Knock 'em Dead (8 page)

I texted back Have a safe trip. The second I hit
SEND
, I wondered if I should have added something like Love, Fin. No, that didn’t feel right. Maybe Hugs, Fin. No, I wasn’t twelve. Ah, screw it. I’d already let my mother, Margaret, and the File Flunkies annoy me; I wouldn’t add Patrick to that list. I’m not usually so filled with hate, I’m just scared and worried about Jane. Besides, Patrick had been planning this trip forever and it wasn’t like Jane was his close friend. Sure, we all socialize, but Patrick’s only role in the arraignment would have been to offer me moral support. I had Becky and Liv for that and he knew it.

The smell of garlic and onion bagels mingled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Tommasso’s was a casual place that catered to the downtown work crowd. Most of the patrons got orders to go, so it was easy to spot Becky and Liv at their table near the back of the narrow restaurant. They had a cup of steamy coffee waiting for me.

Walking past food cases that displayed everything from cured meats to cheese Danish, I was relieved when I read the relaxed, happy expression on Liv’s face. Hopefully the attorney issue had been solved or, at the very least, there was hope on the horizon.

Like me, Becky and Liv had opted for classic attire. Becky’s coral suit was tailored and paired with a cream silk blouse. Her leaning-toward-red auburn hair was pinned up, held in place with an amber clip that matched her hair, and she had simple gold hoops in her ears.

Liv’s cotton dress was white with small, periwinkle polka dots and she’d tied a periwinkle sweater around her shoulders. Her updated take on the preppy look was a simple ponytail coupled with a thin gold choker and gold stud earrings.

I pulled out a chair, sat down, and gulped a hefty sip of coffee. “We look like we belong in a 1950s sitcom.”

Liv smoothed her sleek, shiny brown hair with a well-manicured hand. “Where are we on ready cash?”

I told them about the mother loan, intentionally leaving out the terms. “What about a lawyer?” I asked.

Liv grinned, her exotically stunning features bordering on luminescent. “All taken care of. He’s meeting with Jane as we speak.”

“Who is it?”

“Clark Taggert.”

I groaned. “He’s like a hundred years old. That was the best the two of you could do?”

“
We
didn’t do it,” Becky said. “She did. I tried to tell her he isn’t up to it. He’s CRS.”

“CRS?” Liv asked.

“Can’t remember shit,” Becky and I said in unison.

I took a deep breath and tried to look on the bright side. “He does have a decent reputation.”

“Did,” Becky clarified. “He’s been semiretired for years.”

“He’s free.” Liv’s voice was tinged with irritation.

“How?” I asked.

“Shaylyn and Zack.”

I sat back against the metal frame of the vinyl chair. “The owners of Fantasy Dates are paying for Jane’s attorney?”

Liv’s irritation morphed into guarded enthusiasm. “That’s why they were calling me all day yesterday. They feel horrible about what happened to Paolo and they want to see that his killer is brought to justice.”

My bullshit-o-meter beeped. “But they don’t know Jane, so why would they fund her defense? We love her and know she didn’t do it. They don’t, so why would they assume she isn’t guilty?”

“They know
me
,” Liv replied. “I vouched for Jane and that was good enough for them. I think it’s a generous offer and Becky thinks it might look good to the judge. Having the owners of the dating service who hooked Jane up with Paolo supporting Jane can’t hurt. Especially when they believe Jane is innocent. Hopefully that and our united front will convince Judge Faulkner to set reasonable bail.”

“A bondsman will require ten percent of the bail. I can cover anything up to two hundred fifty thousand.”

Becky’s eyes grew wide. “Your mother?”

I nodded.

“And then what? You sell a body part to cover the debt?”

Because she loves me, and knows my mother issues, Liv sent me a sympathetic glance and shook her head. “I’ve already been to the bank. It’ll take a few days, maybe a week, but I’ve already started the ball rolling on liquidating Jane’s assets. We can probably repay your mom with that.”

I hated to admit it, but I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders. While I was happy to take one for the team, owing my mother money gave her a lot of power over me. Power I knew from experience she’d lord over me at every possible opportunity.

