2 Nora
985 Words
2 NoraGlancing upstairs, Nora spotted a lanky man at the top.
He wore gray wool slacks that matched his tie. Today’s cardigan was salmon-colored. His thick silver hair swept back from an unlined forehead.
When she stepped onto the landing beside him, she saw his eyebrows were dark gray and his eyes were a warm brown. His pallid face was split by a welcoming smile.
“Thanks for stopping by,” Rogers said.
“I’m pleased to be here.” She shook the hand he extended.
Rogers’s skin was warm and dry, his handshake gentle.
Within a minute, he’d taken her parka and ushered her into the tower room.
Light poured through the windows, glanced off the polished oak frames, and fell on a pair of wingback chairs upholstered in muted shades of ivory and darker gray.
A small round oak table between them held a thermal carafe, two mugs, a stack of napkins, and a blue China plate filled with star-shaped sugar cookies. They were studded with little silver balls.
Silver shot had been her grandmother’s name for the cookie studs.
Nora’s smile widened to a grin.
Miraculously, Rogers had supplied an essential ingredient missing from her Christmas.
She spotted a manila file folder resting on one chair seat. She claimed the other. The tall curved back embraced her.
Rogers lifted the carafe inquiringly. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please. I drink it black.” She took a napkin and helped herself to a cookie.
Nibbling off one star-point, she tasted sugary sweetness, lemony zest, and almond extract.
The familiar mingled flavors brought tears to her eyes.
Rogers filled both mugs and slid one closer to her.
She blinked away the tears, crunched shot between her teeth, and swallowed her mouthful of cookie. “Thank you, Counselor.”
“Call me Fred.” He removed the file from the second chair, sat, and raised his mug toward her in a welcoming gesture.
“And I’m Nora.” She lifted her mug in reply.
Companionably, they sipped coffee.
Rich and strong, the java and the cookie were an ideal pairing. Her meeting was off to a delicious start.
After inquiring about Nora’s trip, Fred got down to business.
“I’m speaking with you on behalf of a long-time client. A recent widow, she has only one child, an adult daughter, age thirty-one. The daughter needs your help.”
He pulled a pair of metal rimmed reading glasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them on. He opened the file folder and glanced at the top sheet of paper.
“I’ve known the daughter all her life. Her full name is Florence Hunter Roosevelt. Since her marriage three years ago to Garth Logan, she’s gone by the name of Hunter Logan.”
Fred moved a new page to the front of his file.
“In October of this year, Hunter was charged with first degree murder of her husband. While maintaining her innocence, she pleaded guilty to manslaughter and accepted a ten-year sentence.”
Fred cleared his throat. “In my client’s view, her daughter should not have made that plea bargain. My client would like you to investigate to see if the plea can be withdrawn or invalidated. If you arrive at a strategy that results in Hunter going on trial, my client will retain you to represent Hunter.”
“I’m sorry but I can’t accept your referral.”
Nora cradled her mug in both hands. “Luckily, your client has other alternatives. Since paying attorney fees doesn’t appear to be a problem for her, she can easily find someone else qualified to handle her daughter’s appeal.”
Fred pursed his lips and made a clicking sound. “I don’t think my client would find that task easy. After I read through Hunter’s file and thought about who might be able to help her, your name was the only one that came to mind.”
Nora laughed. “We’ve met twice in the past three years. I’m surprised you remember my name.”
His laugh echoed hers. “I couldn’t possibly forget you. You handed me an unusual legal problem when you attempted to exhume that body.”
He tapped a finger on the file. “Hunter needs your creativity. Given the nature of the prosecution’s evidence, a conventional strategy focused on constitutional issues would lead nowhere.”
Nora lifted another cookie from the plate. “I assume that suggesting I’m unconventional is intended as a compliment.”
“Absolutely. To me, you’re the obvious choice to craft Hunter’s appeal from her plea bargain. Naturally, I was pleased to find she’s the type client you choose to serve. I’m told you specialize in helping female inmates accused of harming their loved ones.”
Fred had been told about her?
Whoever did the telling had given him the big picture while missing the point. Her clients were penniless. And so far, no one had murdered a husband.
“I’ve pursued successful appeals for two women wrongfully convicted of killing their children,” she said. “I have several more mother-child homicide cases waiting for my attention.”
She set her mug on the table with a firm click.
“I won’t take time away from them to venture into spouse-homicide. And I won’t represent someone who has the money to hire another lawyer.”
“I admire your commitment to your clients.”
Fred hesitated and his forehead wrinkled with concern. “However, you seem to be missing a key fact in this matter. You really cannot make this decision until you know it.”
He slid a finger into the file folder. “Forgive me for breaking the news to you in this way.”
Fred had to apologize for what he was about to reveal?
She felt her stomach muscles clench, her body getting ready for a hard blow.
“Go ahead,” she muttered.
He opened the folder on his lap and leafed through the stack of paper to locate a black-and-white photocopy. He moved it to the top of his stack.
“My client and her husband are not Hunter Logan’s natural parents,” he said. “I provided legal assistance to them when they privately adopted her hours after her birth.”
He lifted out the photocopy and closed the folder.
Passing the document to Nora, he added, “This is a copy of Hunter’s pre-adoption birth certificate.”
The copy paper soft against her fingertips, Nora read the first entry.
Under the heading Name of Infant was typed: “Baby Girl Dockson”.
- Writer
