7

PLACERVILLE USED TO BE A GOLD town back in the mid-eighteen hundreds. Today, gold still can be gathered, especially in the summer, from tourists on their way up Highway 50 from the San Francisco Bay Area toward Tahoe, 250 miles of not much happening until the steep peaks of the Sierra take over. First there is the Bay Bridge to get across, then the long traffic jam of the East Bay, then the new Carquinez Bridge where the Delta country begins.

Then there is nothing much-fields, heat, truck stops, military bases, Sacramento, factory outlets-for a couple of hundred miles. Then the uplift of the Sierra succeeds the hot valley behind as the SUVs and sedans labor up seven thousand feet of altitude to Echo Summit and Lake Tahoe just beyond.

But first, where the foothills begin, still seventy miles from Tahoe, the highway goes through Placerville, with its historic courthouse, quaint streets full of shops, and endless forest all around, and the culture begins to change with the climate. The idea of working ten hours a day in a Silicon Valley cubicle begins to seem suspect. The men want to stop for a beer, DUI laws be damned. The women want to wander down the street looking for a tiny piece of history to take home with them. It is freedom they are looking for, as if the flatlands have imprisoned them, and Placerville is the first town on the road where they can let loose.

Nina turned left and went up a short hill. Most of the homes were small and old, well-settled in their arbors of firs.

She drove until she saw a metal mailbox reading “Hanna.” Cracked asphalt led to a red Ford 150 pickup, which took up a lot of the driveway, and another filthy old truck huddled in the carport. Nina parked behind the pickup and climbed out. The sun shone down; it was so quiet here she could hear the creak of the trees catching breezes high above.

Chelsi, in shorts and a shirt that showed her brown stomach, opened the screen door on the shady porch and came out to greet her. Behind her shambled a man who must have been her father, tall and athletic like her, big-handed and big-footed.

“Dad, this is Nina.”

“Roger Freeman.” He squeezed her hand and put his other hand lightly over the squeeze as if to apologize for the strength of the handshake. “Sarah’s brother. Come on in, Dave’s inside.” He shot a quick glance at Chelsi. “He’s not at his best this morning.”

Dave Hanna sat in a La-Z-Boy in front of a recorded ball game on TV, the sound turned off, his eyes glued to the screen. He didn’t get up and barely acknowledged Nina’s greeting.

The small living room still held traces of Sarah Hanna-a white-framed wedding picture on the mantel of a smiling young couple, she seated quietly, big blue eyes hopeful, flowers held in her lap, he with his hand on her shoulder, making it clear how the marital dynamics would work even then. Sarah’s auburn hair touched the shoulder of her ivory gown. Dave looked a lot younger in the picture. Nina knew from her notes they had been married for ten years before Sarah died. Dave had been thirty-two, Sarah twenty-eight when they married.

A white lace tablecloth on the dining-room table still looked as if it had received Sarah’s touch, and the green upholstered chair and ottoman with its own reading lamp across the room had obviously been hers. The rest of the room had a shoddy, stained look, and smelled like somebody slept in it.

The wreck on the recliner pressed the remote control. The TV went black. Dave Hanna shifted around, saying, “This better be good.”

“A settlement offer usually is,” Nina said. “May I?” She took Sarah’s chair. Roger pulled out a couple of straight chairs from the table, and he and Chelsi sat down. Now they had a sewing circle going, only Dave was clearly a stitch short today. Eyes downcast, he scratched his neck. Nina would bet he had already tossed down a couple of beers this morning.

She glanced again at the wedding picture. A traditional male, yes, but he had lost the woman most important in his life. Grief killed some people, she thought, along with: You take the client as you find him, unless he or she is too far gone to reach at all. Nina opened her briefcase.

“It’s a formal offer, made in good faith, I think,” she said. “But it isn’t much to compensate you for the loss of your wife, Mr. Hanna. A total of fifty thousand dollars.” She recapped her visit to the Puckett mansion and Bova’s proposal to add to the insurance company’s offer. “We have until Tuesday before court to accept or reject. Or counteroffer.”

