Dark Moon, A Work in Progress, Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

Judge Jay Steven Tyler III’s court clerk, a harried middle aged woman in an ill-fitting black suit whose phone would not stop ringing, insisted between phone calls that Sarah would have to come back on Monday when she filed her ex parte motion to appoint an expert at one o’clock that afternoon.

“His Honor is presiding over a trial until four o’clock. He can’t hear your matter today.”
“It’s an emergency. It will only take five minutes of his time.”
“I can’t promise anything. If you want to sit in on his trial and see if he has a break when he is willing to hear you, you can do that. But, again, no guarantees.”
Sarah hated the idea of waiting three hours with no promise of any results, but she needed to get Jordan Stewart started on this case right away. So she tucked herself into a spot in the back of the courtroom watching a deputy district attorney and a public defender go at it over a gang shooting as she studied Judge Tyler. He was in his late fifties, with thinning gray hair, and a sharp face. His nose came to a point like a bird’s beak. He frowned a great deal at his computer screen as he observed it through the half-glasses perched on his nose. He barked at both lawyers from time to time, and Sarah decided she had her work cut out for her. Either this judge lived in a state of permanent irascibility, or he was having a bad day. Still, no one ever denied a motion to appoint a defense psychological expert when the issue was competency.
After an hour and a half, the court recessed for a break; and Sarah hurried up to the bench to make her request.
Judge Tyler gave his clerk a puzzled look. “Who’s this?”
“Sarah Knight, Your Honor. She’s here on an emergency ex parte motion in the Alexa Reed case.”
The judge stared down at Sarah, who was standing behind the lectern recently vacated by the other attorneys. He was sizing her up.
“You’re new in this courtroom.”
“I am, Your Honor.”
“Well, then, here’s some information. I only hear ex parte motions on the morning docket call. This is not the morning, and this is not a docket call.”
Sarah struggled to keep her anger out of sight. “I understand. But I’ve only been on this case a week, there are barely three weeks before the competency hearing, and I need an expert right away.”
Judge Tyler frowned. She could tell he was weighing his options. He would have to hear her motion; maybe he would just decide to get it over with.
“Well, not now. We are on a short break as you can see. If there is time at four o’clock, we can go in chambers, and I’ll listen. But no promises.”
Sarah suppressed a sigh and resumed her spot in the back of the courtroom. Waiting gave her time to wish she hadn’t turned Jim down for dinner and time to regret a weekend with David.
The gang expert finished droning on about “snitches” and “respect” at four fifteen. The judge apologized to the yawning jurors and sent everyone home. Sarah held her breath, hoping for the summons to his chambers to hear her motion. As His Honor stood up from the bench, he looked over the top of his glasses and saw her in the back of the courtroom.
“You’re still here.”
“I am, Your Honor.”
“Well, come into chambers. We might as well get it over with.”
The deputy district attorney and the public defender gave her sympathetic looks as she followed the judge out of the courtroom. They think he’s going to tear me apart, Sarah thought as she entered the judge’s chambers.
The room overlooked a parking lot at the back of the courthouse. It wasn’t well lit, and it was littered with books and paper from one end to the other. She thought of Hal Remington’s messy office and wondered if clutter was endemic to San Diego attorneys and judges.
Judge Tyler motioned for her to sit down, and she took the only empty chair. He hung up his robes and sat down at his desk. She said nothing while he read her motion through his half glasses.
After he had scanned through it, he said, “Put this together in a hurry, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Talked to Percy Andrews this morning, you say in here?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“And obviously you didn’t like what he said.”
“He isn’t basing his opinion on the facts.”
“And you say the facts are you have a catatonic client who hasn’t spoken since June 17.”
“Actually the jail records and her medical records say that.”
Judge Rodgers heaved a world weary sigh. “Motion denied.”
Sarah’s blood ran cold. “I’m sorry, Your Honor, did you say ‘denied’?”
“In plain English. I’ve heard your motion, now I have to beat the Friday afternoon traffic to La Mesa.”
“But Your Honor–”
“You aren’t from around here, are you Ms. Knight?”
“I grew up here, but I moved to New York at the beginning of my legal career.”
“You were in one of those fancy Wall Street firms, weren’t you?”
“Craig, Lewis, and Weller, Your Honor.”
