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As soon as the officer was gone, the lawyer gestured toward the chair on the other side of the table, and I moved to sit down.
“Everleigh Barker, I presume,” he said, giving me a tight smile.
“I, ah, yes,” I said, nodding for emphasis.
“I’m Simon Evertz. And you are a very lucky woman,” he said.
I couldn’t stop the snort that escaped me, but my hand slapped over my mouth the second it was out.
“I’m sorry,” I rushed to say. “I just… I don’t feel very lucky today,” I told him.
“Understandable, given the charges they’re bringing against you. But you are lucky because you have me on your side,” he said, opening his briefcase, and pulling out a pad of yellow paper and a pen.
“I’m sorry, but… why do I have you on my side?” I asked. “I didn’t call a lawyer. And I don’t think you’re a public defender.”
I didn’t know a lot about menswear, but I was pretty sure a suit like that didn’t come off a rack. And custom suits, they had to cost a pretty penny.
Public defenders didn’t seem to have pretty-penny-suit money.
“I am not,” he confirmed with a nod, but didn’t explain further. “Now, this is all new for you, do you need me to discuss what happens now?”
“Now I go to County. And then I get arraigned. And maybe bail,” I said. “The other woman in the holding cell told me,” I explained to his raised brow.
“That’s exactly right. You are pleading not guilty, obviously,” he said, waving a hand like it was ridiculous to assume otherwise. “And I’m sure you will be granted bail. You’re not violent. You have no priors. Not even a parking ticket, I could find. Do you have a passport?”
“No. Ah, my idea of vacation is going to Las Vegas to see a singer do a residency,” I admitted. I wasn’t worldly. I was okay with that.
“Right. Well, there’s no good reason for the judge to deny bail then. Here, write down your sizes,” he said, passing me the paper and pen.
“My, ah, sizes?” I asked.
“Shirt, pants, shoes, bra, everything,” he said in a casual way that made me think I was being an idiot for not understanding.
“I don’t understand,” I admitted.
“You can’t go before the judge in that,” he said, waving at me. “Or in the jailhouse orange number,” he said.
“Oh, okay,” I agreed, even if I still didn’t really understand. I jotted down my sizes, then passed him his paper and pen back.
“I will have an appropriate outfit with me when I come to the courthouse. You will be allowed to change. And then we will go before the judge. All you will need to do is enter your plea. I will do the rest of the talking. Then you will get bail, and get out. Until then, try to keep yourself calm, and stay out of trouble,” he said, getting to his feet as he tucked his things away once again.
“I, ah, I don’t understand why you’re here,” I said as he started to make his way toward the door.
“To get you out of this mess,” he said as he knocked on the door.
“But…” I started, but then Simon Evertz was gone.
And I was led back to the holding cell just in time to meet the van for the jail.
“Girl,” Della said as we rode beside each other on the way to the county jail. “Was that Simon Evertz I saw?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“I, ah, yeah. He’s my lawyer. I guess,” I added, still not understanding. “Why?”
“What kinda contacts do you got?” Della asked, brows raising.
“What? Why?” I asked.
“Because that fine piece of man meat is the best criminal defense attorney in the state,” she said, nodding her head.
