Mind Games (21 page)

‘Then of course I will,’ Grace told her. ‘But I hope you will believe that my coming here has nothing whatever to do with Cathy Robbins. I’ve known your husband for a
long time, Mrs Becket. I have the greatest admiration and respect for him.’

‘If you have any respect for me,’ Judy Becket said, ‘please go now.’

Grace left fast, cheeks burning, eyes stinging. She felt as if she’d been slapped. At the far end of the corridor she saw a tall, dark figure just coming around the corner, and for an
instant thought it was Sam. Half of her hoped it was, because she badly wanted to see him, talk to him, make sure he didn’t feel the way his mother did. The other half was intensely relieved
when she saw that it was not him. Grace supposed that she was just loth to find out that Sam, too, might by now have come bitterly to resent her wanting to continue in support of the girl suspected
of stabbing his father.

Jerry Wagner, the dark-suited man at the Robbins’ funeral, was the defence lawyer who had been retained by Frances Dean before her death. The issue of whether he would,
or would not, choose to continue in that role had been a complex one in some respects. First, there was the problem that Wagner had in theory been Frances Dean’s attorney, one of
Cathy’s alleged victims, but he was satisfied there was no conflict of interests because as a criminal lawyer he had never actually dealt personally with the late Mrs Dean, had merely been
recommended by Michael Doughty, the attorney she used for personal affairs, another partner in the same law firm. Second, and more crucially so far as Jerry Wagner was concerned, was the matter of
his fees. He’d received a retainer from Cathy’s aunt, but when that ran out – as, in a case of such enormity, it certainly would before long – there was a risk that there
might be no funds available to pay him. It was not yet clear whether Frances’ will had been made in favour of her niece, but even if it had been – and it
was
known that Marie
Robbins’ estate had been left to Cathy – then if the girl was found guilty of murdering her mother and aunt, it was highly improbable that she would be allowed to benefit from their
untimely deaths.

Jerry Wagner appreciated money as much as the next lawyer, but he also appreciated good publicity, and the Cathy Robbins case was going to be
big
publicity. The days following the
teenager’s arrest had already seen more than their fair share of headlines:
Nightmare on Millionaire’s Row . . . Restaurant Heiress ‘slashed’ Mom, Dad and Aunt . . .
Teen Monster in Miami Beach.
With media attention like that, law firms were lining up to take the case
pro bono.
It was already in Jerry Wagner’s lap, and he had no
intention of handing it over to anyone else.

Five days after Cathy’s arraignment, Grace Lucca was granted an interview in Wagner’s office, a dark wood power base in a sleek tower on Brickell Avenue. The
attorney’s desk was huge, highly polished and immaculately tidy, and the whole room was a bastion of good taste; but from the moment Grace entered, was offered a comfortable leather chair and
a cup of excellent coffee, she found herself wishing, curiously, that she’d walked into a shabbier, more chaotic, perhaps even frenetic scene, one that might have spelled passion and the kind
of blazing commitment she knew Cathy was going to need behind her.

‘So, Dr Lucca, I gather you want to help us?’ Wagner was friendly and dignified.

‘In any way I can,’ Grace told him.

‘You’re aware, of course, that a psychologist will probably be appointed for Cathy under the guardian
ad litem
system,’ Wagner said. ‘With her aunt gone,
she’s in custody of the state now, so they’ll be taking care of Cathy’s welfare for the foreseeable future.’

‘I am aware of that,’ Grace said. ‘I’m hoping that because Cathy and I have built up a pretty good relationship, I’ll be allowed to go on working with her. I think
Cathy’s come to trust me, Mr Wagner, and the feeling’s mutual.’ She paused. ‘Which is why, if you’re going to be looking for an expert psychological witness to testify
on Cathy’s behalf, I hope you’ll think of me.’

‘I appreciate the offer, Dr Lucca,’ Wagner said, ‘and closer to the time, we may be more than grateful to you for your assistance, but it’s still very early days. The
case hasn’t yet gone before the grand jury. If they do bring in an indictment, and if and when we have to prepare for a trial, both sides will be hiring at least two forensic psychologists to
evaluate Cathy.’

‘I’ve worked as a forensic psychologist before,’ Grace pointed out, ‘for defence attorneys and for the state.’

‘But not, I understand, in a homicide case.’ His sharp eyes were watchful.

‘That’s true,’ she had to admit.

