Perri O'Shaughnessy - Unfit to Practice

“What about the chances of Cody leaving town before I say anything?” Brandy said.

Nina said, “The article mentions the fight, then it says Cody Stinson has a local friend who says he spent the rest of the night with her. She’s his alibi. He’s also on probation. Probably isn’t allowed to go far. Although I’m sure the police will be questioning him, since they have a suspect in custody, he has no reason right now to worry about getting arrested.”

“He will when he hears what Brandy has to say,” said Angel.

“We’ll explain our concerns about your safety. The D.A.’s office won’t reveal your names or anything about what’s happened until you’re well protected.”

“I won’t talk. Not until I reach Bruce,” Brandy said. “Tomorrow, first thing?”

“You can call him from here,” Nina pushed.

“Like I told you, we’re at a rough patch,” Brandy said. “Bruce and I haven’t been speaking, so it makes everything more complicated. After a week of calling me nonstop, he quit answering his phone. Just give me some time. Meanwhile, don’t worry. I won’t let Mario go down without telling the police Cody came back that night. I just can’t do it yet.”

“The longer you hold off, the more complicated your situation becomes,” Nina warned. She got names, addresses, and phone numbers for both the women. After they left, she tucked her intake notes into the manila file she planned to take home in her briefcase that night. Maybe Brandy would decide she was able to go first thing in the morning. Nina wanted to review her notes and prepare for anything.

The whole story was scribbled on yellow legal sheets and sitting in that damned file, the one she took home that night.

And here in front of her on Monday afternoon sat the sisters, Angel with her platinum-tipped bristles, Brandy with her dimples. But there were no smiles. They said they hoped Nina wasn’t too upset that they didn’t get back to her on Friday. They had their reasons. They knew she might insist that they go talk to Henry McFarland, the assistant district attorney for El Dorado County based out of Tahoe, right away, but they hoped that wasn’t necessary.

Well, they did have to go right away, Nina told them.

“We can’t go,” Brandy said, tearing up. Nina got up and shut the door.

Angel spoke up, her tone very serious. “Brandy’s fiancé has taken off. We have to find him first.”

“Taken off?” Nina said.

“I mean, I know he was upset at me, probably, but why would he leave home like that? Angel drove me home to Palo Alto over the weekend so that we could maybe work some things out, but he was gone!”

“We talked about it on the way over here,” Angel said. “Bruce took his wallet, but he didn’t take his mobile phone. He doesn’t exist without that phone. Brandy says he starts yakking on it when he brushes his teeth in the morning and doesn’t let up all day long. He took some clothes, but stuff Brandy says he hates.” Her voice dropped. “So we had this thought. We’re thinking him being gone is suspicious. We’re scared. We’re thinking, maybe Cody found out somehow and went over to the house and did something. To Bruce. You know?” She put her arm around Brandy. “You know what I’m saying?”

Now Nina had to speak. She said she understood, but unfortunately had to add to their fear. She told them that someone had the file with all their information, the names, the addresses, the phone numbers. She told them that she was worried, too. Their concerns about Bruce just added to the all-around bad news.

Two sets of frightened gray eyes stared back at her.

“I’m going back to Palo Alto tonight,” Brandy said. “I have to try again to talk to Bruce.”

“Not alone you’re not,” Angel said. “I’m coming. Sam’s taking some time off. He’s taking the kids to Oregon to visit his mother. I’m supposed to join them, which I will when I get around to it.”

“We can stay at Maria’s. Cody won’t have that address.”

Angel turned to Nina. “We’ll make you a deal,” she said. “We’ll drive back up first thing in the morning. I’ll make some arrangements at the salon. We’ll meet you there.”

“Don’t go,” Nina said. “Let’s talk to the D.A. today. It’s not safe.”

Brandy’s jaw set. Angel looked at her, looked at Nina, and shrugged. “That’s the deal,” she said. “We’ll be careful.”

They looked unbudgeable. “My investigator, Paul van Wagoner, will pick you both up at your beauty salon at ten tomorrow morning,” Nina said.

“Okay,” Angel and Brandy said together.

“Give me Maria’s address and phone number.”

“No offense,” Brandy said, “but you’ve already got my mobile phone number.”

Only after they left did Nina realize what she meant. They didn’t feel safe entrusting her with the information. They didn’t, in fact, want to pay much attention to her advice at all.

She had lost her credibility with them and they were spending another night on the road. She could only hope they wouldn’t look back and find Cody’s motorcycle on their tail.

A T FOUR-THIRTY that Monday afternoon, while stumbling toward the rental car with the large gift she had just picked up for Matt’s wife Andrea’s party that night, Nina saw Officer Jean Scholl in the parking lot outside her office. The policewoman stood by while Nina strained to open the trunk of the rental car and ended up dumping the big gift box on the asphalt while she fooled with her key.

Scholl watched, detached, while Nina stuffed the present into the trunk, adjusting it into several positions before it would fit. Only then did Scholl say, “We found your truck. Let’s go get it.” She led the way to her patrol car, clanking and clinking all the way.

Behind a chain-link fence, the pockmarked, lava-colored sea of asphalt that constituted South Lake Tahoe’s impound lot was not far from the police station and courthouse. Officer Scholl, driving Nina in her patrol car, waved to the security man on duty, got out, and used a key to unlock the gate.

“Where did you find it?”

“In the Heavenly parking lot.” Heavenly Resort was only a few miles away, straight uphill from where they stood at the foot of a ten-thousand-foot mountain, the highest ski resort this side of the Rockies.

“I spotted it in a nicely painted parking spot at the base of the World Cup run, not that anyone’s skiing this time of year. Lots of hikers and gondola riders leave their cars up there. Logical place to dump a joyride if you don’t drive it straight out of town. And then it’s pretty easy to catch a ride down Ski Run Boulevard back to town. Or just walk. It’s only a mile or so.”

The big, dirty SUV looked foreign to her, but the Hawaiian-print seat covers told her that the Bronco was her old familiar mountain buggy.

“Not too much harm done,” Scholl said, her finger inserted into a long scratch on the left bumper. “That’s old.” She reached into her pocket and tossed Nina the metal key. “We found it on the front seat.” She sounded bored as ever, but Nina sniffed out the contempt in her words. Officer Scholl didn’t bother to conceal her antipathy.

Nina walked around the Bronco, noting the nicks and scratches.

“Any new dings?” Scholl asked.

Her truck led a visibly hard life. Nina couldn’t distinguish new dings from old. “I don’t know. Can I get in?”

“It’s your truck, or so the registration says.” She opened the driver’s-side door.

“You didn’t lock it?”

“The barn door’s already open.”

I’ll say, Nina thought. She climbed in, bent toward the backseat, and began to hunt.

Scholl let her look awhile, then said, “No briefcase, if that’s what you’re hoping.”