Unfit to Practice (25 page)

“Marilyn?”

“I just had to call you myself because I thought—I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends. Marilyn, listen to me. No, listen. Please. I have no idea why you are so angry.”

“Don't play any more games with me or try to finagle your way out of this.”

“Please tell me what you think I have done.”

“You can't hide the truth anymore. Your file was mailed to us.”

“What file?”

“You know what file. Your file on Kao Vang. The convenience-store arson.”

So astounded was Nina that all she could think was, did they read my confidential file? “You read it?”

“The mail clerk read it. My secretary read it, then my assistant. Then I read it. Now the entire upper echelon of Heritage Insurance Company Incorporated has read the file or knows what it says and we have an office in Irian Jaya, so that is a lot of people. Nobody knew what it was at first. It came in an envelope and it looked like one of ours. So, yeah, it got read, that's right, and there's nothing you can do about it.”

Nina's thoughts ran in circles. “But what—there's nothing in that file but my intake notes.” Her mind scurried through what she could remember and could find nothing that would generate such heat from an insurance company.

“How could you?”

“Oh, Marilyn, I'm so sorry I've hurt you somehow. But I don't know how! Marilyn, who mailed you the file?”

“No return address.”

“Damn!”

“A concerned citizen,” Marilyn said, and laughed a hysterical laugh. “I'll never forget my assistant coming in and handing me that thing. Turning point of my professional life. Done in by a con.”

“But all that file had were my notes! And I'm very concerned that my client's attorney-client privilege—”

“That's the least of your problems. It's not going to protect you. You're finished, and you finished me along the way. I just wanted you to know how much you have hurt me. You may not have even thought about me. I'm just a faceless bureaucrat who you scammed. I'm going now. You'll hear plenty more, but not from me. You ruined my life.”

“Don't go! There's been a misunderstanding. I haven't done a thing wrong, except maybe allow confidential files to fall out of my care. Look, Marilyn, pretend for just one second that I don't know what you're talking about. Tell me what I did. Please. Please, Marilyn.”

“This is ridiculous. As if you don't know. Well, now we do. We know you knew all about who set that liquor store on fire—your client, Kao Vang. He set it on fire himself to collect the insurance. You knew it when you called me about the claim, you knew it when you put together that big package of fraud and deceit you brought me. You knew it this whole time and you deliberately acted as his accessory. It says so right there in your file.”

“Marilyn,” Nina said from a throat that felt ashen and weak, so cold had she become, “my file says nothing of the sort.”

“In your own handwriting. There's no wiggling out of this one. At least you should be honest with me, honor our relationship, and admit it between you and me—”

A colder wind blew through Nina and she thought, they're taping this, or someone else is listening. “I didn't try to defraud the company or hurt you, Marilyn. If there's something in that file that purports—”

“Purports—ha!”

“. . . purports to be my handwriting, saying that Kao Vang set that fire, then it's a forgery. A forgery, all right? A forgery!” But she was talking to dead air.

Sandy came in a few moments later. Nina stood at the window, eyes open, blind. “Here,” Sandy said, holding out two ibuprofen and a shot glass of the Courvoisier a client had given the office the previous Christmas. “Come on, drink it down. You look like the phlebotomist just drained all your blood out. Sit down. Come on.”

“It's a forgery.”

“I called Paul and Jack. I canceled your meeting at the health department. You're going home.”

“Someone. Is out to get me. What Paul said, cautious until proven paranoid. No need to be cautious. Too late for that.”

“Did Vang really torch his own store?” Sandy had heard enough of the phone call.

“No! I mean, not that I know!”

“So she's all mixed up. Maybe there's something you wrote in there that she misunderstood?”

“I certainly didn't write anything like that in my notes. That's the point, Sandy. If there is a note in the file now, I didn't put it there. Someone else did. Someone stole the files to get me.”

“It always was a possibility.”

“Someone evil. It's evil. People hurt besides me. Collateral damage.”

Sandy pulled her into the reception area, closing Nina's office door behind her. “You don't look well. I'm gonna drive you home.”

