An Accidental Life (23 page)

Ham shifted his eyes to the door behind Peter. Minutes passed. Peter sat before the DA’s desk stiff and silent, almost holding his breath.

“We’d do better with negligent homicide,” Ham said at last. He picked up a pen on the desk beside him and focused all of his attention on rolling it back and forth between his fingers.

Peter shook his head. “This was deliberate, Ham. I want to go for second degree murder.”

Ham looked up. “How will you prove intent?”

“We’ll get there.” Once again he summarized Clara Sonsten’s testimony. And Melanie Wright’s. He went through the autopsy report and the pathology conclusions again. Ham reviewed the autopsy photos as he talked, his eyes narrowing as he replaced each one with the next. Peter considered telling Ham about Lucy Ringer’s statement that this circumstance wasn’t unique, but didn’t want the DA’s answer to depend on that. The Chicago nurse’s cooperation wasn’t assured.

“And this nurse Sonsten, and Miss Wright, they’ll both testify?”

He hesitated. Melanie Wright might be a hostile witness, but Mac thought she would tell the truth. And Clara Sonsten was reliable. “Yes,” he said.

Ham pushed the pencil back and forth. “Second degree, you say?”

“A line’s been crossed here, Ham.”

The DA grew still. He held Peter’s eyes. “I’m retiring soon, you know.”

Peter nodded.

“I’d like you to be my replacement, you know.” He looked off, pushing out his bottom lip, then back at Peter. “But, if you take this case, you’d better win, Peter. Because if not . . . you won’t stand a chance, politics being what they are. This one’s explosive.”

“We can win it.”

“All right, then,” Ham said, tapping the stack of photographs on his desk to square them. He set them down beside him and looked at Peter. His brows met, forming slashing lines between his eyes. “Last time I looked at the Code, any infant born alive in this state is a ‘person’ with all the rights that entails, including the right to live, to fight for his life. We’ll go for second degree murder.”

Peter nodded. He stood, feeling the flutter in his stomach. Ham handed the file back to him.

“Take it to the grand jury, Peter.” The grand jury would give the DA some cover with the voters, Peter knew.

“Let’s move forward.”

26

Over the next week Rebecca felt
Peter’s growing tension, but she didn’t ask what was wrong and he didn’t volunteer. Preparation for the grand jury on the Chasson case absorbed all his time and attention. She’d returned to work five days after the incident that had landed her in the hospital, but since then problems at work were mounting.

The meeting with Case Roberts and Warren Williams to inform them of her doctor’s orders not to travel had not gone well. She’d tried her best to convince them that with Sydney Martin handling things in Bakersfield at the closing, and with Rebecca available at all times on the phone, the closing would go smoothly.

Case had worn a pained look as he listened. When she’d finished arguing her case, there’d been a long silence in the room and then, clasping his hands on the table, he’d looked down at them and said, “This is disappointing, of course, Rebecca.” He’d glanced at Warren and back at her. “I understand your problem. Doctor’s orders are final. That’s that.”

She’d just begun to relax when he added, “But I’m not comfortable not having a partner present at the closing.” He turned to Warren. “What do you think?”

Avoiding her eyes, Warren clasped his hands together, exactly as Case had done, and studied them in the same melancholy manner. “Things come up, you know. Eye to eye is best. Sometimes those are the most controversial, most important discussions.”

He turned his eyes to her. “Problems often come up at the last minute; you’ve got to be in the same room.”

Case interrupted. “Warren’s right, I’m afraid. Faxes and telephones are fine, and I’m sure Sydney Martin’s a capable lawyer, but we need a partner that can make decisions right there in Bakersfield.” He sat back and crossed his arms, his brows lowering, his eyes sorrowful.

Rebecca felt her throat close. His meaning was plain and if she didn’t take charge quickly and give them what they wanted, they would go someplace else. To some other law firm. She’d break a record—the firm’s first partner to bring in a client and lose him before the first transaction.

