Hostile Witness (26 page)

Rayburn came at her when she least expected it. She stayed at school as late as she could. She dodged her mother’s questions, endured her mother’s laments that she was going bad because she stayed away from home, because she stopped going to church. God was going to send Rosa’s mother to hell because she had failed the jobs of a woman – wife and mother.

“I got so damned sick of hearing all that crap.”

“But you never said anything.” Josie spoke quietly as she centered the fork and knife on a small table.  Rosa leaned over to arrange the salt and pepper at the same time. They didn’t look at one another. Rosa said:

“He would have sent my mother away. She would have been deported. You can deal with a lot when your mother’s there, you know? I was protecting her. I was brave for her. I wanted my mom to go to heaven.”  Josie flinched. Rosa saw it. They had something in common after all, the lawyer and the woman who served beer and beans. Rosa whispered. “Yeah, you know.”

Josie stood back. She said: “It didn’t go on forever. You survived. Did Rayburn lose interest?”

Rosa shook her head. “He never lost interest. He hurt me wherever he found me alone. The principal told me I was a lucky girl that such a great man took an interest in me. Mostly he talked. He told me what he was planning. He whispered it because he liked the fear. Naw, he loved the fear. Then one day he did the worst.”

Rosa was having trouble talking. She paled. Those black-rimmed eyes darkened until they looked like holes. Josie could almost reach through them and touch the pain that had left Rosa’s body and lived in her brain.

“Rosa,” Josie said quietly. Archer picked up the bottle on the table. He lifted it her way. Rosa put out her hand as if to say it didn’t really help.

“It was just before Christmas. The INS came.  Rayburn told me later he had my mother deported. They didn’t take me because I was a citizen. Great country, huh?”

“What happened to your mom?” Archer asked.

“I don’t know.” Rosa smiled weakly, as though she had lost emotional blood and desperately needed a transfusion. “She never came back for me. Hell, she probably figured I was going to be well taken care of.”

“What did you do then?”

Archer was still leaning in the corner of the booth, one leg half up, one arm on the table. She gave Archer a small smile with her answer.

“I went to a friend’s house that night. There weren’t many Latinas in Palisades High School.  We stuck together. When my friend’s parents tossed me out, I found myself some new friends on the street.

“When the governor appointed Rayburn, I laughed so hard. I remember because I was in jail for assaulting a guy who tried to do me when I didn’t want it.  I nearly killed the dude. I guess it was just a delayed reaction, you know.  He hurt me. I hurt back this time. I get popped, he walks. So when I see a guy like Rayburn getting in charge of the law I figure everyone’s screwed.  I felt safe locked up and I was there long enough to get my GED. I had a teacher who cared. She made sure I knew how to talk right in case I wanted to get a real job when I got out.”

Rosa filled the last saltshaker, screwed on the top and took care to center it just so with the pepper. Her fingers lingered on the cheap glass.

“I think my mom’s dead. I just have that feeling. But you know what?” She didn’t bother to look at Archer or Josie. “I think she’s in heaven. She didn’t know about Rayburn. She did her best.”

They didn’t have long to consider the state of Rosa’s mother’s soul. Rosa had unlocked the door and now it opened. A mean looking man came in holding a tiny baby in his arms. A woman with beautiful long black hair followed. They sat in the far corner, probably tagging Archer for a cop.

Rosa did her thing. Salsa and chips slammed on the table, menus handed out. Water glasses filled. No ice. She made her rounds and ended up back with Josie and Archer. She swiped the bottle of tequila off the table.

“Not like it hasn’t been fun, but it is rush hour,” she said flatly.

Josie put her hand out. She took hold of Rosa’s sleeve.

“Would you testify for us? My client is sixteen. Rayburn did her, too.”

“Yeah, I know. I read the papers. I’ve got nothing to lose, but I don’t think it’s a good call. The prosecutor will pull my record.”

“But you won’t say no?” Josie asked.

Rosa shook her head, “Naw. I’ll even wear a dress if you want. You know, cover up.” She shook back her sleeves and showed her tattoos.

