The Fallen Angels Book Club (9 page)

“Why would you think that?”

“The police were here yesterday. They requested club members' background records. They asked a lot of questions about the initial formation of the club and how members were selected.”

My heart took off in my chest.
Breathe. Breathe.
“They've already talked to me. I'm not here about the club.”

“You okay?” He offered me a cup of water.

I shook my head.

“I'm kind of bummed out about the whole thing,” he said. “I thought the club was one of my success stories.”

“Don't write us off so fast.” I took another breath. “I'm hoping you'll recommend me for a Certificate of Rehabilitation.”

He raised an eyebrow but let me go on with my speech.

“About two years ago, I assisted one of Triple D's criminal attorneys who had a very rich client with an errant son. I learned California has a restoration of rights law. I prepared court documents to get his record cleared. Our client worked hard to write a statement and obtain the signatures and references that eventually led to his son's pardon. I want a pardon, too. Under the penal code, the law permits someone convicted of a crime to petition the court to re-open the case, set aside the plea and dismiss the matter. I've done my research and I know I qualify. I completed parole and I've kept my record clean for five years.”

Jeffrey nodded in acknowledgment.

“I know expungement won't erase my criminal record, but my finding of guilt would be dismissed. I could then honestly and legally answer a question about my criminal history and say that I hadn't been convicted of a crime. Eventually, I'd submit a request to the court to have it converted to a full pardon.”

I took another deep breath.

He gave me a long look. Finally he got up, took a book off a nearby shelf and started flipping through pages. I knew what he was searching for. A Rehabilitation Pardon is usually granted to persons who demonstrate exemplary behavior following a felony conviction. A useful, productive and law-abiding life wouldn't be enough. The life I'd led had to be stellar.

Jeffrey wasn't a large man, but he always looked huge to me. Kind of like a puffin I saw on the National Geographic channel. The bird is relatively small, but to help it survive in a big bird world, Mother Nature gave it guts and the ability to blow up its chest. These talents made it appear just as large and formidable as its peers. That was Jeffrey.

He set the open book in front of me. “I'm familiar with the petition. They aren't easy to come by.” His index finger tapped a long paragraph and then, without saying another word, he sat down at his desk.

I knew it by heart—the checklist of qualifying requirements. “I'm determined. I know what it takes but I think I can make my case. I want to finish law school and take the California Bar.”

“I see.” He fiddled with the pens on his desk. “It's going to take some paperwork and you're going to need a lawyer.”

“Jeffrey, I work for a law firm. I know a few lawyers.” I grinned at him, but he didn't grin back. “Okay, I retained an attorney from another firm. To save money, I'm assisting by coming up with all the section codes and citations. All my attorney has to do is review my brief and declaration.”

“First of all, it goes without saying that you have my strongest recommendation.” His forehead creased again.

“Second?” I paused. “What is it? There's something you're not saying.”

“You know I'm one of your biggest supporters.”

I waited for the “but.”

“But until this Rory thing gets settled, all club members will come under a lot of scrutiny. I know you don't want to hear this, but all the club members are prime suspects.”

I slumped in my chair. “Okay. What do you think I should do?”

“Tell the truth. Tell the others to do the same. I know each of you and I don't think any of you did it. Misjudgments happen in my line of work. I misjudged Rory and—”

“Wallace, there's something else.” My mouth went dry and I licked my lips. “The way Rory died. It mimicked the story line in the book the club discussed right before his murder.”

“What?” He slammed the book on his desk.

My words rushed out. “I know. Who else could it be, but one of us? I can't believe it. Except for Rena, who barely knew Rory, we've been together almost three years. It just doesn't make sense. We're a pretty smart bunch; we would know that a murder mimicking the book would point to one of us. On the other hand, the fact is, Rory blackmailed Richard and Abby, maybe others. I guess the club wasn't the lifesaver you thought it might be.”

“Do the police know about the plot from the book?”

“About how he died? Yes. I'm the one who told them.”

Jeffrey drummed his fingers on the desk. “The police are convinced Rory was indeed a blackmailer.”

I nodded. “I had this conversation with Abby. She thinks she might have seen the car of Rory's killer. I believe I talked her into going to the police, but she's not wild about the idea. She's scared. None of us wants any more contact with the cops than necessary. Until I find Rory's killer, the chances of me getting a pardon are …”

I couldn't finish.

He nodded. “It complicates things, but withholding information in a murder investigation is an offense. Be smart. If Abby doesn't tell them, you have to. I can give her a call if you don't feel comfortable talking to her.”

“No, don't. She told me all this in confidence.” Abby wouldn't be happy if she knew I'd revealed her secret. “I'll find out if she's gone to see the police. If not … okay, I'll do it.”

Jeffrey looked worried. “Do it today, okay?”

The afternoon was mild but the sun shone warm upon my shoulders like a comforting sweater. I sat on the patio going through my Blackberry emails waiting for Marla to appear. She'd seen me arrive, but because she was on the phone in the community room, she'd motioned for me to wait for her here.

“I'm sorry, sweetie, but at the last minute I got a call about the results of my tests and I had a couple of questions.”

I peered at her. “Everything's okay, isn't it?”

“Oh my, yes. Don't worry. I'm in tip-top shape.” She brushed a gray curl off her forehead. “I don't want to waste time talking about me. I want to tell you about Lily.”

I waited.

Marla leaned in. “You know Lily has a bad ticker along with her poor hearing and bouncing ball memory. Up until a few months ago, she slept and ate pretty well. She worked in the garden with me and we played Scrabble together.”