“Not enough,” Roger said. “Obviously.”

“It may be close to all they have to offer,” Nina said. “Bova brought the Ace High out of bankruptcy three years ago. He has tax liens against him as an individual. His home in Incline is mortgaged heavily. The motel isn’t exactly flying high as a business.”

“But Aunt Sarah is dead and those people have got to take some responsibility for that!” Chelsi cried. She shook her head, her expression pained. “I don’t think I told you enough about her. She was so great. Did you know she coached the girls’ basketball team at the high school here? There were easily a hundred kids at her funeral.”

“Crying,” Roger Freeman added.

“I understand,” Nina said. “No amount of money can compensate your family for losing her. But you have to remember the motel wasn’t directly responsible. It was negligent at best. In other words, the motel legally won’t have to bear the full burden of compensating you for your loss.”

“If the clerk had been at the office watching out like she was supposed to, she could have called 911!” Chelsi argued.

“I agree,” Nina said.

Roger said, “Maybe Bova had something to do with the shooting. Maybe the clerk did. Maybe the clerk had a friend who picked the motel because she’d conveniently go next door. We don’t know anything yet.”

“We’re investigating,” Nina said. “But we’re starting so late, we’re in a risky position. The judge may dismiss the case against the motel on Tuesday.”

“How much did you say?” Dave Hanna said.

“Fifty thousand. Each side pays its own attorney’s fees.”

“How much would you get?”

“I’ll add up my actual time and my investigator’s time. A couple thousand dollars, I’d guess, would be the amount.”

“That’s very decent,” Roger said. Chelsi nodded.

“The important thing you need to know is that if the motel was directly involved in the shooting in some way and we find that out, I believe we can sue them again on a different legal theory. This settlement would not release them from any direct involvement, only from a negligent involvement,” Nina said.

“What do you think?” Hanna said.

“I would let the motel out, so long as Mr. Bova agrees to cooperate fully while we try to catch the shooter. And so long as the judge will let us keep the case against the shooter alive for a while longer.”

“If it’s going to end the case, I don’t want to settle,” Roger said.

“Rog, this isn’t about you,” Hanna said. “Sarah was my wife. This is my case.”

“My name isn’t on it, sure, but she was my sister.”

“Why don’t you butt out?” Hanna said. “Whatever happens, you won’t get a dime. Sometimes I think you keep hammering at this suit to punish me.”

“What are you talking about?”

The glaze of alcohol in Dave Hanna’s eyes suddenly departed, to be replaced by simmering anger. “I was there and couldn’t save her. You hate me for that.”

“That’s not so.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t give a damn about me, about how this has affected my life. You’re chasing a ghost. You keep Sarah alive that way. For you, this lawsuit is really just a way to keep people thinking about her, isn’t it? Sometimes I think if we ever found the guy who shot her, you still wouldn’t believe it! What would you do for a hobby then, huh?”

“Dave, please.”

“Meanwhile, I’m stuck in this goddamn chair with the goddamn TV on. I can’t work. I can’t do anything. We should take the money, shut our mouths, put flowers on her grave, and get the hell out of Dodge.”

“This is not about money!” Roger cried. “Sarah was slaughtered, and for what? Being in the wrong place? It was so random. I want the bastard who killed her to be watching his back for the rest of his life, right up until the day he’s arrested and thrown in jail.”

Hanna turned to Nina. “I’ll take the settlement offer. I want this thing over. I need that. I need to stop being sick at heart. I need to move on. We all do, Roger, you and Chelsi as much as me.”

“Taking a settlement won’t fix everything, Uncle Dave,” Chelsi said. “You need more help than money can buy.”

“If you two would just leave things alone. Isn’t it enough, that we lost her? Isn’t that enough punishment, that I’m alone and feel so guilty? I think back to that night-I think of what should have happened. Maybe I could have saved her. It all happened so fast.”

“Of course you did what you could, Uncle Dave. We know that,” Chelsi said.

He didn’t seem to hear her. “For two years dinner conversation is all about her, all about justice, all about finding the killer. I don’t even remember what normal life is like. You and your dad are making me sick with all this obsessing,” Hanna mumbled. “You’re the sick ones.”