“We might need that money to hire a real attorney,” Becky commented as she brought a paper cup to her lips. “I think we should keep looking.”

“Can you do that? I mean, does the court let you change attorneys in the middle of a trial?”

“Yes,” Becky answered as she turned and met my gaze. “But hopefully it won’t get that far. My paralegal is going to take emergency leave starting tomorrow.”

I tried to connect switching lawyers with Becky’s paralegal and failed. “What’s wrong with Denise?”

“Nothing,” Becky said, her mouth curved into a sly smile. “But with Denise out, I’ll need to borrow a paralegal from another department. Of course, I’ll need someone who won’t mind spending a lot of time on the road. I’m in the middle of negotiations with a company whose corporate office is in South County.”

Ah
. I smiled. “Smart.”

“I don’t get it,” Liv said.

“Estates and trusts are pretty slow right now,” I explained. “It’s off-season. Fewer people around to die. I’ve only got four active estates open. So I’d be available to help Becky.”

“Help her what?”

“If I’m out of the office, I might accidentally run into someone with information that could help Jane.”

Liv’s gaze bounced from me to Becky, then back to me. “I thought Dane said he’d fire you if you got involved.”

“What Vain Dane doesn’t know can’t hurt me. Besides, I’ll have help.”

“Who?” Liv asked.

“Liam,” Becky said. I could almost hear the swoon in her voice.

“The hot P.I. guy?”

I nodded.

“Am I a good friend, or what?” Becky asked.

“Liam is annoying,” I said.
Like McDreamy is annoying
, a small voice taunted inside my head. I took another sip of coffee and told it to shut up. Like the TV character, Liam was married. Maybe the divorce was final, but any man who hung around his ex-wife as much as Liam did was still committed. As good as married was a Do Not Pass Go sign.

Besides. I had Patrick.

“Yes, but he’ll get you off the fence.”

I glared at Becky. “I’m not on the fence.”
Liar, liar.

“Are too,” she shot back. “Put us all out of our misery and make a clean break from Patrick. It’s time.”

“He’s a good guy,” I defended. The defense of my position on Patrick was knee-jerk. He was everything a fantastic boyfriend should be.
He
isn’t the problem. I am.

“Yawn,” Becky said. “Face it, Finley, you’re bored. Cripe, I’m bored and he’s not even my boyfriend. Your problem is you can’t bring yourself to come right out and tell him it’s over.”

I was practically squirming in my seat. “How did this conversation go from Jane’s in jail to Patrick and me?”

“I can fix you and Patrick. Jane’s situation is a lot harder,” Becky said.

“She’s right.”

I tossed Liv a nasty look. “I’m not taking dating advice from either of you. Becky’s last date was with a guy who took her to see
Men in Black II
on opening night. And you’re using an unemployed homeless guy for sex.”

Becky rested her elbows on the worn wooden tabletop, then laced her fingers. “Finley, all you have to do is tell Patrick it’s over. You know? The old ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ kinda thing?”

I vehemently shook my head. “He’s the perfect guy for me.”

“Right,” Becky agreed sarcastically. “If you want to spend the rest of your life in a coma.”

“Don’t we need to get to court?” I asked. I didn’t want to have this conversation. Self-analysis could wait for later.

We opted to drive separately to the courthouse on North Olive Street. I was the only one with the day off, so it was decided I would handle posting the bond and then taking Jane home once she was released.

I arrived to find a half dozen satellite trucks flanking the building. Great. I hadn’t given any thought to the idea that Jane’s case might attract media attention. Of course it would. The salacious details of a woman charged with killing and de-penising a rich guy was bound to pique a lot of interest. It isn’t like Palm Beach County is a hotbed of criminal activity. Sure, there’s the occasional murder and we do have minor problems with gangs and drugs. For the most part, journalists working the crime beat have to content themselves with reporting on drunk drivers, dog attacks, and domestic disputes.

I parked and met up with my friends. Sandwiched between Becky and Liv, I managed to make it to the breezeway separating the criminal and civil divisions before I heard someone identify me as the woman arrested with Jane. We had to hurry to avoid the sudden rush of photographers and videographers.

