Deeper Water (36 page)

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

"How do you know something is wrong?" I asked.

"I'm your mother. I could tell what was the matter by the way you cried as a baby."

The thought of cuddling up in Mama's arms held a lot of appeal to me.

"Mostly work matters that I can't discuss. Is Daddy there?"

"No, he and Kyle are out again checking on some cows. I think Kyle is going to make enough money to get a new truck by the end of the summer."

"Maybe his cattle business will get big enough that he'll need a corporate attorney."

"I told Daddy about the young lawyer who wants to get to know you better."

"That's not an-"

Mama kept talking. "He agrees with me that you should keep your distance until we can meet him. However, we talked it over, and you can bring him home for the July Fourth holiday if he can give you a ride home."

The thought of a five-hour ride in the sidecar followed by the shock on my parents' faces when Zach parked the motorcycle beneath the poplar tree in our front yard made me smile. Of course, Zach owned a car, but in my mind he was inextricably linked to the motorcycle.

"That's sweet of you, Mama, but I'm not sure I want to invite him." I paused. "However, there is someone else, one of the summer clerks who's a Christian and very nice. He lives in Charleston, so I don't know what he's doing for the holiday, and I may have to stay here to prepare a court case. If I can get away, and Vince wants to drive me home for a visit, would that be okay?"

"Who is Vince?" Mama sounded slightly bewildered.

I told her a little more about him. As I talked I realized that compared to Zach Mays, I had little to hide about the brilliant law student.

"And he maintains his Christian witness at Yale?" Mama asked.

"Yes ma'am. He's had to face challenges and overcome them, just like me."

"I'll mention it to your daddy."

"Thanks. Now, tell me about the twins, the garden, Bobby, church, the chickens, the dogs, anything about home."

LATER THAT NIGHT in my apartment, I read the old newspapers, seeking more information about the mob described by Mrs. Bartlett. Two-thirds of the way through the stack, I found a second-page article. Scant on details, it was obviously a major event that should have received front-page coverage. A group of fifty men invaded the black district in response to "unfounded rumors" related to Lisa Prescott's disappearance. Rocks were thrown, windows broken, and a fire started in the front yard of one residence. The mob was confronted by a squad of police officers that included several on horseback. Five men were arrested for disorderly conduct, and the rest dispersed. The incident wasn't mentioned again.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, the receptionist stopped me when I arrived at the office.

"Vince Colbert wants to see you," she said. "He's in the small conference room near Mr. Braddock's office."

Puzzled, I went to the opposite end of the building from the library. The conference room door was shut. I knocked.

"Come in," Vince called out.

Vince, his laptop open before him, was sitting at one end of the shiny table. He always wore a suit, tie, and starched shirt. This morning he'd taken off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Sorry about court yesterday."

"It was a blow. What happened in your case?"

"No problems. My client will be on the road in his quieter car by the weekend. But I spent time last night doing some research that I wanted to tell you about."

"You came back to the office last night?"

"Yes, there is a code needed after eleven o'clock. I can give it to you-

"I know," I interrupted. "What were you looking into?"

"Please shut the door and sit down."

I closed the conference room door and sat in a chair beside him.

"Careful with the jacket," he said. "I have a meeting in an hour with Mr. Braddock and one of his clients."

"Sorry." I moved the jacket to the back of another chair.

"I've been doing some research to update the firm website. This firm has been in existence since 1888," Vince began. "The founding partners were Mr. Braddock's great-grandfather and an attorney named Vernon Fletchall. After Mr. Fletchall died, the firm was simply known as the Braddock firm until Mr. Braddock brought in another partner in the early 1900s. Mr. Braddock's son joined the firm, and about thirty years later his grandson, the current Mr. Braddock's father, a man named Lawrence, who graduated from Vanderbilt after World War II, started practicing in Savannah. In the meantime, the founding Mr. Braddock died and not long after that, his son also died."

"I'm not taking notes. Is there going to be a test?"

"No, but learning more about the history of the firm gave me an idea."

"Okay," I answered, mystified.

"Mr. Samuel Braddock and his father practiced law together for a long time. Lawrence died about ten years ago, although he'd been retired for many years. Mr. Appleby is originally from Norfolk and joined the firm when the father was still practicing." Vince paused. "Mr. Carpenter did too. Mr. Carpenter's family-"

Realizing another long genealogical recitation was coming, I couldn't stifle the giggle that bubbled up within me.

"What did I say?" Vince asked.

"I'm sorry. I don't know where you're going with this, but your attention to detail is incredible. Are you the same way with your Bible study?"

"I try to be."

"How many books of the Bible have you memorized?"

Vince shook his head. "I'm not answering that. Are you going to let me finish? It's going to be hard to find time later today."

"All right. You were starting Mr. Carpenter's genealogy."

"Mr. Carpenter's family is from Savannah too, but his family history isn't documented except for the names of his parents. When I saw his father's name, I remembered our conversation the other day at the deli."

"Floyd Carpenter?" I asked in shock, putting my hand to my mouth.

Vince nodded. "Yes."

"I never really thought-" I stopped.

"Did you mention that to Mr. Carpenter?" Vince asked.

"No. I thought it would sound foolish."

"That was probably very wise." Vince moved the cursor on his laptop. "At that point, I stopped working on the website and started searching the closed file records."

"Looking for what?"

"References to the significant names: Prescott and Carpenter as clients of the firm."

"What did you find?" I asked.

"Not much. Floyd Carpenter died not long after Mr. Braddock's father passed away."

