Last dance, p.25
Last Dance, page 25
Thanks to my beautiful wife, Linda, who reads my manuscripts, designs the covers, is my online marketing guru, and takes care of all things technological. I couldn’t imagine trying to navigate the chaos of the publishing world without you.
Thanks to our son, Alan, for your endless support, editorial suggestions, thoughtful observations, and excellent cover art and formatting work. I will look forward to seeing your first novel on the shelves in bookstores in the near future.
Thanks to our son, Stephen, and our daughter-in-law, Lauren, for being kind, generous, and immensely talented people.
Thanks to my teachers, Katherine Forrest and Michael Nava, who encouraged me to finish my first book. Thanks to the Every Other Thursday Night Writers Group: Bonnie DeClark, Meg Stiefvater, Anne Maczulak, Liz Hartka, Janet Wallace, and Priscilla Royal. Thanks to Bill and Elaine Petrocelli, Kathryn Petrocelli, Karen West, and Luisa Smith at Book Passage.
A huge thanks to Jane Gorsi for your excellent editing skills. A huge thanks to Linda Hall for your excellent editing skills, too.
Another huge thanks to Vilaska Nguyen of the San Francisco Public Defender’s Office for your thoughtful comments and terrific support. If you ever get into serious trouble, he’s your guy.
Thanks to Joan Lubamersky for providing the invaluable “Lubamersky Comments” for the sixteenth time.
Thanks to Tim Campbell for your stellar narration of the audio version of this book (and many others in the series). You are the voice of Mike Daley, and you bring these stories to life!
Thanks to my friends and former colleagues at Sheppard, Mullin, Richter & Hampton (and your spouses and significant others). I can’t mention everybody, but I’d like to note those of you with whom I worked the longest: Randy and Mary Short, Chris and Debbie Neils, Joan Story and Robert Kidd, Donna Andrews, Phil and Wendy Atkins-Pattenson, Julie and Jim Ebert, Geri Freeman and David Nickerson, Bill and Barbara Manierre, Betsy McDaniel, Ron and Rita Ryland, Bob Stumpf, Mike Wilmar, Mathilde Kapuano, Susan Sabath, Guy Halgren, Ed Graziani, Julie Penney, Christa Carter, Doug Bacon, Lorna Tanner, Larry Braun, Nady Nikonova, Joy Siu, and DeAnna Ouderkirk.
Thanks to Jerry and Dena Wald, Gary and Marla Goldstein, Ron and Betsy Rooth, Jay Flaherty, Debbie and Seth Tanenbaum, Jill Hutchinson and Chuck Odenthal, Tom Bearrows and Holly Hirst, Julie Hart, Burt Rosenberg, Ted George, Phil Dito, Chuck and Nora Koslosky, Jack Goldthorpe, Char Saper, Flo and Dan Hoffenberg, Lori Gilbert, Paul Sanner, Stewart Baird, Mike Raddie, Peter and Cathy Busch, Steve Murphy, Bob Dugoni, and John Lescroart. Thanks to Gary and Debbie Fields.
Sadly, we recently had to say goodbye to the wonderful Rabbi Neil Brief who, together with his wife, Erica, were always there when we needed them for many years. We also had to bid farewell to my longtime reader, Sister Karen Marie Franks, of St. Dominic’s Convent in San Francisco. We miss you.
Thanks to Tim and Kandi Durst, and Bob and Cheryl Easter, at the University of Illinois. Thanks to Kathleen Vanden Heuvel, Bob and Leslie Berring, Jesse Choper, and Mel Eisenberg at Berkeley Law.
Thanks to the incomparable Zvi Danenberg, who motivates me to walk the Larkspur steps.
Thanks as always to Ben, Michelle, and Andy Siegel, Margie and Joe Benak, Joe, Jan, and Julia Garber, Roger and Sharon Fineberg, Scott, Michelle, Kim, and Sophie Harris, Stephanie, Stanley, Will, and Sam Coventry, Cathy, Richard, and Matthew Falco, Sofia Arnell, and Oliver Falco, and Julie Harris and Matthew, Aiden, and Ari Stewart. A huge thanks once again to our mothers, Charlotte Siegel (1928-2016) and Jan Harris (1934-2018), whom we miss every day.
Excerpt from FIRST TRIAL
Readers have asked to know more about Mike and Rosie’s early history. As a thank you to all of you, I wrote this short story about how Mike & Rosie met years ago as they were just starting out at the P.D.’s Office. Here’s the first chapter and you can download the full story (for FREE) at: www.sheldonsiegel.com. Enjoy!
1
“DO EXACTLY WHAT I DO”
The woman with the striking cobalt eyes walked up to me and stopped abruptly. “Are you the new file clerk?”
