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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

THURSDAY, MARCH 23, 2023

7:00 P.M.

By the time Donna Jean got home that night, she had put in a full ten-hour day. She had cleaned both of her Thursday houses and managed to make up part of one of the two she had missed on Tuesday. Too tired to even put a frozen dinner in the microwave, she settled at the kitchen table with a bowl of Cheerios and a carton of milk.

Mrs. Brewster had called around noon to let Donna Jean know that she was out on bail and being held under house arrest at the Hotel Sorrento in Seattle. Donna had never set foot inside the Sorrento. It sounded expensive, but no doubt Mrs. Brewster could afford it.

“It’s pet friendly,” Mrs. Brewster reported, “but I can’t imagine Pearl would be happy here, so if you don’t mind looking after her…”

“It’s fine,” Donna Jean said quickly. “She’s pretty much settled in. I’ll be glad to keep her as long as you need.” Unless I end up going to jail, too , she thought.

“And about the house,” Mrs. Brewster continued. “It’s still considered a crime scene at this point, but once they release it, I’m planning on having some renovations done, so I don’t have any idea when I’ll need you to come back.”

Somehow Donna Jean had always known that would be the eventual outcome. The problem was, some of her other customers, assuming correctly that she might be the unnamed person of interest in Mr. Brewster’s homicide, had already told her they no longer needed her services, either. As a result, Donna Jean was currently on the prowl for replacement customers, so far without success.

“I’ll pay you a hundred bucks a month for taking care of Pearl,” Mrs. Brewster offered.

Donna Jean knew that most pet-sitting services cost far more than a hundred dollars a month, but that didn’t matter.

“No need,” Donna Jean had said. “I like having her here.”

At that moment, when Donna Jean was down to the last of her Cheerios, Pearl emerged from the bedroom and gave Donna Jean’s leg a soft nudge on her way past. The cat had already figured out correctly that if she did that trick at mealtimes, she was usually given a treat, and it worked this time as well. Donna Jean placed her almost empty cereal dish down on the floor, where Pearl made quick work of the last few spoonfuls of milk at the bottom of the bowl.

That’s when her phone rang with a call from an unknown number located in Bellevue. Donna Jean didn’t know anyone living on the far side of Lake Washington, but on the off chance that it might be someone looking for a new cleaning lady, she went ahead and answered.

“Hello.”

“Donna Jean Plummer?” an unfamiliar female voice asked.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“My name is Moesha Jackson. I’m a criminal defense attorney with Justice for All. A woman named Ali Reynolds contacted us earlier today indicating that it’s possible you’re being unfairly targeted in a homicide investigation, and that you might be in need of legal representation.”

Donna Jean was mystified. Who was this woman? How had she gotten her number? How did she know Donna Jean needed an attorney? And who the hell was Ali Reynolds?

The silence on the phone must have lasted longer than expected. “Are you still there, Ms. Plummer?”

“Yes, I’m here,” Donna Jean said quickly. “I just don’t know how…”

“Justice for All is in the business of trying to undo miscarriages of justice. In this case we might be able to prevent one. Would it be possible for us to get together tomorrow to discuss your situation?”

“Miss…” Donna Jean began.

“Ms. Jackson, but you can call me Moesha.”

“I appreciate your calling,” Donna Jean said quickly, “but I’m in no position to hire an attorney.”

“Justice for All works pro bono,” Moesha explained. “That means there is no charge for our services, but in order to look into your case, I’ll need you to sign a document saying you’re accepting me as your attorney. That’s why we need to get together in person—for you to sign the document. After that, you can tell me what’s going on and make a determination about whether you’d like us to go to work for you. So what time tomorrow would be convenient?”

With the Brewsters permanently off Donna Jean’s calendar, Friday mornings were now wide open.

“Where?” she asked.

“How about at my office?”

“Where’s that?”

“In Bellevue on Northeast Eighth,” Moesha replied.

For Donna Jean, crossing one of the Lake Washington bridges to go to Bellevue was like going to a different planet. But what would a Bellevue attorney think of her shabby apartment? In the end, though, that seemed like the lesser of two evils.

“I really don’t know my away around Bellevue,” she admitted. “Would it be possible for you to come here?”

“Sure, would ten a.m. work?”

“Yes,” Donna Jean agreed before she had a chance to change her mind. “Ten will be fine. Do you need the address?”

“Oh, no,” Moesha said. “I already have it. See you then.”

How does she know where I live? Donna Jean wondered. How does she know so much about me? And how many other people do, too?

At that point, she was so upset that she left the kitchen just as it was—with her dirty bowl right there on the kitchen floor. In the living room, she dropped heavily into her easy chair and allowed herself a moment of absolute despair. But just then, Pearl came over to her chair, hopped up into her lap, and curled herself into a tight ball.

Somehow that made everything better.