Sedona Law 6 by Dave Daren (best non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📗

closed my padfolio. “I’m trying to get justice for Kelsi.”

“See, I hear you say that,” Tim snorted. “Justice for Kelsi. What does that even mean? I’ll tell you what it doesn’t mean. It doesn’t mean that you’re going to make sure a grieving widow stays out of jail.”

“Dude,” Charlie said. “You sound really defensive right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim raised his palms in a surrender gesture. “My emotions are just fucked to shit with all of this. I’ve known James since high school, and I grew up next door to Kelsi. She’s basically like a little sister to me.”

“Tim,” I said. “Can I be frank?”

“I would prefer that, yes,” he held my gaze as he fingered the label on his beer bottle.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to make sure the law is upheld either way. So there is a chance Kelsi could do time for this. But, on the other hand, I’ve defended a lot of falsely accused people. And I’ve uncovered the truth each time. So... you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing. I know she’s like your sister, and trust me, I know how that feels. I’ve defended my own sister when she was falsely accused.”

Everyone at the table looked surprised at the revelation.

“One of the silver linings to that case,” I said, “was that it was my introduction into criminal law. Now, when I approach clients, I know it’s personal for them. I know what it feels like to have your whole life ripped out from under you like that. Believe me, I’m going to give Kelsi the same level of devotion that I gave my sister, and that I’ve given every client that has been falsely accused.”

The band members all nodded and listened quietly.

“Now,” I said. “How you guys can help, is total transparency.”

I rose and handed out my card to the band members.

“If any of you think of something else,” I said, “or know something you didn’t feel comfortable saying tonight, give me a call.”

“Thanks man,” Gary said.

Tim just nodded solemnly and studied the card. I shook hands around the table and left the bar.

When I arrived home, Vicki was already there and so was my sister. When I walked in the door, they both sat on the floor with wine glasses, surrounded by books and magazine and flowers, all in that telltale silver and white wedding color palette.

“Wedding planning,” I stated as I walked through the door.

“Hey,” Vicki greeted me with a peck on the cheek. “So we’ve got a couple of color schemes.”

She held up a palette chart.

“I was thinking, black and white,” she said. “Sleek, sophisticated.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Could work.”

“But black to a wedding?” Harmony protested. “I know people do it, but it just doesn’t belong.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “We haven’t even set a date or a location.”

“I was thinking, April,” Vicki said. “Six months from now.”

“April, huh?” I helped myself to a glass of their wine and settled into the couch.

“Yeah,” she said. “It will give us six months to plan.”

I picked up a notebook on the coffee table. It was a wedding planning guide, and Vicki’s handwritten notes filled a timeline page.

“We need to find a planner,” she said. “Someone that will do all of this for us. There are several here. Or we could call people from L.A.”

“I do know one thing,” I said. “I don’t want a big, glitzy L.A. wedding. That’s not us anymore. I want a laid back Sedona wedding.”

“Totally,” Vicki said. “Casual, outdoors, maybe.”

“I can see that,” I said.

“Oooh,” Harmony said. “I know of a place. What about the Million Dollar Theatre?”

The Million Dollar Theatre was a restored theatre from the 1920’s, that still showed movies now and then. We had been to a screening there for one of Phoenix’s movies not too long ago. It definitely had a charm, and I could see doing a wedding there but it didn’t feel right.

Vicki spoke first, “I want something personal. Intimate.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sophisticated, but not overly pretentious.”

“Although,” Vicki held up a finger. “The dress…”

“Oh my god,” Harmony laughed. “The dress.”

I laughed. “I don’t know that I’ll be helpful for any of this. Just tell me what time to be there, and I’ll show up.”

Vicki and Harmony laughed, and I spent the rest of the evening drinking wine, and poring over color pallettes, and wedding planner websites, and somewhat working.

I ran background checks on all the band members I had just met. It occured to me that Steve Burroughs, the drummer that had hung up on me and apparently in loads of financial trouble had stayed silent the entire meeting.

But that wasn’t the only disturbing thing I found.

The next morning, Vicki, AJ and I sat in our conference room. I slapped down printouts.

“So, hothead Tim,” I said, “used to be a chemistry professor at UNC Chapel Hill.”

“No kidding,” Vicki said. “What happened?”

“He used to come out here in the summers,” I said, “and camp out in the desert and cook meth. Then, he got busted, lost his great job, and went to rehab and straightened up.”

“So he’s got a checkered past,” Vicki concluded. “He broke bad.”

“They’ve all got dirt,” I said. “Charlie the bassist filed a copyright dispute against James about ten years ago, and he lost on a technicality. Roy, the manager, has been in more bar fights than anyone I’ve ever seen. Steve, of course, filed for bankruptcy two years ago, and Gary...well, he doesn’t show up on the radar at all.”

“What do you mean?” Vicki asked.

“He’s doesn’t show up on any search at all,” I said.

“Wait,” AJ chimed in. “What’s his last name?”

“Zimmerman,” I said.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “The Zimmermans are nuts.”

“What do you mean, nuts?” I asked.