Suspicion of Innocence Read Online Free

of eighteen months in federal court, they're so stacked up with drug cases over there.”
    Eyes politely fixed somewhere above his opponent's head, the bank's attorney sat, chin on tented fingers, waiting.
    The judge extended a hand to him, palm up. "Mr. Matthews, do you have an order on this?"
    The attorney pulled it out of the file. "Yes, judge."
    Judge Coakley lifted a pen from a scuffed, gold-plated desk holder. "I got no jurisdiction, Mr. Aguilar. What you ought to do is run over to federal court and file this case where it belongs."
    The judge handed the signed order back to Matthews. "As for state court, well, I've just got to say— Bye-bye." He waggled his fingers. "Next case, please."
    Matthews stood up. "Thank you, judge. I'll make sure Mr. Aguilar gets a conformed copy."
    "You do that. Next case."
    It was two-twenty-five when Gail took her place opposite Quintana at the end of the table, waiting their turns to slide down the fine. The springs in Coakley's chair squeaked in a slow, steady rhythm. Eek-eek-eek. Like baby rats, Gail thought. The noise went right up her spine into her throbbing head.
    She shifted in her chair.
    Quintana was drumming his long fingers on his file. He wore a ring on his right hand. Gold with a diagonal row of diamonds. Not quite heavy enough to be tacky, she decided. Her eyes climbed up his sleeve, across his shoulder. He was watching something out the window. He had eyelashes like curls off a chunk of hard chocolate. A mouth you'd like to get your teeth on. Just a couple notches this side of excessive, she decided. The kind of man her sister would go for. Yes. Renee's type exactly.
    Gail leaned her forehead on her fingers and rubbed. Unbidden, unwanted, like photos thrust in front of her, scenes from her mother's birthday party intruded into her mind.
    Click. Renee at the front door, arms flung out. Ta-daaaaaah! Gail hadn't seen her in months, until Saturday night. She suspected the only reason Renee showed up was to ask their mother for another loan. Renee had brazenly pretended Irene's present was still being engraved.
    Click. Irene pulling Renee into the living room, showing her off to all her friends as if she had just come back from missionary work in Belize. Click. Renee, buzzed on Southern Comfort, talking Dave into playing the piano, though he hadn't played for years. Renee singing "The Way We Were," the song that got her into the finals of the Miss Miami pageant ten years ago. Renee muffing the words halfway through, then falling into Dave's lap, both of them laughing, the piano bench going over, a tangle of arms and legs, Renee flashing her panties. He had kissed her cheek, still laughing, and helped her up.
    Gail and Dave had argued again about it last night. No shouts. Just a cool exchange, leading to a colder silence. Gail took her pillow to the sofa. He must have seen her lying there this morning, but left her to wake up late, the weave of upholstery fabric on her cheek as red as a slap.
    Gail pulled back her cuff far enough to see her watch. As soon as this was over, she would have to call Miriam. No way to make it back in time for the deposition at three.
    When the attorney to her right moved along the line, Gail slid down another chair.
    Quintana clasped his hands loosely on his legal pad. Gail could tell the writing on it was in Spanish. He must have done it to keep her from knowing what was there. Her own Spanish was barely conversational. She noticed his neat manicure, the nails buffed to a soft patina. Another ring on the left hand—gold with dark green stones. A thin watch with a black lizard strap was just visible under a spotlessly white cuff. And on his right wrist— she would have been surprised not to see it—a gold link bracelet that could never have been mistaken for a woman's. He probably had a chain around his neck, too, with a religious medallion on it. The patron saint of Cuba, whoever that was, tangled in black chest hair.
    On the left cuff she managed