Muriel stepped forward and gave Peg a hug. “You look lovely.”
“I’ve been doing what you suggested,” Peg replied.
Muriel rewarded her with a wrinkled smile. “I can see it in your face. It’s showing a lot quicker than the baby.”
Sam and Muriel drove out of the parking lot. Mike took Peg’s hand as they turned toward their car.
“What do you think about the Millers?” Mike asked.
Peg was silent for few steps. “They’re simple, yet complicated. Harmless, but a little scary.”
Eleven
MIKE WAS AT HIS DESK MID-MORNING ON MONDAY WHEN Delores brought in the mail.
“I hope you’re not in trouble,” she said. “You have a letter from Judge Coberg.”
She’d placed the envelope from the superior court judge on top of the stack. Mike picked it up.
“No, it’s something I expected.”
Delores stood in front of his desk while Mike opened the envelope. He stopped and looked at her.
“Is there anything else?” he asked.
“Where do you want me to file the things you get from the court?”
“Uh, since we’re not running a law firm here, I’ll keep the correspondence and letters at home. I have to protect the attorney-client privilege with Sam Miller.”
Delores sniffed as she turned to leave the room.
“Unless it’s something that’s part of the public record,” Mike called after her.
Delores closed the door without further comment. Mike realized she’d been somewhat aloof all morning, but the reason for her coolness would have to wait. He turned his attention to the letter addressed to him and Ken West with a copy to Melissa Hall. Referencing the State v. Miller case, the judge briefly wrote:
Counsel for the State and the defense are hereby notified that on several occasions the defendant, Sam Miller, has provided information to the Court about pending cases. Should the State or the defense desire to schedule a hearing regarding specific information, please notify me.
Mike put the letter in his briefcase. He picked up the phone, not to dial the judge’s office, which would be an improper ex parte communication, but to contact the district attorney.
“Ken West, please,” he said. “It’s Mike Andrews.”
Mike waited. In a few seconds the familiar, booming voice of the veteran prosecutor came on the line.
“Mike, why would the minister of the church beat up my newest assistant in court on Thursday?”
“You’ve mixed me up with Greg Freeman. Have you read your mail this morning?”
“No, I’m still working on last Thursday.”
“Pull out a thin envelope that came today from Judge Coberg and open it.”
Ken West weighed almost three hundred pounds, and Mike could hear the prosecutor’s chair squeak in protest as he swiveled it.
“That’s not it,” the veteran prosecutor muttered. “Okay, here it is. I assume you mean the one regarding the Miller case.”
“It’s the only case I have.”
“Humph,” West grunted after a minute. “What is this supposed to mean?”
“That’s why I called you. I wanted to find out your position.”
“I don’t know enough to have one. You’re not going to waive your client’s right to a jury trial and let the judge decide the case, are you?”
“No.”
“Then the jury will determine the facts, assuming we don’t work out a plea bargain.”
“Correct. Do you want to meet with the judge?”
“Probably, but let me talk with Ms. Hall so she can be involved in the decision. I’m not going to jerk this case away from her. It will be good experience for her to respond to the different strategies you’ll use in an effort to manipulate her.”
Mike ignored the dig. “Did your office perform any independent investigation of the factual basis for the charges against Miller? Ms. Hall wouldn’t let me manipulate that information out of her.”
“Good for her. I’ve been knee-deep in the Anson murder case and trying to rework our budget proposal for the next fiscal year. I don’t recall much about this file except that it involved a church and met the $100,000 felony threshold.”
“Could you take a look at it and get back to me? The judge is going to expect a response from us.”
“I have a case review meeting with my assistants later this week. I’ll put it on the agenda and get back with you.”
SEVERAL VISITORS HAD ATTENDED THE CHURCH ON SUNDAY. Part of Mike’s Monday morning routine was to work through the visitor cards and thank the people for coming. Sometimes routine calls uncovered immediate needs in the lives of people desperate for someone to talk to. Today, one woman spoke with him for thirty minutes about her teenage daughter. Mike promised to ask Nathan to make a special effort to reach out to the young woman. When he crossed off the last name, Mike stood up, stretched, and went to Delores’s desk.