Obstruction of Justice by Perri O'Shaughnessy Page A

Inn’s outdoor courtyard, where the happy-hour crowd was sitting around in their casual California togs mellowing out on merlot or chardonnay from the little local vineyard where they’d gone wine-tasting that afternoon. In a little while they would meander down Ocean Boulevard to the main beach to watch the sunset, pleasantly fuzzy, just the way he intended to be in half an hour.
    So Hallowell was the reason for his recent demotion by Nina to best buddy.
    "I don’t want revenge," Hallowell was saying. "I just want some peace...."
    "I oughta take her over my knee and spank her," Paul said to the heedless happy people.
    "What?"
    "Never mind," Paul said, turning back to face Hallowell. "I’m expensive."
    "I haven’t had much to spend my money on. This seems like a good buy."
    "I’m based here. You’d have to cover my expenses at Tahoe."
    "Fine," Hallowell said. "You’d have a free hand."
    Paul thought, This might be a good time to go up there.
    "Is there a problem?"
    "Just going over my schedule mentally," Paul said. "I could get up there on Monday."
    "Great."
    "You staying over tonight?"
    "I’m driving back in the morning."
    "You like sushi?"
    "My daddy was a samurai."
    "Good, because I know a Japanese joint called the Robata with eel and squid and all that good squishy stuff. Let’s go get a bite to eat, talk some more about your case. And mutual friends."
    "Mutual friends? You mean Nina?" Hallowell said.
    "Why, yes. I do mean Nina," said Paul.

5
    IT’S YOUR OWN HOME, NOT TOO BIG TO HANDLE, with a fence and a gate, on a plot of land, your land. It’s your fireplace in winter, in which you build fires from the woodpile outside, and your garden in summer, bursting with vegetables. Through tall windows what feels like your own sunlight pours in. Soft rugs caress your hardwood floors, a thick comforter protects your bed, oranges on the table welcome you home from the fray....
    Nina was dreaming. Her dream was so peaceful, so nice. She lived in a chalet under the pines, and no one knew her address....
    Someone was pounding on the door. She stuck her arm out from under the covers and looked groggily at her watch. Nine-fifteen. Saturday morning. Correction, someone was not pounding. Matt’s new dog, a large slobbering hound named Hitchcock with a checkered past she didn’t care to think about, wanted in. He liked Nina. He loved her. She rued the day Matt had taken in this mangy cur.
    His scratching at the door was like fingernails on a blackboard. She knew what he wanted. He wanted a walk. Well, by God, somebody else could take him, this was her day off, and ...
    Hitchcock left her alone for a minute, then commenced a kind of keening, like a black, furry banshee. "No!" she commanded. Peace descended, and she felt the snoozes taking her down into that soft, delicious place.... The keening resumed, gaining in intensity, punctuated by occasional nerve-shattering scrapes on the door.
    Cursing, she sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Bob was still off in San Francisco visiting his father, and she could really use some time to herself, but she wasn’t going to get it in Matt’s household, with his two kids bouncing off the hallway walls and Hitchcock whining and Matt drilling in the garage.
    She had been living with Matt and Andrea in Matt’s house on Pony Express for almost two years, ever since her move to Tahoe from San Francisco and her divorce from Jack McIntyre. They had been as good as gold to her, helping with Bob, giving them both a warm and well-run household to live in. But the arrangement was supposed to be temporary.
    Sometimes her work caused trouble for the family. Although Matt understood how much she loved her work, he hated what she did. He considered her legal work, as mundane as it usually was, riddled with potential violence. In those rare moments when things got out of hand, he had been too involved not to notice. Matt and Andrea must feel crowded at times, as crowded as she felt this