Perri O'Shaughnessy - Unlucky in Law

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Nina Reilly takes on the most dangerous and difficult case of her career in New York Times bestselling author Perri O'Shaughnessy's latest thriller. An ingenious blend of forensic science, history, and gripping suspense, Unlucky in Law pits the tough but compassionate attorney against the most unbeatable adversary of all: the law.
Nina has just received a last-minute call from her old boss and mentor in Monterey County, California, where she is enjoying the breathtaking scenery and spending time with her boyfriend, P.I. Paul van Wagoner. Klaus Pohlmann is in desperate straits and begs Nina to take over a seemingly unwinnable case: A luckless two-time felon named Stefan Wyatt has robbed a grave and made off with the long-buried bones of a Russian émigré. When he is caught and arrested, further devastating evidence found in the grave suggests that Stefan is guilty of a far more deadly crime.
A young woman, a classmate of Stefan's, has been killed, and he is accused of her murder. Now, as a result of California's Third Strike law, Wyatt is looking at twenty-five years to life whether he's convicted of grand theft or murder. Either way, he's in big trouble.
With her client's blood DNA found in the dead woman's apartment, Nina faces an uphill battle. Suspecting that her hapless client has been set up, Nina brings in a brilliant forensic pathologist who comes up with a startling theory about the case that could rewrite a crucial page of European history. As the evidence mounts against Nina's client, Paul launches his own investigation into the shadowy past of the two-decades-old skeleton. But long-held secrets nearly get him killed and reveal a more insidious evil at work – and an extraordinary story dating back to tsarist Russia and the Romanov court. As Wyatt edges closer to the unluckiest verdict of his young life, Nina makes an astounding discovery that just might save her client – or expose a killer who could bury them all.
Brilliantly imagined and compulsively readable, Unlucky in Law is a beguiling mix of wrenching drama and gripping action. And it is Perri O'Shaughnessy's most accomplished novel to date.

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“Cyrillic?”

“The Russian alphabet.”

“You can read it?”

“I studied Russian in high school. All the renegades from French did.” So she had a sense of humor and intelligence in addition to a knockout body, Nina thought. Ouch.

“What did the inscription say?”

“I only took two years, so I’m no expert, but I could tell from the words along with the image on the medal that it said something about Saint George. He’s slaying the dragon on the image there.”

“Go on.”

“I put the medal in a plastic bag and listed it. It went into the evidence locker with the clothes.”

“Did you then go out to El Encinal Cemetery?”

“Yes. We arrived at seven A.M., when it was getting light. Officer Graydon, the backhoe operator, and the groundskeeper from the cemetery were waiting outside the tape line Officer Graydon had set up. I pulled on my gloves and went in and looked down in the hole. The floodlights were bright. I clearly saw an arm sticking out of a trash bag.”

“What did you do then?” Jaime had a rhythm going with her; he must have taken her testimony dozens of times.

“I got on the ground on a tarp, reached in with scissors, and opened the bags. There were three layers of trash bag. I cut a slit maybe three feet long. There was a woman’s body in there.”

“And what did you do then?”

“We didn’t move her. She was cold. She had been dead for a while. I took photos and put a call in to the pathologist, Susan Misumi, and our forensics technician. While Dr. Misumi was en route we checked out the area. Officer Graydon pointed out some apparent footprints. We took casts.

“When Dr. Misumi arrived, she spent some time with the victim. She examined the remains in place, taking photos, then she had us remove the body for transport to the morgue at Natividad. By then the sun was well up and we turned off the lights.

“I had called Alex Zhukovsky again regarding opening up his father’s coffin. He gave his permission. The backhoe hit the top of the coffin at about eight A.M. and, with the assistance of Officer Martinez, I opened it.”

“And what, if anything, did you find?”

“The mahogany coffin had been recently disturbed. The satin lining inside was ragged. There was some gray hair at the top. Evidence of insect activity. Shreds of clothing. The bones, which I would expect to find, were missing.”

By now, the gasps had abated to tsk s, but they were very unhappy tsk s.

“Pretty obvious the coffin had contained a human body, which had been removed, although we couldn’t tell when. Dr. Misumi came over and looked at it and more photos were taken.”

Surprisingly, Jaime skipped through the details of that hideous early morning find. Nina hurried along with him in her mind, wondering why he was in such a rush to leave the grave, not finding her fissure yet.

