"Why wasn't anybody notified?" Haseejian demanded, trying unsuccessfully to keep the anger out of his voice.
Bill Tanner sighed and shook his head. "I haven't been able to pin that down yet, but from what I gather right now, the CDOJ was trying to keep a lid on everything because there is so much at stake. And I don't think anyone was anticipating this kind of a screw-up."
"I think screw-up is putting it mildly," Healey growled, sitting back in the armchair, his sandwich now forgotten.
An uneasy silence settled over the room, each man lost in his own thoughts.
"You've done great work here, Bill," Steve said finally and the others nodded.
Tanner smiled shyly. "Thanks, guys. Uh, I'm not done yet, not by a long shot, and I have a feeling it's going to get a lot tougher and slower from here on out. Especially if Mike's not going to offer anything in the way of a defence." He looked at Steve and smiled sadly. "I asked Jack Fowler if I could get in to see him today and Jack told me Mike refused."
Steve snorted mirthlessly. "I'm not surprised. He wouldn't tell me anything either."
"You got to see him?" Tanner's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"For a few minutes in the hospital while they X-rayed his hand. He basically told me he did it and if I didn't believe him, then prove him wrong." Steve glanced at the others and a small smile appeared. "I fully intend to take him up on that challenge."
Healey chuckled. "Do you think he did that deliberately?"
"What?" Steve seemed confused.
"Challenge you to prove him wrong? Do you think he did that so you would look into all this a little closer? To really and truly prove him innocent?"
A few long silent seconds filled the room, all eyes on the former detective turned professor. Eventually Steve shook his head quickly, his sudden smile ironic. "Oh my god, can you believe I never even thought of that? I mean, I was so mad at him for just… dismissing me… I never even thought about that."
Haseejian tilted his head. "If I've learned anything over the years, it's never to underestimate Mike Stone. I think you have to entertain the idea that he just played you."
Steve let his head drop; his shoulders began to shake and the others could hear the faint sound of a dry, humorless laugh. Healey looked at Haseejian and Tanner and smiled; the barest hint of a newfound optimism could be felt in the room.
The loud ding-dong of the doorbell made them all jump. With an annoyed frown, Healey got to his feet. "Who the hell is that?" he grumbled to himself as crossed to the front door, turning the deadbolt and pulling it open with barely concealed annoyance.
Jack Fowler was standing on the stoop, a pleased grin on his face. "Ah ha, you are all here!" he crowed without preamble as he pushed his way past the detective and into the living room.
Healey followed the newcomer's entrance with an irritated scowl, automatically closing and locking the door as the lawyer strode up to the others, greeting them individually with nods as he continued, "I was hoping to find you altogether; makes what I'm about to tell you easier."
"How did you know we were here?" Haseejian asked through a narrowed stare.
Fowler graced him with a patient glare and a sigh. "Lawyers can be pretty good detectives too, you know. As a matter of fact, I was a cop down in San Jose for two years before I decided to trade in my squad car for a desk and move north." He smiled smugly. "I figured you guys would be getting your heads together to figure out how to help Mike, if you could, and I also figured it would have to be at someone's residence, to be discreet. I also know Steve's no longer living in The City, so that narrowed it down. I only had four places to check." He turned his keen brown eyes on Steve. "It's kinda hard to miss that Porsche of yours. Still running okay after all these years?"
"Yeah," the criminology professor answered slowly, "I take good care of it." He glanced at the others. "Okay, you found us. What do you want to tell us?" From Fowler's nonchalant, almost casual demeanor, he had surmised it wasn't something grim, but one could never be sure with lawyers, he thought.
"Well, you took off from the hospital so fast, I didn't have time to tell you." Fowler sobered, glancing once more at all four, his smile now reassuring.
"Um, before you start, can I get you a beer or something?" Healey offered, ever the gracious host.
Fowler held up a hand. "No thanks, Dan. I only have a few minutes. But I just wanted to let you guys know that I spoke to Gerry O'Brien earlier today, right after the hearing to be exact, and he had an interesting proposition for, ah, for this whole mess."
He looked directly at Steve and smiled. "He took the second degree murder charges off the table… He offered voluntary manslaughter, with three years at the medium security unit at Tehachapi." The smile disappeared. "I know it's not close… but it's not for life and it's not Quentin."
Nobody moved or said a word. Fowler eventually continued. "I talked to Mike about it, and he agreed. So did the judge. So he's, ah, he's going to be sentenced tomorrow morning at 11 o'clock." He looked at them all sympathetically. "I, ah… I just thought you should know."
No one moved or made a sound. Very slowly every pair of eyes drifted towards Steve, who was staring down at the carpet between his feet. He had held his breath while the attorney held the floor; now he let the air out slowly and loudly.
Fowler glanced nervously at the others then cleared his throat. "Listen, Steve, it was the best –"
The younger man's head came up quickly and he smiled. "Jack," he said sharply and Fowler stopped talking. "I'm not upset. I'm grateful. I think what you and Gerry have done here is… is remarkable." He got slowly to his feet and held out his right hand. "Thank you," he said simply.
