This was no place for Cara. This was not even a place for her picture. I was pawing through the messages when something caught my eye.
My secretary uses the old-fashioned pink note sheets, the ones where she can keep a yellow copy in her book, and writes the messages by hand. Her handwriting is impeccable.
The caller, according to my pink message, was:
Lucy??
I stared at the name for a moment. Lucy. It couldn't be.
There was a work number, a home number and a mobile. All three had area codes that indicated Lucy Double-Question-Mark lived, worked and, uh, mobilized in New Jersey.
I grabbed the phone and hit the intercom. "Jocelyn?"
"Yes?"
"I'm seeing a message here from someone named Lucy," I said.
"Yes. She called about an hour ago."
"You didn't write a last name."
"She wouldn't give one. That's why I put the question marks."
"I don't understand. You asked her for a last name and she wouldn't give one?" "That's right." "What else did she say?" "On the bottom of the page." "What?" "Did you read my notes on the bottom of the page?"
No. She just waited, not saying the obvious. I scanned down the sheet and read:
Says she's an old friend from twenty years ago.
I read the words again. And again.
"Ground control to Major Cope."
It was Muse. She hadn't said the words-she sang them, using the old David Bowie tune. I startled up. "You sing," I said, "like you pick out shoes." "Very funny." She gestured at my message and arched one eyebrow. "So who is this Lucy, big guy? An old lover?" I said nothing. "Oh, damn." Her arched eyebrow dropped. "I was just messing around. I didn't mean to…"
"Don't worry about it, Muse."
"Don't you worry about it either, Cope. At least not until later."
Her gaze turned to the clock behind me. I looked too. She was right. Lunch was over. This would have to wait. I didn't know what Lucy wanted. Or maybe I did. The past was coming back. All of it. The dead, it seemed, were digging their way out of the ground now.
But that was all for later. I grabbed the fax and stood.
Muse rose too. "Showtime," she said.
I nodded. More than showtime. I was going to destroy those sons of bitches. And I was going to try like hell not to enjoy it too much.
On the stand after lunch, Jerry Flynn looked fairly composed. I had done little damage in the morning. There was no reason to think the afternoon would be any different.
"Mr. Flynn," I began, "do you like pornography?"
I didn't even wait for the obvious. I turned to Mort Pubin and made a sarcastic hand gesture, as though I had just introduced him and was ushering him onstage.
"Objection!"
Pubin didn't even need to elaborate. The judge gave me a disapproving look. I shrugged and said, "Exhibit eighteen." I picked up the sheet of paper. "This is a bill sent to the fraternity house for online expenses. Do you recognize it?"
He looked at it. "I don't pay the bills. The treasurer does."
"Yes, Mr. Rich Devin, who testified that this is indeed the fraternity bill."
The judge looked over to Flair and Mort. "Any objection?"
"We will stipulate that it is a bill from the fraternity house," Flair said. "Do you see this entry here?" I pointed to a line near the top.
Yes.
"Can you read what it says?"
"Netflix."
"That's with one 'x' at the end." I spelled "Netflix" out loud. "What's Netflix, if you know?"
"It's a DVD rental service. You do it through the mail. You get to keep three DVDs at all times. When you mail one back, you get another sent to you."
"Good, thank you." I nodded and moved my fingers down a few rows. "Could you read this line to me?"
He hesitated.
"Mr. Flynn?" I said.
He cleared his throat. "HotFlixxx," he said.
"With three x's at the end, correct?" Again I spelled it out loud.
"Yes."
He looked as though he was about to be sick.
"Can you tell me what HotFlixxx is?"
"It's like Netflix," he said.
"It's a DVD movie rental service?"
Yes.
"How is it different from Netflix, if you know?"
He turned red. "They rent, uh, different kinds of movies."
"What kind?"
"Urn, well, adult movies."
"I see. So before I asked if you liked pornography-perhaps a better question would have been, do you ever watch pornographic movies?"
He squirmed. "Sometimes," he said.
"Nothing wrong with that, son." Without looking behind me, knowing he was up, I pointed at opposing counsel s chair. "And I bet Mr. Pubin is standing to tell us he enjoys them too, especially the plots."
"Objection!" Pubin said. "Withdrawn," I said. I turned back to Flynn. "Is there any porno graphic movie in particular that you like?"
The color drained from his face. It was as if the question had turned a spigot. His head swiveled toward the defense table. I moved just enough to block his view. Flynn coughed into his fist and said, "Can I plead the Fifth?"
"For what?" I asked.
Flair Hickory stood. "The witness has asked for counsel."
"Your Honor," I said, "when I went to law school, we learned that the Fifth Amendment was to be used to prevent self-incrimination and-correct me if I'm wrong here-but, well, is there a law on the books against having a favorite pornographic movie?"
Flair said, "Can we have a ten-minute recess?"
"No way, Your Honor."
"The witness," Flair went on, "has asked for counsel."
"No, he didn't. He asked to plead the Fifth. And tell you what, Mr. Flynn-I will give you immunity." "Immunity for what?" Flair asked. "For whatever he wants. I don't want this witness off the stand." Judge Pierce looked back at Flair Hickory. He took his time. If Flair got ahold of him, I would be in trouble. They would come up with something. I glanced behind me at Jenrette and Marantz. They hadn't moved, hadn't warned counsel.
"No recess," the judge said.
Flair Hickory wilted back into his seat.
I went back to Jerry Flynn. "Do you have a favorite pornographic movie? "No," he said.
"Have you ever heard of a pornographic movie called"-I pretended now to be checking a piece of paper but I knew the name by heart-"a movie called Romancing His Bone?"
He must have seen it coming, but the question still zapped him like a cattle prod. "Uh, can you repeat that title?"
I repeated it. "Have you seen or heard of it?"
"I don't think so."
"Don't think so," I repeated. "So you may have?"
"I'm not sure. I'm not good with movie titles."
"Well, lets see if I can refresh your recollection."
I had the fax Muse had just given me. I passed a copy to opposing counsel and made it an exhibit. Then I started back in: "According to HotFlixxx, a copy of that DVD had been in the possession of the fraternity house for the past six months. And again according to HotFlixxxs records, the movie was mailed back to them the day after Ms. Johnson reported the assault to the police."
Silence.
Pubin looked as though he'd swallowed his tongue. Flair was too good to show anything. He read the fax as though it were an amusing ditty from The Family Circus.
I moved closer to Flynn. "Does that refresh your memory?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? Then let's try something else."
I looked toward the back of the room. Loren Muse was standing by the door. She was grinning. I nodded. She opened the door and a woman who looked like a gorgeous Amazon in a B movie stepped forward.
Muse's private eye, Cingle Shaker, strutted into the room as if it were her favorite watering hole. The room itself seemed to gasp at the sight.
I said, "Do you recognize the woman who just walked into the room?"