Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VON
A bell tinkles lightly as I enter the coffeeshop.
Perks is a cozy spot with small round tables and antique posters of French advertisements for coffee hanging on the cheerful blue walls. There’s a counter with a glass case showcasing pastries. An Asian woman with a flowery apron runs the espresso machine while a man I think is her husband takes orders. I remember them from the arraignment. They sat on the prosecution side.
I see Isla sitting with a stylish Latina woman at one of the tables. I wonder where Charlotte is. Isla waves at me happily, like she’s genuinely excited to see me. I walk over and take the empty seat.
“Hi,” Isla says.
“Hello,” I say.
“This is Charlotte.” She gestures to the woman beside her and my brain does a double take. This is Charlotte? She doesn’t look anything like the frumpy kindergarten teacher I had pictured. I try to think of the right word to describe her and hot is the only thing that comes to mind. Where Isla is ingenue-pretty, Charlotte is the vixen who shows up halfway through the movie to seduce the heroine’s man. Her thick black hair falls around her shoulders in heavy curls, her eyebrows arch seductively over deep brown eyes with thick lashes, and her lips are painted bright red. She wears a pair of high-waisted linen pants and a lemon-print crop top, with a pair of Michael Kors espadrilles. A closer glance tells me they’re knockoffs but still. She wears the shit out of them.
What is this creeping sensation in my stomach? Why does my face feel hot and my fingers cold? It’s great Noah is dating someone attractive. And if she’s a kindergarten teacher, she must be nice. Which means they make a good match.
“Right,” I say, inclining my head toward her. “Charlotte.”
Charlotte lets out a dry chuckle. “You have no fucking clue who I am, do you.”
Not the response I was expecting. “Of course I do. We went to elementary school together.”
Isla looks delighted. “That’s right!”
Charlotte folds her arms over her chest. “So,” she says. “Are you going to get Noah out of this fucking mess or what?”
Of course she’s protective of him. A muscle twitches at my right temple.
“You swear an awful lot for someone who teaches kindergarten,” I observe.
“Are we in a classroom right now?” she says.
“Char,” Isla says, pacifyingly.
“I’m glad you’re here, Charlotte,” I say, changing the subject. And though it’s the truth, it feels like a lie. I’d be gladder if she looked the way I pictured her in my head. But that’s ridiculous. Who cares what she looks like? “I have some questions for you.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Shoot.”
“Isla says you called her the morning my mother was shot. That you knew the police were at the house. ”
“Yeah,” Charlotte says.
“How?”
“The Magnolia Grapevine,” Charlotte says.
“The what?”
“That’s what the older folks call it,” Isla says. “Mrs. Greerson and Pop and that generation.”
“Right,” I say.
“She doesn’t know who Mrs. Greerson is,” Charlotte says.
“Is she relevant?” I snap.
Charlotte shrugs. “I mean, she knows everything about everyone in this town. She’s like the Ancient Font of Magnolia Bay Gossip. The Grapevine is basically a giant game of Telephone. My little sister, Maria, heard from her friend Gretchen, that there were cops at Everton Estate.”
Jesus, there are too many names to keep straight. “How did Gretchen know?”
“She’s a runner. She and Maria were on the track team together. Gretchen was on her morning run when she saw the cops. Called Maria to tell her.”
Oh. Well, that makes sense.
“Anyway,” Charlotte says. “Maria told me, and I called Isla.” She spreads her hands out wide. “The Magnolia Grapevine.”
“Did you know she was with Caden at the time?” I ask.
“Yes. She texted me at the party and told me she was leaving with him.”
“Have you found anything that proves Noah’s innocence?” Isla asks, looking at me hopefully.
“Yeah,” Charlotte says. “Spill. Noah keeps saying it’s all lawyer client privilege and confidential and all that.”
I wonder how much he talks to her. How often they text or call. How long they’ve been…whatever they are. Charlotte clearly cares about him a lot.
I glance around and realize quite a few tables are watching us. “I can’t discuss the case,” I say, as Isla looks crestfallen, and Charlotte purses her scarlet lips. There’s a pair of older women at one table whispering to each other and two guys my age at another—one looks familiar, and I realize with a pinch of pride that I recognize him.
“That’s the sheriff’s son,” I say.
“Yeah, that’s Cody,” Isla says, following my gaze. I remember he would come over sometimes when Sheriff Briggs was looking to get a donation out of Dad.
“Who’s the guy with him?” I ask, glancing at a blond-haired man with a surly expression.
