That La Jolla Lawyer

by Robert Rogers

  Matt laughed.

  “I hear young girl get killed here. You kill her. Next time call me. I know people.”

  “No, Cisco. I don’t kill people. Having her in the house woke me up. Got myself cleaned up.”

  “About time somebody got you awake. A cop looked at me yesterday. I think he recognized me. I may need you to get me out

  of jail.”

  “Do they have anything on you?” He knew they could still refile on the murder case but asked anyway.

  “Man, once you’re in their sights, you stay in their sights.” Matt agreed.

  “Gotta move. Never like to stay in one place too long. I’m glad to see you looking like your old self. You ever need me, call this number.” He handed Matt a card with the name “Cisco” and a single phone number on it.

  Matt stuck it in his wallet.

  “You ought to think about retiring, Cisco. You must have a ton of money already.”

  “More than a ton. But, I distribute products people need, Matt Dawson. Customer satisfaction, man. I love it. Keeps my juices flowing. My people say customers come from top to bottom of social ladder.”

  “No doubt.” He walked him to the door.

  The black car appeared immediately. Cisco opened the door and slid in; looking back with a grin.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, wearing what he called his working clothes, a suit and tie, he showed up at ANN’s newsroom in one of the older buildings in downtown San Diego to interview Walter Padgett, the department head.

  Phones rang, people talked, some softly, some loudly over desks. Machines cranked and churned and generated noises with their outputs. From someplace out of sight, music played, though barely audible over the competing sounds. Windows allowed those with the time and enough rank to rate a desk with a view of the city.

  “Mr. Dawson,” a thin man on the tall side with brown hair and black-rimmed glasses, introduced himself, and shoved out his hand which Matt accepted for the usual greeting. Padgett’s face

  showed a stoic demeanor.

  “I answer to Matt, except to people I don’t like,” Matt flashed his new client smile. It had been awhile since he’d used it.

  Matt figured him for approaching fifty with too many inches around the waist; hair was thinning and showing white streaks. He thanked the man for seeing him.

  “Sarah’s death was a tragedy around here. I closed the newsroom for her funeral. We still can’t believe it. She was the light that showed the rest of us the way. A delight to have on my team.”

  Not a hell of a lot of emotion to go with that expression of regret, Matt thought.

  The man’s a cold fish, hard to read. Glad I don’t have to.

  “Although I didn’t know her very well, I agree,” Matt said. “She had a gentleness about her that made talking to her easy. Maybe it was sensitivity. Whatever it was, she was easy to get along with.”

  “I know she was working on a story about the Schofield trial and what happened afterward. It was hard for us to figure out why she was at your place, late as it was and with you gone. She had a beautiful condo in Little Italy.” Padgett’s eyes shifted here and there, never meeting Matt’s once.

  The guy is as full of bull as Sarah was sincere. But, don’t get your feathers ruffled, he’s just a source of info. Hell, maybe I’m making him nervous. I’d forgotten how some people don’t like talking to lawyers. We’re right up there with shrinks for conversational avoidance.

  Matt shrugged off his reaction and gave Padgett’s comment a smile. “She said she needed a place to stay for a few days until some trouble blew over. I suspect that was a cover to get her story.” He half laughed. “I believed her and told her she could stay at the house. She seemed absolutely sincere.”

  “That’s why she was so successful, I think.” the newsroom boss sighed and held out his palms to invite Matt to begin. “Well, what can I do for you? Shall we go into the conference room?” He gestured to a windowed room a few steps away.

  “Sure.”

  Matt followed him inside and pulled the door shut behind

  them.

  “Okay,” Padgett said. “What do you want to know? You’re

  the attorney for Sarah’s estate, you said.” He frowned as if to question how that could be.

  Matt answered as if he had. “Her mother asked me to handle the estate. To do a proper job, I have a duty to see if I can find out who killed her. Of course, the police are more likely to do that before I do, but I thought I’d investigate a bit on my own. The police have a stack of cases. Sarah’s is the only one I have.”

  “Good luck. There was a suggestion that it was a random killing. The police called.”

  “Yes, it looks like that. Probably won’t ever be solved, but I have to do my due diligence.”

  “I’ll try to help. Ask your questions,” Padgett said.

  Matt asked about any controversial assignments she had been working on, now or in the past. Padgett gave him a list including the story she did on homeless shelters before she came to work for ANN.

  “Having a reporter on staff with a Pulitzer to her credit added some class to the station,” Padgett told Matt. His stoic expression hadn’t changed.

  “I had heard.”

  “You probably know that she had covered the Schofield trial while she was with the Union.”

  “I was told. I didn’t know at the time.”

  “Hmm. She told us that some people got a bit hot under the collar about her stories. Dr. Schofield’s other lawyer, the one she married, wrote a nasty letter to the newspaper about some of the gossip Sarah included in her stories. Not only that, the DA wrote a blistering letter about her suggestion that he was after the publicity to shore up his bid to be appointed to the Supreme Court. We

  ignored it all.” Padgett said with some confidence.

  Matt recalled telling Carter to make a few anonymous calls here and there about the DA’s ambition.