“Thanks.” Josie held out her card. Rosa looked at it. Finally she took it.

“If you think of anything else, you call me. Okay?”

“I have a feeling I’ll be thinking of a lot about Rayburn.”

Archer left a big tip. Josie shook Rosa’s hand.  Archer had the door open; Rosa was taking the big man’s order. Josie was about to leave when she remembered something. When Rosa went back to the kitchen, Josie followed.

Rosa was tossing peppers and onions into a hot pan. She looked over her shoulder. Josie stepped to the side. It was hot in the little kitchen.

“Rosa, you never really talked about Kip Rayburn. He was living in the house, right?”

She shrugged, “If you call it that.  I doubt he’s ever lived.”

“But he was in the house so didn’t he know what his father was doing to you?”

 She threw a handful of shredded chicken into the pan then reached for a huge jar of cumin.

“He didn’t pay attention. I could have been the dog for all he knew. I stayed out of his way and he stayed out of his father’s way much as he could.  Those two were a mess,” she said as she stirred the peppers. “If the old man liked it, Kip hated it. If Kip loved it, the old man hated it. It didn’t matter what it was. Me, a piece of meat, the color of the wallpaper,” she shrugged. “The only difference between those two was that Kip just hated what his father loved. The old man destroyed whatever his son loved.”

Rosa heaped the chicken and peppers onto tortillas, folded them and doused them with green sauce. She looked at Josie and gave her a lopsided grin.

“It’s a good thing Kip didn’t love me, huh?”

28

It was dark, not late, when Archer pulled up to Josie’s place. Josie’s head was back, her eyes closed. It looked like she was asleep, but she was thinking about Rayburn’s M.O.  His preference was clear.  Dependant girls.  Women of color. Young. Each of them accepting Fritz as just a scummy part of life. All of them had a lot to lose: mothers, careers. All of them assumed they couldn’t fight back. All except Hannah who was just that much more flawed than the rest, and that made her even less believable.

“We’re home, Jo.”  Archer said.

“Thanks, babe,”  Josie whispered. “We did good today.”

Archer took Josie’s duffle out of the back.

“You coming in?” she asked.

 “Am I still on the clock?”

Josie shrugged. “What if I said no?”

“Then I’m coming in.”

Archer carried her bag, one arm slung over her shoulder. Josie picked up the mail, opened the door, and flipped on a light. Max ambled out of the back room. Archer petted him and let him out into the backyard, leaving the French doors open.

Josie filled his dish with food, replaced the dog’s water. It was good to be home. She put the coffee on. Archer had wandered into the dining room and was looking at her mother’s plates.

“I like these.” He pointed to the wall.

“You say that every time you look at them,” Josie laughed.

Josie liked them, too. Her mother’s hula girl plates were her prized possession, two intact and one broken. Years ago Josie’s father had dropped the plate while packing away Emily’s things.  When he was asleep, Josie opened the packing boxes and took the two plates. She retrieved the broken one from the trashcan and hid all three in her room. They were the first thing Josie hung in her home.  She could still see the crack that dissected one of the hula girls. Josie once thought she kept those kitschy plates because one day her mother would come back and be grateful.  Now Josie knew she kept them to remind her that broken things can be mended, but there is always a scar.

Archer moseyed toward the living room; Max wandered back in. All was right with the world for now. Josie poured two cups of coffee, handing one off as she passed Archer.

“What are you going to do, Jo?” Archer asked.

“I’m thinking about breaking this down into two phases. First one is the assault on Rayburn. I’d put Rosa on the stand in a heartbeat. She’s sympathetic. Rudy won’t break her down. I’d like to find someone else who would corroborate in court.” Josie took a drink, staring at the floor while she thought. “On the arson, I’m going to go with the doctors. Hannah couldn’t have burned her studio. The defense is clear, and understandable, if I break it down that way.”

“That jury is going to want another option on the arson.”

“Then we go after Kip. He’s the likely option. Something Rosa said puts me in the right frame of mind to look more closely at him. He’s not the passive fool I thought he was. He proved it in court. There’s a lot of anger there.  I want to know what Kip and his father fought about. If it was Linda, Hannah, or business like he said. . .”

