Trial and Error

Thirty-one

“You’re sure the woman was Nash’s ex-girlfriend?” Victoria asked.

“Why else would she run from me like that?” Steve answered.

“She could be your ex-girlfriend.”

“She never calls Nash, then shows up at the trial. Now, why would she do that?”

“What does Nash say?”

“No idea. He’s still heartbroken she ran out on him in the first place.”

They were sitting in the backyard of their home on Kumquat Avenue, Victoria sipping Chardonnay, Steve knocking back a Morimoto Ale. Friday night. On Monday morning, Victoria would put Wade Grisby on the witness stand, and Steve had nothing to poke holes in his story. A bleak thought occurred to him.

Maybe Grisby’s telling the truth. Maybe he was only defending himself when he gunned down Sanders.

There was nothing to tie Grisby to Hardcastle. There was no evidence Grisby had ever encountered Sanders before the raid. Without some link, without some motive for Grisby to kill Sanders, Steve had nothing.

Zilch. Bupkes. Gornisht.

Guilty as charged.

“I’ve never felt so clueless in a trial,” he said.

“Are you gaming me?”

He shook his head. “You’re going to beat me. But that’s not what’s bothering me. I’m letting Nash down. He’s just a naive kid who deserves better.”

She heard it in his voice. He was wounded.

“You’ve got lots of clues,” she said. “You just don’t know where they lead.”

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

She didn’t answer, just took another sip of the wine.

“Because if you know something about Passion Conner,” he pressed her, “under the discovery rules, you better tell me.”

“You don’t have to remind me about my ethical duties. And I don’t know anything about Passion Conner, except I’m glad my parents weren’t as creative when it came time for the baby naming.”

“She could be connected to Sanders,” Steve said. “They both sought out Gerald Nash. When Sanders suggested they hit Cetacean Park, Passion cheered him on. When Nash tried to call her, she’d already canceled her cell phone. The backstory she gave him, Marine Biology degree from Rosenstiel, was phony. No one with that name ever attended the school. And crewing on a tuna boat, getting radicalized in the animal rights movement. No way to disprove it, but I doubt it’s true.”

Victoria tried nudging him in another direction. “If you’re at a dead end with her, why not focus on Sanders?”

“I already know who he was-an ex-Navy SEAL who went to work for Hardcastle.”

“With a stop in between at an insurance company.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah. His cover story. Nash told me.”

Victoria gave him one of her looks. The one that came with a little shake of the head.

“What?” he asked.

“Did you go through the personal effects from Sanders’ car?”

“Everything on your discovery list. A pre-paid calling card. Some shorts and Hawaiian shirts. A wallet with a bunch of hundred-dollar bills. No credit cards, no receipts from the laundry, no lottery tickets.”

“So you didn’t notice the business card. ‘Charles J. Sanders. Chief Adjuster.’”

“I saw it. Some phony insurance company.”

“You’re sure it’s phony?”

“I could print a card saying I’m king of the world.”

Victoria finished her wine and sighed. “You’re getting sloppy, and you know why? Because I always do the detail work for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you call the number on the card?”

“Of course. I got Sanders’ voice mail. It was his cell phone, not an insurance company.”

“Did you listen to his message?”

“It said he was unavailable. Which was a real understatement.”

“And that’s where you stopped?”

“Yeah. The technical legal term, Vic, is ‘dead end.’”

“But you have his phone number. You could subpoena the carrier and find out the name on the account.”

“Who would do that? No lawyer I know would do that.” He paused a moment. “You did that?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything else. I’ve given you more than the law requires. There’s nothing that says I have to lead you by the hand.”

“Nothing except your sense of justice. If I missed something that might result in an injustice, you’d tell me. And not just because we love each other. You’d do it no matter who was defending the case.”

“Don’t play me, Steve.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll get a subpoena issued for the phone carrier. I’ll get a process server. I’ll be a real grind.”

“Good.”

“And when I get the records, what am I going to learn?”

“Steve!”

“You’re right. You’ve helped enough. Thanks.”

She sighed, a single breath of exasperation. “The cell phone is registered to an insurance company. Bestia Casualty. They’re headquartered in Denver.”

“They’re real?”

“Sanders worked there. Chief Adjuster.”

“I’m having trouble picturing Chuck Sanders in a white shirt and tie and holding a clipboard.”

“It’s not auto insurance. He wasn’t appraising fender benders.”

Steve seemed to think it over a moment. In the backyard bottlebrush tree, a mockingbird was calling to its mate. “Just what kind of insurance does Bestia sell?”

“Specialized business casualty.”

“Specialized? What’s that mean?”

Victoria poured herself more wine. “In the industry, it’s what they call ‘unusual risks.’”

“Unusual? What the hell’s that mean?”

Her silence forced him to think about it. It took a moment. “Animal attractions?”

“Lots of them. Lion Safari. Monkey Palace. Seaquarius.”

“And Cetacean Park? And Grisby’s other place. In California, the first one ALM raided.”

“Undersea World,” Victoria helped out.

“Bestia insured them, too?”

“I’m putting Grisby on the stand Monday morning. Why don’t you ask him?”

“You’re something else, Vic.”

“I just want to level the playing field.”

“You restore my faith in the justice system.”

“Stop it. You’d do the same for me.”

He didn’t answer.

“Wouldn’t you, Steve?”

An hour later, Steve knocked at the study door and waited.

“Come in,” Victoria said.

The room was dark except for a lamp on an end table. Victoria was propped on two pillows on the convertible sofa, reading. She wore an orange silk camisole over white silk slacks, and somehow reminded Steve of a Creamsicle.

He moved toward the sofa bed, and she raised one hand. “Hold it right there, cowboy. You know the rules.”

“I just want to talk, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.”

Steve sat on the corner of the sofa bed. “I think you just tanked your own case.”

“How do you figure?”

“When I took Grisby’s depo, he denied ever knowing Sanders. On cross, I’ll prove he lied. His credibility will be shot, and no one will believe his version of the shooting.”

“Grisby says he didn’t know Sanders worked for the insurance company, and I believe him.”

“How’s that possible? Grisby would have filed a claim after Undersea World was hit.”

“A junior adjuster handled everything on-site. All Sanders did was approve the paperwork back at the home office. Bestia’s records confirm it.”

“So you’re saying this is just a big coincidence. The guy who approved the insurance payment after the first raid accidentally turns out to be the thief the second time.”

“No coincidence at all. Sanders knew the location of every single trained dolphin in the country. Once Hardcastle hired him, he knew exactly where he could steal the best.”

“I’m not buying it. I don’t care what the paperwork shows. Grisby had to know Sanders and he had to want him dead.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the only way my client goes free.”

SOLOMON’S LAWS

10. Never sleep with a medical examiner, unless you’re dead.