  “He lost the case he had publically vowed to win,” Padgett said, “Losers don’t much get many rewards. He might have been the victim of sloppy police work. Sarah got that out of the jurors. And, you made them pay for it. That’s what Sarah told me.”

  Matt agreed with the comment about sloppy police work, but was glad to hear the jurors’ comments. The police could have discovered Jennifer’s relationship with her divorce lawyer, Franklin Stone, instead of trying to sneak in gossip. They paid for that with a hung jury.

  “She told me she wanted to do a feature ANN story on the aftermath of the trial; a 60 Minutes kind of story,” Padgett said. “We do a lot of ’em. What happened to the parties involved? You were one of those she mentioned. Dr. Schofield, her husband, all the lawyers, especially the DA and the investigators. She said there were probably things, personal stuff, that weren’t bought out in the trial. She also thought the congressman’s campaign held a good story.”

  “Yeah. Her questions about the trial made me rethink everything,” Matt said.

  If I had been the DA, Matt thought, I would have made more of the night she shot him. There was a conflict between what the neighbors said and what Jennifer said. The neighbors said the lights came on after the first shot, suggesting that Jennifer was lying in wait. Jennifer said they came on before. The DA was overconfident. He got lazy and paid the price.

  “The DA retired, I think, after the trial,” Matt commented.

  “Yeah. Sarah did a big story on his career. It wasn’t all favorable. He threatened a lawsuit. It didn’t help with his quest to end up on the Supreme Court.” He glanced at his watch.

  “That’s about it for what she had been doing and wanted to do, except for the senate race. She’s been working that almost exclusively.”

  “Anything controversial there?”

  “No. The usual competition between ranking staff members. They all want to end up top dog after he wins, you know, to get the choice appointments. The rewards from backing the winner.”

  “Was that the f
ocus of her story?”

  “I don’t know what her focus was going to be. She hadn’t told anybody. She just loved being a reporter, looking under rocks. I think she went where the story led, not the other way around, trying to steer it her way.” He glanced at his watch again. Matt knew it was time to wrap things up.

  “Mrs. Bush said Sarah’s best friend worked here, Denise Anderson. I would like to speak to her, if that’s possible. I should have called but I wanted to talk to you first.”

  “Denise. Yes. They were good friends. Denise is on assignment to the congressman’s campaign. The same as Sarah was.”

  “Any stories so far?”

  “We’ve shown everything they reported. Nothing scandalous or embarrassing. Nobody’s been calling in with threats.”

  “Where did Sarah work? Did she have an office?”

  Padgett pointed to an office along the wall. “She got that when the network hired her, after she’d won the Pulitzer.”

  “Did she have a computer?” Matt asked.

  “A laptop. She keeps it locked inside her desk. We all do.

  Detective Triplett called and said he’d send somebody for it today or tomorrow. He told me to lock up her office until they could check it out.”

  Damn, I was hoping to have a crack at the computer myself.

  Matt thanked him and left, not pleased. He hadn’t learned anything new.

  She could have been working on a story she hadn’t told anybody about. Anything big, she might have wanted to keep under wraps until she had something to share. And, Padgett might have been holding back.

  His bank was close, so he dropped in to deposit the check Mrs. Bush had given him. He was certain no one recognized him. His suit and new look were a change for him. It had been a long time.

  He was surprised at his account balance. His disability payments and the payments from his 401K were being deposited directly into his account and had added up since he lived on the bare minimum. Likewise, his utility bills were paid out of the account. He used a debit card for the scant amount of supplies he needed. He figured if the card were rejected, he’d know he was out of money. It was a simple system and it worked.

  Once that was done, he punched in the telephone number Mrs. Bush had given him for Denise Anderson. She answered right away.

  Matt identified himself and explained that he was the

  attorney for Sarah’s estate and was interviewing anyone close to her.

  “I know who you are,” she said. “Sarah said she was going to

  get a story out of you one way or another.”

  “She did. Unfortunately, it didn’t end well for her.”

  “Sarah was my best friend. I’ve been renting a room from

  her. I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I guess you want to talk to me about what Sarah was doing.”

  “I’m looking for a link between her work and her death.” He gave her the story about a possible wrongful death action.

  “She was so happy. I doubt I know anything that’ll help, but I’ll tell you what I know. Sarah didn’t say much about her stories. I mostly helped when she was ready to put it all together.”

  “Could you make some time for me today? I know, well I assume, the campaign keeps you busy.”

  She laughed. “That’s an understatement.”

  But, she was due for a coffee break in an hour and could meet him at a nearby Starbucks. He knew where it was.

  Lots of young people sat at tables in the Starbucks, working on computers, reading books, likely school assignments, Matt decided. None looked like anyone who’d be waiting for him.

  A few minutes after he’d sat down, a young woman opened the door with an expectant look on her face.

  Has to be her. Kind of tall. A few inches shorter than I am.

  Younger than Sarah. And, as my grandmother used to say, she hasn’t been missing too many meals. Her face was one big smile though, pleasant more than pretty; everybody’s friend. Sweet is likely how people see her. Innocent too. Looks bright. Good team player.

