Witness for the Persecution, page 26
I gestured to Trench to step away. ‘Lieutenant, may I have a word?’ I thought he’d like it if I said it in as formal a manner as possible.
He tilted his head. ‘Ms Moss.’
Patrick and Angie backed off as Trench and I found a safe haven behind the temporary police tape, beyond which I could see Robert Reeves actually getting into the ambulance to accompany his wife to the emergency room and then, presumably, jail.
‘Lieutenant,’ I said, ‘I had a feeling during this case that you … disapproved of me.’
Trench’s eyes, never exactly huge, narrowed a bit. ‘Is there a question in there, Counselor?’
‘I respect you and don’t want you to disapprove,’ I said carefully. ‘I wanted to know why you stopped talking to me.’
‘Ms Moss,’ the cop said, ‘I believe your estimation of the time I spend thinking about you might be a trifle inflated.’
‘Come on, Trench. You practically threw me out of your office and then you sent Sergeant Roberts with messages. You wanted me to know you thought I was doing something wrong. I’d like to know what.’
Trench looked up at the night sky, or what can be seen of it in a town this well-lit. He breathed in what had, in 1878, been fresh air. ‘Ms Moss, it is possible that in our early conversations about this case you were less than completely serious about the circumstances surrounding a man’s death and the person accused of causing it. It is possible that I thought you were not putting all your best effort into it and anything less than total professionalism tends to rankle me just a bit. Is that what you meant?’
I let him stand there without an answer for a few seconds then folded my arms. ‘Is it also possible that you had been pressured into charging Robert Reeves when you didn’t think he was guilty and you were concerned that my lack of total professionalism might end up with an innocent man you arrested going to jail for a long time? Is that possible?’
‘This is LA, Ms Moss. Everything is possible.’
FORTY-THREE
The movie was shown that night but I don’t remember any of it. I’d seen it before anyway and only watched Patrick because he’s Patrick. We said our goodbyes to our friends at a brief party afterward (which we attended so Patrick could make the rounds and perhaps make a connection for a more serious role next time) and left for Patrick’s house, where the ‘staff’ of two people had been given the night off.
Conglomerate Pictures, the studio behind Desert Siege, had sent over a bottle of very good champagne, so Patrick and I were on the sofa in front of a fire we didn’t need for warmth, drinking the wine and not saying much. We kissed for a while recreationally. I felt very comfortable in his arms and liked the way he brushed my hair out of my eyes.
‘So what do you think?’ he asked out of nowhere.
I knew what he meant. ‘What do I think about what?’
‘You know perfectly well what. I’ve asked you again and again. This is the last time I’ll ask. What do you think about moving in here with me? You have me under oath swearing I won’t suddenly stop being interested in you, so this is it. Will you move in here or not?’
I closed my eyes for a moment. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been thinking about it. ‘No,’ I said.
Patrick sat back on the sofa and a little champagne spilled on his shirt. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘I won’t move in here, Patrick. The place is cavernous, it’s intimidating and it’s all yours. I think we should have a place that’s ours.’
Patrick blinked three times. ‘So you will move in, but not here?’ he asked.
‘That’s what I just said, isn’t it?’
He leaned forward and took me into his arms again, but tighter. I didn’t mind that at all. After a while he laughed lightly. ‘You know, you stage-managed that moment beautifully. That was as Hollywood a thing as I’ve ever seen you do.’
‘I know.’ I pulled him in a little closer. ‘I think I’m starting to get the hang of this.’
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Sandy Moss: A lawyer in Los Angeles transplanted from New Jersey
Angie: Sandy’s best friend from Jersey, who came out to LA to visit and stayed
Patrick McNabb: Famous TV actor whom Sandy defended successfully in a murder trial
Detective Lieutenant K.C. Trench: LAPD homicide detective
Nate Garrigan: An investigator sometimes employed by Sandy’s law firm
Holiday Wentworth: Sandy’s immediate superior at the firm
Cynthia Sutton: Patrick’s sister, also an actor
Judge Walter Franklin: Judge, duh
Judge Crater: Mysterious figure of the 1930s, not appearing in this book
Jon Irvin: Sandy’s associate
Robert Reeves: Sandy’s client, film director and egomaniac
Herbert Bronson: Reeves’s former attorney
Jim Drake: Dead stuntman
Burke Henderson: Stunt coordinator
Penny Kanter: Reeves’s assistant
Justin Renfro: Assistant DA prosecuting Reeves
Patricia (‘Tracy’) Reeves, née Alice Virginia Mandrill: Robert Reeves’s fourth wife
Dr Sidney Chao: Psychiatric expert witness
Stacy Reeves: Robert Reeves’s other wife
Marta Drake: The victim’s (estranged) wife
Brady O’Toole: Construction equipment expert
Samuel J. Cogley: (Alleged) mob attorney
Janine McKenzie: Seaton, Taylor receptionist
Margaret Houlihan: Craft services worker and videographer
Michael Armbruster: Security chief
AUTHOR’S NOTES
Sandy Moss came about because of a number of people, not the least of whom is my wife the ex-prosecutor who is, to be honest, nothing like Sandy at all, but is a wonderful role model.
First among the people I must thank is Penny Isaac, the copy editor who makes sure all my typos, misspellings and idiot mistakes are corrected before you get to see them. Sorry about the joke on your name, Penny. Sandy gets a little snarky and forgets briefly who her friends are.
Of course thank you to all at Severn House, particularly Rachel Slatter, Natasha Bell and for the last time Kate Lyall Grant, for believing in Sandy and Patrick and wanting to know what happens next. If only I knew.
My agent and friend Josh Getzler and the team at HG Literary are without question to blame for you reading about Sandy and her posse because I would have given up on the first book in this series long ago but he just wouldn’t. It didn’t hurt that it was my wife’s favorite of everything I’ve ever written.
I don’t claim to be an expert on film production, construction cranes, hydrochloric acid or anything else technical that happens in this book. So please assume that whatever I said about those things is wrong, and what are you doing trying to find out how to drop a man from the top of a crane, anyway?
These past couple of years have been rough on everybody. There have been sacrifices we’ve all had to make and we haven’t been able to spend as much time together as we wish we could. For a writer, being stuck at home is nothing new; we work by ourselves in little rooms pretty much all the time. But this has been different and it’s been scary and frustrating and has in some cases brought out the best and the worst in those we know. Keep in mind that some of ‘the worst’ is because everybody else is scared and frustrated too. But we’ll get through it because we really just don’t have another choice.
Thank goodness, then, for email and texting and my writer friends who help me get through not just the process of making a (hopefully) coherent mystery novel but also life as it happens. I’m not going to name people here because I’ll leave someone out by accident and feel horrible about it every time I see this page for the rest of my life. But you guys know who you are, and you are valued and loved. If you just read this and thought, ‘I wonder if he’s talking about me,’ yes I am.
To the librarians: Since we spoke last my son has joined your ranks, having earned his master’s degree in information library science and gotten his first job in the field. I’ve always appreciated librarians and now it’s possible I appreciate them just a little more.
Readers. Ah, readers. Please know that you are constantly being thought and worried about as these books are being created, because you are the people I’m hoping to reach. If this is your first book of mine, welcome and thank you. If it’s the 28th, wow it’s been some ride, hasn’t it? And we’re far from done.
E.J. Copperman
Deepest New Jersey
October, 2021
E. J. Copperman, Witness for the Persecution
