"Where are you?"

"I'm home. The Detective just left. He searched my house..."

"Did he ask permission?"

"Yes."

"And you agreed?" asked Brent, raising his voice.

"Of course, Brent. I had nothing to do with Barbara's death."

"Unfortunately Nancy, it doesn't ever really matter what the truth is. Only what they think it is. Now take a deep breath and let's go over this step by step."

Brent knew that anyone could be convicted of anything. It didn't really matter if you were guilty or not. If they decided to pin it on you you were guilty period. After Nancy unloaded her story, she felt better, and agreed not to talk to anyone unless she talked to Brent first.

Brent closed up the office and said good bye to his secretary, Melinda.

"Going to see your favorite FBI agent, boss?" she asked, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Now, how did you know?"

"It's my psychic powers. Now don't you think I deserve a raise?"

"A what? Ahem!" said Brent, clearing his throat.

"See you tomorrow, boss," she said to Brent as he walked out the door.

Angela Wollard was waiting for Brent at their usual table at the El Paseo restaurant. She reached into her purse, pulled out her pocket mirror and looked at herself quickly. As an FBI agent, looking feminine was not on the top of her list, but as Brent Mark's girlfriend, she couldn't just rely on her natural five foot eight inch curvy frame and green eyes. She had to make sure she always looked good for him. Brent arrived just as Angela was switching the mirror for her cell phone, and checking her email.

"Always at work, aren't you Agent Wollard?"

Brent put his hand on Angela's shoulder and leaned over to kiss her.

"You think I am, but I was just waiting for you."

Before long, they were sipping on margaritas (Angela's was a virgin) and swapping work stories.

"It looks like I may be getting a capital case," said Brent.

"I thought you didn't take criminal cases anymore."

"It's for my HOA client."

"The one whose house you saved from foreclosure?"

"Yeah, Nancy Haskins. She's suspected of killing the HOA president."

"Murder?'

'Well she certainly had a motive. They searched her house today and left with some evidence. Detective Tomassi from the Sherriff's Department."

"I know Tomassi. He's a good cop."

"Yeah good enough to search a house without a warrant."

"Did she consent?"

"Apparently so."

"Then?" asked Angela.

"Then, what's the problem, right?"

"Whether she's guilty or not."

"Very good! Now, you're thinking like a lawyer instead of just a cop."

"And you expect to be able to think like a lawyer too, going back to the office after two margaritas?"

"Charles Stinson and I used to have martini lunches and then go back to the office."

"What could you possibly do at the office after a martini lunch?"

"For Charles, it was having another martini. If you popped the head off the eagle statue on his desk, you would discover it was full of vodka."

After the lunch hour at the Santa Barbara Sheriff's office, it was not so relaxed. The tests had come back from the lab on the cellophane wrap and flower food package positive for ricin and with Barbara Densmore's fingerprints all over them. Tomassi reached for the phone and called the Medical Examiner.

"Dr. Perez, we got the tests back on evidence found in the Densmore case. You were right, it was ricin poisoning."

"I knew it. How was it delivered?"

"Flowers. We figure when she opened the plastic wrapping, a packet of what looked like flower food was full of ricin and it was rigged to pop open."

"So she inhaled the ricin."

"That's what we think."

"And it's consistent with my findings of lesions in the trachea. Just as well, I'm going to conduct a further examination."

"Let me know what you come up with, Doc."

Tomassi hung up the phone and called his deputies to action.

"Clark, find out what flower store sold these flowers and who ordered them."

"Will do."

"Williams, let's prepare an affidavit for an arrest warrant on Haskins."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

By the time Brent had sobered up, it was time to go home and feed the cat. After that, a quick shower and then off to Angela's for what would promise to be another wonderful evening. As Brent descended Harbor Hills Drive, the sun was playing a fantastic game of spectrum as it tucked itself beneath the horizon. Angela's apartment was great, but Brent thought that, if they ever did live together, it should be here. Nothing was better than kicking back on the balcony in the fresh air and that fantastic harbor view, at any time of day or night.

Brent almost tripped over Calico as she slinked between his ankles, purring and mewing. Calico won the race to the kitchen, and Brent couldn't pour the kibble out fast enough. She promptly forgot about him as she buried her purring face in her bowl and crunched away.