“Uh, no.” My lungs filled with the stale air in the musty file room of the San Francisco Public Defender’s Office on the third floor of the Stalinesque Hall of Justice on Bryant Street. “I’m the new lawyer.”
The corner of her mouth turned up. “The priest?”
“Ex-priest.”
“I thought you’d be older.”
“I was a priest for only three years.”
“You understand that we aren’t in the business of saving souls here, right?”
“Right.”
Her full lips transformed into a radiant smile as she extended a hand. “Rosie Fernandez.”
“Mike Daley.”
“You haven’t been working here for six months, have you?”
“This is my second day.”
“Welcome aboard. You passed the bar, right?”
“Right.”
“That’s expected.”
I met Rosita Carmela Fernandez on the Wednesday after Thanksgiving in 1983. The Summer of Love was a fading memory, and we were five years removed from the Jonestown massacre and the assassinations of Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk. Dianne Feinstein became the mayor and was governing with a steady hand in Room 200 at City Hall. The biggest movie of the year was Return of the Jedi, and the highest-rated TV show was M*A*S*H. People still communicated by phone and U.S. mail because e-mail wouldn’t become widespread for another decade. We listened to music on LPs and cassettes, but CD players were starting to gain traction. It was still unclear whether VHS or Beta would be the predominant video platform. The Internet was a localized technology used for academic purposes on a few college campuses. Amazon and Google wouldn’t be formed for another decade. Mark Zuckerberg hadn’t been born.
Rosie’s hoop-style earrings sparkled as she leaned against the metal bookcases crammed with dusty case files for long-forgotten defendants. “You local?”
“St. Ignatius, Cal, and Boalt. You?”
“Mercy, State, and Hastings.” She tugged at her denim work shirt, which seemed out-of-place in a button-down era where men still wore suits and ties and women wore dresses to the office. “When I was at Mercy, the sisters taught us to beware of boys from S.I.”
“When I was at S.I., the brothers taught us to beware of girls from Mercy.”
“Did you follow their advice?”
“Most of the time.”
The Bay Area was transitioning from the chaos of the sixties and the malaise of the seventies into the early stages of the tech boom. Apple had recently gone public and was still being run by Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak. George Lucas was making Star Wars movies in a new state-of-the-art facility in Marin County. Construction cranes dotted downtown as new office towers were changing the skyline. Union Square was beginning a makeover after Nieman-Marcus bought out the City of Paris and built a flashy new store at the corner of Geary and Stockton, across from I. Magnin. The upstart 49ers had won their first Super Bowl behind a charismatic quarterback named Joe Montana and an innovative coach named Bill Walsh.
Her straight black hair shimmered as she let out a throaty laugh. “What parish?”
“Originally St. Peter’s. We moved to St. Anne’s when I was a kid. You?”
“St. Peter’s. My parents still live on Garfield Square.”
“Mine grew up on the same block.”
St. Peter’s Catholic Church had been the anchor of the Mission District since 1867. In the fifties and sixties, the working-class Irish and Italian families had relocated to the outer reaches of the City and to the suburbs. When they moved out, the Latino community moved in. St. Peter’s was still filled every Sunday morning, but four of the five masses were celebrated in Spanish.
“I was baptized at St. Peter’s,” I said. “My parents were married there.”
“Small world.”
“How long have you worked here?” I asked.
“Two years. I was just promoted to the Felony Division.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I need to transition about six dozen active misdemeanor cases to somebody else. I trust that you have time?”
“I do.”
“Where do you sit?”
“In the corner of the library near the bathrooms.”
“I’ll find you.”
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in my metal cubicle when I was startled by the voice from the file room. “Ever tried a case?” Rosie asked.
“It’s only my second day.”
“I’m going to take that as a no. Ever been inside a courtroom?”
“Once or twice.”
“To work?”
“To watch.”
“You took Criminal Law at Boalt, right?”
“Right.”
“And you’ve watched Perry Mason on TV?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know the basics. The courtrooms are upstairs.” She handed me a file. “Your first client is Terrence Love.”
“The boxer?”
“The retired boxer.’
Terrence “The Terminator” Love was a six-foot-six-inch, three-hundred-pound small-time prizefighter who had grown up in the projects near Candlestick Park. His lifetime record was two wins and nine losses. The highlight of his career was when he was hired to be a sparring partner for George Foreman, who was training to fight Muhammad Ali at the time. Foreman knocked out The Terminator with the first punch that he threw—effectively ending The Terminator’s careers as a boxer and a sparring partner.
“What’s he doing these days?” I asked.
“He takes stuff that doesn’t belong to him.”
“Last time I checked, stealing was against the law.”
“Your Criminal Law professor would be proud.”
“What does he do when he isn’t stealing?”
“He drinks copious amounts of King Cobra.”
It was cheap malt liquor.
She added, “He’s one of our most reliable customers.”
Got it. “How often does he get arrested?”
