''I want to talk to Michelle's psychiatrist,'' Josie interrupted ''Matthew, make a call. Make it clear that you want him to cooperate.''
''Fine. Not a problem. I have two appearances this afternoon but I'll find time to call him. It's for the best.'' Matthew was tight lipped now. He put his hand on Grace's arm. Once again Josie was struck by their resemblance and the fine line between beauty and plainness, dominance and servitude, confidence and need. For the McCreary's the line was so thin and yet so defining. ''You should eat, Grace. It's going to be a long afternoon.''
''Be back in forty-five minutes,'' Josie warned, wondering if she shouldn't intervene. The last thing she needed was for their lunch to turn into a strategy session.
''She'll be back.'' Matthew walked with Grace to the door then whispered something. Dutifully Grace waited while he went back to Josie.
''Look, I'm really sorry about all this. I want to make it right,'' he said quietly. ''There's a dinner tomorrow night. I'll have Tim call you with the address. Come at eight-thirty. There's someone I think you should talk to. She knew Michelle long before I did.''
Josie nodded curtly. He touched her like he had touched Grace. He squeezed her arm like he had pressured Grace. It was meant as a sign of solidarity and Josie almost succumbed. This was Matthew. His touch, the way he moved deferentially close, reminded Josie that their history was richer than that of either his wife or his sister. That should buy him something. But the last few minutes were a cautionary tale that Josie could not ignore. She would keep her own counsel and then decide whose best interest Matthew McCreary had in his heart.
''Okay,'' she agreed.
''Black tie.'' Matthew kissed her cheek, stayed close and whispered. ''I'll let you know if Grace says anything that can help.''
When they were gone, Josie walked slowly out of the courtroom, uneasy in her own skin. This whole mess had everything to do with the secrets of Michelle McCreary but sadly Matthew and his sister were proving to be exceptional gatekeepers. Josie could understand Matthew, but what was the payoff for Grace? Not that it mattered. There would be no secrets if the matter came to trial. Josie would have to raise Michelle McCreary from the dead whether or not Grace and Matthew liked it.
Lunch hour had drained the Long Beach Courthouse as surely as if someone had pulled a plug. Josie was putting on her sunglasses, trying to decide if she should eat for the sake of eating when he was there. He came out of the blue. He was walking by her side, cocky as a bantam cornering a reluctant hen.
''You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?''
Kevin O'Connel shouldered her, steering Josie toward the steps that led to the shadowed walkway that surrounded the courthouse. Josie adjusted her course, falling back and maneuvering street side. She wanted to be out in the open with him around.
''I'll talk to your lawyer when I want to deal with you,'' she said.
''You're doing a hell of a lot more than that. You sent some friggin' asshole to check up on me. That was a big mistake. He knows it, now I'm going to show you just how stupid that was. . .''
''I asked someone to verify your employment. Now get out of here.''
Josie walked past him, determined not to let him see that mention of Archer rattled her but to show weakness now was to lose. But Kevin O'Connel wasn't one to like a woman to walk away from him. He grabbed Josie's arm and pulled her into him. She yanked back but Kevin knew what he was doing and Josie's surprise worked against her.
''Get your hands off me,'' she ordered.
''I told my lawyer that I can't work because of what you did to me. Eight, ten hours a week is all I got. There isn't any money for Suzy except what you got.'' His lips curled into an ugly sneer that was supposed to pass for a smile. ''I just think you ought to believe me because some of my friends don't take kindly when people come snooping around my place of business. Same way you wouldn't take kindly to someone coming around your place, looking at your kid, maybe. I just wouldn't want anyone to get hurt. Know what I mean?''
Josie went rigid, testing his grip. It was strong. He could break both of her arms without even trying. The only weapon she had was her nerve.
''I know exactly what you mean,'' Josie said evenly. ''And that's why you don't scare me. I'm not afraid of you or your stupid pranks. If you wanted to hurt me you would have done it instead of walking around behind me or keying my car. That's what little boys do. . .''
''What?'' Kevin O'Connel laughed once and stepped away as he let go of her. ''Yeah, right. Funny. You're such a. . .''
''Is everything all right, Ms. Bates?''
Josie started at the sound of Horace Babcock's voice. He was right behind her: crisp, courteous and giving Kevin O'Connel a look that drilled a hole through his skull.