His face softening from guilt to relief, Fowler shook the proffered hand. "You're welcome," he responded sincerely, "but it was all Gerry's doing. It was his initiative."
"Then I owe Gerry a debt of thanks too," Steve said, enfolding the lawyer's hand in both his own.
Nodding agreeably and proudly, Fowler glanced at his watch as Steve released his hand. "Listen, ah, I want to tell Mike's daughter about this development so she doesn't go to bed tonight thinking her dad is on his way to San Quentin in the morning. Do any of you guys know where she is?"
"I know where she is, Jack," Steve offered, "I'll let her know."
Fowler looked at him, frowning. "You sure? It's no problem for me –"
"No no, I want to," Steve smiled. "She's had a rough day too and I think this'll bring her a little peace. I'll do it."
"Okay, then I'll leave you gentlemen to… whatever it was you were doing, and I'm going to get home to my wife and a home-cooked dinner."
Healey got to his feet as Fowler started towards the front door. The heavy-set SFPD sergeant put an arm around the lawyer's shoulders after opening the door. "Thanks, Jack. That was probably the best news we coulda gotten tonight. Appreciate you tracking us down," he chuckled, "to let us know."
"Well," Fowler grinned, "I'm always looking for the opportunity to show you guys that lawyers, even PBA lawyers, aren't all shysters and bastards. See ya, fellas!"
Healey closed the door and turned back to the room. "Well, that was an unexpected but very welcome turn of events."
"Yeah," Steve agreed, reaching towards the back of the sofa to snag his jacket and shrug it on, patting the pockets to find his keys. "Listen, I know Jeannie's at her Dad's place. I'm just gonna head on over there and tell her the news before I go home." He looked at the others. "You guys gonna be there tomorrow morning?"
"You bet," Healey nodded while Haseejian growled, "Of course."
Tanner shrugged. "It all depends what Roy wants me to do. Oh, I don't know if you guys heard, but word came down late this afternoon that Devitt is going to be running Homicide for the foreseeable future. I know he doesn't want the job permanently so…"
Steve nodded, weighing this new information then looked at his host. "Dan, thanks a lot, and thank Bonnie for me, will ya? Bill – yeoman work, man, really. I want to talk to you more about what you found and where to go from here. Norm." He turned back at the door, hesitating a few seconds before saying softly, "I feel a lot better about everything right now than I've felt all day. There's a lot of things we still don't know, but we're gonna find out. And this isn't over yet – not by a long shot."
# # # # #
Jeannie opened the door on a slightly panting Steve Keller. The former cop was shaking his head and smiling sheepishly. She opened her mouth to say something but he held up a forefinger and she stopped. A few laboured breaths later he gasped, "My new life doesn't contain as many hills and stairs as it used to. I must be out of shape."
Despite everything she had been going through all day, the younger woman managed to find a grin. She reached out to grab his hand and pull him into the house. "That just means you haven't been visiting as much as you should."
Playfully stumbling into the living room, Steve smiled and nodded at Dan, who was standing in front of the couch. "Dan. I figured you were here – I thought I recognized your truck down the block."
"He stayed for dinner." Jeannie closed the door and moved past Steve towards the kitchen. "Do you have time to stay for some tea? We have a pot of camomile steeping."
"Camomile? You don't have any coffee?" Steve's brows had knit and Dan couldn't contain a snort and a low chuckle.
Jeannie rolled her eyes and turned to the kitchen. "I'll put the percolator on."
"Listen, ah, there's a couple of developments I want to tell you two about." Steve offered gently, following her into the kitchen, Dan on his heels.
Jeannie continued to very deliberately set out and fill the percolator, giving her an excuse not to face him while she waited for him to continue.
He knew how on edge she was and wasted no time. "It's good news, Jeannie. Well, as good as we could hope for right now." He saw her catch her breath but continue to prep the coffee maker.
Steve glanced at Dan and smiled. "Gerry O'Brien went to Jack Fowler with a proposition, and everyone has agreed to it, including the judge and your dad." Jeannie looked up at him, a slightest trace of hope in her troubled eyes. "The charge of murder in the second degree has been downgraded to voluntary manslaughter."
Dan exhaled heavily and dropped his head. Jeannie glanced at him and then back at Steve. "What does that mean?"
He smiled encouragingly. "That means Mike's not going to Quentin and the length of his sentence has been reduced from the possibility of life down to three years."
"What facility?" Dan asked, finding his voice.
"Tehachapi." Jeannie frowned and Steve expounded. "Southeast of Bakersfield. It's medium security. He'll be housed in a sort of dormitory instead of a cell, he'll have work privileges and there's the possibility that, in time, he could be moved to a minimum security facility closer to home or even released early."
When he finished talking, Jeannie turned back to the counter, plugging the percolator cord into the wall socket. She remained facing the counter, and both men could see her start to shake. Steve stepped closer and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her against his chest.
"I know, honey, I know." She sobbed silently, reaching up to grab his forearms as she squeezed her eyes closed, giving in to the helplessness that had enveloped her since the early morning call that had changed her life.
Glancing sadly at Dan, Steve laid his cheek against the top of her head. "I know, I know, I know…" he kept crooning.
