“Ah, Minnie?”
I went still. Gunnar Olson. What was he doing up at this hour, and even more so, what was he doing talking to me? I looked up. The big man was standing on the dock between our boats and holding a smoldering cigar.
“Uh, hello,” I said. Every window in my houseboat was open and Gunnar and I were maybe ten feet apart. One of the hazards of marina life was that if you weren’t careful, everyone heard everything.
Gunnar held the cigar to his lips and inhaled, making the dark orange coal burn bright. “You’re looking for a criminal attorney, I heard.”
For a second I couldn’t breathe. “I am. Yes.”
“And not for you.”
“No.”
He held out the cigar and studied its glowing end. “For Russell McCade. Also known as Cade.”
I could see where this was going and I didn’t like it one single bit. “Cade is completely innocent. I’m sure of it. It’s just a mix-up and if you breathe one word of this to anyone I’ll find an attorney of my own and see that you’re sued for slander and—”
“Hold on, missy, just hold on. I know you don’t like me and the feeling is mutual, but I’m a big fan of Cade’s work.”
“You… are?” I gave Eddie an absentminded pat, picked up my purse, and went out to the dock.
“First original art I ever bought was one of his early moonrises and it has appreciated in value ten times over.”
Now, that figured. Gunnar’s worldview was dollars and cents and—
“But I’d never sell it,” he said. “Not if it was my last possession on earth. I love that painting. Makes me feel young again. And I’d be honored to provide a little help to the man who painted it.”
I rearranged my open mouth to the shut position. “Right now he needs an experienced criminal lawyer.”
“Here.” He reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “You’re going to be talking to Daniel Markakis. He works in the Detroit area, but he’s got a summer place up here. I golfed with him yesterday, so I know he’s around.” He stabbed at the phone’s screen a few times and handed it over.
“I can call him at this time of night?” I asked.
Gunnar glanced at me. “He’s used to it. Tell him I gave you his number. Just leave the phone on the dock. I’ll get it later.” He turned to go, then stopped. “And don’t worry. I won’t say anything about this. McCade’s got a right to privacy, same as anybody else.”
“Hey, Gunnar?” I called softly. “Thanks.”
He gave a shrugging nod and waved, the cigar sketching a wide orange arc in the darkness, and headed down the dock to his boat.
I watched my cranky neighbor walk away. Truly, every human being was a mystery and we should never assume we know anything about anyone.
Then I turned my attention to the phone. “Mr. Markakis? I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, but Gunnar Olson lent me his phone and…”
• • •
When I opened the door to the small waiting room, Barb didn’t even glance up but continued to stare at the wall, barely breathing, hardly blinking. The day she’d flagged down the bookmobile, she’d worn the tight look of fear. Now she looked… empty, as if all her emotions had been played out and there was nothing left to feel.
“Barb?” I asked softly.
She came to life with a jerking start. “Minnie.” She stood, swayed a little, then came toward me. “So good of you to come,” she said, and enveloped me in a hug that I was glad to return.
When I felt her arms start to release me, I patted her shoulder and stepped back. “I found an attorney,” I said. “He should be here in fifteen minutes.” Or less, if he drove as fast as he’d vowed he would. It seemed wrong for a criminal attorney to promise to break speed limit laws, but I wasn’t going to tell him not to hurry.
“Oh, Minnie.” Barb put her hand to her mouth. She started to sway again and I guided her back to the chair in which she’d been sitting.
I sat next to her. “Now, I’ve never met this guy before, but a neighbor of mine recommended him.” I suddenly wondered why Gunnar happened to know a criminal attorney. I knew Gunnar was a loudmouthed, arrogant boor, but… I pushed the thought away. None of my business. And there were all sorts of ways they could know each other. Maybe they were cousins. Or worked in the same building. No reason to suspect that Gunnar had ever needed the services of a criminal attorney.
“What’s his name?” Barb asked.
“Markakis.”
Her eyes went wide. “Daniel Markakis?”
I nodded. “That’s it. Do you know him?”
“He was the lead attorney in that big murder case last winter. You remember.”
Kind of, sort of, but not really. I watched very little television, and local newspapers didn’t cover downstate news with much fervor.
“Daniel Markakis.” Barb shook her head and crumpled a little. “Hard to believe we need to hire a man like that.”
I spoke as gently as I could. “What happened?”
She got a faraway look. “I really don’t know. Cade’s been at Lakeview since Monday. Wait. I told you that at lunch.” She put her hands to her forehead. “I’m losing it,” she whispered. “I’m not sure how much more I can take.”
I hitched my chair closer to her and put my arm around her shoulders. “You’re doing fine,” I said. “Maybe you don’t feel at the top of your game, but you’re not sitting in the corner, curled into the fetal position and going catatonic.”
She snorted something that might have been a laugh. It probably wasn’t, but at least it wasn’t a sob. “Maybe when I get home.”
“Okay, then.” I gave her a one-armed hug. “Markakis is going to be here soon. I don’t know if he’ll want to talk to you or Cade first, but maybe it’ll help if you talk through what happened, just to get it straight in your head.”
“Yes. That’s a good idea.” She sat up a little straighter. “My phone rang about an hour ago. It was Cade, saying that he’d been taken into police custody.”
Her hands gripped each other so hard that the skin pushed up into tall wrinkles. “He’d left Lakeview,” she said. “Walked away in the middle of the night without telling anyone, without anyone knowing.”
I opened my mouth to ask how that could have happened, but managed to keep quiet. If it was important, I’d learn soon enough.
“Cade left Lakeview,” she went on, “and went to a house, a duplex. The police showed up on an anonymous nine-one-one call and found him over the body of a thirty-nine-year-old woman. She’d been killed by a blow to her head.” Barb put her hand to the back of her own head. “Cade was there. To the police it seemed obvious that he killed her, so they brought him here.”
She looked around the small bland room. “I’m in a police station at three thirty in the morning because my husband has been arrested for murder.” She choked out a laugh, but I sensed that it could turn into hysterical laughter in a heartbeat.
“But why was he there in the first place?” I asked.
Barb tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “I have no idea. Absolutely none.”
I swallowed. This wasn’t good. This really, truly wasn’t good. A zillion questions bounced around in my brain, but Barb wasn’t likely to have any of the answers. And even if she did, I didn’t want to trouble her by asking them. I was here to help, to be a friend, and that’s what I would stick to.
The waiting room door swung open so fast and so far that it banged against the wall. Two men strode in, one on the heels of the other. I assumed one was Daniel Markakis but had no clue who the other guy might be.
Both of them were fiftyish, both walked with confidence, and both wore expressions that said they had all the answers and would dole them out to us if we asked politely and were willing to pay.