Since my texts with Nadine, I’ve been trying to settle on my next move. Thirty minutes ago, one of my reporters told me Max Matheson was due to be arraigned soon. I’ve put off dealing with in-house issues until I hear how that went. I’ve also kept my burner phone close, but I’ve heard nothing from Jet since last night. And though it’s been tough, I’ve obeyed her order not to try to reach her. I’m hoping Ben Tate’s forceful inquiries made the locum tenens pathologist nervous enough to do an honest autopsy on Buck, but I won’t know until I get a look at the report, which I might not see until the afternoon.
When my iPhone rings, I curse, wishing it was the burner. But at least it’s Carl Stein, the reporter covering Max’s arraignment.
“How’d it go, Carl?”
“The judge just granted Max bail.”
“How high?”
“A million bucks. For a hundred grand cash, he gets to walk free till trial.”
A hundred grand is pocket change for Max, but I expected this. “He’s a lifelong Bienville resident, a war hero, has gainful employment and no criminal record. Plus, the Poker Club has a lot of sway over the judges in this town, both circuit and chancery. Probably even federal.”
“I hear you, but that’s not why I called.”
“Something else happen?”
“You could say that. I called about his lawyer.”
An odd note in Carl’s voice gets my attention. “Arthur Pine?” I say, thinking of the de facto attorney of the Poker Club.
“Nope. Pine sat in the back row during the proceeding.”
“Who did Max hire?”
“Jet, man. His daughter-in-law. Can you believe that shit?”
I feel as though the earth just paused in its revolution around the sun. “No. Are you serious?”
“I knew that would freak you out. I still can’t believe it myself.”
Everyone who works for me knows Jet and I often collaborate on stories, and she’s given all my staff reporters help at different times. On matters of education or civic corruption, she’s the most reliable source in the city. But I’m not sure quite what to say to Carl Stein in this moment.
“Did the judge set a trial date?” I ask in a dazed voice.
“Not yet.”
“Did Jet post bond for Max?”
“Pine had the money. The bag man.”
My mind reels at the implications of this. “Is Jet still at the courthouse?”
“No, she cut right out.”
“Was Paul Matheson there?”
“Uhh, yeah.”
“Did he leave with his wife?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Okay, Carl. Good work.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I take out my burner phone and speed-dial Jet. Her phone rings five times. Then she picks up.
“I told you not to call me,” she whispers.
“Yeah, well, I just heard about your courtroom appearance.”
“What about it?”
“You’re going to defend Max? I thought you hated him.”
“Like I have a fucking choice? Damn it, Marshall. This is family I’m dealing with.”
Like I don’t know that? “Where are you now?”
Silence.
“Jet!”
“Look, how about I come by the paper and explain in person why I can’t give you an interview?”
She’s laying out the excuse she’ll give Paul for the visit. “Whatever works.”
“I’m still downtown. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
The phone clicks, and she’s gone.
I’m not sure what I did for the five minutes it took Jet to get to my office. I must have sat at my desk in a trance, trying to figure out how she’s rationalized serving a man she’s hated and despised for most of her adult life. When my door opens, I’m shocked yet again. She walks in wearing the standard uniform of a corporate lawyer in Jackson, Mississippi: navy skirt suit, cream silk blouse, Christian Louboutins, a Prada purse, a string of small but fine pearls, and the sapphire earrings she wore yesterday. Jet almost never dresses this way, even in court. What the hell is going on?
She closes the door softly behind her, then takes a seat on one of the two chairs before my desk. She sits with an unusual rigidness, as though she’s been summoned for an interrogation. No one watching this conversation would guess that we are lovers.
“Max asked me to represent him at his arraignment,” she informs me. “He asked me through Paul. Paul asked me in front of Kevin. I couldn’t say no, all right? He’s family.”
“Isn’t that the very reason to say no?”
“Not in the Matheson family.”
“Surely there must be an ethical conflict? A rule violation?”
“Would you let me finish? There are rules, and most of them don’t prevent me from representing Max. However, I’m likely to inherit money from Sally, and that will get me out of having to defend him at trial.”
“Would you even have considered doing that?”
She exhales slowly, as though restraining herself from snapping back at me. “After I consulted with Max this morning—at the jail—he asked me to represent him at trial. Begged me, actually.”
I’m shaking my head in disbelief. “Jet, what the fuck?”
“Please let me finish. This is difficult enough as it is. It’s no mystery why Max wants me to defend him on this murder charge. I’m a woman and a family member. Even though someone else will almost certainly end up defending him at trial, my handling the early phase says more to potential jury members about his innocence than anything else could.”
“Oh, I know why he wants you. But why have you agreed?”
She closes her eyes and takes a long breath. “Surely you’ve figured that out.”
“Uhh, no.”
Her voice drops to an angry whisper. “What’s the one thing in life I need? Custody of my son. That’s the only way I can be with you and live with myself.”
“You think representing Max will—”
“Yes.”
This is wishful thinking. “Jet, I don’t care what Max has promised you, he won’t live up to it. Not once you get him off.”
“He will. I’ve made sure of it.”
I’m sure she’s bound him to some kind of agreement, but I still see a problem. “Does he realize that rules might prevent you from defending him at trial?”
“Not yet. And by the time he finds out, it won’t matter. He’s providing me a sworn affidavit saying that I deserve to be Kevin’s sole custodial parent. He’ll describe Paul’s years-long depression, his alcoholism, even his suicide attempts.”
“Suicide attempts?”
She nods. “There are still a few things I haven’t told you.”
“Apparently so.”
“Max will not only assert my fitness as a mother, but also his opinion that I’m an ideal role model for Kevin. We agreed on all these points before I handled the arraignment this morning.”
Her controlled delivery leaves me speechless. I’ve always known that Jet had a calculating side, but her use of Sally’s murder—and Max’s likely guilt—as leverage to gain favorable divorce terms takes my breath away.