Presumption Of Death

“I have it, Your Honor,” Nina said. Salas thumbed through the charges, reading Count Five thoroughly.

“Well?” he said.

Jaime said, “He’s dangerous, Judge. Mr. Whitefeather is a transient. He has no family here. He’s only been in the area a few weeks. After the fire he evaded questioning for several days. He’s a flight risk. The murder charge is go

“Whitefeather. What kind of name is that?”

“Mr. Whitefeather is a member of the Washoe tribe from the Lake Tahoe area, Your Honor,” Nina said, stepping in quickly. “His mother is working with the B.I.A. on a federal project out of Washington and she’s on her way here right now. Mr. Whitefeather is working as an intern at a security firm in Carmel this summer, Your Honor. He’s a good student going into his second year in the Criminal Justice Program at Lake Tahoe Community College.”

Salas didn’t react. He looked at Jaime. “Any record?” he asked. “I don’t seem to have a sheet on him.”

“We’re still checking on that,” Jaime said.

“I can personally represent to the court that Mr. Whitefeather has never been arrested for any crime from a misdemeanor on up, let alone been convicted of anything,” Nina said, a true statement legally, since any juvenile record was officially expunged from history. “He worked in my law office at Tahoe for the past two years part-time and his behavior has been exemplary. Let me respond to a couple of points Counsel made earlier-”

The judge held up his hand, silencing her. He said to Jaime, “You charged him with trespassing and today you’re charging him with murder?”

“We don’t want him out,” Jaime said. “We ask that this be made a no-bail case. This is the third fire in a month. This defendant can’t control himself.”

“Mr. Whitefeather didn’t do anything, Your Honor,” Nina said rapidly. “It’s a mistake that comes from moving too fast. Mr. Whitefeather and Mr. Cervantes were present at the last fire because they were trying to catch the arsonist. He had never been on the mountain before-”

“That’s not what we hear from a witness who chased Mr. Cervantes home during a previous fire,” Jaime said, jumping on her words.

“I don’t want to hear any evidence,” Salas said in a complaining voice. “Am I supposed to try the case today? It’s a bail hearing. He won’t even be entering a plea for a couple of days.”

“Okay, then,” Jaime said. “First-degree murder charge. No bail is the appropriate response. Further, this guy is not a local. He stayed out of sight until the Monterey County Sheriff’s Office, acting on a tip, found him at-sorry, Nina-his lawyer’s condo in Carmel.”

“Is that right.” Salas turned baleful eyes on Nina. “I don’t know you, Counselor,” he said.

“As I mentioned, Your Honor, my offices are-were-in Tahoe.”

“Were?”

“I have closed them and am spending the summer here.”

“And where are you practicing law?”

“I share space in the Eastwood Building in Carmel.”

“Hmm.”

“The same office the defendant is allegedly working out of,” Jaime said.

“I am appearing for purposes of the bail hearing and arraignment, if it comes to that,” Nina said. “Naturally, Mr. Whitefeather might prefer local counsel in the event this goes much further.”

Jaime said, “We have a nonlocal vouching for a nonlocal. These fires-a lot more people could die. We owe it to the public to hold on to Mr. Whitefeather.”

“We are asking for reasonable bail to be set, Your Honor. Any reasonable bail. Mr. Whitefeather makes two thousand dollars a month. Something that will make it possible for him to get out.”

“I’m going to allow bail,” Salas said abruptly.

“But, Judge…” Jaime started.

Salas flung down the file. “One million five,” he said.

Angels must have flown over, because the courtroom got reverent for a moment. Even the regulars in back stopped shifting from buttock to buttock along the benches. A small smile cracked Jaime’s young-old face.

She wasn’t a local like Jaime anymore. Salas was letting her know he didn’t like out-of-towners.

“That would require that Mr. Whitefeather put up a hundred fifty thousand dollars for a cash bond,” Nina said steadily. “His family can’t raise that amount of money, and they certainly don’t have collateral for the remainder either. I request that the court reconsider.”

“One million five,” the judge said again, addressing Nina directly. “You want bail, you got bail.”

“That kind of bail I can do without.”

“Then do without. You want no bail? You smart-mouthing me?”

“No, Your Honor.” Geez, Nina thought, the first in 155 years and he’s go

The judge glanced at the clock on the wall and the roll of his eyes said, Judge to defense counsel: You are wasting your time.

“Anything else?” Salas said. Nina and Jaime stood silent.

“So ordered.” The judge picked up his shiny gavel and gave it a rap. Only new judges did that.

She had a moment with Wish before the bailiff took him back to jail. “I wouldn’t even let me out,” Wish said. “Not the way it sounds. My camera! The firebug-he must’ve picked it up and hit Da

“Keep your spirits up, Wish. You’ll be arraigned soon.” She explained the purposes of arraignment. “I’ll see you then.”

“Nina, you and Paul have to find out who set those fires. That’s all I can think about. Who did it. Who…”-he choked on his words-“who killed Da

Huge questions. “Your mom is flying in tonight. She’ll come to see you after supper.”

“Yikes! That’s all I need.”

“I’ll try to explain it all to her at di

“Well, at least I finally have a topic for my term paper next semester,” Wish said. “‘Life in the Joint.’ Like the title? I’m keeping a journal.”

Nina tried to smile. “So something good will come of this.”

“It’s an experience few law-enforcement officers get to have. That is, if I ever get to be a law-enforcement officer.”

“I’m very sorry I couldn’t get you out-” Nina said.

“If you couldn’t, nobody could-”

“But you won’t be in there long, Wish. I promise you that.”

7

P AUL WORKED ON DINNER WHILE NINA left to pick up Sandy at the airport, borrowing the Mustang. They spoke in monosyllables to each other. They had quarreled, and neither of them seemed to want to clear the air yet.

Sandy waited outside the small terminal in the fog, wearing her familiar square purple coat, bag at her side. Nina loaded the bag into the trunk while Sandy maneuvered herself into the front seat, grumbling. She was a sizable lady and the Mustang rode low to the ground.

“You aren’t driving with the top down,” Sandy said, and it wasn’t a question.

“Of course not.” Nina raised the Mustang’s roof and clamped it into place. “Good flight?” she asked.

“What do you think?”

Uh-oh. Sandy was not going to be conventionally polite. She was, perhaps, in a mood of towering fury. Nina braced herself. “You’ll like Paul’s condo,” she said. “View of the ocean, up high on a hill. Private.” She was trying for conventional politeness just in case.

Sandy swatted this small talk away. “Have you seen Wish?”

“Yes. This afternoon. He’s okay, Sandy. Says it’ll be a learning experience, being in jail.”

“In jail,” she repeated. “You call that okay.” She folded her arms and looked out at the scenery for the rest of the ride without further comment.

Although they had invited her to stay at the condo, Sandy had decided to spend the night at a motel in Seaside. She had lined up a rental car and would be doing a blitz trip to Tahoe to see Joseph Whitefeather, Wish’s father, before returning east, so she needed to leave early.