Chelsi looked stricken.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” Roger said sharply. “If you want to fight, you fight me.” He sagged. “Ah, why do I talk to you? Why do I bother?”

“Nina,” Chelsi said, “even if Uncle Dave takes the settlement, I want you to know our position. We want you to try to keep the lawsuit alive.”

Roger agreed. “We want Sarah’s killer found. Do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

“Even if the case settles, the police will-” Nina started, but she didn’t get a chance to finish.

“You stay the hell out of this!” Hanna said, rising from his chair like a hungry bear. “You feed off her memory, you stinking ghoul!” He raised his fists and threw a punch that Roger easily dodged. Roger put a widespread hand on Hanna’s head and shoved him back into his chair.

“Everybody get out,” Dave Hanna said. “Go.”

Roger stomped out of the room, but Chelsi went over to him, putting her hand over where his lolled on the chair arm. “We understand how hard this is for you, Uncle Dave. We really do. Maybe the money will help you get a new start,” she said.

“Sure, sure,” he said, all the fight gone out of him. He picked up the remote control and turned the sound up on the television. Sighing, Chelsi left the room.

Nina thought, He’s still got papers to sign, but I’m not staying in the house alone with him. She could hear Roger in the next room speaking softly to Chelsi.

“Dave,” she said, “if you want the settlement, here’s where you sign. Let’s go over to the table.” He went with her, casting looks through the open door toward the next room. Then he took the pen and signed where she indicated.

“You need to come to court on Tuesday morning,” Nina told him. She wrote down the time and place and handed him the note with another of her cards. “My secretary will call and remind you.”

“Another trip up there?” Hanna said. “Okay, let’s get it over with.”

Chelsi stood in the doorway. “We’ll walk out with you,” she told Nina. “Good-bye, Uncle Dave.”

Hanna waved a hand, his eyes back on the TV screen.

Out on the driveway, Roger said, “He needs an intervention, a treatment program. Don’t get the wrong idea. He wasn’t like this until she died. So it’s good that he has the money coming in. Is there any way to get a hold on it so he has to use it for medical purposes?”

“You’ll have to talk to another lawyer about that, Roger,” Nina said. “He’s my client. I’m not comfortable talking about something like that without him present, and I think he’d probably object.”

“Oh. Of course. Sorry.”

“I understand.” She not only understood, she agreed with him, but she was in no position to say so.

“He doesn’t want to move on, you know,” Chelsi said softly. “I believe he just wants to be left in peace to slowly kill himself. He misses her so much.”

“I hope you’ll continue to be patient with him,” Roger said.

“Come on, Dad. Let’s go home. Uncle Dave has definitely kicked us out. Thanks for doing all this, Nina. See you Thursday for your massage,” Chelsi said.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Nina started up the Bronco, her briefcase on the seat beside her, relieved. The case would probably be over on Tuesday, and she had helped Hanna some.

He wasn’t the most charming client she had ever had. She wouldn’t miss him. She felt sorry for him, though. You can’t blame a wounded dog for snapping.

She rejoined the line of cars winding up toward South Lake Tahoe. At twenty-five miles an hour, she thought it would be safe to make a cell-phone call. The German time zone was nine hours ahead of California, making it about 8:00 P.M. at Kurt Scott’s home in Wiesbaden.

His number was in the phone memory. She hadn’t spoken to Kurt since Bob’s last trip to Europe, but if she was going to stamp out the idea of another trip she would have to do it before Bob made enough money for a ticket.

He answered immediately.

“It’s Nina.”

“I knew that.” He had a deep voice. “Is Bob okay?”

“He’s great.”

“Good.”

“How are you?” Nina said.

“Apparently you heard I’m back in Germany.”

“Bob told me. Why’d you leave Sweden and go back there?”

“The doctor says I’ve pounded my fingers on piano keys so many millions of times that I wore them out. It feels like rheumatoid arthritis and the joints get swollen, but he says it’s just a nasty tendonitis.”

