Music of Ghosts (24 page)

Thirty-Two

She awoke with the
memory of his body—his fingers on her skin, his breath tickling her neck, his long warmth enveloping her. She reached across the bed for him from years of practice; finding it empty came again as a surprise. She opened her eyes, saw tousled sheets, an anonymous motel room. For an instant she felt adrift in strange surroundings—then it all came back. Jonathan. Lily. Oklahoma.
Court
.

“Dear God,” she whispered, remembering the night before. She'd planned to tell him about the Fiddlesticks case, had started to half a dozen times, but each time he would make love to her again, and then he'd left to go to Lily. “I didn't tell him. He still doesn't know.”

She closed her eyes, imagining a courtroom, a rabbit-faced attorney waving a copy of the
Snitch
with her picture in it.
Aren't you involved in this case, Ms. Crow? Aren't you defending a man accused of mutilating this girl? Doesn't that dump your oh-so-noble promise to Mr. Walkingstick in the garbage can?
The lawyer would wave the tabloid in front of the judge, snidely paint her as a liar. She knew she would—it was exactly what she would do, were she representing the Moons.

She grabbed the phone, called Jonathan's room.
Maybe he can get away for five minutes,
she thought,
and leave Lily with the woman who's taking care of her.
The phone rang, but no one answered. She finally gave up and called Alex.

“Hey,” she said when her old friend picked up the phone. “Do you know where Jonathan is?”

“He took Lily out for breakfast,” she replied. “I think they wanted some father-daughter time, alone.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” said Mary. There was no point in revealing any of this to Alex. She had enough on her plate already.

“Well, I'm taking Jonathan to court early. Sam Hodges will pick you up about quarter to nine. He wears one of those Cherokee turbans, so don't freak out.”

“Okay—see you later.” Mary hung up the phone, tempted to laugh. A man wearing a turban was the least of her worries.

She made a pot of coffee and took a quick shower. As she soaped her body, she again remembered the feel of Jonathan, next to her. “This will be okay,” she tried to convince herself. “He'll see you were just doing your job.”

Which was true, up to a point, she decided as she toweled off. And that point was Lily. If her involvement in the Fiddlesticks case hurt his chances of keeping Lily, then he would never forgive her.

“And what then?” she asked her reflection in the mirror. “Do I beg for mercy and go back to writing wills for the next ten years?”

The answer came swiftly, just as it had yesterday when she and Alex were having lunch. But now she had no time to deal with it. Instead she brushed her teeth and started dressing for court.

Twenty minutes later, someone knocked on her door. Hoping it might be Jonathan, she answered it quickly. A short, broad-faced man in a red and black turban stood in the hall, smiling.

“
Sheeoh
,” he greeted her in Cherokee.

“Hi,” she replied in English. She was sick of Cherokee, sick of the Moons, sick of this whole business. “You must be Sam.”

He nodded. “
Ahyol diza
?”

“Fine, thanks. How are you?”

“I'm fine. Don't you speak Tsalagi?”

“Not before court,” she snapped. “Catch me some other time, and I'll Tsalagi your ear off.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “Are you ready to go?”

“Just about.” She walked over and grabbed her purse, checking herself in the mirror. Sapphire blue suit that brushed the tops of her knees, modest heels, and pearls. It was pretty in an afternoon tea sort of way, but so unlike her usual sexy court suits that she felt odd walking out the door in it.
Mary Crow as docile little help mate,
she thought, fighting back another laugh. If anybody in that courtroom bought that, she'd put on a turban and whistle Dixie.

They drove to Tahlequah, Sam filling her in on the trial.

“So how did Jonathan come across?” Mary asked him.

“Good, for the most part. Good provider, caring to the point of being a bit over-protective, but who's going to blame a father for that these days?”

“Nobody I know,” said Mary.

“I actually thought the judge was going to rule Friday, for you guys. But Bagwell wanted to continue. Alex was already beginning to feel like you were the missing piece, so she jumped at the chance to get you out here.” Sam looked at her. “Looks like it's all up to you, now.”

They finally reached Tahlequah. Sam dropped her off in front of the courthouse and she rode the elevator up to the third floor, where Cherokee County family court was held, the Honorable Diane Haddad presiding.