''She's fuckin' fine. And this is a private conversation,'' O'Connel shot back, unimpressed until Babcock pushed back his jacket. His shield was on his belt. Babcock inclined his head and smiled his condolences for Kevin O'Connel's lack of intelligence.
''I'm glad to hear that. I was worried that you might be having a difference of opinion.''
''No. No beef. Just a friendly conversation.'' O'Connel puffed up his chest and pushed at his shirt sleeves.
''Good. Excellent. Then it appears you're finished here.'' Babcock dismissed Kevin O'Connel. ''So, Ms. Bates, could I interest you in lunch?''
''Sure,'' Josie muttered. Babcock touched the small of her back and they moved on.
She knew the instant Kevin O'Connel stopped looking after her, the second he walked away. He hadn't left with his tail between his legs and that worried her but Babcock seemed to have forgotten him.
He ordered two polish sausages and sodas from a street vendor who was happy for the business. They sat under the shade of a tree on a low wall that surrounded the courthouse. Babcock offered Josie a napkin. He opened her soda. Fast food chivalry. They finished off half their meal before either of them spoke.
''Is he a dissatisfied client?'' Babcock asked.
''Nope.'' Josie took a drink and let the cold can rest on one knee. The hand holding the hot dog rested on the other. She stared straight ahead, feeling tired and inept. She wasn't reaping the benefits of her victory for Susan and she had been stonewalled in her effort to help Grace. She sighed. ''He's the ex-husband of a client of mine. He almost killed her. We got a civil judgment and now we're trying to collect.''
''Is there anything to get?''
''He's a longshoreman. Twenty-seven years in. He had a lot of toys that suddenly disappeared. A boat, wave runners, a motorcycle. All sold off to friends for a buck. He says he's on partial disability now so garnishing his wages is an exercise in futility. I've got someone down at the docks trying to prove he's working regular hours plus overtime. If he is, I'll go after the union for paying him under the table. His wife deserves the money. She needs it bad.''
''How is she living while she waits?''
''We've got just enough coming in for O'Connel's lawyer to cry ‘good faith'. She found a part-time job to tide her over.'' Josie sighed. ''The good news is he doesn't know where she is. She's safe.''
''So instead of taking his frustration out on her, he's taking it out on you.'' Babcock crumpled the yellow paper that had wrapped his lunch, got up and threw it in the trashcan. When He sat down again he crossed one leg over the other and put on his sunglasses as if he was settling in after a picnic. ''Has there been anything physical where you're concerned?''
''Minor stuff. Pranks. That's all. I think I saw him outside my home. He knows about my – the girl who lives with me. My car was keyed last night.'' Josie finished off her sausage, too, but held onto the crumpled wrapping like a stress ball. ''Stupid fool. He pretended like he hadn't done it. I guess I didn't give him enough credit. I thought he was just juvenile enough to want to crow about it.''
''Did anyone see him do it?'' Babcock asked.
Josie shook her head.
''Then maybe he didn't do it. Where does he live?''
''San Pedro.''
''And you?''
''Hermosa,'' she answered.
''I doubt he drove all that way just to vandalize your car in the middle of the night.'' Babcock shook his head. ''Perhaps he'd do that to burn down your house or break in but that kind of man prefers to see a woman's fear. If he was going to key your car, he would want you sitting inside watching it.''
''Then I would have him arrested.''
''Not if he swears it was an accident.''
Josie shrugged, ''Maybe you're right. Maybe it wasn't him.''
''You could have made someone else angry.'' Babcock suggested. ''You can be bothersome.''
''If that was true you would have dropped the McCreary matter after I paid you that first visit,'' Josie laughed.
''Point well taken,'' Babcock agreed. ''But I saw the McCreary's leaving. You weren't with them and you're client wasn't happy when she left court.'' He plucked the paper out of her hand. Josie ambled along behind him as he went to dispose of it.
''Oh sure, my client put on her make-up and heels then drove over to key my car,'' Josie scoffed. ''Besides, if anyone should be mad it should be me.''
''How so?''
''Un-huh.'' Josie grinned at him. ''I'm not falling for it a second time, Babcock. You're just dying for me to cry on your shoulder, but you're on the other side. Thanks for lunch and the rescue.''
