an auto dealership specializing in four-wheel-drive vehicles. I’m my own boss. I can come up anytime," Carl Tengstedt said with some pride. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind.

"Me too," Misty’s mother said. She looked down at her hands. "I have arthritis, and I don’t drive anymore myself."

"My mother had an arthritic condition too." Nina said. "Thank God for aspirin."

A deep silence greeted this pronouncement. Nina remembered, too late, that the Tengstedts were Christian Scientists who usually did not take medications. "I understand Michelle lived in the Philippines until she was ten," Nina said hastily.

More silence.

"She spent her adolescence in Fresno?" Nina had the feeling each question she asked offended them in some way.

"She used to be a pretty good student when she was little," Mrs. Tengstedt said, kneading her hands. "It certainly is cold in here."

"She got into some trouble with boys," Tengstedt said suddenly. "We told her, we tried to protect her, but by the time she was sixteen she was sneaking out her bedroom window. Up till then she had been such a good child."

"What caused that change in her personality? Do you think it was just adolescence?" Nina asked. Carl Tengstedt shot his wife a warning glance. What had she said that was so threatening? Nina could understand why Misty could not just ask her parents about the past.

"Hard to say," Tengstedt said. "Now we got to go find a place to stay tonight before we go back to see Michelle."

"You know, you haven’t asked me anything about Anthony’s death," Nina said.

Again, the hard military man and his wife sat rooted in their chairs. They were holding themselves together with great effort, Nina realized. Her questions, which seemed so innocuous, were adding to their pain. At length Mrs. Tengstedt said, "Whatever Michelle did—was involved in—we are going to stand behind her."

Nina thought about her words for a moment. "Mrs. Tengstedt, Misty told me two hours ago that she is innocent of this crime. You seem to have some doubts. Can you tell me why?"

"This is our daughter’s life, Miss Reilly," Carl Tengstedt said. "Not some movie with a surprise ending. Michelle had her reasons, that we do not doubt. I’m not going to disown her. Maybe we protected her too much, drove her too much the other way. She ran off with the first animal to break open the gate. And in the end he got what he richly deserved."

"Don’t be so quick to assume your daughter killed her husband, Mr. Tengstedt," Nina said. "I don’t make that assumption."

"She’s vulnerable," Tengstedt said as if he hadn’t heard her, "to so many influences." He wound his thick watch-band around his wrist. "We forgive whatever she has done and we believe Almighty God has forgiven her too. She’ll take her punishment, but we’ll make sure it is tempered with mercy. Did she tell you we had Anthony checked out before she married him? He was with the Fresno Police Department. They fired him after two years because he was crooked. The worst kind, one of those creatures that strong-arms small business owners in return for ’protection.’ Punished the ones that couldn’t pay him off with broken arms."

"She didn’t tell me that, no. This is very helpful," Nina murmured when he stopped.

"When we told Michelle everything we found out," he went on, his face betraying great emotion, "she took off. We never expected that. God knows what’s been going on here."

"Carl knows about stress," Mrs. Tengstedt said. "He was a prisoner of war in Korea, shot down in his plane in the South China Sea. And he held on to his navigator in seas ten feet high until they picked him up. He’s a war hero." She spoke as if she had memorized the lines. "Then he was caught by the North Koreans, and they—"

"Please, Barbara, enough," Carl Tengstedt said.

"But you were a hero!" she said, and now her voice beseeched him. What was she begging him to say?

"Let’s go now, Barbara," he said, not looking anymore at Nina, looking inward at some private pain she could not begin to comprehend. His wife rose obediently. Carl Tengstedt offered his hand this time, and Nina remembered to prepare for the grip.

She walked with them to the front and asked Sandy to help them with a motel a grade above the Lucky Chip and to give them Mel Akers’s phone number in case they decided to call for a reference. She also provided Jack’s phone number at work. Maybe they’d have better luck reaching him. She knew he would say he had a high regard for her professional capabilities, if nothing else.

Her stomach was cramping with hunger. She ate a tuna sub and stopped by the Baths, a casino across the highway from Prize’s. She passed into the timeless red-carpeted smoke, changed a twenty into quarters, and played the quarter slots. The cocktail waitresses here wore tiny white Roman togas that, as always, emphasized their secondary physical characteristics. They managed to look bored and anxious at the same time.

At two-thirty she was at the courthouse on another case she had just taken, entering late in the game for a small businessman who had been representing himself. The settlement conference went on all afternoon, because there were a half dozen Sacramento insurance company lawyers wrangling over who should have to pay for the damage in the warehouse fire that had destroyed her client’s business. The client had told her to settle it and had given his parameters. By some miracle, and the heavy hand of the visiting Alpine County judge, a ferocious ranch owner named Amagosian, the case was settled.

Her client had been waiting outside. When she told him it was all over, at a figure he had said would be acceptable, he nonetheless expressed doubt about the settlement. He knew it was just; he knew he had let the main policy lapse a few days before the fire; he knew he was lucky to recover anything from his insurance broker; but he still hated taking a loss. "It’s a good settlement if everybody comes out mad," Nina told him. She knew after he calmed down he would be relieved to still be solvent, and sure enough at six o’clock he stopped by with a bottle of Dom Pérignon. He popped the cork and Nina and Sandy helped him celebrate his deliverance from the legal system.