“Ugh, that’s Mike Cochran,” Charlotte says, rolling her eyes. “Local troublemaker and all-around dickhead.”
Ah, so this is the infamous Mike. “Noah said something similar.”
“Listen,” Charlotte says. “Noah is a really good guy with a really big heart. And I’m sure he’s pretending he’s fine and he’s strong and all that dumb shit men like to say. But—” She glances at Isla. “We’re all scared. There’s a lot of talk here, people assuming that he must have done it because why else would the sheriff have arrested him.”
That is generally the logic of the masses—innocent until proven guilty is a nice phrase, but any defense attorney can attest to the fact that it’s usually an uphill battle.
But what Charlotte doesn’t know is that Noah has every reason to feel confident now that we’ve got Patrick Forrester as the ace up our sleeve.
“Siobhan Everton!” I whirl around at the sound of my name being shouted by the woman I saw the other day on the way to Noah’s house—iron gray bob, thick glasses, sensible shoes.
“Who are you?” I ask. Charlotte snorts and Isla’s eyes widen. I didn’t mean to be insulting—I literally have no idea who this woman is.
But now everyone in the café is watching us, even the woman at the espresso machine. The old lady stumps over, shoos Mike “ the dickhead” Cochran out of his chair and pulls it over to sit beside me.
“What are you doing back in town?” she hisses, leaning in like now she wants to have a private conversation after alerting the entire coffeeshop to her presence.
“Excuse me?” I say.
“Mrs. Greerson,” Isla says, and I realize this is the Magnolia Grapevine queen, “Von is helping with Noah’s defense.”
“I know what she’s doing , Isla,” Mrs. Greerson says testily. “But what’s she doing here ? Don’t you know there are reporters all over this town, trying to ferret out a scoop? I’d heard you’d taken Noah away somewhere.”
“Who told you that?” I ask.
“I have my sources,” she says. “I know everything that goes on in this town.”
“Well, I have,” I say. “He’s at?—”
“Don’t say it out loud, girl, these walls have ears!”
“So do all these people,” Charlotte points out.
“None of your jokes now, Ms. Perez,” Mrs. Greerson says. “This is serious business.”
“We know,” Isla says.
“What was the sheriff thinking, arresting him at Everton Estate, hauling him into the courthouse in front of that horde of reporters…” Mrs. Greerson clucks her tongue. “Now you listen to me,” she says, pointing her finger in my face. “You keep him safe, you hear? These vultures will fly back to wherever they came from soon enough. Then you bring him back here so he can make his case to the people. We’ve got to change hearts and minds, isn’t that right ladies?”
“Hearts and minds,” Isla and Charlotte echo in agreement.
I have to admit, Mrs. Greerson commands an impressive amount of respect.
She turns back to me. “But until the coast is clear, stay away.”
“I will,” I say .
She smiles and pats my hand. Somehow, she manages to make the gesture comforting. I wonder what I’m doing wrong.
“Your mother was a good woman,” she says tenderly. “Noah never would have done anything to hurt her.”
My chest pinches.
“I know,” I say quietly. Part of me wishes I could tell them about Noah’s alibi. That I’ve already found the key to his freedom. I don’t remember the last time I sat at a table with women that wasn’t for some charity event or ABA conference. Where the conversation was free flowing and not carefully curated. Where I didn’t have to be so perfect all the time.
“Good,” Mrs. Greerson says. “Now go on. Get.”
She makes a shooing gesture with her hand.
I stand and walk to the door, with a parting glance at Charlotte, who’s laughing at something Mrs. Greerson is saying, her teeth a flash of white against smooth olive skin, her curls bouncing with her movements. I turn away and head to the car.
I wonder if Noah makes spaghetti and meatballs for Charlotte too.
I fly back to the city and head to the office for a few hours.
Grayson is there, and I fill him in on the good news. I call Noah and put him on speakerphone so we can all celebrate together.
“I can’t wait to see the look on Foghorn Leghorn’s face,” Noah says gleefully.
“Who?” I ask.
“That’s what I’ve nicknamed Wilbur,” he says sheepishly.
Grayson lets out a bark of a laugh. “Oh my god. It’s perfect. Seriously, who names their kid Wilbur?”
“What’s with you and cartoon characters?” I say, shaking my head. “Look, we’ve still got to proceed like we’re the underdogs. I want to be overprepared. And there’s also the small matter of the real killer being at large. Noah, I want you to start looking into any other possible suspects. I know there’s nothing much to go on, but I imagine you can find the time between cooking and the gym.”