“I understand. And certainly no one here at Mangen & Morris wants Roberts Engineering to be unhappy,” Rebecca said, elbows and arms on the table, as she leaned forward, smiling. Her tone was casual, cheerful. “That’s not a problem. I’ve got someone in mind, Amalise Catoir. She’s one of our best and she could step right in.”

Oh please, please, let Amalise have the time.

Case and Warren glanced at each other.

“All right. That’s fine,” Warren said. “You’ll get her up to speed quickly?”

“Yes, right away.” She pushed a strand of hair back from her forehead, talking a deep breath as she added, “And since this is our problem, not yours, we’ll bill Roberts Engineering only for her time on this project from now on.”

Case frowned. “But, you’ll stay involved?”

“Sure. I’ll be here, in the background. This is just a little lagniappe.” A little something extra that meant she’d be working for free on what had just become Amalise’s deal. Acid burned in the back of her throat. She was having to turn over her first big client to Amalise.

Back in her office, Rebecca called Amalise and explained the situation. Amalise said that she’d be glad to help. Rebecca didn’t mention the billing arrangement. Amalise would report all of her billable hours on the deal, and there’d be plenty. But she’d have been uncomfortable knowing that Rebecca was donating her own time. Still, she was doing what was necessary to hold on to the client.

When they’d finished talking and hung up, she asked Rose Marie to have someone duplicate all of the Roberts Engineering files and have the originals sent to Amalise, and the copies returned to her. Rose Marie stared, and then nodded, wearing a disconcerted look as she went off.

She ate lunch in her office alone, absorbing the damage from the morning meeting with Roberts Engineering. When she’d finished, she brushed her hands together and told herself to stay positive. Brightfield’s brief would keep her busy for a few weeks at least. And there was plenty to do to get ready for the baby. Rose Marie had set up two interviews with prospective nannies this afternoon. And she was looking forward to planning the nursery.

No billable hours there, though.

At three o’clock she returned to her office for the first of the interviews. The second was set for four thirty. Once she was able to hire help with the baby, she could make plans, she told herself. She’d be moving forward again, and she’d have something to build on, freedom to plan her new schedule. And after the baby was born, there’d be no problem traveling then, not with good help. She’d work all this out she knew—she was the It Girl. She could handle a child at home and a career at work; like walking and chewing gum, or something.

Her telephone buzzed. “Your three o’clock appointment is here,” Rose Marie said. “She’s in the reception area.”

“Fine. Bring her in, please.”

Five minutes later Rose Marie appeared in her office with Cassandra Mayfield. Rebecca looked up. As they were introduced, Rebecca’s first thought was that this was a stern-looking woman. Rebecca tried to picture her rocking Daisy, and couldn’t.

Miss Mayfield’s hair, streaked with gray, was pulled back into a tight bun. She stood beside Rose Marie just inside the doorway with her feet apart, weight evenly distributed, and a slight stoop of her shoulders. Her shoes were brown oxfords. She wore a plain brown suit with a boxy jacket, a white blouse buttoned to her neck, and a skirt that hung three inches below her knees. She looked years older than her résumé had promised, which was forty-three.

Rebecca stood and motioned Miss Mayfield toward the sofa and chairs in the corner. “Thanks for coming. Let’s sit over there to talk.”

Cassandra Mayfield’s smile was flat, as were her eyes, as she thanked Rebecca and moved toward the corner area. Once there, tucking her skirt under, she sat and planted her purse beside her, pressing her shoes together on the floor as she looked about. Rose Marie asked if she would like coffee, or tea, or a Coke, but Miss Mayfield shook her head. No thanks.

Rebecca stifled a sigh and stood.

Picking up Cassandra’s résumé from her desk, she walked to one of the chairs near the sofa and took a seat, putting the résumé down on her lap. She didn’t really need it, she practically had it memorized. On paper, Cassandra Mayfield looked good. She came with high recommendations from the service, and her last job had been with an uptown matron who Rebecca did not recall ever having met, but who’d once been queen of the Krewe of Athenians at Carnival, which provided a certain reference.