“That's just what they want. To destroy my livelihood. Make me close the office. Take control out of my hands. Make all my decisions for me.”

“Here's your jacket. Put it on.” She held the jacket open and Nina stepped into it. “Let's go.” Locking the door carefully behind them, she led the way into the parking lot, Nina following behind. Sandy put her in the brown car and drove her home to Kulow Street. Marching up to the front door, Sandy found Nina's keys, opened the door, and pushed her inside. “Now go lie down. I called Andrea. She's gonna bring you some lunch. Sleep it off. You never get enough sleep. Go on, upstairs. Do I have to tuck you in?”

“I have to figure this out. I have to.”

“Not right this second you don't.”

“Someone is out there.”

“Are you afraid?” Sandy said.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to stay down here until Andrea comes?”

“It's not that kind of fear.” Nina went upstairs automatically, welcoming the relief of numbing shock. She pulled the curtains shut on the sun. Zombielike, she dropped her jacket, blouse, and skirt on the floor. Then she got down under the covers and held her hand across her mouth. But there were no sobs, no tears. She had reached a place where tears couldn't reach.

A good long stretch of vacancy passed during which she inhabited her body and her mind, but they glided along without her, her body under the covers: warm. When she came out of her suspended animation, rose and threw water on her face, she smelled soup and heard Andrea banging pans around the kitchen.

Downstairs she greeted her sister-in-law, and made her sit down. Nina poured the soup into bowls, found crackers, sat down and made small talk, deflecting any questions about why she had returned home at ten in the morning to be put to bed like an invalid. Andrea refused to leave until Nina told her what had happened, so Nina did, without going into detail about the cases.

Hand on her slightly swelling stomach, Andrea said, “You seem almost nonchalant.”

“I'm not. Someone is trying to hurt me. Has hurt me.”

“What's next?”

Nina hadn't thought that far. “I don't know.”

“Maybe the worst has already happened.”

“There were three files. We've only heard from two.”

Andrea grasped her hand. “You'll get through this. You always do. Whatever happens, you have me, and Bob and Matt and your dad. Nina, you have us. You'll always be okay.”

Comforted by what sounded like a blessing, Nina fought off tears. So, she could feel again. Progress.

She sent Andrea home. Upstairs, she brushed her hair carefully, put on lipstick, got a fresh suit jacket, and put on her work heels.

Then she called a cab and went back to work.

Sandy looked startled to see her. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she said. “Let me have a look at my calendar for this afternoon.”

“Three appointments I was just about to cancel, one court appearance. Last but not least, a meeting with Kevin Cruz.”

“We better get busy, then,” she said, closing the door to her office and on Sandy's expression, which showed a newly active fault line in the center of her forehead. Of course, there had to be a meeting with Kevin. That would complete this disastrous day.

“Paul's on the line.”

“Later.”

“Says he won't wait.”

She picked up.

“Nina,” Paul said. “I've got to tell you a few things I found out this weekend from Sergeant Cheney. I had lunch with him at Heidi's on Sunday.”

She felt disoriented. “You're here?”

“No. I'm home. I drove back to Carmel on Sunday night.”

“You didn't let me know you were in town?”

“No point, unless I found something out.”

“You did, didn't you?”

“He looked into Cody Stinson's record. Stinson was in fact charged with auto theft once, at the age of eighteen, although he pled down to a lesser charge. Now he's twenty-six. I think he's discovered drug trading is more lucrative and easier to hide. They caught him for that just once.”

“He might have stolen my car, then,” Nina said. “He knows how.”

“That's right. If he was caught once, you can bet he did it more than once.”

“You think he did it?”

“I just don't know,” Paul said. “And I talked with Lisa Cruz's neighbors. Turns out, she got in trouble with one of the neighbors. He cut a tree down that blocked his sun. She claimed the tree was on her property. She sued him. When she lost, his house mysteriously caught fire. Nothing ever proved, but he bought himself a Rottweiler and hasn't had any more trouble.”

“She tried to burn him out?”

