Chapter 6

  

"H ERE’S A HEADLINE you’ll like." Anna tossed the A-section of Sunday’s LA Times across the patio table.

"Which one?" Lily quickly scanned the front page, watchful of a story on the Peyton Graves case. "Oh, I see it. ‘Earthquake prediction model faulty, geologist says’. That’s hilarious. You’re getting pretty good at this, Amazon."

"I had a good teacher." Anna grinned at her partner, who was buried in the state section. "Did you find anything today?"

"No, not yet. I’m not all the way through it, though." Every day for the past four weeks, Lily had scoured the paper for news. Little by little, evidence had been released that incriminated the two suspects: hair strands at the scene, traces of Graves’ blood found on Parker’s jeans, and pawn tickets among their things for items belonging to the murdered man. Neither suspect was cooperating with authorities.

"Could I interest you in–"

"Here’s something! It’s just a snippet, but I bet there’s more on the web. It says ‘San Francisco. A grand jury indictment in hand, District Attorney Warren Hasner has asked that a trial date be set for Kenneth McGinnis and Kristy Parker, both charged in the death of billionaire philanthropist Peyton Graves. Hasner indicated that the heinous nature of the crime warrants the death penalty for both suspects in the case.’ Good god, Anna. Kristy could get the death penalty."

Anna shook her head in disbelief. Neither woman cared much for the idea of capital punishment; the recognition that it could impact someone they indirectly knew made it especially distasteful.

"Easy, babe. She hasn’t even had a trial yet."

"You’ve seen the kind of evidence they have. It’s going to be pretty hard to explain it all away." Lily was resigned to her sister’s guilt, though in her heart of hearts, she’d hoped it had all been a big mistake.

  *  *  *

 

The attorney lugged her briefcase into her office and heaved it onto her desk. She’d had 13 placement reviews today, a new single-day record. Funny how part-time work could eat up 40 hours a week like this job sometimes did.

As far as scheduling, it was nice to know in advance that most of her children’s hearings would be on Thursdays in Judge Evans’ family court. Over the years, she’d developed a good working relationship with the irascible Rusty Evans, a grandfatherly sort with a real soft spot for the welfare of kids. Lily knew better than to enter his courtroom unprepared.

All in all, the attorney’s day had been successful. Most of the cases were run-of-the-mill, usually recommendations for continuation of current placements, though a couple were denied and the children were returned to their parents. She’d obtained speech therapy services for a girl in foster care, and gotten two of her charges wait-listed for group homes. The last case was unusual and brought a smile to her face as she recalled Judge Evans’ befuddled look as she made her request. She’d managed to secure a special provision that would allow a teenager currently finishing a long stint in a juvenile detention facility the space and time to practice his saxophone. A job in his cousin’s weekend wedding band awaited his release and that, she argued, might just be the best way to put distance between the youth and his gang activities.

"Here are your messages, Lily," Pauline said, handing her a small stack of the pink and blue forms. "Sandy called three times, but she was on her way to a training session the last time she called. She said she’d stop by your house tonight about eight if that was okay. Otherwise, just leave a message on her voice mail."

That’s odd. Lily couldn’t imagine what would be so important that it wouldn’t wait until tomorrow.

"Okay, thanks Pauline." The attorney deposited the files in her outbox so that their part-time clerk could transcribe her handwritten notes into the electronic version of the case files. With only 30 minutes before the close of business, she sat at her desk to return her other calls.

  *  *  *

 

"I’m next!" Lily announced from the kitchen as she heard her partner warmly greet the excited basset hound.

"Okay, but for the same treatment, you’ll have to lick my face too," the car dealer answered, following her nose to the boiling pot on the stove.

"On second thought, maybe I’ll pass. That dog licks his balls, you know, and if he’s been licking your face, I don’t think…”

"You’re disgusting," Anna replied, suddenly snaring the smaller woman and rubbing her slobbery cheeks all over Lily’s face.

"Ewwww! Lily finally squirmed free of the assault. "Ball face."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"What’s for dinner?"

"Meat balls and Brussels sprouts," the cook deadpanned.

"You’re disgusting," the car dealer repeated.

"Would you believe pasta primavera?"

"That’s better. I’ll set the table. Do I have time to change?" Anna carried plates, napkins and silverware to the breakfast nook. Unless they entertained indoors–which was exactly twice in the last two years–the dining room was wasted space, often littered with accounting printouts from Premier Motors.

"Sure, as long as you wash your face. Sandy’s coming by around eight."

"What for?"

"I don’t know. She left a message at work. Suzanne’s birthday’s next month, so maybe she wants to talk about a surprise party or something." If not something like that, Lily couldn’t imagine the reason for her friend’s seeming urgency. "Why don’t you set an extra place, in case she wants to join us?"

The hour came and went with no visitor. When they finished dinner, the pair cleaned up the kitchen and settled into their respective routines, Anna with her magazines and the Dodgers game on TV, Lily on the internet looking for news on the upcoming Graves trial.

It was closer to 8:30 when the social worker arrived, waving off the invitation for a bite to eat. Ushered into the family room, Sandy took a seat on the sofa beside her friend, her hand gripping a manila folder.

"So what’s up? We don’t often get the pleasure of your company." Anna discerned immediately from the look on Sandy’s face that this wasn’t a social call.

The social worker took a deep breath and began. "Lily, remember last month when you asked me to run that query on Kristy Parker?"

"Yeah." The blonde suddenly found her stomach in knots. She hoped her friend hadn’t gotten into trouble because of the favor.

"Well, after I gave you those reports, I never went back to see if there was anything else. So this morning, our IT guy was cleaning out the document queue, and he brought me two reports. There were a couple more hits for Kristy Parker." Nervously, Sandy opened the folder and pulled out the papers. "It looks like she has a little boy of her own, and he’s currently somewhere in the foster care system in San Francisco."