Grayson raises an eyebrow at me and mouths, He cooks? I brush him off with a wave of my hand. “I’m going to start looking for an expert to poke holes in the fingerprint evidence. Grayson, you start drafting motions for the pretrial hearing.”
“I’ll see if I can find any CCTV footage to backup Noah’s alibi too,” Grayson says. “There probably won’t be tapes from five years ago but doesn’t hurt to look.”
“Great idea,” I say. “What’s the word on discovery?”
“I emailed Foghorn,” Grayson says, grinning. “He says we’ll have it later this week. Like, what the fuck, it’s digital, it’s not like he’s sending it via carrier pigeon. They’re really slow walking this process.” Grayson cocks his head. “You know, he also has a sort of small-town “Anderson Cooper if he was straight” vibe.”
“I bet Wilbur would appreciate that comparison more than a cartoon rooster,” Noah says.
“I’ll start drafting the motion for change of venue,” Grayson says.
I nod. “I’ll work on holding the Magnolia Bay Sheriff’s Department accountable for their abysmal crime scene investigation.”
Grayson smiles at me. “There’s the badass bitch I know and love.”
“See you later,” I say to Noah.
When I hang up, Grayson is looking at me with a wicked smile.
“What?” I ask.
“He cooks?”
“Yeah. He made dinner last night.” I don’t mention the spaghetti coming tonight .
“Did he now?” Grayson waggles his eyebrows.
“He’s my client, Grayson.”
“Like a lawyer has never broken boundaries with a client before.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, aware of the heat flaming in my cheeks. “He’s dating this insanely hot kindergarten teacher from Magnolia Bay.”
I can hear the bite in my tone as I say it.
“Shame,” Grayson says.
“Besides, he’s my brother’s best friend. And we hate each other.”
Except it doesn’t really feel like we do. Not anymore.
“He’s so ruggedly handsome,” Grayson says, with a dreamy expression. “With that sexy small-town cop vibe going. Too bad he’s not playing for my team.”
“Too bad it’s unethical to sleep with your client,” I say, poking him with my pen.
Grayson chuckles. “Ethics smethics. Have you seen his traps? I bet he could bench press a buffalo.” He whistles. “That kindergarten teacher is one lucky lady.”
I try to ignore the lurch in my chest as the image of Noah and Charlotte together blooms in my mind. I quickly turn to work, losing myself in the comforting pattern of writing motions, making notes, and researching the law.
Noah’s traps—buffalo bench pressing or not—are none of my concern. He’s my client. Nothing more.
When I get back to the apartment, I’m once again surrounded by incredible smells. Roasting meat and garlic and tomato. Noah has mastered the lights and the speakers, and Duke Ellington greets me along with the delicious scents. I didn’t realize Noah was so into jazz.
“You’re back!” he says excitedly, then vanishes behind the door of the fridge and emerges with a bottle of champagne. I shriek as he pops it open with a loud bang, the bubbles fizzing up over the neck. “Tell me everything that happened today again,” he says, pouring us two glasses. His celebratory mood is infectious, and we chat over champagne before he serves up dinner. I find myself laughing a lot more throughout our meal than I have in a while.
There’s got to be something nice I can do for him—aside from defending him, of course. That’s my job. It doesn’t count.
By the time Friday rolls around, and there’s whole weekend spreading out in front of us, I decide it’s time to take more aggressive action. I’m no closer to coming up with an idea on my own. I need help. My first thought is to ask Caden, but he’s got enough on his plate with the estate and dealing with Sebastian’s visa. As I leave the office and slide into the backseat of the town car, I bite the bullet and pull up Charlotte’s number. If anyone would know of a nice thing to do for Noah, it would be his girlfriend.
Hey Charlotte, it’s Von. Question for you: is there anything you can think of that Noah would really want to do in the city? I pause. I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to take him on a date or anything. Best to keep this work-related. It’s been a long week and I’d like to keep his mind off the case.
There. That sounds professional. I hope Charlotte doesn’t feel like I’m encroaching on her turf. My phone pings one minute later.
He’s always wanted to rent one of those boats in Central Park. Rowboats on a lake, I think?
I know exactly what she’s talking about. Great! I reply. Thx.
He’s got a whole fucking list of NYC stuff he’s always wanted to do, she adds. Just FYI. He loves making lists.
I chuckle at that even as I feel a twinge in my chest. It doesn’t surprise me Noah likes making lists—he’s obsessively organized. I wonder if Charlotte teases him about it on their dates. I wonder if they’re missing each other. I bet he’s a really attentive boyfriend.
I shake those thoughts away and pull up info about the Central Park Boat House.