“At least once or twice a month.”
“How often does he get convicted?”
“Usually once or twice a month.” She flashed a knowing smile. “You and Terrence are going to get to know each other very well.”
I got the impression that it was a rite of passage for baby P.D.’s to cut their teeth representing The Terminator. “What did he do this time?”
She held up a finger. “Rule number one: a client hasn’t ‘done’ anything unless he admits it as part of a plea bargain, or he’s convicted by a jury. Until then, all charges are ‘alleged.’”
“What is the D.A. alleging that Terrence did?”
“He allegedly broke into a car that didn’t belong to him.”
“Did he allegedly take anything?”
“He didn’t have time. A police officer was standing next to him when he allegedly broke into the car. The cop arrested him on the spot.”
“Sounds like Terrence isn’t the sharpest instrument in the operating room.”
“We don’t ask our clients to pass an intelligence test before we represent them. For a guy who used to make a living trying to beat the daylights out of his opponents, Terrence is reasonably intelligent and a nice person who has never hurt anybody. The D.A. charged him with auto burglary.”
“Can we plead it out?”
“We aren’t going to do anything. You are going to handle this case. And contrary to what you’ve seen on TV, our job is to try cases, not to cut quick deals. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“I had a brief discussion about a plea bargain with Bill McNulty, who is the Deputy D.A. handling this case. No deal unless Terrence pleads guilty to a felony.”
“Seems a bit harsh.”
“It is. That’s why McNulty’s nickname is ‘McNasty.’ You’ll be seeing a lot of him, too. He’s a hardass who is trying to impress his boss. He’s also very smart and tired of seeing Terrence every couple of weeks. In fairness, I can’t blame him.”
“So you want me to take this case to trial?”
“That’s what we do. Trial starts Monday at nine a.m. before Judge Stumpf.” She handed me a manila case file. “Rule number two: know the record. You need to memorize everything inside. Then you should go upstairs to the jail and introduce yourself to your new client.”
I could feel my heart pounding. “Could I buy you a cup of coffee and pick your brain about how you think it’s best for me to prepare?”
“I haven’t decided whether you’re coffee-worthy yet.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m dealing with six dozen active cases. By the end of the week, so will you. If you want to be successful, you need to figure stuff out on your own.”
I liked her directness. “Any initial hints that you might be willing to pass along?”
“Yes. Watch me. Do exactly what I do.”
“Sounds like good advice.”
She grinned. “It is.”
There’s more to this story and it’s yours for FREE!
Get the rest of FIRST TRIAL at:
www.sheldonsiegel.com/first-trial
About the Author
Sheldon Siegel is the New York Times best-selling author of the critically acclaimed legal thrillers featuring San Francisco criminal defense attorneys Mike Daley and Rosie Fernandez, two of the most beloved characters in contemporary crime fiction. He is also the author of the thriller novel The Terrorist Next Door featuring Chicago homicide detectives David Gold and A.C. Battle. His books have been translated into a dozen languages and sold millions of copies. A native of Chicago, Sheldon earned his undergraduate degree from the University of Illinois in Champaign in 1980, and his law degree from Berkeley Law in 1983. He specialized in corporate law with several large San Francisco law firms for forty years.
Sheldon began writing his first book, Special Circumstances, on a laptop computer during his daily commute on the ferry from Marin County to San Francisco. Sheldon is a San Francisco Library Literary Laureate, a former member of the Board of Directors and former President of the Northern California chapter of the Mystery Writers of America, and an active member of the International Thriller Writers and Sisters in Crime. His work has been displayed at the Bancroft Library at the University of California at Berkeley, and he has been recognized as a Distinguished Alumnus of the University of Illinois and a Northern California Super Lawyer.
Sheldon lives in the San Francisco area with his wife, Linda. Sheldon and Linda are the proud parents of twin sons named Alan and Stephen. Sheldon is a lifelong fan of the Chicago Bears, White Sox, Bulls and Blackhawks. He is currently working on his next novel.
Sheldon welcomes your comments and feedback. Please email him at sheldon@sheldonsiegel.com. For more information on Sheldon, book signings, the “making of” his books, and more, please visit his website at www.sheldonsiegel.com.
Connect with Sheldon
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Also By Sheldon Siegel
Mike Daley/Rosie Fernandez
Novels
Special Circumstances
Incriminating Evidence
Criminal Intent
Final Verdict
The Confession
Judgment Day
Perfect Alibi
Felony Murder Rule
Serve and Protect
Hot Shot
The Dreamer
Final Out
Last Call
Double Jeopardy
Dead Coin
Last Dance
Short Stories
(available at sheldonsiegel.com)
First Trial
The Maltese Pigeon - A Nick “the Dick” Story
David Gold/A.C. Battle Novels
The Terrorist Next Door
Sheldon Siegel, Last Dance