''Can't blame me for trying,'' Babcock said as she walked away then he called her back. ''Ms. Bates, would you like me to keep an eye on that woman?''
''Who? Grace McCreary?'' Josie asked, puzzled by his offer.
''No. The other one. That man's ex-wife. Tell me where she is, I'll try to call in some favors.''
For a second, the briefest of moments, Josie thought about it. She pushed back her long bangs and decided not to take him up on his offer.
''No thanks, Babcock. Let's leave well enough alone,'' she said, ''We'll just pretend she doesn't even exist. We won't draw attention to her.''
''If you change your mind.'' He held out his card and Josie took it. His home number was on the back.
''Thanks. That's more thought then most people have ever given her.''
''Everyone needs someone in their corner,'' Babcock said and then offered a departing thought. ''Speaking of which, do you have a restraining order?''
Josie shook her head.
He suggested: ''Might be a good idea.
''Might be,'' she conceded.
''I'd say it's a very good idea. And, if you choose not to follow my advice, call me if you have trouble again.''
''I appreciate it,'' Josie said, embarrassed by his kindness, grateful he didn't point out she was being bullheaded.
Straight as an arrow, done in court for the day, Babcock went the way of Kevin O'Connel and Josie took a minute for herself. Maybe Babcock was right. A restraining order to put Kevin O'Connel on notice wouldn't be a bad thing. But, if he didn't take a key to the Jeep, then who did? Kids afraid of being caught? No. They scratched and bolted. They didn't stop to draw a picture.
Thinking about this, Josie took the first step to the courthouse only to hesitate. Standing in the shadow of the overhang, her vacant expression belying the intensity of her gaze, stood Grace McCreary. Briefly, their eyes met before Grace disappeared into the building leaving Josie to wonder if Babcock was onto something. Maybe Grace McCreary, the passive aggressive keeper of secrets and concealor of grudges, a woman who lived alone and seemingly had no life save for the one that revolved around her brother, was a night owl. Maybe it was Grace, afraid of every damn emotion including anger, who had taken a key to the car. Maybe it was Grace who watched Josie's house with those damned eyes of hers. Perhaps Grace thought Josie was a traitor to Michelle's memory. Maybe Grace McCreary was still a rebellious little girl behind the clothes and make-up and jewels. Grace might need Josie but maybe she didn't like her.
Suddenly weary, Josie walked up the steps, down the hall and into the courtroom. It was now imperative to that Josie and Grace be a united front. Josie lowered her voice.
''There's nothing between Matthew and me. I didn't betray Michelle.''
Grace offered Josie her profile. Her distant smile gave way to a sad, knowing one. Then her head dipped and turned. Those eyes, planted too close on either side of the bridge of her high-bridged nose, glittered. She put her hand on Josie's arm, the ring was still as she leaned close, put her lips to Josie's ear and said:
''Get me out of here or I will go insane.''
Chapter 27
''Mr. Douglas. Can you identify this report for the court?''
P.J. Vega came at him like a bull elephant charging. His eyes darted toward Josie, even lit on Grace for a moment, but he was mesmerized by Vega's advances and the papers she thrust toward him. Tim craned his neck to look then pulled back like a tortoise wary of the hand trying to feed him.
''That is a report by the Independent Voters' For Fair Spending Practices.''
''And the purpose of that report is to track projected and actual spending of political campaigns, is that correct?'' P.J. asked.
''Yes.'' Tim moved uncomfortably. He pushed back the stick straight hair that refused to stay put. His nails were bitten to the quick. The tribulations of the McCreary clan were wreaking havoc on poor Mr. Douglas and P.J. Vega scratching at his door was just one thing too many.
''And can you tell the court what that report says about Mr. McCreary's campaign spending?'' P.J. pressed.
''It says that Mr. McCreary spent one point two million dollars in the early part of his campaign and another million and a half in the last three months.''
''Does the report also outline Matthew McCreary's projected spending for the upcoming final months of the primary campaign?''
''It does. The projected broadcast media budget for that time period was five million dollars. There were additional dollars earmarked for targeted print ads and direct mail as needed.''
''And what are the actual costs for media that is booked as of today,'' P.J. asked.