“Bullshit. I’ve had three cases before this judge. I’m three and oh.”
“Maybe she doesn’t like that either.”
Crimstein seemed to lose a little steam. She moved back and collapsed into a chair. “Bail denied,” she said more to herself than anyone else. “I can’t believe they even had the nerve to ask for no bail.” She sat a bit straighter. “All right, here’s how we play it. I’m going to press for answers. In the meantime you guys say nothing. No talking to the cops, the DA, the press. Nobody. Not until we figure out what exactly they think the three of you did.”
“The three of us?”
“Weren’t you listening, Myron? They think it’s a money scheme.”
“Involving the three of us?”
“Yes.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know. They mentioned your going to the Caribbean, maybe the Cayman Islands. We all know what that means.”
“Depositing cash in offshore accounts,” Myron said. “But I left the country three weeks ago—before the money was even withdrawn. And I never went anywhere near the Caymans.”
“They’re probably still grasping at straws,” Crimstein said. “But they’re going to go after you in a big way. I hope your books are in order because I guarantee you they’ll have them subpoenaed within the hour.”
Money scandal, Myron thought. Hadn’t FJ mentioned something about that?
Crimstein turned her attention to Win. “Is that stuff about a big cash withdrawal true?”
“Yes.”
“Can they prove Esperanza knew about it?”
“Probably.”
“Damn.” She thought about this a moment.
Win moved into a corner. He took out his cell phone, dialed, started talking.
Myron said, “Make me co-counsel.”
Crimstein looked up. “Excuse me?”
“As you pointed out last night, I’m a bar-appointed attorney. Make me her attorney, and anything she tells me falls under attorney-client.”
She shook her head. “One, that’ll never fly. The judge will see it for what it is, a loophole to make sure you can’t testify. Two, it’s moronic. Not only will it reek of a desperate defensive move, but it’ll look like we’re shutting you up because we have something to hide. Three, you may still be charged in all this.”
“How? I already told you. I was in the Caribbean.”
“Right. Where nobody but Preppy Boy could find you. How convenient.”
“You think—”
“I don’t think anything, Myron. I’m telling you what the DA might be thinking. For now we’re just guessing. Go back to your office. Call your accountant. Make sure your books are in order.”
“They’re in order,” Myron said. “I’ve never stolen a dime.”
She turned to Win. “How about you?”
Win hung up the phone. “What about me?”
“They’ll subpoena your books too.”
Win arched the eyebrow. “They’ll try.”
“Are they clean?”
“You could eat off them,” Win said.
“Fine, whatever. I’ll let your lawyers handle it. I got enough to worry about.”
Silence.
“So how do we get her out?” Myron asked.
“We don’t get her out. I get her out. You stay away.”
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“No? How about from Esperanza?”
“What about Esperanza?”
“This is her request as well as mine. Stay away from her.”
“I don’t believe she’d say that.”
“Believe it.”
“If she wants me out,” Myron said, “she’ll have to tell me to my face.”
“Fine,” Crimstein said with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go take care of that now.”
“What?”
“You want her to tell you herself? Give me five minutes.”
Chapter 8
Win said, “I have to get back to the office.”
Myron was surprised. “You don’t want to hear what Esperanza has to say?”
“No time.”
His tone slammed the door on further discussion. Win reached for the knob.
“If you need my special talents,” he said, “I’ll have the cellular.”
He hurried out as Hester Crimstein entered. She watched him disappear down the corridor. “Where’s he going?”
“His office.”
“Why’s he in such a rush all of a sudden?”
“I didn’t ask.”
Hester Crimstein raised an eyebrow. “Hmm.”
“Hmm what?”
“Win was the one in charge of the account with the missing money.”
“So?”
“So maybe he had a reason to silence Clu Haid.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Are you saying he’s incapable of murder?”
Myron did not reply.
“If even half the stories I’ve heard about Windsor Lockwood are true—”
“You know better than to listen to rumors.”
She looked at him. “So if I subpoena you to testify and if I ask if you’ve ever witnessed Windsor Horne Lockwood the Third kill someone, what would you say?”
“No.”
“Uh-huh. Guess you also missed the class on perjury.”
Myron did not bother with a comeback. “When can I see Esperanza?”
“Come on. She’s waiting for you.”
Esperanza sat at a long table. She still wore the orange prison suit, her now-uncuffed hands folded in front of her, her expression serene as a church statue’s. Hester signaled to the trooper, and they both left the room.
When the door closed, Esperanza smiled at him. “Welcome back,” she said.
“Thanks,” Myron replied.
Her eyes took him in. “If your tan was any darker, you could pass for my brother.”
“Thanks.”
“Still got the smooth tongue with the ladies, eh?”
“Thanks.”
She almost smiled. Even under these conditions, Esperanza still looked radiant. Her supple skin and ink black hair shimmered against the fluorescent orange backdrop. Her eyes still brought forth thoughts of Mediterranean moons and white peasant blouses.
“Are you feeling better now?” she asked him.
“Yes.”
“Where were you anyway?”
“A private island in the Caribbean.”