The Amazing Harvey (19 page)

Gillian said, “Hannah and Bruce are upstairs. First door on the right.”

I walked up the bare tiled stairs, conscious of my steps echoing in the massive hall. At the top, the first door was open. Before I got there, I heard Bruce's booming voice.

“Well, based on all that, Harvey may go down.”

I stopped still in the hallway.

Hannah said, “I know. It doesn't look good.”

I fell back against the wall and spread out my palms to steady myself.

Well, fuck me. She's just been humoring me? She needs the fees that bad?

If my own lawyer thinks I'm gonna swing, I am in the deep end of an Olympic-size swimming pool of shit. My heart started thumping like it wanted out of my chest.

Fuck.

Bruce said, “You think he did it?”

Her nanosecond hesitation in answering seemed like a couple of hours. “Not really. Hopefully, I can attack the DNA evidence. I'm waiting for the lab results. Without DNA, their case is very weak.”

I let out a breath. When you're about to drown, even a toothpick floating by looks pretty good.

Hannah's father said, “You might want to plead him out. Now let's talk about this Desmond case.”

She said, “The DA offered Desmond voluntary manslaughter and five years.”

I pushed off the wall and walked through the open door, into a large bedroom. Bruce lay propped up in a four-poster bed, wearing a black silk bathrobe over striped pajamas. Wonder if those pj's are monogrammed. Neither he nor Hannah noticed me. I stopped just inside the door.

Bruce said to her, “Take the plea bargain.”

“I'm not so sure.”

“Cut your losses. Move on to the next one.”

So much for the old man's warrior spirit.…

Hannah said, “Yes, but—”

“The public's got blood in their nostrils. You've got a client with a history of violence who looks like a Maori warrior that'd eat your eyeballs for a snack. Chuck it and move on.”

Hannah shook her head. “Something's not right here. They wouldn't be offering this kind of deal if they weren't worried. I've got a gut instinct they're hiding something.”

“After all these years, I've got a pretty good gut for these things, too.” He smiled as if he were pacifying a crying four-year-old so he could get out of the house for a fancy dinner. “Mine says cut your losses.”

Hannah looked pained, as if the words had slapped her face.

I said, “Hi.” Their heads turned my way.

Bruce said, “Hello, Harvey. Nice to see you.”

He's good.
Remembering my name from one meeting?

Hannah looked worried, as if she sensed that I'd heard them discussing my case.

I said to Hannah, “I brought you the stuff you wanted.”

She came over, took the Desmond file and books from me, and went back to her father. Hannah gave him the file.

He glanced at the file's label, then set it on the bedside table. “I'll take a look when I'm feeling better.”

She looked at the file on the table, then back at her father. Hannah said, “I got you a couple of books. Here's a collection of essays on world economy that I heard about on NPR. And this is an exposé on the CIA's Cold War tactics.” Hannah held out the books with an expression that said she feared these meager gifts weren't worthy of His Holiness.

He took them, set them on top of the file on his bedside table, and said, “Thanks.”

Hannah took a step back.

Bruce said, “Are you still working on that assault case?”

Her face brightened. “Yes. The illegal search issue is so complex that it could be on a law school exam.”

He nodded. “I've given it some thought. Maybe you can argue—”

Behind me, I heard a woman's voice. “How you feelin', Daddy?” Bruce's face lit up in a broad grin.

I turned to see a tall blond woman bouncing into the room, swinging a plastic bag.
Wow.
She must be almost six feet tall. The woman was wearing a sleeveless lime green dress, and she was so thin that I could see her shoulder bones pushing against the skin. In contrast, her breasts were quite uplifting. Perhaps a little help from the Tit Fairy?

She looked me up and down, as if I were a statue she was thinking of buying. “And you are.…”

“Harvey Kendall. I work with Hannah.”

Hannah said, “Harvey, meet my sister, Susan.” Hannah's tone suggested that I wasn't going to enjoy the experience.

