Motion to Suppress Read Online Free PDF Page A

it, a low and shambling fragment of id had been cavorting around in her mind, making trouble.
    Andrea said, "Now you mention it, you could use a haircut and a shave." Nina threw Matt’s slipper at her. Andrea went on, "Can’t you always find another job in the City?"
    A vision of Ms. Cherry’s life rose unbidden in Nina’s mind. She didn’t know Jack’s Ms. Cherry, but she knew the Ms. Cherrys of San Francisco: the empty home life; the long hours; the demanding partners; the continual rushing around; the relentless, grinding pressures of their caseloads. ... She ought to know. It was her own recent existence she was describing to herself. There had to be another way to practice law.
    "I’d rather be staked to a sandhill and eaten by fire ants," she heard herself say. Matt and Andrea laughed. "But for Bobby’s sake, I better decide something soon. He’s going to miss Jack. Jack’s the only father he’s ever known. And the condo where he’s lived all this time ... it’ll be sold."
    "Stay here and think things over as long as you want," Andrea said. "And try not to worry. Bobby’s adaptable. He’ll survive this."
    "And Tahoe’s excellent in the spring. It’s fab and gear and all those other pimply hyperboles." Matt failed to hide a huge yawn. "Age is a terrible thing. As soon as I hit thirty I couldn’t stay up past eleven anymore."
    Andrea got up too.
    "Think I’ll stare into the fire for a few minutes," Nina said. She didn’t want to go to bed and sleep alone. She fell asleep there, woke up at two, found the fire down to embers, and finally climbed under the yellow covers. She dreamed she was back in high school, on the first day, and she’d forgotten her locker combination, and her books were in there. She was late. The bell was ringing. She had blown high school, and she couldn’t think of a thing she could do about it.
    On Wednesday, while out shopping for chocolate Easter eggs, Nina passed a small office building. A cardboard FOR RENT sign on a post, dangling crookedly from one nail, caught her eye. The building fronted on Highway 50, the main drag in town. There was plenty of parking in back. She returned the same way, and this time she turned into the lot and entered through the double doors on the side. Inside, she walked along a carpeted hall with ten office suites, five on each side.
    The property manager, evidently glad to see her, showed her a small corner suite with a reception area where a secretary and a couple of client chairs might fit. There were two inner doors, one of which led to a long room that would make a nice combined law library and conference room. A big closet with several electric sockets could stow a fax, copy machine, and supplies, even a small refrigerator.
    When she raised the blinds on the side wall in the main office, she could hardly believe her eyes. Lake Tahoe, tufted with whitecaps in the wind, less than a mile away, dominated an unobstructed view of marsh and trees. Other than a dirt road, there was no evidence of human activity in that direction.
    The manager followed her eyes. "Great view of Tallac," he said, pointing to a jagged peak across the southern portion of the lake. "I climbed it last summer. It’s a long day, but worth it." In his sixties, skinny in his beat-up jeans, he wore what Nina had already come to recognize as Tahoe’s trademark, a plaid wool shirt. He pulled the other set of blinds on the wall next to the highway to show the busy street, sidewalk, traffic lights, gas station on the corner across the street, and Mexican restaurant on the other side. "Parallel universes," he said. "You choose when you pull the blinds."
    "How much?" she said.
    "Seven-fifty a month."
    Insanely cheap by City standards. She made an instant decision, took out her checkbook and wrote him a deposit. He told her he’d get a sign made. By the time the installer hung the sign three days later, she had bought two desks, a long table, lamps, office supplies, and several