She peeked in the door before she went inside. The Moons' half of the courtroom was filled with short, broad people wearing everything from suits to cowboy outfits. On the other side of the aisle, Jonathan and Alex sat alone. She opened the door. Though she'd planned to walk in a demure, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly gait, she changed her mind, walking in her regular, take-no-prisoners stride. She noticed heads turning as she passed, a low murmur going up from the Moons' side of the courtroom.

“I knew that was you.” Alex stood up and hugged her when she reached their table. “Only Killer Crow would walk in here like that, spurs jingling.”

“Old habits die hard.” Mary hugged Alex, then turned to Jonathan. “How are you doing, Mr. Walkingstick?”

He wrapped her in a fierce embrace. “Ready to come back to you,” he whispered.

“Me, too,” she told him. She considered pulling him aside, telling him quickly about Fiddlesticks, but just as she started to take his arm, Judge Haddad swept into the room. The rest of the courtroom stood up as round two of Moon v. Walkingstick began.

Alex called her to the stand first, asked her the questions she wanted the judge to hear. Mary went on how much she loved Lily, how devoted she was to Jonathan and his child, how they had a good life in North Carolina. Then it was Laura Bagwell's turn. A skinny, beige woman with weak-looking eyes, she began her questioning from the plaintiff's table, as if she feared getting too close to Mary Crow.

“It's nice to see you, Ms. Crow. We're glad you finally decided to join us,” she said, her sarcasm biting. “Just so I'm clear—how long have you and Mr. Walkingstick been married?”

“Mr. Walkingstick and I are not married. We've lived together for the past seven years.”

“So doesn't that make you his common-law wife?” Laura Bagwell made it sound as if they lived in a dump and kept pit bulls chained up in their front yard.

“Actually not,” said Mary. “North Carolina no longer recognizes common law marriage.”

“So that would mean you're not married at all?”

“No, we are not.”

Bagwell frowned. “Well, you just testified that you're quite devoted to Mr. Walkingstick and his daughter. Is there any reason that you two haven't married? Or you haven't petitioned to adopt Lily Walkingstick?”

“No,” said Mary, unflustered. “It just never seemed necessary.”

“Really?” Laura Bagwell made a note on a piece of paper. “So you think it's proper for a child to be raised by parents who feel that marriage and adoption are just silly formalities?”

“I believe there are more important factors in child-rearing than a marriage license,” said Mary.

Laura Bagwell smiled. “And what would you consider those factors to be, Ms. Crow?”

“Love. Kindness. Meeting a child's needs.”

“And you think you've helped Mr. Walkingstick meet Lily's needs?”

“Yes, I do. Until a few weeks ago, Lily was a happy child who was comfortable with her family and friends.”

“And what do you think happened that made Lily change?”

Mary looked directly at the tubby little Cherokee couple seated next to Laura Bagwell. If she could get this next testimony out on the table, Alex might gain some ground with it on cross. “Lily spent the month of June with Fred and Dulcy Moon. She returned home convinced that nine years ago I killed her mother in a fit of jealousy, and that I have ever since hidden the true nature of my actions. Lily was, when she came back home, a changed and troubled child. ”

Laura Bagwell fumbled with her papers, flustered. Mary gave Alex a quick smile, knowing she'd just taken Bagwell's lead away—now all she could do was follow where the witness led.
Sister, you have messed with the wrong Indian
, Mary thought gleefully.

“Uh, okay.” Bagwell tried to recover. “Ms. Crow, do Mr. Walkingstick and his daughter live with you, in your house?”

“Yes.”

“And you supply health insurance for them?”

“I do.”

“And I assume you provide clothing for Lily, food for the family as well?”

“Partially. Mr. Walkingstick shares in those expenses.”

“So Mr. Walkingstick does contribute something, to the family?” Bagwell's tone implied laziness on Jonathan's part, as if he slept till noon, then drank beer until suppertime.

“Mr. Walkingstick contributes quite a bit,” said Mary. “He is Lily's primary caregiver.”

“So in your family, the traditional roles are reversed—you go out and work, while Mr. Walkingstick tends the home front.”

“Mr. Walkingstick's work is seasonal, so it's a successful arrangement for us.”

“And you have a law firm?” asked Bagwell.

Here it comes
. Mary's heart beat faster. “I'm in partnership with Sam Ravenel.”

“And what sort of practice do you have?”