“He was away at the time. All the neighbors knew he spent Christmas with his aunt in Montana. Another time, the windshield on a neighboring teenager's car was broken. His family's trash ended up decorating the street. Lisa didn't like the noise he made coming home late. Everyone incriminates Lisa, although no one says it to her face. Since her father died, she's had a pretty tenuous hold on sanity, sounds like. She's not popular in the neighborhood. Does a lot of screaming. They worry about her.”

“Great,” Nina said. “I'll pass that on to Kevin's new lawyer.”

“When her father died, she accused you to all and sundry of being responsible for causing his death. Couldn't stop talking about how ruthless you were in ruining his business. How careless you were about what effect your client's lawsuit would have on a sick man. When she found out Kevin hired you to represent him, she went apeshit, according to her neighbors.”

“Oh, Paul.”

“I'd call her a viable suspect.”

“Where was she the night the Bronco was stolen?”

“At home. Well, we all know how close to home she sticks when she's got her track shoes on. And she doesn't live far from you.”

“Okay.”

“You don't sound right.”

“Just keep going, Paul.”

“Then there's Officer Scholl, the self-made woman. She's a go-getter from a poor family in rural North Carolina. First in her family to go to college, male or female. You know she went to Duke?”

“No.”

“Smart lady. Unfortunately, she had to drop out due to lack of funds. She moved to Tahoe when her parents had both passed away, looking for a new life, I guess. She was one of the first females hired in the department. This part you already know: She's wanted to move up from Patrol to the Detective Unit for years. When she thought she finally had it locked in, you came along to ruin it. Plus, there's something about a T-Bird, some kid's car was trashed or stolen by one of your clients.”

“I know the case.”

“Did you know he was paralyzed in a car crash a few weeks after you got your client off?”

“No. How awful.”

“She blames you.”

“What?”

“She got to know the kid really well, became close to the family. They kind of adopted her. She felt like an older sister to the boy. When your client wrecked his car, he cadged lifts with friends to get to and from his job. One of them drove drunk.”

“I never even heard about it.”

“Why would you? Nothing to do with you. Unless we're dealing in the old philosophical idea: Anytime you walk across the street you ripple the air and change the weather off the China coast. There's that, if you're dying to blame yourself.”

“I like to think I'm doing some good,” Nina said. “According to them, I'm just a one-woman wrecking ball!”

“You are doing good,” Paul said. “On the whole. Unfortunately, everyone's talking about Scholl, her vendetta against you.”

“Just another day in court for me, and a life-changing experience for her.”

“Getting a lot of attention on the road lately?”

“Three speeding tickets in the last month. Can that really be what you mean?”

“My advice: slow down. Scholl's calling in chits. Sorry to tell you, she hates your guts. She tells everyone she's waiting for her big chance to get back at you. Ring any bells?”

Nina didn't know what to say, as the bells tintinnabulated.

“Know what else I think? I think Scholl's jealous.”

“No.”

“Yep. Envious of your success. Thinks you grew up with a silver spoon.”

“Ha.”

“Yeah, funny. But she doesn't know that. You're the success she wants to be. Respected in the community. Getting lots of positive press.”

“Yes, they love me. Until they hate me.”

“So we come to Jeffrey Riesner.”

“No, we don't.” She had heard enough. She knew every case rattled the status quo, affecting many lives. She did her small bit, nothing more, serving a society that kept its peace by agreeing to abide by rules. But human order was so thinly imposed over disorder.

What good am I doing? she thought.

“We need to talk about ol' Jeffy,” he insisted. “Let's start with a little personal history. You know anything about his family?”

“No.”

“Turns out Riesner's mom is the old-fashioned salt of the earth. Stayed home with her kids, gave them stability, loved them to death, built up their egos. His father's an alpha male who fought his way to the top of one of the biggest firms in San Francisco. When Riesner got married to the girl next door, he went to work for Pops and was riding high. Mom was happy. Everyone was happy. Then his wife decided she had to live in the mountains so she could pursue her dream to become an Olympic skier. With his parents' encouragement, he said no. But she's not loyal like Mom. She left him, and he followed her up here.”

Nina remembered his blond wife, glimpsed once on a boat, model-pretty.