What We Find
Page 113
“What you’re not doing happens to be against the law. Working as an escort who occasionally supplies sex is illegal, whether the price is affected or not and something tells me you already know that. But we might get lucky this time. I’ll have to see the arrest documents before I’ll know for sure.”
“I want this to go away,” she said.
“What’s your job position? With the doctor you work for?”
“I’m mainly a receptionist, but I also do some computer work. I check patients in, check them out. It’s a cash business—most plastic surgeons don’t run insurance paperwork. I really love my job.”
“And you’ve done this for how long?”
“I’ve been with him for five years now.”
“Okay, that’s all I need for today,” Cal said, sliding his tablet into his bag and getting to his feet.
She stood as well and looked at him sadly. “But you hardly touched your coffee,” she said sweetly.
“Another time, Becky,” he said. At the door he turned toward her. “I suggest that you don’t go on any dates with anyone before your court date.”
“Sure,” she said. “Unless you want to get together. To talk?”
“If I need to talk to you, it’ll be business. Have a good day.”
“Cal?” she asked. “Will you be talking to Tom about this? I know you’re friends.”
He shook his head. “I won’t be talking to anyone about this. What you tell me is confidential.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He threw his canvas bag in the passenger seat of his truck and started the ignition. He chuckled as he thought about the case. She’s a hooker. A pricey hooker who probably rarely gets dinner but commands a decent hotel room and an excellent price. Very likely she meets clients in the doctor’s office. She probably doesn’t have more than one, at most two appointments in a single night. She’s discriminating and her gentlemen probably appreciate her very much. And she’s going to be one of my repeat customers for legal representation.
* * *
Cal spent the next day at the courthouse rounding up documents and lining up a witness he hoped he wouldn’t be using. He met with an assistant DA and suggested he not press charges based on the arrest report alone, but the young man wanted to go to court. So they were on for the following Wednesday.
The weekend found the campground full and busy. People were floating out on the lake, sunning, fishing, swimming. There was a tent or small trailer on every campsite, grills in constant use, lawn chairs out, beach towels spread and picnic tables moved around—first come first serve. The smell of hot dogs cooking and the sound of softballs thwacking into mitts filled the air. People were coming and going to the nearby trails and cliffs all day. The store was teeming with business and probably one of the most gratifying scenes was Sully, enjoying the pinnacle of good health, greeting old friends from years past, customers returning to the crossing for their vacations or long weekend.
During summer, every hand was employed, though Enid kept shorter days since Sully had extra help. Once she got her baking done, she went home—summer meant Frank’s grandkids hanging around the ranch more and she liked spending time with them. Cal and Maggie worked all weekend. A few college girls from across the lake came over to Sully’s to sit on his side of the lake. They had a cooler, a few beers and staked out a picnic table by the lake under the shade of a big tree. One of the girls, probably the only one who was twenty-one, came in and bought a six-pack.
Cal sat on the porch, taking a break in the early-afternoon shade with his laptop open. Maggie came out and sat at his table.
“I want this to go away,” she said.
“What’s your job position? With the doctor you work for?”
“I’m mainly a receptionist, but I also do some computer work. I check patients in, check them out. It’s a cash business—most plastic surgeons don’t run insurance paperwork. I really love my job.”
“And you’ve done this for how long?”
“I’ve been with him for five years now.”
“Okay, that’s all I need for today,” Cal said, sliding his tablet into his bag and getting to his feet.
She stood as well and looked at him sadly. “But you hardly touched your coffee,” she said sweetly.
“Another time, Becky,” he said. At the door he turned toward her. “I suggest that you don’t go on any dates with anyone before your court date.”
“Sure,” she said. “Unless you want to get together. To talk?”
“If I need to talk to you, it’ll be business. Have a good day.”
“Cal?” she asked. “Will you be talking to Tom about this? I know you’re friends.”
He shook his head. “I won’t be talking to anyone about this. What you tell me is confidential.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He threw his canvas bag in the passenger seat of his truck and started the ignition. He chuckled as he thought about the case. She’s a hooker. A pricey hooker who probably rarely gets dinner but commands a decent hotel room and an excellent price. Very likely she meets clients in the doctor’s office. She probably doesn’t have more than one, at most two appointments in a single night. She’s discriminating and her gentlemen probably appreciate her very much. And she’s going to be one of my repeat customers for legal representation.
* * *
Cal spent the next day at the courthouse rounding up documents and lining up a witness he hoped he wouldn’t be using. He met with an assistant DA and suggested he not press charges based on the arrest report alone, but the young man wanted to go to court. So they were on for the following Wednesday.
The weekend found the campground full and busy. People were floating out on the lake, sunning, fishing, swimming. There was a tent or small trailer on every campsite, grills in constant use, lawn chairs out, beach towels spread and picnic tables moved around—first come first serve. The smell of hot dogs cooking and the sound of softballs thwacking into mitts filled the air. People were coming and going to the nearby trails and cliffs all day. The store was teeming with business and probably one of the most gratifying scenes was Sully, enjoying the pinnacle of good health, greeting old friends from years past, customers returning to the crossing for their vacations or long weekend.
During summer, every hand was employed, though Enid kept shorter days since Sully had extra help. Once she got her baking done, she went home—summer meant Frank’s grandkids hanging around the ranch more and she liked spending time with them. Cal and Maggie worked all weekend. A few college girls from across the lake came over to Sully’s to sit on his side of the lake. They had a cooler, a few beers and staked out a picnic table by the lake under the shade of a big tree. One of the girls, probably the only one who was twenty-one, came in and bought a six-pack.
Cal sat on the porch, taking a break in the early-afternoon shade with his laptop open. Maggie came out and sat at his table.
