Nine drinks? Eighteen to twenty ounces of vodka. She weighed about a hundred and thirty pounds. She was lucky to be alive.
After Hardy had driven her to the All-Day and she'd picked up her car, he had recommended that she take yet another sick day, go home and sleep. And that's what she'd done. After a six-hour rest, at around three o'clock, she called work and left the message that she'd be back in the office tomorrow.
Then, in jeans and a turtleneck sweater, she walked from her apartment down to the Marina green. The sun sparkled off the Bay, and though the breeze was light, it carried a chill. She crawled over some enormous breakwater boulders and sat invisible down in among the stones, facing the water and hugging herself for warmth. There, she cried herself out.
When she came back to her apartment, she found that Hardy had left a message. Glitsky really for truly did want a statement from her right away. The 707 hearing would be in five days, next Tuesday.
Five days.
She played the message again, thinking she couldn't have heard it right. But it sounded the same the second time. She sat in her chair and stared blankly out her window. Five days was impossible. She couldn't possibly prepare.
But apparently, that's all the time she had. The DA and perhaps the judge were sending a very clear message to her, venting the system's righteous pique. It wasn't going to be a matter of choice anymore, of what she'd prefer, of what she could work out with Brandt or Jackman. With the clock now ticking, she had to meet with the Norths, get together with Hardy, above all find out more about who Andrew really was. If she had only five days, she had to start now on some real defense that would be worthy of the name. Her hangover wasn't forgotten- her head still throbbed with a dull and persistent pain- but she couldn't allow herself the luxury of suffering. She had to go to work. Lifting the phone, she punched in the Norths' number.
Glitsky's demand for her statement, to the extent that it had registered as important at all, was nowhere among her priorities.
Linda North greeted her phone call warmly enough. After all, Wu had partially convinced them that she'd played a significant role in keeping Andrew in the juvenile system for the time being. At least he wasn't going to adult court yet and he still wasn't looking at life in prison. Wu's strategy had been harrowing and tense, but ultimately successful. They still had confidence in her.
But Linda had been just leaving the house to get her hair done when she picked up Wu's call. She told her that this wasn't really a good time. It was her regular weekly hair appointment, and if she missed it, Michael would simply give away the time forever to someone else and she'd have to rearrange her entire schedule. It was a pain, but that was how he was. All these artiste hairdressers were the same. She was sure Wu understood.
In any event, Hal couldn't come home right now anyway. He'd already missed a lot of work because of this whole problem with Andrew. And when he wasn't in the office, Linda told her, there were always problems. But if it was important and time-sensitive, Wu should just call Hal at work and meet with him there. He'd fill Linda in when they got together later.
Wu, trying to be flexible, had suggested that she meet them both at their home when Hal's work was done and she'd finished with her hair. But no. It wasn't a good night for that, either. Hal had some black-tie stag food-and-wine event. Linda was planning to see Andrew later on at the YGC, but if Wu needed to talk to one of them right away, she should really just go to Hal's office and talk with him there. That would work out. There wasn't any real crisis with Andrew or anything, was there? If not, Hal was better at details anyway. He would be the one to talk to. He and Linda had great communication and he'd keep her informed of anything Amy thought was important.
The headquarters of North Cinemas was located on Battery Street near the Embarcadero. The three-story building itself was large- it took up most of the block- with a long and low, modern look, brick and glass. Wu parked on-site under the building, in a reserved spot next to Hal's to which the attendant had directed her.
Still in her jeans and sweater- the Norths might not have been anxious to meet with her, but she'd left her own home in a hurry- she took the elevator to the top floor, then turned right and walked a long hallway covered with a soothing green industrial carpet. The walls were adorned on both sides with framed movie posters, dozens of them. Having checked in and been told by the polite, spike-haired young blond woman at the desk that Mr. North was expecting her and would be able to meet with her shortly, she waited in the cool and spacious reception area, flipping through the pages of Entertainment Weekly. Through the floor-to-ceiling tinted window, she looked across the bay to Treasure Island, then to Berkeley beyond. In the clear afternoon light, under the breeze-swept sky, both looked close enough to touch.
When she finished a cursory perusal of the magazine, she looked at her watch and frowned. Giving it one more minute, she ran out of patience, got up and walked to the reception desk again. "I'm sorry. Is Mr. North being held up?"
The young woman looked up. "I'm sure he's busy. He said he'd be right out."
"Yes, but I wonder if you would mind checking again. It's been fifteen minutes."
The woman lowered her voice, spoke conspiratorially. "Fifteen minutes is nothing."
Wu forced a tolerant smile. "I'm afraid it is to me. Would you mind trying him again please? Amy Wu."
She popped her gum and shrugged. "Sure. I remember." Pushing a few buttons on the console in front of her, she spoke into her headset. "Hal? Ms. Wu's still waiting." A pause. "Okay. Sure, I'll tell her." She ended the connection, looked at Wu. "He says two more minutes." But she held up her hand, opened and closed it twice slowly- the message clear. It was going to be closer to ten.
It was eight.
Projecting energy and command, Hal appeared from out of nowhere and suddenly was standing in front of where Wu sat. "Amy, sorry to have kept you. All kinds of madness going on back there. As usual. We're supposed to open the new Disney tonight and somehow somebody over in Walnut Creek lost six reels. Tell me where the hell you mislay six reels, I'd like to know. I gotta think somebody's stealin' them." She stood and they shook hands. "Anyway, I'm here now. What's the problem? I thought we were coasting on the legal stuff for a while until we got this next hearing scheduled. Is everything okay with Andrew?"
Wu was somewhat gratified to hear that both parents at least asked about Andrew's welfare. "Yes, sir. I think he's fine. I'm planning to go on up and see him after I leave here."
"Good. He told Linda he thinks you're upset with him, about what he did. He'll be glad to see you."
"So Linda already visited him today? She said she was going tonight, too."
"Did she? I don't know. What's today, Thursday? Thursday is normally her bridge group in the morning, I think, but maybe she went up. You'd have to ask her. Anyway. So what's up you need to see us all the sudden? You want to stay out here, by the way? Go in to my office? Whatever."
"Here is fine. I just wanted to tell you that they have scheduled the next hearing." She paused. "And it's for next Tuesday."
The slab face went into a shock riff. "Next Tuesday?" He counted silently to himself. "Five days. That's like it might as well be tomorrow, isn't it? I thought the courts liked to move slow on this stuff."
"Most of the time they do. In this case, the DA's mad Andrew didn't admit when he thought he was going to. He's expressing his displeasure."
"That's bullshit. Fuck him."
"Yes, sir."
Hal's scowl deepened, his voice suddenly harsh. "And I thought the plea change was part of your strategy all along. Now here we are sandbagged again. What's that about?"
Wu, expecting something like this, had prepared her reply. "It's about Allan Boscacci getting shot, sir. The whole thing would have rolled off his back I'm sure, but now we've got Clarence Jackman himself with his shorts in a twist. He's just asserting his authority. Anyway, I'm going to appeal the date, but my boss says it's not likely to change."