“Stop it! Cut it out, Noah! Noah, I asked you not to do that,” Ryan Chandler yelled across the room.
“Ryan,” Denise said, “get off your butt and do something about it. He’s just ignoring you.”
“Denise, I am doing something about it.”
She looked up from her law book and removed her glasses. “I meant something effective,” she said as Noah, the four-year-old bundle of energy, ran by with the golden retriever plodding after him.
“You’re the one who wanted a kid,” he said as he walked into the adjacent playroom and started the DVD player.
A ball flew by his head; he ducked and it hit the armrest of the couch next to him: “Look, Noah- Cars,” Chandler said, pointing to the television where the Pixar logo had appeared.
“Saying I wanted a kid is a distortion of the facts,” Denise shouted from the other room. “You’re the one who jumped on top of me in the Caribbean. I told you I was ovulating.”
He walked back into the bedroom. “And I’m not sorry I did.”
“Me neither. But-”
“But our lives have never been the same,” he said, locking the door. “Time to start trying for another one.”
“Wrong time of the month.”
“Then just for fun.”
“Not here-not now-” she said, motioning toward the playroom.
“ Cars is on. He’ll be busy for at least a half hour. He won’t even remember we’re home.”
“But I’ve got to get my outline done-”
“Law school can wait.” He took her hand and led her over to the bed. He began stroking her shoulder-length chestnut hair as his lips trailed down her neck and-
The phone rang.
“Shit.”
“Just let the machine get it,” she said, taking his face in her hands and moving her lips toward his.
The phone stopped in the middle of the second ring. “Noah got it,” he said.
“Hope he takes a message,” Denise said while planting little kisses on his cheek.
Chandler rolled over and groped for the handset on the night table. “Hello-Hello-Noah, hang up, buddy. Daddy’s got it.” But Noah was busy talking, telling the caller he was watching Cars and playing with his dog.
Just then, Chandler heard the phone drop on the wood floor. It made an ear-deafening thud as it bounced a couple of times.
“Hang on a minute,” Chandler said as Denise took off toward the playroom.
“Daddy’s trying to talk, sweetie-pie. Let’s hang up now,” Chandler heard her say on the other end as she placed the handset on the receiver.
“Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” the caller said. “I’m looking for Ryan Chandler.”
“Who’s this?”
“Jeffrey Hellman. I’m an attorney in Sacramento, California. I’m calling about a case that you’d probably interested in working on.”
“Since you called me, you probably realize that I now live in New York. I don’t work on cases in California.”
“I understand that, Mr. Chandler. But this one’s urgent, and you might want to make an exception for it.”
“I doubt it. I’m pretty firmly entrenched here. I can’t really get any time off work, I’ve got a wife and kid…it’s just not possible.”
“Okay, I figured that’d be your response, but he insisted. My client’s very persistent.”
“Who’s your client?”
“Phillip Madison.”
“Phil? Mr. Hellman, what kind of law do you practice?”
“Criminal defense.”
“And Phil’s your client?”
“Unfortunately for him, yeah.”
“I see why you called me,” Chandler said as he stood up and walked over to the adjacent rolltop desk. Denise had returned to the room and sat down next to him. She mouthed, “What’s wrong?”
Chandler held up a hand and turned his attention back to the phone.
“What’s he accused of?”
“Double homicide. Hit-and-run.”
“Phil Madison?” he asked, his voice rising an octave.
“Their case is pretty tight. It doesn’t look good.”
“I feel strange asking this, but did he do it?”
“He insists he’s innocent. I’ve known Phil a longtime and I believe him.”
“I understand, I know what kind of man he is.”
“Any case, I’m sorry to have bothered you. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
“Hold it-Mr. Hellman?”
“Yeah, I’m still here.”
“Give me a couple days to get things in order. Can you pick me up at Sacramento International Monday morning?”
“Name the time. I’ll be there.”