Fool Me Twice (12 page)

The driver pulled into traffic and sped away.

Marisol sat in the corner of the backseat, staring at Crow.

“My God,” she said.

Crow returned the gun to his shoulder holster.

He didn’t say anything.

  35  

R
yan pored over the production schedule. It was day seven that caught his eye, the first day of the second week of the shoot.

Weather permitting, the unit was scheduled to set up shop along the west coast of Paradise Inlet.

A number of small cottages dotted the coastline. Most were rudimentary, built years ago as summer places for vacationers. Many of them were without heat or insulation.

When the long summer days shortened into early fall, many of the occupants closed up their cottages for the season.
A Taste of Arsenic
was scheduled to shoot in one of them for two successive nights.

—

R
yan drove slowly, checking out the landscape. He spotted the movie people almost immediately.

A handful of cars and a couple of oversized trucks were parked in front of a two-story cottage. A paint crew was sprucing it up while the art department staff was off-loading furniture. Landscapers were installing squares of new grass on the front lawn.

Scaffolding was being constructed in front of the cottage to hold the large lighting units that would illuminate the night, as well as the generators required to power them.

Ryan continued his drive along the inlet. He could see that many of the cottages had been closed down. There was very little activity in most of them. Few if any cars were parked in the driveways.

He doubled back and spotted an empty cottage two doors away from the shooting location.

“That’s the one,” he said to himself.

—

L
ater that night, Ryan returned to Fisherman’s Road. The crew had all left.

Driving with his lights off, Ryan pulled his Prius into the driveway of the cottage he had spotted earlier. He parked in back.

The night sky was cloudless, and the sliver of moon provided just enough light.

He paced the exterior of the house, looking for a way in. He saw no security system. He stepped onto the back porch and tried to open the kitchen window. It was locked.

He picked up a rock and smashed one of the window’s six glass panes. He lifted out the jagged ends, reached inside, and unlocked the window. Then he raised it and climbed through to the kitchen.

The adjacent dining room was furnished with an old wooden table and four chairs, as well as a serving hutch and a crockery-filled cabinet.

The living room was larger. A worn sofa and love seat were its main furnishings, along with a pair of wicker chairs and a couple of mismatched side tables.

Ryan wandered down the hall to the bedrooms. The larger of the two had a queen-size bed with a night table on each side. The smaller had a pair of single beds separated by a dresser. There was one bathroom with a sink and a combination bathtub/shower.

For Ryan’s purposes, it was perfect.

  36  

J
esse arrived early for the hearing. He was sitting in Judge Emanuel Weissberg’s outer office, chatting with Marty Reagan, when the Cassidy family stormed in.

Upon seeing Reagan, Richard Cassidy approached him.

“Where’s Aaron,” he said.

“Not here.”

“Why not?”

“He recused himself.”

Cassidy gazed at his wife, Portia, who stared daggers at him.

Courtney stood between them.

“He can’t do that,” Portia said.

Reagan shrugged.

“Why aren’t we in Judge Green’s chambers,” Richard said.

“She recused herself as well.”

“What in the hell’s going on here,” Portia said.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Reagan said. “I’ll be representing the DA’s office.”

Portia stepped over to her husband and spoke just loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“We’re being fucked,” she said.

“No, we’re not. Something probably came up.”

“You’re such a fool, Richard. Nothing came up. He bailed on us is what happened. And after all we’ve done for him. It makes me sick.”

Richard shook his head. She glared at him. The room became icily silent.

Portia sat down, picked up a magazine, and thumbed sightlessly through it. Courtney opened her bag, removed her cell phone, and started texting. Richard paced.

The door opened, and Judge Weissberg appeared. He was thin and scholarly-looking, wearing black-framed eyeglasses and bearing a ramrod-straight posture. With a wave, he led them into his chambers, where they all found seats. The room was small and cramped with so many bodies crowded in.

