“Like what?”
I gave the class a little smile. “He’s nuts.”
21
If I wasn’t mistaken, my lawyer’s office was in one of the high-rises Howard Hughes used to live in while he was hiding out in Vegas, before he took up semipermanent residence at the Sands in 1966. Everyone seemed to think he’d lived here forever, maybe even died here, but in fact he was only in Vegas about four years, made some bad investments, split. From publicity hound to Vegas recluse-although I suppose the hermit routine was another way of generating attention. But while he was here, he influenced world politics-and football games-consorted with (and according to some, bribed) both LBJ and Nixon, got progressively balmier, and tried to buy ABC to prevent miscegenation on The Dating Game (true!), all the while protected from the world by his bubble of loyal attendants. Until he died. But hey-he got a parkway named after him, one you just about had to use to get to the airport. Could be worse.
When we arrived at the courtroom, I saw that the Shepherds were looking their usual saintly selves. He was wearing a plain-vanilla suit and tie; she was wearing a cotton print maxi. Did they always dress like that, I wondered, or was this a courtroom ploy to show how different they were from me? Particularly in dullness. I would’ve preferred to avoid them altogether, but I didn’t want to be rude. The judge’s bailiff or someone might be watching.
“Nice to see you again,” I lied. “Rachel couldn’t come?”
“The judges prefer not to have the minors present at these hearings,” Mrs. Shepherd explained. “If the judge wants to talk to her, he’ll call her to his chambers. Besides, she has basketball practice.”
“Rachel?”
“Yes. She’s joined the school team.”
“Rachel is playing a team sport?”
The woman was so tiny she seemed to bob when she spoke, like one of those mechanical storks you saw at truck stops poised over the rim of a glass. “She’s enjoying it. Making new friends.”
“Is she any good?”
“Well,” Mr. Shepherd explained, “she’s inexperienced. She hasn’t played as long as most of the other girls. But she has the height, and she’s not without talent. I think she has some natural athletic gifts. I’m surprised you didn’t encourage her to play.”
“Well, I… didn’t… I… thought it best to focus on academics.”
“Her first game is Monday night. You should come. I think she’d like that.”
“I’ll try. I’ve been busy with this investigation.”
“Of course.”
Delacourt shot me a look, and I amended, “But I’m always ready, willing, and able to spend time with Rachel.”
Goddamn those Shepherds, anyway. Did they do it on purpose-always making me feel inferior to their pedestrian middle-class blather? I threw myself into my chair. At least they hadn’t turned her into a cheerleader. Yet.
“You know the judge will be watching you,” Delacourt said to me quietly.
“Is it my hair or this new Wonderbra?”
“He’ll be watching your demeanor. Trying to judge whether you’re capable of raising Rachel. I told you this already, remember?”
“You also said nothing would be decided today.”
“That doesn’t mean he can’t start thinking about it.”
“And he can tell what kind of parent I’d be from looking at me?”
“He can tell a lot. He’s been doing this for thirty years. He can tell if you’re drunk, which thank God you don’t appear to be. He can tell if you’re able to control your temper.”
“So I will.”
“Then we have nothing to worry about.”
The first fifteen minutes of the hearing were boring beyond belief. Lawyers talking lawyerspeak to other lawyers. Occasionally I’d hear my name and my interest level would increase. But after another ten seconds or so of parens patriae and guardian ad litem my head would be in another place.
“Ms. Pulaski?”
I was pretty stunned to realize the judge was talking to me. I rose to my feet. “Yes, Your Honor?”
“Do you agree with what the counsel for NDHS said?”
I hated these memory tests. Especially when I hadn’t been paying attention. But I figured if the lawyer who wanted to give Rachel to the Shepherds had said it, it couldn’t be good. “No, Your Honor, I certainly don’t.”
“Good. Neither do I.” I sat back down. Judge Gaynor was in his late fifties, but his hair was still jet black and his face relatively unlined. He had a clipped tone to his voice but seemed to make a point of avoiding rudeness to anyone. “In fact, I’m rather disappointed to hear the state make the argument.”
“Your Honor,” the other lawyer protested, but the judge waved it away.
“We need public servants. Now more than ever. We are perhaps only beginning to appreciate the enormous benefits provided to us on a daily basis by the law enforcement community. Their job is difficult and the hours are long. We should honor their dedication, not use it as a weapon against them. I’ve never heard of anyone losing custody because police work was inherently demanding. Or dangerous. And we’re not going to set a precedent in my courtroom.”
I only half understood what was happening. But I had the sense to know it was good. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
“I am aware that Ms. Pulaski is a behaviorist and that she is working on the current spate of killings that have plagued our community. I commend her for taking on this challenge.”
My God-was it possible? The judge actually liked me?
“The state’s concerns about her income and employment status seem to me totally without merit. I also note that you have found a new place to live.”
“Yes, sir. Although my job recently forced me to make yet another move. It’s small, but-”
He nodded. “We like our parents to have homes, but we’re certainly not going to evaluate their worthiness based upon square footage. Especially not for a dedicated public servant.”
For the first time, my spirits swelled. Maybe, just maybe, I had a chance to win this thing.