Rebecca settled back, resting one hand over the baby, struggling to picture this stern woman in the nursery. She smiled, and lifted a corner of the résumé, looking at it. “Your references are good.” She glanced up. “I see you were with your last employer for three years. Why did you leave?”

The woman placed her hands atop her knees and looked at the wall, just past Rebecca’s shoulder. “There was a family problem, of sorts. I don’t feel comfortable talking about it, really. Nothing to do with me.” She glanced at Rebecca. “I don’t mind your calling the references though.”

That sounded good. She respected family privacy. “Was it your choice to leave?”

She gave Rebecca a cool look. “Yes. Of course.”

“All right, then. How many children were in your care?”

“Only one. I had him until he was two, almost two.”

“And according to the agency, you lived with the family?’

“That’s right. I had my own room. And private bath.” She pursed her lips. “That’s a requirement for me. I must have a private bath.”

Rebecca nodded. The bedroom she had in mind had a private bath.

“And a car, of course, to get around with baby.”

Uh oh. It wasn’t the money. But she didn’t know this woman well enough to let her drive Daisy around. And, besides, there was potential liability. “That won’t be necessary where we live,” she said in what she thought was a pleasant tone. “I think you’ll agree. We’re half a block from the streetcar on St. Charles. There’s a playground right across the street. And we don’t mind paying for taxis.”

Miss Mayfield shook her head. “Having a car is one of my conditions.”

“I see.” Rebecca crossed her legs and folded her arms. “Perhaps we should go straight to your terms. What else do you require?”

“I have Sundays off.”

That could be a problem.

“And baby will need quiet in the home. I run a tight ship in the nursery, Mrs. Jacobs. I’ll be training baby from the start. That’s how you keep them from being spoiled. Have to set a schedule, let them cry until they learn who’s boss. So I need to know that Mom and Dad won’t come running in at the wrong time, if you know what I mean. The worst thing that can happen to an infant, in my view, is to overreact.”

“Overreact?”

She shrugged. “Too much coddling. Picking baby up every time he whines or cries, giving them too much attention.” Her mouth creased into a thin smile. “It’s difficult for a new mother at first, I realize. But that’s how baby learns to respect the rest of the family’s boundaries.” She dipped her chin. “And mine, of course.”

Rebecca looked at her for a long moment. Then she glanced at her watch. Miss Mayfield was out of her office before the second hand made another round. And the next interview didn’t go much better. She went home with a pounding headache.

27

The grand jury issued an indictment
charging that Charles Frank Vicari committed the offense of Murder in the Second Degree against a human being, the infant born of Glory Lynn Chasson, contrary to laws of the State of Louisiana. The essential allegations and evidence in the case were set forth by the prosecution for the jurors—Infant Chasson was born alive during an abortion procedure. Charles Frank Vicari delivered the infant, and was the physician in charge. The defendant knowingly withheld medical assistance from Infant Chasson, with an intent to kill. The infant lived for over an hour, struggling to breathe before his death.

A warrant for Vicari’s arrest was issued immediately, to be executed by the sheriff’s department. The charges were second degree murder, with lesser included offenses. The case was assigned to Senior Assistant District Attorney Peter Jacobs, as requested.

Vince McConnell, Vicari’s lawyer, was among the best of the defense bar in New Orleans and the metro area, and his clients paid him well. McConnell called Peter to advise that Vicari would come in voluntarily. They agreed that Vince would drive him in, and that he would arrive at the station house in Gretna at four o’clock that afternoon, where he’d be taken into custody. The press would not be notified.

The deal was fine with Peter. Publicity was the last thing he sought. The facts in this case were unique and inflammatory and the prosecution and the defense had a mutual interest in keeping things quiet for as long as possible. From Vicari’s point of view, Peter judged, his desire to keep out of the media spotlight was personal.