Once inside, we passed through the metal detectors, then consulted the directory. Arraignments were scheduled in Courtroom Number Two.

Unlike full-blown trials, arraignments are almost always quick and handled by newbie assistant state attorneys fresh out of law school. But the minute I stepped into the austere courtroom, I knew this was going to be different. First of all, the gallery was filled to near capacity. Normally only public defenders and defense attorneys occupied the hard wooden benches that lined either side of the long aisle facing the banister that separated the spectators from the counsel tables and the elevated bench.

I recognized several of the attendees. The cute new guy from Channel Twelve was seated in the third row, a pad resting in his lap. All the other local affiliates were represented, dressed in camera-friendly attire. I’m fairly sure the more casually dressed men and women scattered around were from various print media. Obviously a depenised dead guy was hot news.

As if we were wedding guests required to declare our allegiance, Liv, Becky, and I slipped into place on a bench on the defense side of the courtroom. Though I heard the hum of the air conditioner and a large ceiling fan circulated overhead, I was sweating. Bullets. I kept my eyes on the door in the left front of the room, waiting anxiously for Jane to enter. I didn’t see Taggert, so I assumed he was with her in the holding area down in the first-floor level of the courthouse.

The room smelled of coffee and breath mints. I noticed the seasoned veterans of the crime beat had smuggled water into the room, ignoring the large signs prohibiting gum, beverages, food, and cell phones. My cell was still set on vibrate, so I figured I was safe. Water would be nice; my throat felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton.

Liv was to my right, Becky was on the aisle. I think that was intentional. She’d clerked for Faulkner and was probably hoping he’d recognize her and go easy on Jane. I was too. I wanted this to be over.

On the wall behind the judge’s large black leather chair was the circular seal of the state of Florida, and above that a large, slow-moving clock. The chair was flanked on either side by flags—one U.S., the other the official, if potentially offensive, Florida State flag. At least staring at it gave me something to focus on as my toe drummed nervously against the carpeted floor.

My state flag was slightly politically incorrect because of the diagonal red bars set against a white background that was a tad reminiscent of the Confederate flag. The State Seal was repeated in the center, featuring a Seminole woman scattering flowers, a steamboat, a palmetto tree, and a brilliant sunshine. I didn’t get the steamboat, or why the Seminole woman had flowers. It would probably make more sense for the seal to have a picture of the space shuttle, a hanging chad, a big RV, and Mickey Mouse ears.

My silly mental redesign of the seal stopped when the room hushed to complete silence. Turning, I saw Allison Brent walking toward the prosecutor’s table. She wasn’t alone; Detectives Graves and Steadman were with her, and involuntarily, I shrank back in my seat. My heart wasn’t beating, it was racing.

“What’s wrong?” Liv whispered against my ear.

“Brent is a senior staff attorney.”

Liv leaned closer, her shoulder pressed against mine. “Aren’t there supposed to be two lawyers? One for the defense too? Where’s Taggert”

I kept my eyes on Brent as she placed a slender accordion folder on the counsel table and went into a huddle with the two detectives. She was smart, petite, with cropped, wash-and-go red hair and perfect skin. She was well respected by peers and adversaries alike and generally adored by juries. In her nearly twenty-year career as a prosecutor, she’d never lost a case.

“Taggert’s probably with Jane. But I’m freaked because the state doesn’t usually send in a heavy hitter for an arraignment. Maybe she just wants press exposure. I hear she’s going to run for state attorney next year.”

A low buzz worked its way around the room when the door opened and Jane was escorted into the room by two deputies. My chest constricted when I saw the dark circles under her terror-filled eyes as the handcuffs were removed.

She shot us all a pathetic look and a weak smile before her hands gripped the empty chair at the table. Her long hair hung limply to her slumped shoulders. I desperately wanted to rush over and give her a hug, but I knew the rules. And, with Graves and Steadman in the room, I didn’t dare violate the no-touching one.

“She looks horrible and it’s all my fault,” Liv whispered.

“She spent the night in jail,” I reminded my friend, patting the back of her hand.

“No,” Liv insisted. “I brought her one of my dresses.”