I find this incredibly insulting. I may have my faults, but it’s balderdash and poppycock to suggest that I don’t follow rules. I’ve devoted my entire life to just that, even when the rules are entirely unsuited to my constitution.
The young attorney is directed to speak on my behalf. He talks quickly and flails his arms dramatically. He explains to the judge that I have a squeaky-clean criminal record, that I lead a woefully uneventful life, am gainfully employed in a menial position offering zero flight risk, that I have never in all my years left the country and have occupied the same address for twenty-five years—ergo, my entire life.
In closing, he poses a question. “Does this young woman really fit the profile for a dangerous criminal and a runner? I mean, really. Take a good look at who you have in front of you. Something doesn’t add up.”
The judge’s froglike jowls are resting on his hands. His eyes are droopy and half-closed. “Who’s posting bail?” he asks.
“An acquaintance of the accused,” the young attorney answers.
The judge checks a paper in front of him. “Charlotte Preston?” The judge’s eyes open slightly and fall on me. “Friends in high places, I see,” he says.
“Not usually, Your Honor,” I answer. “But lately, yes. Also, I wish to apologize for my wholly inappropriate attire. I was arrested at my front door at an inopportune hour of the early morning and was not afforded a chance to dress in a respectful manner that befits your court.”
I don’t know if I was supposed to speak, but it’s too late now. My young attorney’s mouth is wide open, but he’s giving me no clues as to what I should do or say.
After a sizable pause, the judge speaks. “We won’t judge you on the basis of your teapots, Ms. Gray, but on your propensity to obey the rules and to stay put.” His impressive eyebrows undulate to accentuate his words.
“That’s welcome news, Your Honor. I’m actually quite gifted when it comes to obeying rules.”
“Good to know,” he replies.
The young attorney remains completely quiet. Since he’s not venturing a word in my defense, I carry on. “Your Honor, I consider myself most fortunate to have made a couple of friends several rungs above my station, but I’m just a maid, you see. A hotel maid. A wrongly accused one.”
“You’re not standing trial today, Ms. Gray. You understand that if we grant you bail, your movements will be restricted. Home, work, and the city only.”
“That accurately summarizes my circumnavigations up to this point in my life, Your Honor, minus travel and nature documentaries on TV, which I’m assuming don’t count since they occur from the relative comfort of an armchair. I have no intention nor financial ability to expand my geographic reach, nor would I know how to go about travel all on my own. I’d be worried I wouldn’t know the rules in a foreign place and that I’d make an…well, a fool of myself.” I pause, then realize my faux pas. “Your Honor,” I add hastily, with a quick curtsy.
One side of the judge’s long, amphibious mouth curls up into something resembling a smile. “I’d hate for anyone here today to be making a fool of themselves,” the judge says, then he looks at Detective Stark, who for the first time in the proceedings does not meet his eye.
“Ms. Gray,” the judge pronounces, “I hereby grant you your conditional bail. You’re free to go.”
Chapter 18
At long last, after many forms and formalities, I find myself sinking into the plush leather backseat of Charlotte Preston’s luxury car. Once I left the courthouse, I was passed off to a clerk who said she knew Charlotte well and would bring me safely to her. She escorted me to a back door, where Mr. Preston and his daughter, as they had promised, were waiting for me. They whisked me away in this car. I am free, for now at least.
The dashboard of Charlotte’s car tells me it’s one p.m. I believe this vehicle is a Mercedes, but given that I’ve never owned a car myself and only ride in them on rare occasions, I’m not up on the finer brands. Mr. Preston sits in the passenger seat while Charlotte drives.
I’m tremendously grateful to be in this car rather than in court or in the filthy basement holding cell in the police station. I suppose I should focus on the bright side rather than on the unpleasantness. This day has afforded me many new experiences, and Gran used to say that new experiences open doors that lead to personal growth. I’m not sure that I’ve enjoyed the doors that have opened today, nor the experiences I’ve had, but I do hope they lead to personal growth in the long run.
“Dad, you have Molly’s phone and keys, right?”
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Preston says. “Thank you for reminding me.” He removes them from his pocket and passes them back to me.
“Thank you, Mr. Preston,” I say.
Only then does it occur to me. “May I ask where we’re going?”
“To your home, Molly,” Charlotte said. “We’re going to take you home.”
Mr. Preston turns around in the passenger seat to meet my eye. “Now, don’t you worry, Molly,” he says. “Charlotte’s going to help you out, pro bono, and we won’t stop until everything’s back to normal, tickety-boo.”
“But what about the bail?” I ask. “I don’t have anywhere near that kind of money.”
“That’s okay, Molly,” Charlotte says, never taking her eyes off the road. “I don’t actually have to pay that, only if you run away.”
“Well, I’m not about to do that,” I say, leaning into the space between the two front seats.
“Sounds like old Judge Wight figured that out fairly quickly, or so I’m told,” Charlotte says.
“How did you hear that so fast?” Mr. Preston asks.
“The clerks, the assistants, the court reporters. People talk. Treat them well and they give you the inside scoop. Most attorneys walk all over them, though.”
“The way of the world,” Mr. Preston says.
“I’m afraid so. They also said Judge Wight was in no rush to release Molly’s name to the press. Sounds to me like he knows Stark’s chasing the wrong fox.”
“I don’t know how any of this could have happened,” I say. “I’m just a maid, trying to do my job to the best of my abilities. I’m…I’m not guilty of any of these charges.”
“We know that, Molly,” Mr. Preston says.
“Sometimes life isn’t fair,” Charlotte adds. “And if there’s one thing I’ve learned over years of practice, it’s that there’s no shortage of criminals out there who will prey on a person’s difference for their personal gain.”
Mr. Preston turns around in his seat again to look at me. Deep wrinkles have emerged on his forehead.
“Life must be hard without your gran,” he says. “I know you relied on her a lot. You know, she asked me to look out for you, before she passed.”
“Did she?” I say. How I wish she were here. I look out the window through the tears that have formed in my eyes. “Thank you. For looking out for me,” I say.
“That’s quite all right,” Mr. Preston replies.
My building comes into view, and I’m fairly certain that I’ve never been happier to see it.
“Do you think it’s appropriate for me to go to work today as usual, Mr. Preston?”
Charlotte turns to her dad, then looks back to the road ahead.
“I’m afraid not, Molly. It will be expected that you take some time off,” Mr. Preston says.
“Would it not be correct to call Mr. Snow?”
“No, not in this case. It’s best right now not to contact anyone at the hotel.”
“There’s visitors’ parking at the back of my building,” I say. “I’ve never used it, as the visitors Gran and I used to receive were mostly Gran’s friends and none of them had vehicles.”