back. He shook his head in defeat, gave the handkerchief
back to Durkin, and tried to salvage a few
shards of dignity.
IZ Jonathan Kellerman
The next quarter hour was spent on property
settlement. I had no need to listen to the distribution
of the meager estate of Darlene and Richard
Moody and would have left, but Mai Worthy had
said he wanted to talk to me afterward.
When the legal mumbling was over, Judge Severe took off her glasses and ended the hearing. She
looked my way and smiled.
“I’d like to see you in chambers for a moment if
you’ve got the time, Dr. Delaware.”
I smiled back and nodded. She swept out of the
courtroom.
Durkin ushered Moody out under the ‘watchful
eye of the bailiff
At the next table Mal was pep-talking Darlene,
patting her plump shoulder as he scooped up handfuls
of documents and stashed them in one of the
two suitcases he’d brought. Mal was compulsive
and while other lawyers made do with an attache
case, he carted around boxes of documents on a
chromium luggage rack.
The former Mrs. Richard Moody looked up at
him, bewildered, cheeks feverishly rosy, bobbing
her head in assent, She’d stuffed her milkmaid’s
body into a light blue summer dress as frothy as
high tide. The dress was ten years too young for
her and I wondered if she’d confused new-found
freedom with innocence.
Mal was decked out in classic Beverly Hills attorney
mufti: Italian suit, silk shirt and tie, calfskin
loafers with tassles His hair was styled
fashionably long and curly, his beard cut close to
the skin. He had glossy nails and perfect teeth and
a Malibu tan. When he saw me he winked and
·
. waved and gave Darlene one last pat.
·
her hand in both of his and saw her to the door.
“Thanks for your help, Alex,” he said when he
came back. Piles of papers remained on the table
and he busied himself with packing them.
“It wasn’t fun,” I said.
“No. The ugly ones aren’t.” He meant it but
there was a lilt in his voice.
“But you won.”
He stopped shuffling papers for a moment “Yeah.
Well, you know. that’s the business I’m in. Joust- long.” He fiippefi his wrist and looked at a wafer-thin
disc of gold. “I won’t say it pains me to dispose
of a turkey like Mr. M.”
“You think he’ll take it? Just like that?”
He shrugged.
“Who knows? If he doesn’t we’ll just keep bringing in the heavy artillery.”
At two hundred dollars an hour.
He lashed the suitcases to the rack.
“Hey listen, Alex, this wasn’t a stinker. For those
I don’t call you–I’ve got hired guns up the wazoo.
This was righteous, no?”
“We were on the right side.”
“Precissimoso. And I thank you again, Regards to
the lady judge.”
“”What do you think she wants ?” I asked.
He grinned and slapped me on the back.
“Maybe she likes your style. Not a bad looking
gal, heh? She’s single; you know?”
“Spinster ?”
“Hell, no. Divorced. I handled her case.”
Her chambers were done in mahogany and rose,
and-permeated with the scent of flowers. She sat
behind a glass-topped, carved wood desk upon which
stalks off gladio-
the desk were several photos of
two hulking blond teens boys in
jerseys, wet suits, odd evening wear.
“My gruesome twosome,” she said, following my
eyes. “One’s at Stanford, the other’s selling fire-wood up at Arrowhead. No telling, eh, actor?”
“No telling.”
“Please have a seat.” She motioned me to a velvet
sofa. When I’d settled she said, “Sorry if I was a
little rough on you in there.”
“No problem.”
“I wanted to know if the fact that Mr. Moody
wears women’s underwear was relevant to his mental status, and you refused to be pinned down.”
“I didn’t think his choice of lingerie had much to
do with custody.”
She laughed. “I get two types of psych experts.
The puffed-up, self-proclaimed authorities, so taken
with themselves they think-their opinions on any
topic are sacrosanct, and the cautious ones, like
you, who won’t give an opinion unless it’s backed
up by a double-blind, controlled study.”