Josie’s words trailed off as she noticed the blinking light on her answering machine. She pressed play out of habit and took a minute to collect her thoughts. The first message was Ian Frank’s secretary. Yes, Mr. Frank would meet with Josie in the morning, nine sharp.

“Want me to go with you?” Archer asked. “Might be good to have someone else listen in on what Rayburn’s old partner has to say.”

“No. I’ll see him on my own. You check out. . .”

The machine was talking again. It was Hannah asking if Josie was okay. Counting. Counting softly but Josie could hear it. Asking Josie to call when she could.  Then something muffled. The phone clattered and the line went dead.

Josie stopped the machine and picked up the phone. She dialed the Malibu house.

“She doesn’t sound good,” Archer muttered and then fell silent. “Nothing?”

Josie shook her head.  She disconnected.

Archer checked his watch, “She’s probably on her walk.”

“Probably,” she mumbled but Josie was unsettled.  Josie punched the answering machine again hoping the next message was Hannah calling back, surprised to find it was Linda. She had tired of waiting at the house and was at Borelli’s restaurant. She wanted to see Josie. Please.

“Please?” Archer looked surprised.

“Please,” Josie reiterated with a grin.

“Want me to go with you, Jo?”

“Sure.” Josie disappeared into the bedroom. She tossed her duffle on the bed and came back to the living room with her leather jacket on. “I guess Hannah must be with her.”

“Suppose so,” Archer answered as they parted on the doorstep. Josie wanted to walk and clear the tequila out of her head.  Archer garaged the Hummer.  They met at Borrelli’s front door within a minute of each other.

Linda was waiting in the bar at a table for two, dressed all in black from the tips of her Italian boots to the last coat of mascara on her lashes. She started to smile when she saw Josie but lost it when she figured out the man who opened the door was part of the package.

“Linda?” Josie greeted her.

“Who’s this?” Linda eyed Archer.

“Archer. Linda Rayburn. He’s working with me on Hannah’s case.”

Linda nodded. Archer checked her out then made his excuses. He would wait at the bar; the two women would talk. 

“Do you want something?” Linda lifted her cocktail when they were alone.

“Yeah. I’d like to know where Hannah is.” Josie took a seat.

“She’s at home,” Linda said, peeved that she wasn’t directing the conversation. “I meant did you want something to drink?”

“No, thanks and I’m not sure Hannah is at home. I just called. There was no answer.”

Linda waved away the concern.

“She’s probably out doing her walking thing. You know how it goes.  Couple times around the house.  Some weird dancing on the sand. Back in the house. Back outside again. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Josie took a deep breath. She put her elbows on the table and raised her hands, clasping them under her chin.

“But I do worry, Linda. If you’re not with Hannah, and I can’t reach her, you are defying a court order. Judge Norris didn’t say to take Hannah home and lock her in.  He said that you were supposed to supervise her.”

“He didn’t mean twenty-four hours a day.”  Linda complained.

“Yes, he did.”

 “Well, that’s ridiculous. She’s in the middle of nowhere without a car. You know, there are things I absolutely have to do and that’s just the way it is.”

“Like what? Sneaking out to see your husband?”

Linda stiffened and grabbed her glass. She drank deep and then hesitated. Slowly the glass came down. She put it on the table and kept her eyes on it for a minute as if suddenly realizing it wasn’t the answer to anything.

“No. Like walking away to see a friend,” Linda said quietly.

“Christ, Linda,” Josie breathed.

“No. I mean it. Don’t sound like that. This isn’t some kind of game,” Linda insisted, uncomfortable with her confession.  “Look, I don’t know about you but not a lot has changed since college. We were never very good at making friends.”

“I was too busy studying,” Josie reminded her.

“I was too busy chasing after the next guy,” Linda said. “Now I’m alone. I’ve never been alone before. Kip hasn’t called. He won’t come to see me. All the women I used to know are steering clear until they see how this plays out. Jesus, Josie, I’m not made of stone. I needed someone to talk to.”

