After #3
She felt less sure about the “top-flight criminal attorney” seated next to Scotty on the couch.
Scotty’s text announcing that Mikey Pearce had “agreed” to take the case had endless exclamation points.
But Mikey Pearce wasn’t at all what Gretchen had pictured.
He was decidedly ugly, along with being short and, well, portly.
There was also the matter of his flashy suit and too-shiny shoes.
Looking at him brought to mind a lacquered bureau.
But even Gretchen had to admit that the overall effect screamed expensive.
Tacky, but expensive. And then there was Mr. Pearce’s watch, an enormous gold Rolex.
Gretchen didn’t approve of that kind of— She pulled her sleeve down to cover the watch Richard had given her. Which was different, obviously.
Then again, what did Gretchen know about criminal defense attorneys, successful or otherwise?
Maybe judges listened more closely to a man with a garish watch.
Besides, as Gretchen’s father had always said, you don’t hire a banker to fix your toilet.
And a toilet was certainly an apt metaphor for the New York City penal system.
Unlike Scotty, who was hardly steeped in grit, Mikey Pearce seemed like a man who would sink his teeth into an unsavory problem and not let go until he had a mouth full of blood.
“Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink, Mr. Pearce?” Gretchen asked.
“You already offered once, Mom,” Elizabeth hissed.
Gretchen bristled at her daughter’s tone.
Elizabeth had been far less prickly than usual since she’d gotten home.
There had been no digs about Richard and Gretchen’s conspicuous consumption—not even when she saw the new couch or the new wallpaper in the living room, which, it was true, was really down to boredom.
Elizabeth even looked like her old self, now in a pair of tailored slacks and a blouse that must have been in her closet at the apartment, instead of wearing the worn flowered muumuu she arrived in. Manson Family chic, Hilary called it.
“I know, dear,” Gretchen said, shooting her daughter a cool look. “I’m just trying to be polite.”
“Thank you, no, Mrs. Falk,” Mikey Pearce said, eyeing Gretchen intently.
That was the way he’d been since he arrived. Very focused. Like he was trying to burrow under their skin and inspect the pattern of their veins. His powers of observation both reassured and unsettled Gretchen. She didn’t necessarily want him getting to the bottom of absolutely everything.
“Our dad will be home Monday, right?” Becks asked. He was folded over into himself in one of the new flaxen Cisco armchairs. Gretchen had to resist the urge to go over and cover him with the cashmere Missoni throw from the couch.
Meanwhile, Cassandra paced back and forth behind him, like some kind of exhausted, puffy-eyed panther. And now Elizabeth was piling on with her wounded, angry snapping. Whatever else could be said of her children, they were always, relentlessly, themselves.
“Yes, definitely he’ll be home Monday,” Scotty blurted out from his perch on the edge of the couch next to Mikey, one leg bouncing. Mikey shot him a look.
“We can’t make promises,” Mikey Pearce added smoothly.
“Certainly, that’s the hope—it’s what we’ll advocate for.
Given that Richard has no criminal record and is an upstanding citizen, bail should be granted.
It will likely be several million dollars, though, given the charges.
Ten percent cash. I can set you up with someone who can walk you through how to get it covered in practical terms, if that’s—”
“The money won’t be a problem,” Gretchen said, wishing it hadn’t come out so forcefully.
She could only imagine the disgusted expression on Elizabeth’s face.
She had no intention of looking her way.
But then, their ability to make bail was a relevant fact that needed to be stated plainly, for Richard’s sake.
Money wasn’t a problem for them. All Mikey and Scotty needed to do was get bail granted and Gretchen would take care of the rest.
“Great,” Mikey Pearce said, seeming genuinely relieved.
“That’s helpful to know. And just to lay out the entire process so we’re all on the same page: Following the arraignment, there will be a grand jury.
As a matter of New York law, they have only six days from the date of arrest to convene a grand jury.
Six days. If Richard is indicted by the grand jury, there will be a second arraignment. A trial follows all of that.”
“He does need to come home right now, though,” Gretchen said firmly.
“I understand, Gretchen,” Scotty said. There was compassion in his eyes. So much. Too much, maybe. “Mikey here is our secret weapon. He’s a legend. He’s going to get the job done.”
