Page 15 of Fade Out
“No. Well, yes, but… if you pay me then we’ll have privilege and I can’t tell the other person who’s paying me anything you and I discuss. What that means is I can only tell them what happens in court because it’s public. I can only tell them about the case against you, that’s public too. Other than that, I can only tell them things you direct me to tell them.”
Standing there, I tried to think. Around us, people rushed here and there trying to repair tragedies or avenge them. I was doing neither. If anything, I was trying to prevent a tragedy. I mean, it would be a tragedy if I went to prison, right? Mentally I knew it would be, but I wasn’t in a place to connect with it.
I was tempted to just go home and sit in my apartment until they came to take me away again. I wanted the world to go away or at least forget about me. I wanted to drink until I felt sick and then sleep until I felt better and start the whole process over again. Then I had a thought, one that just popped into my head like a pink grenade: Sugar Pilson France.
Sugar was the most likely person fronting my bond. I mean, my friend Brian had money too, but I didn’t think he had that much lying around. No, Sugar was the only person I knew who could comfortably drop a hundred grand. And if it was Sugar then I didn’t mind what Owen told her. He could tell her everything. I was fine with that. If it was Sugar, I had to at least try to get out of this mess.
I reached into the front pocket of my jeans and pulled out a five. I handed it to Owen.
“I said a dollar. But if you want to start out by overpaying me I won’t stop you.”
“I guess you’re my attorney.”
“Wonderful. I really need to run, darling. I have a car. Can I drop you?”
Normally, I might have stubbornly said no. He was my lawyer now but I was still pissed at him. However, a cab ride home from 26th and California would cost a fortune and public transportation to and from the courthouse was a disaster. A huge blunder in a city so well planned. Either that or a deliberate punishment imposed on the city’s impoverished criminal element.
I walked out of the building with Owen expecting to walk a couple of blocks to his car, but by car he’d meant limousine. It was sitting at the bottom of the courthouse steps. When he saw us the chauffeur jumped out and came around to open the back door.
Owen climbed in. I slid in after him.
Chapter Five
“Haveyou ever had sex in a limousine?” Owen asked as soon as he’d raised the partition behind the chauffeur.
“As a matter of fact, I have,” I said, truthfully.
“Yeah, me too.” After a moment, he said, “I suppose you’re still too angry to—”
“I’m not fucking you.”
He sighed dramatically. “Pity. Angry sex issofabulous.” We rode in silence for a bit. Then he said, “If we’re not going to have sex, we should probably talk about your case.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m being paid.” Of course, if we’d been having sex he’d have gotten paid for that too. So I didn’t quite see the problem in billing his client several hundred dollars an hour to ride silently in a limo.
“I’m going to ask you something Ineverever ask a client.”
“Oh goodie,” I said.
“Are you innocent?”
“Of course.”
“Ugh, that makes this so much harder.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“Guilty clients lie about everything, even things they don’t need to lie about. And when they get caught in a lie they just tell a new one. But an innocent client doesn’t lie about anything. So even one tiny little white lie will make you look guiltier than an actual guilty person telling lie after lie.”
There was, unfortunately, some sense in that.
“You’re going to say as little as possible,” he instructed.
“Fine by me.” Absolute silence would have been nice. I really wouldn’t have minded.
“So…who do we think the dead woman is?”