I looked at the blonde.
This is Hannah's sister?
She doesn't even look like a fourth cousin. How'd the dumpy Mrs. Fisher produce a six-foot anorexic?

I said, “Nice to meet you, Susan.”

Susan gave me a polite nod, then walked away like she'd decided I was damaged goods. She went to her father's bedside, leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek. Susan opened the plastic bag she was carrying and took out a handful of magazines. “Daddy, I got you the latest copy of
Cigar Aficionado.
Also a
People,
a
USA Today,
and an
Enquirer.
”

Bruce grinned. “Excellent. Some trashy reading.” He took the magazines and patted her hand.

Hannah's shoulders slumped.

Susan sat on the bed and began massaging Bruce's feet through the covers. Hannah's gaze burned into her sister.

Hannah said, “Dad, you want to hear about the search and seizure?”

Susan leaned into the massage. Bruce said, “Let's talk about it later.” He lolled his head back, closed his eyes, and
mmm
'd.

Hannah turned and walked out. Did Susan's smile just broaden?

I spun around and hurried after Hannah.

She was already down the steps, on her way to the door. I hustled to catch up. She ran outside. I hurried after.

Hannah was unlocking her car when I finally caught up. Slightly out of breath, I said, “Are you okay?”

She flung the car door open, hard enough to make it bounce back. “I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine.”

Hannah stared at me, blinking rapidly, like she was debating whether to open the floodgates. Then she looked away.

I said, “What's up with the scrawny blonde?”

She chuckled, looked back at me, and shook her head. “Do you always say whatever floats through your brain?”

“Pretty much. Your sister's a kiss-ass, and your father laps it up like kitty milk. Bet he always has.”

Hannah gave a pained laugh. She leaned against her car and let out a breath.

From the yard next door, I heard the whine of a lawn mower. The air suddenly smelled of cut grass.

Hannah said, “In high school, if I came home with four A's and a B-plus, my father would say, ‘What happened with the B-plus?'”

I stuck my hands in my back pockets. “If I'd gotten a single A, my mother would've taken an ad in the
L.A. Times.
”

She looked past me at her father's house. “My sister never got above a C, but that was okay, because he said she had ‘other strengths.' That was his code for ‘She's thin and popular.'”

“Hannah…”

“My father went to every football game when Susan was cheerleading. He even rearranged business trips so he could watch her prance around in her short skirt.”

Having met the current Mrs. Fisher, I figured he was probably more interested in the other cheerleaders.

I said, “He's got to be proud of you. Harvard Law? How many people do that?”

“He did. And he was on the
Law Review.
I didn't make that.”

The lawn mower next door whined in a lower key as it chugged away. I said, “I'm sure he loves you. Maybe he's one of those guys who has a hard time showing it.”

Hannah grabbed me in a hug. I was so surprised that it took me a moment to put my arms around her. I felt her body shudder against mine. I held her. The sound of the lawn mower next door whined closer. I looked over and saw the brown-uniformed gardener give me a thumbs-up.

Hannah let go and stepped back, looking down at the street. She sniffled. “Thank you.”

“Sure.”

She started to get into her car.

I said, “You okay to drive?”

“I'll see you at the office.”

She closed the door.

*   *   *

I got to the office before Hannah, unlocked the door, and went inside.

Where is she? Should I have followed her? She didn't look like she should be driving.…

A few minutes later, Hannah walked in, looking past me.

I said, “Feeling better?”

She stiffened. “I'm fine. Sorry I melted down back there.”

I put my hand on her shoulder. “I'm glad you let it out.”

She dipped her shoulder out of my grip. “Harvey, we need to keep our relationship professional.” She sat at her desk, picked up the phone, and started to dial.

Oh …

“Of course.”

For the moment anyway.

I cleared my throat. “So. Speaking as a professional. How does my case look?”

Hannah stopped dialing, still holding the phone. “Well … you know it's got some problems.”

I blinked rapidly.