Just as Brent was getting out of the shower, the phone rang. How he hated the phone, especially after being on it all day at the office. He wrapped a towel around himself and dripped over to it to answer.

"Hello?"

"Boss, it's Melinda. I have an emergency call for you from Nancy Haskins. Can I put her through?"

"Sure, go ahead."

Lawyers are not doctors, and there are not many legal emergencies that can't wait until the next day. Still, Brent knew that the cops had given Nancy a hard time that day. Nancy's voice came in spurts.

"Brent, I've been arrested! What do I do?"

"Nancy, calm down. The first thing we need to do is get you out of there, but you may have to spend the night in jail."

"In jail! How could this happen? I didn't kill anybody! I couldn't!"

"I'm going to help you, Nancy, but none of this is going to be cheap. You'll need money for a bail bond, for starters. Can you borrow money from anyone?"

"I don't know. I suppose so."

"Good. Think of everyone who can possibly help you with money. I'm going to put you back with Melinda and she'll call the bondsmen and your potential lenders for you and find out when your court date is. I'll be there for you, so don't worry. Take a deep breath, slow down and calmly give her as much information as you can."

Judge Burt Hendron's courtroom was a masterpiece of 1927 Santa Barbara architecture. It had leather covered wooden pews for gallery seats and the walls were plastered with murals depicting the discovery of California and the establishment of the missions by Father Junipero Serra. The defendants in custody were escorted into the jury box by the Sheriff's deputies. All wore blue jail jumpsuits and ankle chains, including one shivering Nancy Haskins.

Brent asked permission to speak to Nancy, and went over to remind her of everything they had gone over on the phone. This was an arraignment, where she would plead not guilty and then Brent would ask for her to be released on her own recognizance, without bail. If that was refused, he would ask for a small amount of bail to be set, and the judge would set the matter for a preliminary hearing.

The clerk called the courtroom to order and Judge Hendron took the bench. After about a half hour of pouring through his calendar, he finally called Nancy's case.

"The People of the State of California versus Nancy Haskins, case number C1224356. Counsel please state your appearances."

"Deputy District Attorney Sandra Field for the People, Your Honor."

"Good morning, Ms. Field."

"Brent Marks for the Defendant, Your Honor."

"Good morning, Mr. Marks. This case is on today for arraignment."

Nancy stood up as Brent had previously instructed.

"Yes, Your Honor. The Defendant is present and represented by counsel and waives further reading of rights and charges," said Brent.

"Very well, Mr. Marks. Mrs. Haskins, to the charge of murder in the first degree, how do you plead?"

"Not guilty, Your Honor."

"Your plea of not guilty is taken. Before I set a preliminary hearing, I would like to hear from counsel on the matter of bail."

"Your Honor, the Defendant moves that she be released on her own recognizance. She is a member of the local community for more than 15 years, and is gainfully employed here as well, and bears no flight risk."

Judge Hendron eyeballed Brent from the top of his wire rimmed glasses. "A member of the community who is accused of murdering her neighbor, Mr. Marks."

Field took the cue from the judge and chimed in. She had a shopping cart full of files and the arraignment was about as far as she would see any of these cases go. But she had read every one of the files and was prepared to argue bail.

"This is a capital case, Your Honor. The People request bail in the amount of $1 million."

"Mr. Marks?" asked Judge Hendron.

"That is tantamount to a denial of bail, Your Honor. The Defendant cannot afford to post a million dollar bail. If the Court insists on bail, it should be set at something the Defendant can bond."

"What do you suggest, Mr. Marks?"

"Fifty Thousand Dollars, Your Honor."

"Your Honor, Fifty Thousand Dollars is outrageous for a capital case. Physical evidence of the murder weapon was found on the Defendant's property. This was a pre-meditated act." said Field.

"Your Honor, the only thing tying the evidence that Ms. Field is talking about to the Defendant is that it was found in her garbage. It didn't have any of her fingerprints on it, Your Honor, and it was plastic wrapping for flowers but no flowers were ever found. It could have easily been planted there."

"Save the arguments for trial. Bail is set at One Hundred Thousand Dollars," said Hendron. "Does your client waive time for preliminary hearing and trial?"

Brent knew that, since he had set aside the foreclosure sale and the title to Nancy's townhome was clear, his bail bondsman would write a bond secured by her home for $100,000.

"Yes, Your Honor."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.