Page 95 of A Dead End Wedding

I waved a hand in dismissal of Addison Langley and his condescending ways. "Who cares? We'll withdraw the motion if he actually serves the discovery. We did intake on twenty-four new cases today. At least a half-dozen were about collecting disability or unemployment benefits, which I know squat about and should probably start researching right now."

I closed my eyes and started neck rolls to ease the tension. "But all I want to do right now is go take a long bath and go to bed. Or go to the air mattress. Oh, crap!" I smacked myself in the head. "I totally forgot about calling the moving company. I'm never going to get my stinking furniture."

"I called them," Max said. "No news. They're hoping he'll call his mom for her birthday this weekend, so she can figure out where the heck he is."

"Argh!" I pounded my head against the back of the couch a few times. "What did I do to deserve this? I need my furniture!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the front door swing open. "I thought we locked that?"

An enormous, bushy head peered around the edge of the door about a foot higher than you'd expect a head to be. I stared in surprise as the biggest man I'd ever seen outside of the movies walked in. "Hello? Is this where December Vaughn works? I'm Bear Anderson, and the folks over at Legal Aid sent me over. Is it too late?"

Mr. Ellison whistled. "What'd you do, son? Sit on somebody and squash the life outta them?"

Even as I shushed Mr. Ellison, I could understand why he'd asked. Bear was nearly seven feet tall and probably three feet wide across the chest. He wore a t-shirt with a giant panda bear on it and a pair of denim shorts, plus running shoes. He had bushy red hair and a bushy red beard, and thoughts of the books I'd read as a kid about Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, and the mountain men flashed into my mind.

That and Paul Bunyan.

Bear's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "No, I took a really pretty lamp home for Grandma, but I guess I didn't pay for it." He looked down at the cap he was twisting in his hands. "I kinda get forgetful and do that sometimes. I guess they're planning to prosecute me this time. But I always give it back!"

I dragged myself up out of my chair and tried to look perky.

Or awake, even.

"Sure, Mr. Anderson. Why don't you come on back and let's see what we can figure out."

Max sat up straight in her chair, eyes narrowing suspiciously as she gave Bear the once-over. "I'll just wait out here for you, December. Waiting for my large police officer boyfriend, who will be here in a few minutes, to pick me up."

I turned my head so Bear couldn't see me and hissed at her. "Nice. Subtle, even."

She hissed back. "So you want me to leave you alone here withhim?"

"Don't even think about it."

15

"Please tell me exactly what happened, Mr. Anderson," I said, trying to find a clean legal pad amidst the piles of new files on my desk. It had been a really, really long day.

"Call me Bear, please, ma'am," he said. For such an enormous guy, he had a gentle voice. Gentle blue eyes, too. Bear didn't look like somebody I needed to be worried about, although each of his biceps was as big around as my waist.

Plus, there was the panda bear on the shirt. Not a lot of crazed serial killers wear those, I was betting.

"Okay, Bear. Call me December."

"Like the month? That's really neat," he said, beaming. The expression "gentle giant" came to mind.

"Thanks, I like it. Or at least I do now. School was tough. Now, let's talk about your case. What exactly happened?"

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain," he said, apparently suddenly fascinated with his shoes.

I leaned forward and caught his gaze. "It's okay. I'm a good listener."

"Um, okay. I saw a real pretty lamp at the Lighting Shack store, but I waited and waited, and nobody would talk to me. There was a girl talking on the phone," he stopped talking and his eyes widened. "I think she was talking to her boyfriend. She kept yelling about 'that slut, that slut,' and the s-word is bad, isn't it?"

I nodded slowly, thinking that poor Bear's brain hadn't grown at quite the pace his body had. Did he even have the capacity to form intent? I grabbed a pen off the desk and starting taking notes.

1. INTENT? CAPACITY? [WHAT AM I DOING WITH A CRIMINAL CASE WHEN I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT CRIMINAL LAW?]

"Mr. Anderson, maybe we should back up a minute. I'm a civil lawyer. Do you know what that is?"

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