“A general practice.”

“Wills, real estate closings, that sort of thing?”

“Yes.”

“But no criminal work?”

“Rarely.”

“Rarely?” Bagwell pretended to check her notes. “According to Mr. Walkingstick, you agreed not to do any criminal work as long as Lily lived with you.”

“I did make that promise.” Mary shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She knew where Bagwell was going.

“Do you recognize this, Ms. Crow?”

Mary's heart sank as Bagwell held up the issue of the
Snitch
that showed Mary and Nick Stratton fending off reporters. She showed the paper first to the judge, then to Jonathan and Alex. Alex's expression did not change, but Jonathan looked as if every drop of blood had evaporated from his body.

“Well, Ms. Crow? I ask again, do you recognize this?”

“Yes,” Mary replied.

“Though this tabloid does, regrettably, refer to you as Pocahontas, is this not your picture?”

Mary swallowed hard. “It is.”

Bagwell paused, holding the paper in front of Jonathan. “This is one of the most grisly murders I've ever read about, Ms. Crow. And they quote you on page 33, as saying, ‘My client is innocent of all charges and looks forward to exonerating himself in court.
'
”

“I'm not quite as familiar as you are with the
Snitch
, but that sounds like something I probably said.”

“That's a pretty strange quote for someone who claims to do only will and estate closings.”

A smug, gotcha rumble went through the Moons' side of the courtroom. Mary sat still, tamping down the growing panic she felt inside.

“In fact, Ms. Crow, for someone who made a promise not to take criminal cases, I'd say you're either a sneak or a liar.”

Alex leapt to her feet. “Your Honor, we don't need Ms. Bagwell to start name-calling.”

The judge shot Bagwell a warning glance. “Be respectful, Ms. Bagwell.”

Bagwell turned the
Snitch
to the page with Lisa Wilson's body and slowly walked it in front of the courtroom. “Just for the record, Ms. Crow. Are you or are you not representing the man who's been indicted for this murder?”

“Until the accused's chief counsel returns from Israel, yes,” Mary said calmly. “I am.”

Suddenly, Fred Moon stood up and pointed a finger at Mary. “All you are is death, Mary Crow. First to my Ruth, next to my Lily!”

The room erupted. Alex jumped up, objecting, then the court officer moved to restrain Fred Moon. Smiling at the ruckus she'd caused, Laura Bagwell dropped the
Snitch
on the table while the judge banged her gavel. Mary turned her gaze toward Jonathan, hoping to find some understanding in his eyes, but all she saw was his back as he walked down the center aisle of the courtroom, striding toward the door.

Thirty-three

Mary was desperate to
follow him and explain.
Nick Stratton is innocent, I couldn't turn him down. I'm turning the case over to Dave Loveman. I have emails to prove that.
But she couldn't leave. Court was still in session, and though Laura Bagwell was currently finished with her, she might be recalled to the stand. Reluctantly, she took Jonathan's seat at the defendant's table.

“Where did he go?” she leaned over and whispered to Alex.

“Out for air, probably. Don't worry—Sam will take care of him.”

That calmed her a bit. Jonathan would need to walk off his anger, settle his nerves. Sam would bring him back when he calms down.

She returned her attention to court, where Bagwell was about to start her summation.

“Your Honor, I think we've painted an extremely clear picture of this case. On one hand, you have Fred and Dulcy Moon—two decent, hard-working, long-married people who want to raise their daughter's only child in a healthy environment of love and honesty.” She walked over and pointed toward Mary. “On the other hand, you have Jonathan Walkingstick and Mary Crow—two people who have scoffed at marriage, scoffed at adoption, scoffed at being honest with Lily about her mother's tragic death. Even now they scoff—Ms. Crow by flaunting a broken promise in a national tabloid, Mr. Walkingstick by storming out of court when the most important decision of his life is about to be rendered.”

Damn
, Mary thought,
why did he have to leave?

Bagwell walked slowly back to the plaintiff's table. “True, Fred and Dulcy have had their difficulties in the past. But they realized their mistakes and they've struggled hard to overcome them. For years they've been sober, upstanding members of their church, their tribe, and their community.” Bagwell held out her hands, pleading. “It seems particularly unfair that these good, hard-working citizens must not only grieve for their daughter, but must also live, every day, with the knowledge that their daughter's killer is now raising their only grandchild.”

