Guilt By Degrees - страница 20
“Yeah,” Bailey replied. “Very dicey.”
“And the uni who took his statement?” Aronofsky asked. “You talk to him?”
“Not yet,” Bailey said.
He sighed and leaned back against his patrol car. None of us wanted to say out loud what each was beginning to think: this was already looking like an unsolved. We thanked the officer and went back to Bailey’s car. She slowly pulled away from the curb, watching her side mirror for speeding commuters.
We’d done about all we could do today, and I figured now might be a good time to remind her of how winning and winsome I could be. “Got time for a drink?” I asked. “I’m buying.”
Without a word, Bailey immediately made a U-turn and steered us toward the Biltmore.
“I’m thinking I should set up a meeting with the defendant,” I said.
Bailey snorted and gave a short laugh. “Great idea,” she said sarcastically. “Man, I’ll bet he can’t wait to have a heart-to-heart with the DA who wouldn’t let his case get thrown out.”
We stopped at the light, and I watched a pair of tatted and pierced boys in skinny jeans lope across the intersection. Their inky black hair was so stiff with goo that even in the gusty wind, not a strand moved. I turned to Bailey.
“You got a better idea?” I asked, knowing even as I said it that this was a bad question to pose right now.
“Yeah, but you don’t want to hear it.” Bailey pulled up to her favorite parking space, right next to a fire hydrant in front of the Biltmore. “But I’ll tell you what: let’s make it interesting. He talks to you, I’ll buy the first round.”
“Okay, but not here,” I said warningly.
Bailey never paid for drinks at the Biltmore bar because Drew, the gorgeous bartender extraordinaire, was her boyfriend. The fact that they’d stayed together for the past year had surprised everyone who knew him. And her. Drew was one of those men who’d always been catnip to women, and since I’d been living there, I’d seen a parade of hotties camp out at the end of the bar. But Bailey came along at just the time in his life when Drew was starting to think long-term-about everything. Now, he wanted to stick with one woman, and that woman was Bailey. Their only real challenge was finding time for each other. Bailey’s hours were, and always would be, crazy, and Drew had gotten serious about fulfilling his dream of opening his own upscale bar.
“I’ll tell Drew I’m paying,” she said. “Will that do?”
“No.”
“Fine, you name the place.”
“I’ll get back to you,” I said.
“But before you start looking for the most expensive bar in town, remember: if you lose, you’re buying.”
That threat should’ve cooled my jets, but it didn’t. It just made me even more determined to win.
I got the lawyer Walter Schoenfeld’s number from Melia and punched it in. I got lucky; Walter was in. I briefly explained what I wanted and ended by admitting, “I’ll be honest, it’s a skinny case. If your guy hadn’t popped off the way he did, I don’t know that he’d still be jacked up.”
Walter exhaled loudly and was silent for a moment. “You know, I can’t even remember the last time I let a client talk to you guys.”
“Well, sure,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. “But this is me and Bailey. We’re different-”
“No argument there,” Walter interjected dryly.
“-as in, fair-minded,” I said. “And you’ve got to admit, this is an unusual situation-”
“Yeah,” he agreed somewhat hesitantly.
“Besides, how much worse off can he get if you’re sitting right next to him?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Rachel.”
I ramped up my pitch. “Look, Walter. I can tell you really believe in your guy. If he impresses us as much, he’s out of there. That’s a pretty big upside.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “But I’m not so sure he needs to impress you. I don’t think your buddy Charlie Fern’s gonna go to bat for you, and I don’t think you’ve got much else.”
Time for my trump card. I did my best to play it with a little flourish. “No, not much else,” I said. “Except the blood on his sleeve.”
Walter fell silent. I held my breath.
He inhaled sharply. “Okay, listen. When I say it’s over, everyone stops. Understood? No pushing.”