Wagner leaned forward slightly, his manner confidential. ‘Just as a point of interest, doctor, what kind of testimony would you hope to give on Miss Robbins’ behalf?’

Grace had no problem with that question. ‘I would tell the court that I don’t believe that Cathy is a killer, or that she is unbalanced, let alone psychotic.’

Wagner steepled his beautifully manicured fingers thoughtfully under his chin. ‘And you would be basing your opinions on what exactly, doctor?’

‘On the meetings I had with Cathy prior to her arrest,’ Grace answered steadily. ‘And, hopefully, on those sessions yet to come.’

The steepled fingers parted, and the lawyer leaned back again. ‘I’m sorry to say that, as things look right now, that might not be nearly enough to help get Cathy out from under
these charges, Dr Lucca. I’d be a liar if I didn’t tell you that the situation is pretty bleak.’

Disquiet surged inside Grace. ‘Cathy is pleading not guilty, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, she is.’

‘And you do believe she’s not guilty, don’t you, Mr Wagner?’

‘My client has told me she didn’t commit the crimes.’

Grace wasn’t letting him get away with that. ‘Do you
believe
her?’

‘I’m Cathy’s defence attorney, Dr Lucca.’ Wagner was unperturbed. ‘I have a sworn duty to defend her, and I can assure you that I’m going to do everything
– use every possible means at my disposal – to do just that.’

‘So you’re not rejecting my testimony?’ Grace said.

‘I am most definitely not rejecting anything, doctor,’ Wagner said. ‘It’s just too early to do anything except examine all our options. As I said, the case hasn’t
even reached the grand jury stage yet.’

‘But looking at a worst-case scenario’ – Grace felt the need to persist, unsure of when or even
if
she might get to see the attorney again – ‘if they do
indict Cathy —’

‘Then, looking at a worst-case scenario’ – Wagner took up her line of thought – ‘in the absence of any good, strong evidence in my client’s favour, it’s
not inconceivable that we might find ourselves hard pressed to do much better than an insanity plea.’

Grace was horrified. ‘But Cathy isn’t insane.’

‘That might not necessarily be the good news you seem to feel it is, doctor,’ Wagner said. ‘If we don’t find a way to clear Cathy of all charges – and believe me,
everyone on my team is going to do their damnedest to do just that – but if we don’t, then an insanity plea may just prove our only means of keeping her out of jail.’

Peter Hayman telephoned that evening while Grace was making an omelette.

‘I heard the news,’ he said. ‘How are you coping?’

‘I’m not the one incarcerated.’

‘I guess I don’t need to ask how Cathy’s doing.’

‘As you’d expect.’ Grace paused. ‘I’m hoping to get authority to keep on seeing her.’

‘Professionally, you mean?’

‘Preferably, yes – though I’ll settle for plain visitation if I have to.’

‘You sound frustrated,’ Hayman remarked.

‘I am.’ She tucked the cordless phone between her chin and right shoulder, and used both hands to flip the omelette. ‘Peter, I don’t seem to have helped that poor child
at all, and now she’s so tied up in bureaucratic tape I can’t see how I’m ever going to.’

‘But doesn’t this happen all the time, Grace, in our profession?’ Hayman said. ‘Don’t we always feel we’re getting nowhere for the longest time?
Wouldn’t we always prefer to make a positive difference more quickly than we do?’

‘My patients aren’t usually locked up in a youth facility accused of three counts of murder one.’ Grace bent down to take a warmed plate out of her lower oven, and tipped the
omelette out of its pan. As if by magic, Harry-the-food-magnet appeared at her side. This was his kind of omelette, one wrapped around slices of
prosciutto.

‘Are you still pondering the father’s possible role in all this?’ Hayman asked.

‘I haven’t stopped pondering,’ Grace answered. ‘But I don’t have any more good reason to ponder than I did when I saw you.’

‘Poor Grace,’ Hayman said.

‘Poor Cathy.’

He offered what little help he could before they ended the call. Any time she wanted to use him to test a new theory, he said, or simply to unload, he’d try to make himself available to
listen. And if, he added, Grace ever found herself able to take a few days’ real vacation, then he wanted her to keep in mind that his sailboat was ready and waiting off Key Largo.

‘I’m sure you know there’s no better form of relaxation,’ he said, ‘than time spent out there on the ocean.’

