Free Hearse and Gardens by Kathleen Bridge Page B

couldn’t get the
duunnn dunnn . . . duuuunnn duun . . . duunnn duun . . . duuunnnnn dun dun dun dun
 . . .
Jaws
theme out of my head. I felt like walking bait, and I wasn’t too much off the mark because Justin Marguilles, Gordon’s lawyer, stood at the top of the steps. The word “dapper” came to mind. Marguilles would be a perfect mouthpiece for Bugsy Siegel or a modern-day wiseguy.
    He held the door open for me. “You’re Meg Barrett, right?”
    â€œNo comment.” It took everything I had to not thank him for holding the door. I needed to remain strong.
    â€œByron Hughes pointed you out to me at Pierce Falks’s wake. I think it would be in all our best interests to settle this out of court. My client has recently been through aharrowing experience and doesn’t want to cheat anyone of anything.”
    Right. Then why the lawsuit? “No comment.”
    I went ahead of him through the metal detectors and snatched my handbag from the surprised guard and scurried down the hallway.
    The guard called out, “Excuse me, ma’am. Please come back.”
    Of course, when I turned around, Justin Marguilles was standing next to the metal detector. He took something from the guard and walked toward me.
    â€œIn a rush, are we?” He handed me an item that must have fallen out of my handbag.
    A personal feminine item.
    I grabbed it and stormed away. Could things get any more embarrassing? I might as well go into the ladies’ room, stick some toilet paper to the bottom of my shoe, and let it trail behind me like a flag of surrender.
    I stepped into the courtroom, and the doors slammed behind me, announcing my arrival. A bailiff stood at the front of the room near a raised wooden platform. The courtroom was tastefully decorated, living up to East Hampton standards.
    My attorney, Neil Ruskin, sat on the left side of the courtroom, next to the monsignor. I went and joined them.
    Where was Gordon Miles? Waiting in the wings to make his entrance?
    Justin Marguilles walked into the room and sat at the table to our right. He looked in our direction. “Good afternoon, Monsignor. Don’t forget about our handball game tomorrow. I reserved your favorite court.”
    The monsignor leaned across me. “As if I could. I plan to whip your butt in retaliation for last week’s match.”
    The
Jaws
theme reprised itself.
    We all stood when the judge walked in. Still no Gordon Miles.
    Judge Ferry was attractive and her smiley eyes connected with Marguilles every time she glanced his way. She opened the folder in front of her and flipped through the pages. “I’ve reviewed the case and I have to say I’m leaning in favor of Sergeant Gordon Miles because of the following reasons: in Ms. Eberhardt’s last will she states, ‘In lieu of any living descendants, I leave my entire estate to St. Paul’s Church.’ Sergeant Miles was missing in action and thought to be deceased when the will was drawn up. I am, however, willing to hear the attorney for St. Paul’s Church and Ms. Megan Barrett so they can provide their side before I make a formal decision.”
    Two things blew me away. One, my attorney was representing me
and
St. Paul’s. If we each had our own lawyer, it might make us look more stalwart. And the other thing—where was Gordon Miles?
    I poked Neil and whispered into his ear.
    Neil stood and addressed the court. “We’d like to ask the court’s permission for a postponement until all the interested parties are present.”
    Marguilles stood. “As you know, Judge Ferry, Sergeant Gordon Miles is stationed out of the country at an undisclosed location. I have no problem postponing, but there’s no guarantee my client will be able to be present when you set a final court date.”
    Judge Ferry said, “Understood. That is very solicitousof you, Mr. Marguilles. Mr. Ruskin,