Chapter XI

As anticipated, Colleen Clark's arrival provoked a burst of surprised activity at Portland PD headquarters, which eventually concluded, after some hurried telephone calls, with her arrest on the charges of criminal restraint by a parent, endangering the welfare of a child, and the manslaughter of a child under the age of six. An hour later, Erin Becker sailed in wearing a cocktail dress and heels, having been forced to leave a campaign fund-raising dinner in Brunswick to deal with the consequences of Colleen's presentation of herself to the authorities. Even without the heels, Becker would have been taller than Moxie or me, and it was interesting that when she and Paul Nowak appeared together, the latter arranged for them to remain seated, or found a way to stand one step higher than her. Ultimately, he'd be forced to resort to lifts in his shoes.

Becker was a striking brunette, happily married to a business executive husband—as far as anyone could tell—with three children under the age of ten whom she sensibly didn't parade for photo opportunities, because criminals had a habit of taking it amiss when prosecutions went against them. She was clever, too, walking a political tightrope between the liberal east of the state and the more conservative interior, but she had little kindness to her, and no mercy. Those with ambition in the AG's office didn't progress by not putting people behind bars, and there were few votes in leniency.

That she was unhappy with the current turn of events was clear from the look she shot at Moxie, and she didn't demonstrate any greater delight at the sight of me. She cornered Moxie outside the interview room in which Colleen was being held and asked him just how smart he thought he was. Moxie, as he told me later, was tempted to reply that it depended on the company, but common sense prevailed. In the game being played, he had sacrificed a pawn in the hope of gaining an advantage elsewhere on the board, but Becker still had it in her power to punish him for what he'd done. She made this instantly clear when she announced that Colleen would be transferred, not to Cumberland County Jail but to Maine Correctional Center in Windham. It was a vindictive move and nothing more, and potentially placed Colleen in danger. The MCC was overpopulated to such a degree that women were incarcerated in temporary buildings with male inmates, and accommodation originally designed for two or four female prisoners routinely housed twice those numbers. With staff overstretched already, Colleen's safety couldn't be guaranteed, even if she was kept in isolation, not with the charges leveled against her.

"Why would you do that?" said Moxie. "What's the benefit?"

"She's a suspected child killer," said Becker. "Maybe you'd prefer to have her put up at the Regency?"

"I checked with Cumberland County Jail," said Moxie. "They're not even at capacity, and they've only one female inmate right now: a repeat DUI awaiting trial because she couldn't make bail. The Cumberland County DA isn't going to kick up a fuss if she's sent on her way so my client can have their exclusive attention."

"You really think I'm going to make life easier for her, after the stunt you just pulled?"

"She's been charged, not convicted," said Moxie, "and the TV cameras aren't going anywhere. You'll get your exposure, but without my client's home address being advertised on every TV in the Northeast. If you put her in MCC to get stabbed by a junkie, you're going to look bad at the bail hearing for deliberately endangering the safety of a prisoner when you had options, and placing her far from counsel."

Becker stewed, but it was obvious that her better judgment would have to prevail over baser emotions. Moxie wasn't some public defender she could browbeat into submission. He'd been handling murder cases back when Becker was still rigging elections to the student council.

"Fine," she said. "Let Cumberland take her, but you just blew all my goodwill, and then some."

She stalked off, but not before pausing in front of me.

"What the fuck are you smiling at?"

"I'm just naturally buoyant."

"When the ship goes down, you'll drown with the rest," said Becker. "Let's see how buoyant you are then."

Moxie and I watched her depart. She was already making a call from her cell phone. I'd have bet good money she was about to speak with her boss, Nowak.

"That went well," I said to Moxie. "You got your way twice already this evening, and Becker barely drew blood."

"She'll try to kill us on bail. That's how she works."

"You think Cuba will be far enough away for us?"

"Mars won't be far enough."

He walked to a window and looked down on Middle Street. The news vans had gathered outside, the crews waiting to grab footage of Colleen being taken to jail.

"When will you make your statement?" I said.

"As soon as she's on her way. I have transcripts ready to hand out. I hate being misquoted."

"And your every word a pearl. If you don't need me, I'd like to get going before you make your speech."

"Sure," said Moxie. "It's been a long day. I know you don't like early starts, but I'd appreciate it if maybe you could come by the office before noon tomorrow. I'll order in lunch, if you like."

"Let's see how things go. If I make it, coffee will be fine."

"You're going to fade away," said Moxie, "and then none of your clothes will fit right."

"You and me both."

"Yeah, but I'm growing into mine. I plan ahead."

"Well, that's why they pay you the big bucks," I said, and left him to consign Colleen Clark to the cells.