“You’re taking time off from the Stockholm Opera Company?”

“It’s permanent. I’m finished as a performer.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “My hands were bugging me, so I dosed up on ibuprofen. Every day, maximum dose. One day, that didn’t work anymore.”

“Oh, Kurt, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not crippled. The old hands work fine for most things, just not toccatas. Nina,” he paused, “do you remember what I was doing for a living when we met?”

They had met at Tahoe fifteen years before and embarked upon a passionate romance that lasted three weeks. Then Kurt had gone away, not because he wanted to, but Nina hadn’t heard the full story until years later. She had been angry when he left, so angry that she hadn’t tried to find Kurt to tell him about her pregnancy. “Remember?” she asked. “I was camping in one of the cabins at Fallen Leaf Lake. You came around to warn me that bubonic plague had been found in the area. Of all things.” She recalled her reaction. She had thought, What a line.

“I had to convince you to quit consorting with raccoons and squirrels.”

“You were a park ranger.”

“And you were an argumentative law student. Barefoot and beautiful, sitting on the rickety steps of that little place you had rented, painting your toenails, as I recall.”

Embarrassed, Nina said, “Anyway.”

“Anyway, I’ve missed the outdoors. I always regretted that a person can’t play the piano outside. Meanwhile, I have some free time to consider my future. I thought I’d do some camping in the Taunus woods, not far from Wiesbaden. Then Bob called me and I thought, I’ll take him along. I suppose he mentioned that?”

“He said he wanted to visit you. It’s why I’m calling,” Nina said. “He’s worried about you.”

“He thinks I’m lonely.”

“Are you?”

“Now and then.”

“I think he’s concerned that your hands-that the changes coming up…”

“He’s a good kid when he’s not being a rascal. I’d send him a ticket, but I can’t get at my money. Long tangle with the bank, which amounts to I’ll get things straightened out eventually but meanwhile I haven’t got the ready cash.”

Nina felt worse and worse about the purpose of her call. “Kurt, listen. Bob’s moved to Carmel and back in the last ten months and made a trip to Sweden to visit you,” she said. “He’s back in school now. He needs stability.”

“You mean you do.”

“What?”

“Bob told me you split up with Paul.”

“It was inevitable. But that has nothing to do with…”

“Bob seems confused.”

“You mean-because I took away his father substitute?” Nina said. “That’s ridiculous. He never viewed Paul as a father.”

“He liked Paul. They had a relationship, too.”

Stung, Nina said, “I can’t help that. I really can’t. What’s your point, Kurt?”

“Hey, just be honest about what’s going on.”

“I’m trying.”

“Let him come, Nina. He can miss a week or two of school. He’s a smart guy. He’ll make it up. He can write a photo-essay about Germany.”

“I just think that Bob-”

“Ah, it’s so frustrating. I have no power in this situation, which makes me angry.”

“Kurt, it’s tough. You live half a world away. Okay, I do rely on him, maybe more than I should. And I don’t want to keep him from you, but I don’t like him putting his energy into schemes to get back to Europe all the time.”

“You’re used to having him all to yourself. Wait. I don’t mean it that way.”

“You can always make me feel guilty.” She had kept Bob’s existence a secret from Kurt for twelve years. Now he liked being in his son’s life. Naturally.

“I’m not trying to bring up old business, Nina. Let’s deal with this right now.”

“Right now I feel like I’m in some kind of popularity contest with you that I might lose.”

He laughed, easing some of the tension between them. “You’re joking, right?”

The car in front of her came to an abrupt halt. Slamming on her brakes, she realized minutes had passed and she had no consciousness of driving. “I have to go.”

“We aren’t finished, Nina.”

She knew that, and she knew they had reached an impasse.

“Give my love to the boy.”

And the feeling in his voice almost changed her mind, but swerving left, distracted by a car broken down alongside the road, she kept her good-bye brief. They hung up. The Bronco toiled up the winding road along the American River with the other trucks and SUVs. Nina felt guilty, but Bob would stay home. He would understand when she explained it to him, and Kurt would support her. He had no choice.