It was the best offer Grace had had in a long while.

Sam showed up at six-ten Tuesday evening. Up until the moment when Grace opened her front door and saw that tall, hard frame again, that keen-boned mocha face and those warm,
tired eyes, she thought she simply hadn’t understood – maybe she hadn’t
allowed
herself to understand – just how much the man blew her away. The whole package.

‘Hello,’ he said, still on the doorstep.

‘Hi.’

‘Can I come in?’

‘Sure.’

Grace stepped back to let him through. He was wearing jeans, white T-shirt, sport coat and loafers, and his cologne had a faint, pleasing forest smell. She closed the door just as Harry came
swaggering through from the deck into the hallway, stubby tail wagging. Sam got down to his level.

‘We’re both glad to see you,’ Grace said. ‘How’s your father doing?’

Sam was raking Harry’s curly white coat with his fingers exactly the way he liked. ‘The doctors seem hopeful enough that they can beat this fever, but until he comes to properly,
talks and walks, no one’s taking bets.’

‘I went to see him.’ She wasn’t certain she ought to have said that.

‘I know.’ Sam got up. ‘I’m sorry about what Ma said to you.’

‘I understood.’

‘More than I did.’

‘She thinks Cathy’s guilty, and I’m still standing by her. I can’t blame her for being bitter about that.’

‘I saw the flowers you sent,’ Sam said. ‘They were lovely.’

Grace looked up at him. ‘Can you stay for dinner?’

‘Sure you want me?’

‘Never surer.’

They hung out in the kitchen while Grace fed Harry, then cheat-baked high-speed potatoes in her microwave oven, tossed a salad, grilled a couple of steaks and crisped a loaf of
bread. They ate hungrily – Sam, she noticed, always seemed to be hungry – batting small talk around, grateful for some respite before they got around to what they both had on their
minds.

Grace started first, knowing it was high time for her to share with Sam what his father had told her two days before he’d been attacked in his office. Sam listened attentively, not
speaking at all until she was through telling him about the evils of John Broderick.

‘That’s what you wanted to talk to me about Saturday morning, wasn’t it?’

‘It was,’ she said. ‘But you weren’t in the mood to listen.’

‘No, I wasn’t.’ Sam paused. ‘It was the anniversary of my son’s death on Sunday. No excuses, but I always get a little crazy when it gets close.’

‘Oh, God,’ Grace said, softly. ‘I’m sorry, Sam.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s over now.’

‘Now you have your dad to worry about.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘But I should have listened to you.’

‘Do you see now why I wanted to know if you’d checked out Broderick’s death? Why it troubles me that his body was never found?’

‘We can’t be sure it was never found,’ Sam pointed out. ‘He could have washed up a John Doe somewhere, maybe even out of state.’

‘But don’t computers link up about missing persons these days?’

‘Mistakes happen. People get buried in the wrong places.’ Sam looked at her sharply. ‘Suicide scams happen, too, Grace – you’re right about that, of course. But
there’s usually a solid reason – mostly financial. I’ve checked Broderick’s death out pretty thoroughly. He left a note, so there was no question of Marie or anyone else
claiming life insurance, and he left almost everything he had to his mother in Fort Lauderdale —’

‘Is she still alive?’

‘Died three years ago,’ Sam said.

‘Doesn’t it strike you as odd that he left everything to his mother, but left some surgical instruments to his five-year-old daughter?’

‘Not exactly the most charming of keepsakes,’ Sam agreed.

Grace’s mind was still moving. ‘Suicide scams aren’t always about money, are they? Broderick was being investigated – he was going to get in a lot of trouble, lose his
job, maybe even go to jail.’

‘So you’re thinking flight,’ Sam said.

‘Why not? If he couldn’t face it.’

‘Sounds like a perfect motive for suicide to me.’

‘Maybe,’ Grace said. ‘Maybe not.’

Sam waited until she was ready to pour the coffee before hitting his own big one. He wanted to stay in the kitchen rather than go out on the deck, he said, because he had
something he thought Grace ought to see.

‘We found Cathy’s journal on her computer.’

Grace felt her stomach jolt.

‘She had one of those notebook models. She took it with her to her aunt’s place.’ Sam paused. ‘The journal was password-protected, but our guys opened it up.’

Grace had just picked up her coffee cup. Now she had to put it down.

‘The password was H-A-T-E,’ Sam said.