Chapter 3

Wendy ... and Mr. Austin ... now in possession of the rather personal videos of “the search” ... left the premises. The Judge and Patrolmen had every one in the offices assembled in a large conference room. There, the Judge read them chapter and verse of the regulations regarding personal searches and the liabilities incurred when they overstepped said regs.

“I realize you honyocks get away with things when your victim doesn’t Know. But you need to check ... every time ... who you’re dealing with. Miss Austin is an officer of the Court ... waiting until she is awake enough to be consenting is prudent. This debacle is going to cost your division an easy million dollars ... and that makes the bean counters very unhappy.”

The ride home was mostly in silence ... mostly. Daddy had had a good day with the adversarial Insurance team of lawyers. Colorado’s laws were not California’s. There was no such thing as shared responsibility.

When they tried that ... the judge actually laughed. He denied a continuance.

But you can’t fault them for trying. They were up to time in hospital and Daddy was down to 36 months instead of perpetuity.

After the pair of lawyers had had a laugh over out of state laws and lawyers, their Rent-a-Car and driver dropped them at the door of the house.

Mr. Austin looked askance at the four inches of grass and the untrimmed walks. He looked at Wendy.

“You’re paying for this?” he said.

“I’m on it,” she said. Unlocking the door and helping him inside she took his crutches, placed them by the door and checked to see the locks were set on the wheelchair. Daddy sat ... unlocked the brake levers and popped a wheelie. Spinning in place he headed for the sunroom.

“You’ve been practicing,” she called after him.

He chuckled.

Wendy called her not so gardner and discussed his chances of getting paid this week ... not good. Then she moved the gallon of sun tea from the south facing window to the empty slot in the stainless steel fridge. She took the cold pitcher from the tea shelf ... added ice from the ice maker to a pair of tall glasses poured the tea and joined daddy on the clay bricks of the sunroom. She sat, sipped and heard a lawnmower start.

“Daddy ... they searched my purse ... actually dumped it on a desk, stirred it around and shoveled it back in. I can’t find a damn thing.” She searched for ... who knows what ... in that jumble. “There’s nothing for it,” she said to nobody in particular and dumped the damn thing on the glass topped iron table.