“I didn't kill Ruth!” Mary whispered to Alex. “The woman had a gun pointed at my heart!”

“I know.” Alex grabbed Mary's arm in a death grip. “Shut up!”

“All we are asking is that Fred and Dulcy Moon be allowed to bring up this beautiful little girl in a stable environment of love and respect, rather than the duplicitous, secret-ridden world of Jonathan Walkingstick and Mary Crow.”

Bagwell went on for a few more beats, extolling the virtues of the Moons, the proximity of other close relatives, the sense of tribe Lily would enjoy in Oklahoma, then she sat down. Now, it was Alex's turn. Mary watched, nervous, as her leggy friend rose from her chair. She walked straight over to the Moons, and gave them a brilliant smile.

“Your Honor, I have absolutely no doubt that Fred and Dulcy Moon are people who have sought to better themselves. It takes an enormous amount of courage to dry out and remain sober, if you're an alcoholic. An equal amount of discipline to start resolving conflicts with your words rather than your fists. I can empathize with their grief at losing their daughter at such a young age; I can also understand their desire to raise their grandchild in what they consider a healthier atmosphere. What I don't believe the Moons have is the wisdom to discern what is best for this child.”

Her heart thudding, Mary watched as Alex walked back to their side of the courtroom.

“American jurisprudence has always sought to keep biological families together. And what is best for this particular child is to remain with her biological father in North Carolina. Though the Walkingstick-Crow family may not be a traditional one, it is one of love and devotion to Lily Bird Walkingstick.” Alex walked over and picked up a sheaf of papers. “Lily is a straight A student at John Ross Elementary school, she's the co-captain of her soccer team, and was the top seller of Girl Scout cookies for Brownie troop 112. Worthy achievements for a nine-year-old, would you not say?” Alex turned to look at the Moons. “Even her grandparents are smiling at that. Worthy achievements that indicate Lily is smart, Lily is well-liked by peers, that Lily is developing a strong sense of responsibility. This shows me that Lily is a happy child, a product of a happy home. Not a home built of lies. Not a home full of guilt or deception. Certainly not the home Ms. Bagwell portrayed.”

Alex moved to block the sight of Jonathan's empty chair and pointed to Mary. “In this case, much has been made of Mary Crow's jealousy of Ruth Moon. I think not enough has been made of
Ruth Moon's jealousy of Mary Crow, and her own actions that night. Ruth Moon had already drugged Jonathan Walkingstick into a stupor and had attempted to drug Mary. Though she was mentally unbalanced at that tragic time, she clearly intended that Mary Crow die. She pointed a loaded pistol at Mary Crow's chest, at point-blank range. And as heartsick as the Moons are over their daughter's death, they need to remember that their Ruth was the perpetrator of this terrible act. Mary Crow was simply defending herself against a woman who had gone, sadly, insane.”

Mary held her breath. Never had she heard Alex speak so eloquently.

“We maintain that both Jonathan Walkingstick and Mary Crow have provided a caring, nurturing environment that has given Lily strong roots. We respectfully ask the court to allow them to continue doing just that, so that Lily Bird Walkingstick can grow equally strong wings and soar into a happy, productive adulthood that both her parents and grandparents can be proud of.”

Alex returned to her seat. Mary reached over and squeezed her arm. “Perfect,” she whispered. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Let's hope the court is so moved,” Alex whispered back.

They turned their attention to the judge, who was pecking on her laptop. The moments stretched out, longer and longer; finally she looked up.

“This case is not an easy, clear decision. Both sides have strong arguments, and I feel like I've been asked to choose between reason and passion. Though this is not a tribal court, there are tribal precedents and traditions I'd like to take into consideration. That being said, let's reconvene at ten tomorrow morning.”

After that, court adjourned. Everyone rose as Haddad left the bench and returned to her office. Mary stood there, frozen in place. Though she had risen for judicial egress probably a thousand times in her career, this time it felt different. This time she wasn't just a hired gun in the proceedings. This time, she had skin in the game. A lot of it. She turned to Alex.

“I don't know whether to laugh or cry.”

Alex began gathering up her papers, a look of disgust on her face. “I was so hoping Haddad would call it today. Now it's one more night on pins and needles.”

Mary looked around the courtroom. Jonathan was still not there. “I wonder where Jonathan went.”