“It’s not like you to feel sorry for yourself,” Josie said.

“I’m not. I’m lonely, Josie, and I’ve been that way for a long time.”

“Then just imagine how Hannah feels.”

Linda sighed and closed her eyes; her free hand went to her forehead.

“I’ve spent a lifetime imagining how Hannah feels.”  The hand came down. Linda looked bleary eyed and sad, but Josie imagined it was the liquor. This may be the first time she had ever seen Linda Rayburn drunk. “Don’t you think I know exactly what kind of mother I’ve been? I was too young to have a baby and I made Hannah grow up too fast. Maybe I thought she was going to be my built in friend. I didn’t know how to be a mother. You were the smart one. You never had a kid. Women like us shouldn’t have children.”

The glass was up again. Josie watched her drink, unsure of what to say. She had been ready for a fight, ready to defend her strategy. She was off her stride now that Linda had asked for her friendship.

“You want to know something?” Linda leaned across the table. “I thought raising Hannah was about feeding her and putting clothes on her back until she was eighteen. But it’s more than that. It wasn’t until this happened that I realized I really loved my girl. I really, really do and that’s the real hard part.”

“Then why are you fighting to sell her out, Linda?” Josie interrupted. “Why are you taking chances with her freedom now? You’re not stupid. You know Norris wanted you with Hannah twenty-four seven. Do you want her to go back in prison?”

“Who’s going to tell Norris that I took a little R & R? You?  I don’t think so.”  Linda sighed.  “See, that is the funny thing. You like Hannah better than you like me, so you’re willing to protect her more than me. That’s not right.  I mean, you were my friend first. Maybe I need you now.”

“Don’t do that, Linda.  Don’t use people, especially not Hannah,” Josie said wearily. “It isn’t about who I like or don’t like, it’s about the rules.”

“I’m tired of rules,” Linda cried, her eyes filling up again. “You don’t know what it’s been like. Every time I try to play by rules I get smashed into the ground. You know, I really loved Hannah’s father and I tried to be good for him. Where did it get me? Beaten up and kicked around. So then I started sleeping around and having some fun and you know what it got me? Good times, nice things, money, beaten up, and kicked around. Then I met Kip and you know what that got me? Every damn thing I ever wanted: someone who needed me, nice things, and a good home for me and my kid. He loved me back. He needed me.”

Linda motioned for another drink. The bartender nodded. Josie caught Archer’s eye for an instant, and Josie knew how lucky she was.  They were silent as Linda was served, the empty glass taken away. Linda held onto it.

“Now it’s all going away. Kip doesn’t live with me. The Governor isn’t sure if he wants to appoint him to the bench. You’re running around trying to prove Fritz was a sick son of a bitch. And he was. I don’t doubt he was. But Jesus, Josie, it’s over. He’s dead. He’s dead and everything was going to be okay until you did that to Kip. God, Josie, don’t you see. What you do to him, or to Hannah, you do to me. I thought we were friends. I really need you to be my friend.”

“I am your friend. I’m trying to save your daughter.”

“How? By sacrificing my husband?”

“If that’s what it takes. If that’s where the truth is.”

“You don’t care what the truth is.”  Linda’s fist pounded lightly on the table. The little candle flickered and jumped. “You just want to prove you can get Hannah off the way you got that other woman off. You didn’t care what the truth was then either.”

Linda turned her head but Archer was right there, boxing her in. She didn’t like the direct hit of his gaze so she swung her head back in time to see a shadow cross Josie’s face.

Linda picked up her cigarettes and tapped one out. She tried her lighter but it wouldn’t catch. Opening her purse she pulled out a box of matches.  The flame flared, illuminating the middle of her face. She blew out the flame, tossed the match into the ashtray and pulled in the smoke hard, letting it out at her leisure.  Her head was back, her hair hung past her shoulders. The smoke wafted toward the ceiling. She watched the smoke, Josie watched her.  It was illegal to smoke in a restaurant in Los Angeles County. No one stopped her.  No one ever stopped a beautiful woman from doing anything.