“Like I said, fancy Wall Street firm. Our legal community is different, Ms. Knight. Percy Andrews has been doing evaluations for thirty years. Any judge in this courthouse will trust his opinion.”
“But he’s biased. Ronald Brigman was his friend and colleague.”
“So what? It doesn’t matter because your client is very guilty. Motion denied, Ms. Knight. Have a good weekend.”
* * *
David had invited her for dinner at his mansion in Rancho Sante Fe at eight. She parked in the gravel circle in front of the mock-French chateau, done in ubiquitous west coast beige stucco instead of sandstone, and surveyed the acre of manicured lawns and imported palms that surrounded the house. Jim’s cheerful red begonias were on her mind. Did he garden in his spare time? How had he chosen that particular shade of green for his house? Why didn’t he turn all his father’s money into a grand estate like this one? But she knew the answer: because he didn’t need ostentation to be happy.
David met her at the front door. He was tanned, fifty, and in top shape because his personal trainer worked him out six days a week. His close cropped blonde hair refused to go gray. He was handsome in the older Robert Redford way. When he met her in the marble entrance hall and gave her his signature Hollywood-style greeting, a hug and kiss on both cheeks, she noticed he didn’t reach Jim’s six feet.
“Hey, babe. Missed you. Come have a drink on the terrace while Michelle finishes up dinner.”
Sarah followed him outside where a bottle of champagne waited, wondering how David’s personal chef would stack up to Jim’s cooking.
“No champagne tonight. It hasn’t been a celebration sort of day.”
David arched an eyebrow, another annoying trait. She assumed he used it to intimidate his business staff, but she was beyond those kinds of tactics. “Scotch, then?”
“A good cabernet would be fantastic.”
David summoned his butler to fulfill her request and poured bubbly for himself.
“Well, I’m going to celebrate Tessa finally deciding to leave for Cabo. I thought she’d never go.”
“Do you think she called off the trip because she knows about us?” Sarah gratefully took her glass of wine from the long suffering Sam and took a big sip.
David shrugged. “Who knows? Who cares?”
“I thought you cared. Divorce would be extraordinarily expensive.”
He waived his hands. “Tessa hasn’t the guts to file for divorce, and she loves her lifestyle far too much. What we need to do is find her a boy toy to keep her occupied. Then we could spend a lot more time together.”
How did I get involved with this man, Sarah asked herself. But she knew very well. He was superficial enough to be someone she’d decided to have sex with.
Which was the subject on his mind at that moment. “Come on, baby. Let’s have a quickie before dinner.”
* * *
Sarah woke at midnight in David’s canopied four-poster guest room where he slept beside her. She refused to sleep in the bed he shared with his wife.
She got up, wrapped herself in a white silk robe, and crossed the room to the French doors, open into the cool, deep blue August night. She sat down in one of the chairs on the terrace that ran the length of the back of the house, and stared up at the stars and the newly waning moon in the soft night air. Her ghosts surrounded her, and she couldn’t push them away.
“I don’t want to be here,” she told the Universe.
“‘Here’ as in ‘here with David’ or ‘here’ as ‘at this point in your life’?” the stars responded.
“Both.”
“Well, the David part you can fix in a heartbeat. The other part is going to take some time.”
“I don’t want to go through that.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
She heard the sheets rustle, and then David called out, “Where are you, babe?”
“Out here.”
He got up and pulled on his own robe and came outside. He looked puzzled. “What are you doing outside? Come back to bed.”
Sarah shook her head. “Not yet. I need time to think.”
“About what?” He pulled her to her feet and tried to kiss her, but she turned her head away. He wasn’t happy. “Hey! What’s this? Don’t waste the little time we have by being moody.”
“I’m not moody. I’ve just gotten this new big case, and there was a hearing today that didn’t go well. I’m upset.”
“Hey! Remember the rules. No wife-talk. No work-talk.”
I remember, Sarah thought. I made those up. And now I regret them because I need someone to talk to. And you are not that someone.
“Come on, back to bed.”
She let him lead her out of the cool night, away from the friendly stars and the moon, into the bedroom where she didn’t resist when he went through the motions of sex one more time. She wanted to go home, but it would upset more apple carts if she did than if she just stayed until morning. It was what he expected, and it was easier just to go along. When he was quiet at last and ready to sleep again, Sarah lay awake and watched the stars through the open doors and thought about Jim.