“I am Emanuel Weissberg,” he said. “I’ll be conducting this hearing. That is, unless there are any objections.”

“It was my impression that Judge Green would be conducting the hearing,” Portia said.

“You were mistaken,” Judge Weissberg said.

She shifted uneasily under his steely gaze. She was suddenly alert to the possibility that she might have offended him. She looked away.

“If there’s nothing else,” Weissberg said, “let’s begin. Mr. Reagan?”

“Good morning, Your Honor,” Marty Reagan said.

He introduced the participants and reviewed the charges against Courtney. He informed the judge that the Commonwealth would be seeking a one-year suspension of her driving privileges, as per the law. He proposed that she be placed under probation for a similar period of time. He also asked that she be given an equal period of community service.

“Does the defendant have anything to say for herself,” the judge said.

Courtney shrugged.

“May I speak on her behalf, Your Honor,” Richard said.

“You may,” Judge Weissberg said. “So long as you’re brief.”

“I’ll do my best, Your Honor,” Richard said, standing. “As you can see, my daughter is a teenager whose actions were most certainly misguided. She is extremely apologetic and remorseful. She’s seventeen years old, Your Honor. The penalties that the Commonwealth is seeking seem unnecessarily harsh. We ask that she be remanded to the custody of both her mother and me without being further restricted.”

He sat down.

“Is it true she was a repeat offender? Weren’t there three incidents? One of them involving a serious accident?”

Richard stood again.

“We acknowledge that the accident was indeed her fault. We made restitution to the driver, who has declined to press charges. It’s possible that on the other two occasions, she may have been the victim of entrapment.”

“Entrapment?”

“She was being unreasonably dogged by a law officer who appears to bear her malice.”

“That’s a heady charge, Mr. Cassidy,” Judge Weissberg said.

Then, acknowledging Jesse’s presence, he said, “Is this the law officer?”

“It is,” Richard said.

“Chief Stone, is it?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Jesse said.

“What’s this all about?”

Jesse stood.

“I witnessed the accident,” he said. “Ms. Cassidy was texting on her cell phone when she ran a stop sign and broadsided another vehicle. Afterward, she exhibited disdain for what she referred to as a ‘stupid law’ and expressed her opinions to me in an argumentative and disrespectful manner.”

“May I raise an objection,” Portia said.

“No,” the judge said. “Go on, Chief Stone.”

“When I saw that Ms. Cassidy was unrepentant, I decided to keep an eye on her. I suspected she might be a chronic offender.”

“And?”

“On successive days I witnessed her talking on her cell phone while driving. The first time I saw her, I pulled her over and cited her. Once again, she was sullen and argumentative. The next day I caught her doing it again.”

Jesse sat down.

“He was badgering her,” Portia said.

The judge turned his attention to her.

“Did your daughter actually break the law in the manner Chief Stone has described?”

“You mean was she talking on her cell phone?”

“And texting.”

“I have no idea. I sincerely doubt it.”

“You’re suggesting that Chief Stone is lying,” the judge said.

“It’s not out of the question. I believe he was out to get her.”

Marty Reagan asked for permission to speak.

“In each instance,” he said, “Chief Stone impounded the cell phone which Ms. Cassidy had been using. Research proves that each of the phones was engaged at the time of the alleged offense.”

“Thank you, Mr. Reagan,” the judge said.

He then turned to Portia.

“I’m going to refrain from citing you for contempt, Mrs. Cassidy,” he said. “However, one more outburst and I’ll have you removed from my chambers and taken into custody. Are we clear about that?”

Portia lowered her eyes.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” she said.

“‘Yes, Your Honor,’” the judge said. “You’ll damn well show respect for this court.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“And I’ll hear your apology to Chief Stone.”

“Excuse me.”

“Apologize to Chief Stone for your insolence.”

Portia looked at Jesse.

“I apologize,” she said.

“Speak up,” the judge said.

“I apologize, Your Honor,” she said.

“To Chief Stone,” the judge said.