“Do you think I'm going to.…”

She said, “Let's see how the DNA comparisons come back. Then we can discuss it.”

“How long will it take to get the lab results?”

“A few more days. Maybe a week.”

I nodded. “We'll beat this, right?”

Hannah hung up the phone and looked at me. “You know that nobody can give you that kind of assurance.”

“But you think we will, right?”

“I certainly hope so. I'll do my best.” She bit her lower lip.

I started pacing. “What can I do? I feel useless just sitting around.”

“Nothing at the moment.”

“Hannah, I'm getting the distinct feeling that there's a python tightening around my chest. Did you know that pythons don't crush their prey? They just tighten up on the chest every time their victim exhales, so the person can't take another breath, and then he suffocates.”

“That's pleasant. Harvey, I wish there was some magic answer—no pun intended—but sometimes there's nothing you can do but wait.” She picked up the phone and dialed.

I said, “I'd like to take off a few hours tomorrow.”

She looked at me. “To do what?”

“Not sure you want to hear about this one, either.”

She hung up the phone. “I want to hear about everything.”

“Okay.” I raised my eyebrows, as if asking, Are you sure? She kept staring at me.

I said, “I want to talk to Sherry Allen's father.”

Hannah threw back her head in an “Are you nuts?” gesture. “What? Walk right up, tell him you're a suspect, then ask if he'd share some intimate facts about his daughter?”

“Maybe I won't mention the suspect part.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great idea. It'll make you look very credible when he testifies how you tricked him while he was mourning the death of his child.”

“Okay, okay. I'll work on the technique. Can I have a couple of hours off?”

“No.” Hannah blew out a sigh. “But you can come along while I interview her father if you promise to shut up.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

After work, as I drove to the Magic Castle, I started to call Carly on my cell phone. It'd be rude not to call her. I don't want her to think my nonperformance was her fault. I really would like to see her again. Maybe without the grass.

Will she hang up on me?

I dialed her number. Voice mail. I hung up without leaving a message.

That was dumb. She'll see my number on her Missed Calls list.

Maybe she saw my number and that's why she didn't answer.

I really should call back and leave a message. Should I say something clever?

Like what?

“I'm really
UP
for seeing you again?” Dumb.

“I'm so sorry about Saturday night.” Wimpy.

“Would you mind getting your tubes tied before our next date?”

Better stick to plain vanilla. I dialed her number again. While her recorded voice told me to leave a number, I cleared my throat. After the beep, I said, “Hi, Carly. It's Harvey. I'd really love to see you again. Give me a call. Or I'll call back.”

How dumb did that sound?

*   *   *

I sat at the Magic Castle bar with my pal David, the investment banker, and said, “I took your advice and called Hannah Fisher.”

“How is she?”

“Thin.”

He looked at me. “Fat Hannah? No shit.”

I explained how I was working in her office to pay my legal bills.

David said, “I thought indentured servitude was illegal.” He took a swallow of whiskey. “How's your case going?”

“You haven't heard from the cops, have you?”

“Nope.”

I leaned in toward him, then glanced around to see if anyone was listening. He leaned in closer.

I spoke just above a whisper. “David, you ever have any problems, like … performing?”

His wispy mustache thinned as he smiled. “I assume you don't mean performing magic?”

“The other kind of magic.”

He nodded. “It's happened once or twice.”

I moved nearer to him. “What did you do?”

He looked around, then whispered, “First, you slap your dong against the bedpost three times. Then—”

“C'mon. I'm serious.”

He straightened up, dug a chunk of ice out of his glass with his fingers, and threw it in his mouth. David crunched on the ice and leaned in toward me. “I just slowed things down. Took it easy so there wasn't any pressure. That worked really well.”

I nodded.

Ever do it with a right-to-lifer?

*   *   *

Next morning, when I walked into Hannah's office, I saw Sergeant Morton sitting in her guest chair. I stopped in the door.
Oh shit.
Am I getting arrested? My chest thumped. Should I turn and run?