“What happened a few months ago?”

“Joseph was hired. The center is actually down two nurses, but they're having a hard time finding people who want to work for low pay. Anyway, he replaced Marjorie. You remember her, the really tall nurse? Anyway, at first he seemed okay. Must have been on probation. Gradually, he's become curt and even snarly.”

“A personality defect doesn't mean he isn't doing his job.”

“I know that.” Marla was clearly irritated. “Lily is supposed to receive pills three times a day. Marjorie made it a game at meal times. She had to take at least five of them. I know because I get my cholesterol pill at the same time.”

She grabbed my wrist. “Now they don't give her as many, and she only gets them twice a day.”

I gently pulled my arm back and put it around her shoulders. “Her doctor probably just ordered a change in her prescription. It doesn't mean anything.”

Marla jerked back. “No, sweetie, Lily's not the same. She's changed. Besides, she hasn't seen her doctor since before Joseph came.”

It was clear I wasn't responding the way Marla wanted. On the other hand, while Joseph might not win any congeniality awards, he didn't strike me as incompetent.

“Is it the handling of the medication that has you concerned?”

“Yes, but there's more.” Her face flushed and her voice trembled. Marla took my hand in hers. “I need to tell you the most important thing. Rosemary Hebert passed away about a week after Joseph started. She died in her sleep.”

“Yes?” I squeezed Marla's hand.

“She used to take those little yellow pills for her cataracts. I think Joseph is giving Lily Rosemary's prescription.”

“Why would he do that? What does he have to gain?”

She leaned in even farther. “Her white pills cost a lot more than the yellow ones. I think he's selling Lily's medication.”

“Have you spoken to the director?”

“Yes. Other than looking at me as if I were senile, she said she'd look into it, but nothing has changed. Sweetie, Lily is getting worse.”

If it had been anyone else, I would have tried to rationalize the situation as a simple medication change. I knew Marla wasn't one to raise an unwarranted alarm. I glanced at the garden clock.

“Marla, give me a couple of days. Let me see what I can find out. The privacy rules regarding medical file information are strict. I doubt I'll be able to learn much.” I stood to leave. “However, I have to say that Lily seems about the same to me. Maybe a little grumpier, but about the same.”

Marla heard what she wanted. Her face cleared and she gave a small nod of acceptance. “I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I wouldn't ask for your help if I didn't think this was important.”

I took both her hands in mine and said goodbye.

I lectured myself all the way home for getting involved. But how could I ignore Marla's plea?

T
he hands on the clock hardly seemed to move as our morning staff meeting dragged on. Ed got into his billable hours speech and I predicted we had at least another twenty minutes to go. My mind went back to my meeting with Jeffrey and my dinner conversation with Abby. Maybe I was the one who needed to be more open and trusting.

Ed droned on, “I've decided to mix up our teams. Some of you struggle with bringing in new clients, and others have seen a marked reduction in billable hours.” An outstanding civil litigator, Ed was a trial court legend. He often memorized closing arguments that ran for an hour or more. Today, however, he noticeably refused to glance up from his page of bulleted notes.

I didn't want to look at Mark, but I couldn't stop myself. A red flush had made its way up from his starched shirt collar. I wondered which non-performing category he was in.

I sneaked another peek at the clock. I wanted to print out the Inquiry First response for Gene. I had gotten his birth date from PeopleSearch. A stack of pages was waiting for me.

“The Management Committee met and we reassigned some of you to new teams. I'll be posting the new support groups after this meeting.”

Lisa, one of the more senior associates, asked, “Why all the drama? We're a small firm. Just tell us the new teams.”

Ed shot her a look. “In the interest of saving time, which is the whole point I tried to make in my message, we must increase our billable hours and reduce overhead by charging our work to a client matter. Therefore, I'm not taking the time to go into administrative details.”

“And face tough questions,” one of the other associates murmured under his breath. He got a few chuckles. I stifled mine.

“Any questions, tough or otherwise, contact the senior attorney on your team.” With a quick look at his watch and a final glance around the room, Ed walked out the door.

No one rushed to look at the paper taped to the whiteboard in the lunchroom. Clearly we were all too cool for that. After a minute of pretending not to look, we formed a short line in front of the board. I ended up near the end. Mark grinned after he read the list, and I quickly learned the reason. He was joining me on Avery's support team.

He caught up to me in the hallway.

“I knew Ed was referring to me. If there's a silver lining, I think I have a fair chance at getting my stride back by working with you and Avery.”

I wasn't as enthusiastic. “It'll be interesting. Have you done any trust or probate work?”

“Some in law school and a little bit since, but anything has to be better than taxation and partnership agreements.” Mark followed me back to my office.

Back at my desk, I pulled a Post-it note off my computer monitor: team meeting at three o'clock. “Our esteemed leader is calling us together.” I showed the note to Mark. “I need to wrap up a couple of files. It's not likely we'll be taken off the open cases we've been working.”

Mark took the hint. “Oh, yeah, you're right. I better get back to my office, too. I hoped to get out of having to assist in the Hayman corporate matter, but knowing Ed, he's going to make sure he doesn't get stuck with it.”

I not-so-subtly motioned my head toward the clock. He finally got the message and hurriedly strode down the hallway.

Not long after, it was time for a break. Munching on carrot sticks and an energy bar, I made my way through the stack of file folders on the corner of my desk. I worked through lunch. In a couple of hours, all my files were up to date. Remembering the battered looking banana I'd taken from my fruit bowl, I dug into my purse, feeling for the softening flesh. A little tired potassium beat none.