My heart sank.

"However, the old files haven't been destroyed," Zach continued. "The State Bar Rules would allow it, but the firm is proud of its history and put its records on microfilm in the 1980s. They're stored off-site. I'm just not sure how to get access."

"Mr. Carpenter obviously isn't an option."

"Why don't you ask Zach?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure he'll help. He thinks I need to concentrate totally on helping Moses with the trespassing case and forget about Lisa Prescott."

"You can do both." Vince closed his laptop. "There may be nothing to it, but access to privileged information is a unique opportunity, something the police didn't have when they were investigating Lisa's disappearance."

Everything Vince said made sense.

"How long did it take you to do this?"

Vince smiled. "Less time than it took to memorize the first two chapters of Ephesians. I'll check with you this afternoon."

I LEFT THE CONFERENCE ROOM. When I passed Mr. Carpenter's office suite, his secretary stopped me.

"Tami, hold on. I was about to come looking for you. I'll let Mr. Carpenter know you're here."

"Could it wait?" I asked, trying to think of a good reason to postpone a meeting.

The secretary already had the phone receiver in her hand. She shook her head. I had no choice but to wait. I offered up a rapid prayer for help. Mr. Carpenter opened the door to his office.

"Good morning, Tami," he said. "Come in."

I entered the office and sat down. He didn't go behind his desk but sat across from me in a leather side chair. Sitting so close to him increased my anxiety.

"I hope I'm not in trouble," I said lamely.

"Of course not," Mr. Carpenter answered lightly. "I read your memo about the Jones case with great interest. Clifton Cannon can be hard to deal with, especially if his sciatica is acting up."

"I don't know, but it must have been bad yesterday. It's disturbing that the judge's back condition might affect how many years a man or woman spends in prison."

"The practice of law is filled with intangibles that law school doesn't prepare you for."

"Yes sir."

"What are you going to do next on the case?"

"Uh, get ready to try it. I have to phone the courthouse and find out the dates for criminal trial calendars this summer."

"Zach will guide you. He's a bright young man. If both of you get in over your heads, call on me."

"Yes sir."

Mr. Carpenter stood. "Keep those memos coming. You're a good writer. Written and verbal communication skills are the main keys to success for an attorney."

I WENT TO THE LIBRARY AND PICKED UP MY FOLDER CONTAINING the old newspaper clippings. Julie wasn't there, but I needed a place to think without interruption. I'd not told Julie anything about Lisa Prescott and didn't want to start now.

I went upstairs to Gerry Patrick's office. The firm administrator's door was open. She was on the phone but motioned me to come inside. I stood in front of her desk and waited until she finished the call.

"How can I help you?" she asked.

"You'd mentioned the possibility of a cubicle where I could work. Is that still available?"

"Did you and Julie have another problem?" Ms. Patrick asked with an edge to her voice.

The fact that the previous day's incident was common knowledge in the hierarchy of the firm worried me, but I knew interoffice communication only required a few computer keystrokes and the click of a mouse.

"No ma'am. Each of us met with Mr. Carpenter, and our relationship is better than ever. But I need to do some research without any distractions. Julie and I work well together, but we still take a few minutes here and there to talk."

"What are you working on that requires that level of privacy? Julie is also an employee of the law firm."

It was an insightful question that rendered me temporarily speechless.

"You're right," I said after an awkward pause. "There's no good reason for me to set up in a second workstation."

Ms. Patrick looked down at her desk. "Good. Have a nice day."

I MADE COPIES of all the newspaper articles and put them in a separate folder. I had no option but to talk to Zach. His door was closed. I knocked lightly and opened it a crack before he answered. He was staring at his computer screen and tugging on his ponytail.

"Hey," he said. "Did you get the dates for the trial calendars?"

"Not yet, but I will. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Yeah."

I sat down next to the now familiar picture of Zach's sister. "Do you promise not to get upset at me if I ask for some advice?"

Zach gave me a puzzled look. "Have I been that hard to work with? My only goal is to help you mature as a lawyer as quickly as possible. The best way for that to happen isn't to coddle you, but to challenge you and keep you focused."

"You're not mad at me?"

"No. I've told my parents all about you."

"What did you say?" I asked in surprise.

"The truth as best I know it." Zach smiled. "They know how unusual it is to meet a woman with your faith and convictions. I'd like to meet your family."

"Really?"

"Of course. How can we make that happen?"

"I'm still working on it," I answered, perplexed. "But this case is all I can think about right now. I need your help. How can someone access the firm microfilm records?"

"Through Gerry Patrick. She has a key to the storage facility. It's on Abercorn Road near the mall."

"Would you mind asking her? Ms. Patrick doesn't like me."

"Why?"

"For some of the same reasons you think I'm a woman of faith and conviction. We've had misunderstandings that make her suspicious of anything I say."

It was Zach's turn to give me a puzzled look. "That makes no sense. Just tell her the name of the case, and the supervising attorney. She shouldn't give you any problem."

I grimaced. "You're the supervising attorney. It has to do with State v. Jones."

Zach sat up straighter in his chair. "Start talking."

Thirty minutes later, I finished. Zach read a couple of the articles while I nervously fidgeted in my chair.

"Is that all?" he asked, looking up from the newspaper clippings.

"Pretty much. I don't think I left out any important details."

"And Mr. Carpenter isn't aware of your suspicions?"

"I don't think so."

"He's a smart man."

"I know."

"Do the partners know Vince is helping you?"

"No. I think he worked after hours."