Mikey looked concerned as he turned back to Gretchen. “Again, we will do everything we can. But judges can be unpredictable. There’s a lot of discretion on bail, and unfortunately it sometimes comes down to personal biases. But ultimately, either way, a trial is based on evidence.”
Gretchen’s face felt warm, the back of her throat burning. A trial. “That sounds—”
“Bad,” Elizabeth said, stepping in protectively. “Really, really bad. Our dad isn’t exactly a jail kind of guy.”
Mikey smiled gently. “I understand, but it’s also my understanding that your dad is something of an athlete.
And that he came from nothing and has thrived at Goldman Sachs, arguably one of the most cutthroat companies on the planet.
He’s also a nice guy. I expect he’s savvy enough to take care of himself in almost any context.
And, luckily, he is being held in a newly remodeled precinct instead of central booking.
” He paused, looking around at all of them.
“I’m only preparing you for the possibility Richard could be denied bail.
If that happens, we’ll appeal. Then we’ll have a shot at another judge, and a panel of judges from there.
We won’t stop fighting. We’ll also work to get the case dismissed.
And if all else fails and we end up at trial?
We will press for it to move quickly. And then we will win.
” Mikey paused until Gretchen looked up.
“That’s the only thing that matters. We need to keep our eyes on the prize. ”
“Okay.” Gretchen nodded. She felt reassured.
Mikey Pearce had a genuine, honest manner despite his flashy exterior.
She found him far more forthright and trustworthy than she had expected.
Also strangely warm. It was his eyes. You could see some kind of heartbreak deep inside them.
Like he’d been through things of his own and wanted to help soften the blow for others.
“So, prior to the arraignment, I need to ask if there’s anything you feel we should know.”
“Know about what? There is nothing to know.” Gretchen sounded defensive.
Even to herself. But it did feel like a trap, like Scotty and Mikey (a virtual stranger) might already know things she didn’t.
They’d spoken to Richard. Who knew what he’d said?
And surely Scotty had his own opinions about Frankie.
Even though they’d been friends forever, he still probably thought that any man in his right mind would want to have sex with her instead of Gretchen.
Were Scotty and Mikey looking at Gretchen thinking, Poor, poor old fool?
No. No. This was going to be a long process with lots of questions.
She needed to do better. Much better. Gretchen squared her shoulders.
“My apologies. What exactly do you mean?”
“For instance, were there any unexpected visitors here or odd calls?” Mikey asked.
“Why would someone come by our house?” Becks asked. “If she was the person who was murdered?”
“You’d be surprised how complicated the truth can be when it finally comes out,” Mikey said.
“For instance, if there was someone in her life causing problems, maybe that person intended to have the blame fall on Richard. Or maybe he—some ex or stalker—suspected some kind of relationship between them. Even if it didn’t exist, that could still have led him to kill Frankie in a jealous rage.
Anyway, anything that seemed strange in the past several weeks could be relevant. ”
“No,” Gretchen said. This was not an actual lie, not the way he’d phrased the question. “Nothing like that.”
“My dad’s got a million friends, you know,” Becks said. He sounded a little defensive, too. Because no one had asked about Richard’s friends. “Not just her. He mentors people all the time.”
“That’s true,” Cassandra added quietly. She’d stopped pacing and was staring at an empty spot on the carpet. “Everyone loves him.”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth muttered. “This has got ‘mentee’ written all over it.”
Was that sarcasm? It was impossible to be sure. She’d turned toward the windows so Gretchen couldn’t see her expression.
Mikey Pearce laughed. “That’s generous of you to allow him to have so many female friends.”
“Is it?” Gretchen asked sharply. “Are you married, Mr. Pearce?”
“Not anymore,” he said, wriggling his empty ring finger. “And I’ve decided to spare another innocent woman a lifetime of certain disappointment.”
“Well, Richard and I have been married thirty-four years. And I have always thought that a marriage should be a place where both people are encouraged to be their best selves. Richard is a magnetic sort of person. I was drawn to him because of it. It would hardly seem right to hold that against him now.”
“Richard is just kind of that guy,” Scotty offered diplomatically. “Always has been. People fall in love with him right away. Men and women. It’s annoying.”
Gretchen felt validated. She wasn’t inventing an idea of Richard. Others saw him that way, too.