the arraignment. Jessica was relieved.
"Is there a number, Mrs. Clarke, where I can reach you today if I need you?" She nodded and scribbled the number of the boutique. It was the first time she'd thought of going in.
"I'll be there after I see Ian. I'm going over to see him now. And Mr. Schwartz, please call me Jessica, or Jessie. It sounds like we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."
"Yes, we will. And I want you back in my office on Friday. Both of you, if you've managed to get Ian out on bail. The "if" sent a shiver down her spine. "No, actually, make it Monday. In case you do get him out, you two will deserve a little time off. And then we'll get down to work in earnest. We don't have much time."
"How much time?" It was like asking a doctor how long you had to live.
"We'll have a better idea of that after the arraignment. But the trial will probably come up in about two months."
"Before Christmas?" She reminded him again of an overgrown child as she asked.
"Before Christmas. Unless we get a continuance for some reason. But your husband told me this morning that he wants to get this over with as quickly as possible, so you could put it behind you and forget it."
Forget it? she thought. Who would ever forget it?
He stood up and held out a hand, removing his glasses for a moment. "Jessica, try to relax. Leave the worrying to me for a while."
"I'll do my best." She stood up too, shook his hand, and he was once again taken aback by her height. "Thank you, Martin, for everything. Any message for Ian?" She paused in the doorway.
"Tell him I said he's a lucky man." His eyes warmed her and she smiled at the compliment and slipped out the door.
Martin Schwartz sat down, swiveled his chair to face the view, chewed on his glasses, and shook his head. This was going to be a bitch of a case. He was sure Ian hadn't done it, but they both would be a real problem in court. Young, happy, beautiful, and rich. The jury would resent his screwing around on a woman like Jessie; the women in court would hate Jessie; the men in court would dislike Ian because they wouldn't believe that writing was work. And they looked as if they had too much money, no matter how sensible the explanation of Jessie's inheritance was. He just didn't like the looks of this case. And the victim was obviously a strange woman, maybe a sick one. His only hope was that they'd find out enough on her to destroy her. It was an ugly game to play, but it was Ian's only chance.
Chapter 6
Jessica stopped in the lobby to call the boutique. Zina's voice was concerned when she heard her.
"Jessie, are you all right?" They had finally tried her at home at ten-thirty that morning, but she had already gone out.
"I'm fine." But Zina didn't like the sound of her voice. "Everything okay at your end?"
"Sure, we're okay. Are you coming in?"
"After lunch. See ya later." She hung up before Zina could ask more questions and went to reclaim the Morgan from the garage. She was off to the Hall of Justice to see Ian.
She was two thousand dollars poorer, but now she felt better. She had left the check in a blue envelope with the secretary at the front desk. The first part of Martin Schwartz's fee. She had been as good as her word. Now there were a hundred and eighty-one dollars left in their joint savings account, but Ian had an attorney. What a price they were going to pay for one piece of ass!
She tried not to let herself think as she drove across town. She wasn't so much angry as confused. What had happened? Who was this woman? Why was she doing this to them? What did she have against Ian? After speaking to Martin, Jessie was more certain than ever that Ian had done nothing wrong--except pick the wrong woman for an afternoon of delight. Oh Jesus, had he picked the wrong woman!
She found a parking space on Bryant Street, across from a long strip of neon-lit bailbondsmen's offices. She found herself wondering which one she'd be haggling with by the next afternoon.
"Is there a number, Mrs. Clarke, where I can reach you today if I need you?" She nodded and scribbled the number of the boutique. It was the first time she'd thought of going in.
"I'll be there after I see Ian. I'm going over to see him now. And Mr. Schwartz, please call me Jessica, or Jessie. It sounds like we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."
"Yes, we will. And I want you back in my office on Friday. Both of you, if you've managed to get Ian out on bail. The "if" sent a shiver down her spine. "No, actually, make it Monday. In case you do get him out, you two will deserve a little time off. And then we'll get down to work in earnest. We don't have much time."
"How much time?" It was like asking a doctor how long you had to live.
"We'll have a better idea of that after the arraignment. But the trial will probably come up in about two months."
"Before Christmas?" She reminded him again of an overgrown child as she asked.
"Before Christmas. Unless we get a continuance for some reason. But your husband told me this morning that he wants to get this over with as quickly as possible, so you could put it behind you and forget it."
Forget it? she thought. Who would ever forget it?
He stood up and held out a hand, removing his glasses for a moment. "Jessica, try to relax. Leave the worrying to me for a while."
"I'll do my best." She stood up too, shook his hand, and he was once again taken aback by her height. "Thank you, Martin, for everything. Any message for Ian?" She paused in the doorway.
"Tell him I said he's a lucky man." His eyes warmed her and she smiled at the compliment and slipped out the door.
Martin Schwartz sat down, swiveled his chair to face the view, chewed on his glasses, and shook his head. This was going to be a bitch of a case. He was sure Ian hadn't done it, but they both would be a real problem in court. Young, happy, beautiful, and rich. The jury would resent his screwing around on a woman like Jessie; the women in court would hate Jessie; the men in court would dislike Ian because they wouldn't believe that writing was work. And they looked as if they had too much money, no matter how sensible the explanation of Jessie's inheritance was. He just didn't like the looks of this case. And the victim was obviously a strange woman, maybe a sick one. His only hope was that they'd find out enough on her to destroy her. It was an ugly game to play, but it was Ian's only chance.
Chapter 6
Jessica stopped in the lobby to call the boutique. Zina's voice was concerned when she heard her.
"Jessie, are you all right?" They had finally tried her at home at ten-thirty that morning, but she had already gone out.
"I'm fine." But Zina didn't like the sound of her voice. "Everything okay at your end?"
"Sure, we're okay. Are you coming in?"
"After lunch. See ya later." She hung up before Zina could ask more questions and went to reclaim the Morgan from the garage. She was off to the Hall of Justice to see Ian.
She was two thousand dollars poorer, but now she felt better. She had left the check in a blue envelope with the secretary at the front desk. The first part of Martin Schwartz's fee. She had been as good as her word. Now there were a hundred and eighty-one dollars left in their joint savings account, but Ian had an attorney. What a price they were going to pay for one piece of ass!
She tried not to let herself think as she drove across town. She wasn't so much angry as confused. What had happened? Who was this woman? Why was she doing this to them? What did she have against Ian? After speaking to Martin, Jessie was more certain than ever that Ian had done nothing wrong--except pick the wrong woman for an afternoon of delight. Oh Jesus, had he picked the wrong woman!
She found a parking space on Bryant Street, across from a long strip of neon-lit bailbondsmen's offices. She found herself wondering which one she'd be haggling with by the next afternoon.
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