Alex turned to her, an odd look in her eyes. “You didn't tell him about Fiddlesticks, did you?”

Mary shook her head. “The right time never came along … ”

“That's a shame,” said Alex.

“Why? Did he say anything?”

“He didn't have to. I just watched his hands. His fists were clenched so hard his knuckles went white.” Alex snapped her briefcase shut. “Come on, let's go.”

Mary stared at the vacant bench, bracketed by Old Glory and the blue flag of Oklahoma. By this time tomorrow they would know. By this time tomorrow maybe he could start to forgive her.

She and Alex turned and headed for the door. Though most of the Moon entourage had filed out of the courtroom, Fred and Dulcy remained seated at the plaintiff's table, talking softly with Laura Bagwell. Mary considered going over there, telling them how sorry she was about Ruth's death, apologizing for whatever role they thought she'd played in it. She started toward them, then stopped. She was sick of apologizing. To the Moons, to Jonathan, to herself. She was a good attorney, a good person who'd nearly been killed by a crazy woman. Screw the Moons.

Alex nudged her. “You ready to go? Or do you want to gaze at Fred and Dulcy a few more minutes?”

“I'm way past ready,” said Mary, turning her back on the couple. “Let's get out of here.”

They left the courtroom together. Since they saw no one waiting for them, Alex guessed that Sam Hodges had taken Jonathan back to Tulsa. “I had Sam waiting just for this situation,” she explained. “I figured I might need to keep Jonathan corralled.”

“Good thinking,” Mary agreed. She turned to her friend. “Listen, your summation was brilliant. Whatever else happens, I thank you for putting those words in the record.”

Alex frowned. “If I'd been all that brilliant we'd have a judgment now.”

Mary knew how she felt, from hundreds of her own summations. “You did a superb job, Al. Like I said, whatever happens, happens.”

They sped back to the motel in a comfortable silence. They both knew from experience that there was no point in re-hashing the court proceedings. Bagwell had scored some blows; Alex had scored some counter-punches. Now it was all up to Judge Haddad.

“What do you want to do this afternoon?” asked Alex as she pulled into the motel parking lot.

“I guess I'd better have that talk with Jonathan,” said Mary. “I'd also like to see Lily.”

“They're probably at the swimming pool.”

Mary followed Alex through the lobby, then out to the pool. Though the aqua water glistened in the sun, it was empty of swimmers, empty of people altogether, except for Lily's pal Cecilia, who lay on a chaise lounge, reading. She looked up when she saw Mary and Alex coming toward her.

“Hey,” she said, smiling. “How did it go?”

“We won't know until tomorrow,” said Alex. “Where are Jonathan and Lily?”

“Lily scraped her toe on the bottom of the pool. Jonathan took her up to their room to put some medicine on it.”

Alex turned to Mary. “Maybe now would be a good time for you to go up there. Talk to them alone.”

Mary nodded. “Good idea. I'll see you two in a little while.”

Leaving Alex with Cecilia, Mary headed for the elevator. Jonathan, she knew, would be angry over her murder case. How Lily now felt about her she had no idea. Two months ago, she would have said the child loved her as her own mother. But that was two months ago—a lifetime for a nine-year-old. She pressed the elevator button, wondering what tack she should take. Apology? Appeasement?

“Just see how she feels, first,” she said to herself. “Then you can start your fence-mending from there.”

The elevator carried her up to the third floor. She walked down the thickly carpeted hall, past her room, finally coming to the suite that Jonathan and Lily shared with Alex. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door. The door swung open a bit, as if the latch hadn't caught. Opening it farther, she called to them.

“Jonathan? Lily? Are you okay?”

No one answered.
They must be in the bathroom
, she thought, opening the door a little wider.

“Jonathan?” she called again. “Are you guys okay?”

Again, she heard nothing. Holding on to the doorknob, she peeked inside the room. “Jonathan?”

The only thing she heard was a slight rattle as the air conditioning unit came on. She stepped into the room. Though the beds were made and damp towels hung over the shower curtain rod, the room was empty. No Jonathan. No Lily. No luggage, either. Nothing except a note underneath the telephone, scribbled in Jonathan's hand. She picked it up, trembling as she read his words.

I can't let the Moons have Lily. I hope you understand.

—Jonathan