“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“She knows we’re all looking over her shoulder,” I said. “That should help things from here on in. Though there might be something else of concern. What do you know about the boyfriend? His name is Randy.”
“I know his name, fool. Which is more than I want to know.”
“That bad.”
“Like a bunion on the foot on the face of the world.”
“I get the idea. They’re still together, Randy and Julia?”
“Like shit and Shinola.”
“What does that mean, actually, not knowing shit from Shinola?”
“It means you’re a lawyer.”
“Horace, your wit is surpassed only by your pleasant manner. You know where this Randy works?”
“What am I, the Yellow Pages? You were inside for a so-called hour, why didn’t you ask that woman?”
“She wasn’t so willing to discuss her boyfriend.”
“Then maybe I’m not so willing neither. You mention my name in there?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.”
“Okay, I understand.”
“What do you understand? You understand less than a bloodworm on a hook, wiggling yourself free even as the largemouth bass comes looking for dinner. You understand? A thumb in my eye, you understand. I bet you didn’t even find out nothing about the daughter.”
“The daughter?”
“There you go, see? You’re like a jalopy without an engine, ugly and rusting on the outside, empty on the inside. What good are you?”
“Julia has a daughter?”
“You so lost, how you fall out of bed and don’t hit the ceiling is beyond me.”
“Where is she?”
“Now you’re getting to the root of it, boy. Now you starting to ask some questions.”
“You don’t know where she is?”
“You stupid sumbitch. If I knew where the hell she was, would I be dealing with the likes of you?”
“No, sir,” I said. “I don’t think you would.”
“First sensible thing you said all day. Now, get on going, there’s work to be done.”
I pushed myself from off the porch railing, started walking toward Isabel without looking back. He was such a pleasure to deal with, Horace T. Grant, and unfortunately, from what I could tell, he was almost always right, which meant there was more work to be done. So Julia Rose had a daughter somewhere, my client Daniel had a sister somewhere, and no one knew enough to even search for her. Which meant that I might have to.
If I had a dog, I would have kicked it just then. I was falling deeper into something that I didn’t understand, that I wasn’t qualified to handle, and that wasn’t going to pay me a cent.
Pro bono blows.
25
This is how I ended up flat on my back, mewing in agony, reaching for the white light in the distance.
We had gotten François his new trial, now it was time to devise some devious way to win it. The best route, I figured, was to ride François’s Gallic charm as if it were a surfboard on a six-foot swell. But to do that he’d have to testify, so it was time for him to finally answer our questions. It was hot in the prison interview room, Beth was quiet, I was sweating, and all the time François was answering, his eyes were saying, How can you doubt me, Victor? How could I? Because his tongue was moving. But it wasn’t the lying so much that got to me, I’m used to clients lying – what would I ever do with a client who told me the truth? – more it was the insouciance with which he told his lies, as if he was so charming he didn’t have to try too hard. It was all enough to send me sucking on my scab.
“Tell us where you met your wife,” I said.
“There is a place called Marrakech owned by Geoffrey Sunshine.”
“The guy whose name is always in the papers?”
“That is him, yes,” said François. “The second floor of the building was a club. It was fun, this club, a spectacle. There was a restaurant, too, and Geoffrey was a friend of sorts. He was always trying to get me to cook for his restaurant, which was why I was often there. He would invite me to the club, introduce me to the girls. Quite nice. One of the girls he introduced me to was Leesa. She had a bit of a reputation, but there was something in her that I admired. A spark of freedom, I think, and a sweetness. At first it was just, you know, playing around. But after a while it became something else, if you understand.”
“Why did you marry her?”
“Why else? I loved her.”
“So what happened to the marriage?”
“It is hard to say.”
“Try.”
“Things change with a child. Amber was a beautiful baby, yes, but things changed. It was a difficult delivery, and Leesa was in quite a bit of pain for a long time afterward. The baby was crying, shrieking, always seemed hungry, and Leesa was depressed. The doctor said it was a normal thing, the depression, but that did not make it easier. And I had my new restaurant. I was obsessed with starting it right and so could not be around as much as maybe I should have been. With Leesa’s pain and the depression getting worse, the doctor finally prescribed some medicine.”
“What medication?” I said.
“Something about an ox, I do not know. It fixed the pain, yes, but it had a bad effect on Leesa. She became moody, manic, or depressed, depending on the hour. She did not seem to bond with the baby. And we began to fight. She said she felt smothered, chained, and abandoned all at once. And it was not only her, I was feeling a little trapped, too. After a while we were like strangers. And then she accused me of cheating.”
“Did you?”
“Is that important?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe then I did, yes. Nothing extraordinary.”
“With whom?”
“None of your business.”
“Believe me when we tell you this, François, everything in your life has become our business. Whom?”
“There was a customer. There was a girl on a bicycle. What do you want, Victor? I’m French.”
“I’ll need names,” I said.
“Who can remember? Katherine? Lorraine? Yes, Lorraine.” A smile followed by a dismissive wave. “And then there was someone from work. Darcy. Darcy DeAngelo. That was maybe a bit more serious. But it was not the affairs that caused the end of us. They were just… affairs.”
“What was it, then?”
“We were both unhappy. That was it. We began to make each other miserable. Therefore, I left. I thought that was best, but Leesa evidently disagreed.”
“The divorce proceeding wasn’t amicable, I presume.”
He gave a French snort of derision. “I wanted it to be. I was worried about Leesa and concerned about Amber, but Leesa decided nothing would be easy. She went crazy with revenge, she showed no concern for Amber. It was the drug still, I thought. I tried to get her off the pills, but the only way to talk to her now was through the judge. So that is what I did. For some reason, me bringing the drugs into the court case only made the situation worse.”
“Funny how that works,” I said. “Where were you the night of the murder?”
“In my apartment. I had worked lunch and then the dinner shift also. We had a drink or two after closing, but I was too tired to stay long. I was exhausted. I still had my chef’s coat on as I walked home. I collapsed into the bed. I was asleep when the police woke me up with the news. I let them search my apartment. I had nothing to hide. That is when they found the gun and the blood.”
“How did it get there?”
“I do not know. I still do not know. It was the fat detective that found it.”
“Torricelli?”
“Yes. Maybe he brought it over in his briefcase to frame me. It is always the husband, right? He wanted to be sure.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“He did not seem to me, that detective, to be so bright.”
“Bright enough to put you in here. Did he arrest you right then?”
“Yes, of course. That very morning. I have not been out of jail since. I would have had another drink that night if I had known.”