“Did you then return to the station?” asked Jaime.

“Yes. I had received a radio message that Alex Zhukovsky had showed up. He’d received two phone calls from us and he wanted to know what was going on.”

Salas called the mid-afternoon break and everybody rushed out for enough caffeine to float them through the final afternoon session. Klaus and Nina stayed at the conference table with Stefan.

When they returned, the jury, so fresh and ironed in the morning, had the look of laundry left too long on the line, shirts and sweaters sagging. Weary hands stroked eyes and foreheads. Concentrating for so many hours took a lot of effort, and the golfing lady Klaus had winked at rubbed her leg often, as if to keep it awake or stave off some pain.

During the break, Nina had decided she understood Jaime’s strategy-he had seen the break coming and saved the luscious best for last. He would give those jurors something to dream about! Sure enough, he, who appeared as combed and fresh as he had in the morning, leisurely pulled out the forensics photos and transported them back to the graveyard, evoking the fog, the cool morning, the digging toward the victim, all the time questioning Banta exhaustively on the details. By the time he was finished spinning his scene, the dank soil, black bags, and bones had practically taken seats in the courtroom.

After adjournment for the day, before they took Stefan away, Nina asked, keeping her voice down as low as she could, “Stefan, why did you call Alan Turk?”

Stefan said, “Gabe-my brother. Gabe consulted him a while back, had some legal thing with him.”

“Any idea what it was?”

“Sorry, no.”

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Only as good as you guys in court. In other words,” he attempted a smile, “ups and downs. Like I keep saying, you have to get to Alex Zhukovsky somehow. It’s too weird, this thing where his sister’s body was found in their father’s grave. I mean, he’s the link, the only link. Plus, he hired me. He killed his sister and buried her in their dad’s grave for his own reasons, or else why lie about hiring me?”

And then why hire Stefan to dig them both up? It made no sense. “We’re working on it.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Stefan said in a pragmatic tone at direct odds with his expression of abject defeat.

“Why not?”

“I’m jinxed. Always have been.” He licked his lips and thought about it. “Cursed from birth. I wasn’t born to a good life.”

“Has your life been so terrible?”

“Erin was my only good luck, and now she’s gone.” He held tight to the chain he always wore around his neck.

“She may still come around.”

“You’re a woman,” Stefan said.

Nina laughed. “Well, yeah. Mostly.”

“Do you think-if someone was in jail for a long time-and maybe he would never get out, how would you feel about him?” The hard work of asking made his big shoulders slump. “Could you ever forgive him?”

If Paul went to jail, and she never knew whether he would get out, how would she feel? The question, one she had never asked herself, made her shiver. Paul deserved jail, at least in the eyes of the law. He had killed to protect her at Tahoe, and she was complicitous in that murder, because she knew and because she said nothing. She shook herself free before the alarming swing of her thoughts knocked her down. Focusing on Stefan’s earnest, dark eyes, she said, “You need to ask Erin those questions, Stefan.”

“I tried writing to her, but I threw the letter away. Because what could I talk about? The guy two cells over who screams all night, or maybe I could entertain her with stories about the nights I can’t close my eyes without seeing that grave. I never saw a dead body until I saw Christina’s.”

“Stefan, do you believe Erin loved you before all this happened?”

“Yeah. I believe she did.”

“Then you tell her how you feel.”

“I’m locked up. I have no power. I can’t go over there, take her out to the beach where we could really talk… And then, even if you pull it off, even if you get me out, would she ever trust me again?” he asked, eyes turning inward. “Nina, I want to marry her. She’s my only hope. I’d buy her a house, get a regular job, the whole deal. She could have a baby. I asked her once, and she said she’d like one. I would, too. Cut down on Dart League. No more drinkin’ until I’m singin’, except on weekends or birthdays.” His grimace held the shadow of a smile. “She says I’m a lousy singer.”

“Write to her again, Stefan. It’s been some time. Maybe she’s ready to hear from you.” Nina gave him an encouraging squeeze on the arm before they led him away.

Outside, Paul stopped her. “You’re doing great in there.”

“We need more to work with. You go get Alex Zhukovsky and nail him. Talk to Stefan’s brother, Erin, his mom, Wanda, everyone again. I feel like we’re missing a layer of meaning here.”

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