Portia looked at Jesse.

“I apologize, Chief Stone,” she said.

Jesse didn’t say anything.

The judge sat silently for several moments. Then he addressed Courtney.

“Miss Cassidy,” he said. “This court cannot emphasize strongly enough the dangers of distracted driving. Your actions suggest you don’t have much regard for that concept. Well, young lady, you’re dead wrong. I am herewith revoking your driving privileges for a period of not less than six months. At the end of that term, we’ll review the situation in order to determine whether or not I will extend the revocation for an additional six months. I am also sentencing you to six months of community service. The district attorney’s office has asked that your service be performed at the Paradise police station, under the supervision of Chief Stone. You will report to him not later than nine a.m. once a week for a period of six months. I will further consider the request for probation and inform the assistant district attorney of my decision.”

Judge Weissberg looked directly at each of the Cassidys.

Then he picked up his gavel and slammed it as hard as he could onto a wooden block, which resounded like a gunshot and startled everyone in the room.

“Dismissed,” he said.

  37  

J
esse lagged behind the Cassidys as they left the courthouse.

Richard and Portia were clearly agitated. Courtney seemed stunned.

They headed toward a black Lincoln Town Car that was waiting for them at curbside. A driver opened the back door.

“I suppose you’re satisfied,” Portia said to her husband.

He didn’t say anything.

“We got shafted. I certainly hope you’re planning to withdraw your support from his reelection campaign.”

Richard remained silent.

“Well,” Portia said.

She looked at him.

They were now standing beside the Lincoln. The driver stood awkwardly next to them, holding on to the car door as if for ballast.

Courtney stood apart, shifting her weight from foot to foot, her eyes downcast. She didn’t look at either of her parents.

“How dare he abandon us like that,” Portia said. “Who contributed more than we did.”

“He must have come under some kind of scrutiny,” Richard said.

“Probably from someone who has an ax to grind with you.”

“Why don’t you stay out of it, Portia. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh? Now I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Keep out of it.”

“To hell with you, Richard.”

“Most likely he couldn’t risk being compromised,” he said, as if to himself.

“So she has to pay the price,” Portia said, indicating Courtney.

“I don’t mind,” Courtney said, looking up at her parents at last.

“What,” Portia said.

“Please stop arguing. I’ll do what the judge said. I can’t stand this constant arguing.”

“We’re only looking out for your best interests,” Richard said.

“You’re not. You’re making me the scapegoat so that the two of you can continue to fight with each other.”

Neither of her parents said anything.

“You hate each other.”

“How dare you say a thing like that,” Portia said.

“It’s true. You hate him. You never say anything nice to him. You’re horrible.”

“Don’t talk to your mother that way,” Richard said.

“You’re no better than she is,” Courtney said.

“Get in the car,” Portia said.

“No.”

“Do you want to be grounded?”

“I’m as good as grounded already. What does it matter?”

Portia walked over to Courtney and angrily grabbed her arm. “I said get in the car.”

“Fuck you,” Courtney said, breaking free of Portia’s grasp.

Portia slapped her.

Courtney reached for her face, fighting back tears.

Richard stepped between them.

“Do as your mother says. Get in the car.”

“Fuck you, too,” she said.

She stepped to the car and opened the front passenger-side door. She looked at her parents with contempt.

“You don’t know anything,” she said.

She got in the car and slammed the door behind her.

Richard and Portia exchanged angry glances. They climbed into the backseat. The driver closed the door after them, quickly got into the car, and drove away.

Jesse stepped from the courthouse shadows. He watched the Lincoln disappear into the late-morning traffic.

When it was out of sight, he got in his cruiser and drove off.

  38  

T
he mood on the set was euphoric. The first week had gone smoothly, and the production was both on schedule and on budget.

More important, the rushes had shown Marisol to be delivering the most complex and fully realized performance of her career. Although it was still early in the process, expectation levels for the movie were on the rise.