“Fucked her?”
“I wasn’t going to use that language, but yes. Anyway, Joanie came crying to Chantelle and Chantelle told her it goes with the territory and Joanie said not for much longer ’cause she was getting off the street. Chantelle didn’t think much of that because all the girls talk that way.”
“Go back to Chantelle and see if we can get a line on this john. If he hurt her, that could explain the vaginal bruising the coroner found.”
“I’ll go back down there tonight. And I checked Joanie’s arrest record. Most of the time, the judge let her go on her own recognizance. When she did have to post bond, she had enough cash that she didn’t need help.”
“How many prostitutes can post their own bond?”
“Just the ones that are making enough money and keeping it from their pimps.”
“Do we know if Joanie had a pimp?”
“Chantelle said Joanie didn’t have one as far as she knew.”
“So Joanie’s arrest records are a dead end.”
“Maybe, maybe not. The first time she was arrested was eleven years ago. It was for possession with intent to sell.”
“Which court was she in?”
“Clay County, up in Liberty. That’s where she grew up. The prosecutors up there like to ask for shock jail time for first offenders and the judges are known for going along with that. Only Joanie got put in a diversion program over the prosecutor’s objection.”
“She must have had a good lawyer.”
“That’s the funny thing. She didn’t have a lawyer.”
“How could she be put in a diversion program without having a lawyer?”
“According to the court file, she entered a guilty plea at her arraignment and the judge put her in the diversion program. She stayed out of trouble for two years until she was arrested in Jackson County for prostitution.”
“Who was the judge who put her in diversion?”
Grace opened her file, flipping through the pages. “Judge Anthony Steele. He moved up to the Court of Appeals not too long ago.”
“Hmm. I wonder why he did that.”
“You can ask him.”
“Maybe I will. I’ll call his office and see if I can get an appointment for today or tomorrow.”
“You won’t need an appointment.”
“Why not?”
“Girl, don’t you read your e-mail? Our big boss in the state capital decided she wanted to have a get-together honoring Robin’s memory. It’s this afternoon at four.”
“Where?”
“Judge West’s courtroom. And Judge Steele is going to speak. Meg Adler says we all got to be there.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Alex walked down the hall to Robin’s office. Meg Adler was there, packing up Robin’s personal possessions, depositing her photographs of family and friends into a cardboard box. Buried on Sunday. Expunged on Tuesday. She cringed at how swiftly the world left the dead behind.
“What are you doing?”
Though it was obvious and Alex knew it had to be done, she had to ask, registering a small protest with her question, clinging to Robin however she could.
Meg looked up. “We need this office. I called Robin’s oldest, Donny. He seems to be the one handling things for the family. I asked him what he wanted us to do with Robin’s things and he said to box them up and send them to the house.”
Alex nodded. “I can drop them off.”
“That would be great. Have a seat. There’s something I want to talk with you about.”
Alex took a chair across from Robin’s desk. “What’s up?”
“They want me back in St. Louis next Monday.”
“Okay. Is the director sending in another interim?”
“She’d like to avoid that. We’re short staffed in every office as it is. But she has to conduct a search to fill the position and that’s going to take some time.”
“So what’s the plan?”
Meg smiled. “The director would like you to be the interim.”
Alex’s jaw dropped. “Me? Are you kidding? I’m a trial lawyer, not an administrator.”
“So was Robin before she started running this office. Turns out that Robin was planning on retiring at the end of the year and she’d already recommended you as her replacement. I’ve talked to everyone around here, and they’d like to see you in the job.”
Meg’s offer came at Alex faster than she could process it, as if she was hearing part of the discussion instead of getting the big picture. She was flattered but didn’t like that Meg had floated her name without her permission, making her feel like she was trapped.
“You asked them before you asked me if I was even interested? What if I’m not? If I say no, everyone will think I let them down, and if the new boss is a jerk, they’ll blame me for not taking the job.”
“It wasn’t like that at all. My first day here, I said I was going to talk to everyone to get a feel for the office. I asked them what kind of person they wanted to run the show and whether there was anyone they’d recommend. I never suggested you because I didn’t want to bias what they told me, but you were the clear favorite. I would have asked you too, but you’ve been pretty scarce.”
Alex stood and looked out the window, past the office towers, past the Missouri River, past the horizon. Her life had never been more unsettled, and Meg’s offer had knocked one more pin out from under her.
“I don’t know what to say.”
Meg joined her at the window, putting her hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Say that you’ll do it. And say that you’ll apply for the permanent position. That will make the search go a lot faster and reassure the lawyers and the staff.”
Alex forced a weak smile. More pressure, just what she needed.
“Can I think about it for a few days?”
“Of course. Let me know by Friday. If you’re not interested, I have to tell St. Louis that I’m staying and then I have to go buy more underwear. And you might as well take that box. I’m done with it.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Judge West’s courtroom was crowded, a few bodies shy of shoulder to shoulder, a testament to how well liked and respected Robin was. From the number of lawyers and judges milling around, Alex figured the wheels of justice had ground to a halt.
Off to one side, she saw Kalena Greene and her boss, Tommy Bradshaw, chatting with Lee Goldberg, who ran the local Innocence Project. Goldberg was his usual histrionic self, arms flapping as he spoke. Kalena caught Alex’s attention, rolling her eyes at Goldberg, and Alex pointed to a vacant spot at the back of the courtroom, gesturing to Kalena to join her. Kalena mouthed a thank-you and broke away.
“You rescued me,” Kalena said. “As far as Goldberg is concerned, the jails are filled with innocent people.”
“Including Jared Bell.”
“You’re worse than Goldberg. That case is tight.”
“The only reason it’s tight is that Rossi didn’t look past Jared.”
“You mean he didn’t look past your client after he confessed and after he was found in possession of a crucifix the victim was wearing when she was murdered and after the coroner found evidence of rape and after your client admitted having sex with her.”
“Consensual sex. He paid her with the crucifix, which I admit sounds creepy, and he took it back after he found her body because he intended to give it to Mathew Woodrell’s daughter, which I admit sounds even creepier.”
“Or crazy and crazier. Was Woodrell telling the truth about what happened to his daughter?”
“Let me put it this way. Jared told me the same story the army told Woodrell, and I believe Jared. He’s so fucked-up from the war he thought Joanie was Ali Woodrell. He was in love with Ali and never would have hurt her.”
“So what are you going to do? Use a post-traumatic stress disorder defense?”
“Only if I have to. He didn’t rape or kill Joanie Sutherland, which is why you’re going to end up dismissing the charges.”
Kalena laughed. “I think I was better off listening to Goldberg.”
“Laugh all you want now, because you won’t be laughing when I get your case tossed out at the preliminary hearing.”