"You're River Andrews' attorney?" she asked, glancing behind her at Daryl.
"Don't ask for help from Daryl, Officer Edwards," I said. "I'm simply asking you to rely on your powers of imagination. Imagine what you would think, as that attorney. Perhaps you'd surmise that this is a larger campaign of harassment against your client and those who are important to her. Perhaps you'd even begin to think about the various and sundry ways you could bring suit against the sheriff's department for their denial of Mr. Saint's Constitutional rights. Perhaps you'd even consider the personal lawsuits you could file. Can you imagine that scenario with me, Officer Edwards?"
The woman looked nervous, turning again to Daryl, and I hid a smile as I reached into my wallet and drew out my bar card, the fake that was a part of Molly's identity kit. I said a silent thank you to the grifter gods that I'd chosen this particular identity. Molly had never used her fake bar card that identified her as an attorney, but there was a first time for everything.
I set it down on the counter, and she looked at it. "Now, you know that my client has a right to counsel. I'd hate to think that you were infringing on his rights. I'd also hate to think that I'd have to call a friend in the media. They do so love these stories about small-town abuse of power."
When in doubt, invoke media threats.
I hoped I sounded enough like an attorney to be passable.
Daryl finally looked up from his computer. "Come on, Ruby," he said. "Let her talk to him. You know he's done gone through processing. We don't need any bullshit."
The female officer scowled. "Daryl, you know Sherriff Easton brought him in himself. You want to deal with him when he finds out you okayed a big-city lawyer coming in here?"
"Don't worry, Daryl," I said. "I see you being cast in the newspaper articles as the dedicated officer who held strong against rampant abuse of power and corruption in the sheriff’s department. The story virtually writes itself."
Daryl ignored me. "Just let her back there, Ruby," he said. "You know we ain't got nobody else in there except Mr. Jenkins, and he's in the drunk tank. Silas Saint is going to get bailed out anyway now that his brother's with that movie star."
I leaned forward, my arms on the counter. "He is, Ruby."
Her expression softened, and she sighed. "Fine." She paused for a moment, and then leaned in closer. "So you're River Andrews' attorney, then? I bet you know a lot of movie stars, right?"
I shook my head, raising a finger to my lips. "I can't answer that question, Officer Edwards," I said. "Attorney-client privilege and all."
I couldn't even remember if attorney-client privilege applied to this scenario, if it was similar to how shrinks couldn't tell you if someone was their client. But Ruby seemed to buy the answer.
She stood up, stepped away from the counter, a disappointed expression on her face, so I decided to throw her a bone.
"Although, just between you and me," I said, lowering my voice conspiratorially, "I might know someone who represents that big movie star, the one who was just arrested for having sex with a prostitute in London a few weeks ago."
Ruby's eyes widened. "I just couldn't believe that," she said. "He always seemed like such a nice guy in his movies. I guess you never really know whether people are pulling one over on you."
"No, Ruby," I said, shaking my head. "You certainly do not. There are a lot of deceptive people in this world." I slid my fake bar card back into its place in Molly's wallet.
"You don't have to tell me that," she said. “I'll bring you back. You'll have to leave your purse and cell phone here. Pen and notepad only."
Fifteen minutes later, Ruby was leading me down the hallway to a room. "We don't have all the bells and whistles like the bigger places," she said. "But this one of our interrogation rooms. It doubles as a visiting room. The sound is off, obviously, so we can't listen in, legally speaking. But you'll be on the closed-circuit video up front, just in case anything goes wrong."
I looked through the small square window at the top of the door, where Silas sat in a jumpsuit, his hands cuffed and resting on the aluminum table. "Can the cuffs be removed?"
She shook her head. "Sorry, Ms. McAdams," she said. "We have to follow protocol. I'll be up front if you need anything. The panic button is on the wall. Keep yourself closest to the door; the prisoner remains in the seat furthest from the door. Don't give the prisoner anything, even a pen. I'm sure you know all of the rules already - it's all standard stuff."
"Of course," I said, looking at the window again.
She pulled open the door. "Saint," she said. "Your attorney is here."
To his credit, Silas remained poker-faced.
"Thank you, Ruby," I said, walking to the table, pen and paper in hand. The door slammed closed behind me.
"Attorney?" Silas asked. "Is that what you are?"
"When it suits me," I said. "And sometimes when I have to get a friend out of a jam."