  He’d known many Denises in his life; always smiling, always with a good word for everyone and, he knew from the ones he’d gotten close to, sometimes a bad word for people they didn’t like, but those words always came out in private.

  He also decided in a flash, however, that she was self-assured and confident. Hair dark brown, cut a manageable length to frame her slightly rounded face. She wore shorts and a white campaign tee shirt with tennis shoes to make standing on her feet easier.

  However, even if he hadn’t fixed on her as Denise, the tee shirt she wore was a dead tip off. The front read–Vote Reid, the man we need!!!

  He stood and waved. “Denise.”

  She smiled and strolled over. “Matt Dawson! Beard and mustache. You didn’t have those at the trial, but I still

  remember you. Sarah and I covered it for the paper; the Union. When she went to ANN, I came with her. They wanted her and had to take me too. Glad to meet you.”

  She stuck out her hand. Matt took it.

  She continued. “Mostly Sarah covered. I fetched and carried.

  Congratulations, by the way! We thought you were great. Every time the DA made a mistake, or anything that looked like a mistake, you were on it like a hungry dog with a bone. It was like David and Goliath. And, you were David.” She added a big smile and touched his arm.

  “Thanks.” I sure as hell didn’t feel so great when Jennifer’s attorney took her away, his arm around her shoulders. I felt like a fool. Hell, I was a fool.

  “Shall I get coffee?” he asked. “Cappuccino, I guess. You can hold onto the table. Looks like kids come in here to do their homework.”

  She swallowed a laugh and pulled out a chair to sit down. “Make mine dry and, if you don’t mind, can you get me a cheese Danish, warmed? I’m hungry. I’ll jog an extra block or two tonight to work it off.”

  Matt left to get the cappuccinos and Danish.

  Chapter 9

  Matt returned with two cups of foaming coffee and a bag with her pastry inside.

  “Thanks,” she said. “So, you want to talk to me. I’m usually the one listening to Sarah ask questions. She gets my notes.”

  Matt again explained how he had a duty to file a wrongful death action if he could discover who killed her.

  “I hope you do,” she said. “It broke my heart. Sarah was a good friend.” She looked down, then turned away, as if trying to hide being choked up.

  “Sorry,” she said wiping away tears with her handkerchief. “I still haven’t gotten over it. I’ve been fighting a depression.”

  “I’ve fought a few myself. Would you rather do this another time?”

  She shook her head. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

  “I talked to your boss, Padgett. He told me you were on assignment.”

  She sighed noisily. “Yeah. Old Padgett. He’d make a post look like it was having an orgasm. He’s a decent manager but the rumor mill has it that the board wanted to replace him with Sarah after her homeless shelter story. Mr. Wasserman – he’s the president - asked him to retire but he refused. After that, he quit talking to anybody. We started calling him Padgett the post…not to his face.”

  “How’d they get along, Padgett and Sarah?”

  “He’s married but he had the hots for her. We joked about it.

  Sarah too. She had that way about her. Her smile and that glow in her eyes when she talked. It was mesmerizing. It was just an act, but every man thought she was in love with him. She never met anybody who wasn’t her best friend, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  I thought that was my forte. Every juror was my friend. I was always on stage, but I never saw it in Sarah. She was a natural.

  Sitting at the table that first morning, looking like a shy little girl with a problem. Fooled the hell out of me. I imagine Jennifer did it too, thinking back. I was probably staged by both of them.

  “Anyway, she turned him down
when he finally worked up the courage to ask. He got kind of nasty about it, she told me, started pulling rank on her stories. Giving her crap assignments. She went to see Mr. Wasserman about it. Next thing we knew, old Padgett was announcing that Sarah could pick and choose her stories.” She

  laughed. “Wasserman probably thought she loved him. She could con the devil.”

  “Could be why Padgett was being forced out.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. Anyway, Sarah and I were working the congressman’s campaign for a story. An inside look at a political campaign. It was Sarah’s idea. I don’t know much about her angle. She just said I was to keep watch for anything odd and tell her what I saw. As I said, she could pick what she wanted to do after her Pulitzer. We all dream of getting one of those. That means we’ve arrived.”

  “Have you found anything yet? Anything with a Pulitzer smell?”

  “I haven’t. I don’t know about Sarah. She kept things pretty much to herself until she got ready to let it be known to Padgett. She was afraid he’d leak the story and cut her out … knife her in the back.”

  So, she might have had other stories on her burner, Matt thought.

  “Lots of competition among reporters,” Denise continued. “She did say something. I don’t know if it was something she was looking at or just throwaway conversation over coffee but she said, ‘Lots of money riding on this campaign.’ I don’t know if that was her angle or just a passing comment.”

  “It doesn’t jump up and bite me,” Matt said with a shrug, “but it could be important. I’ll keep it in the back of my mind. She must have kept notes.”

  “Sarah had an excellent memory. She could remember practically anything anybody said. And when she didn’t, I usually

  did. But, she did use a computer. We all do. She kept it locked in her desk but brought it home when she had work to do. She also jotted things down. Kept a notepad in her purse.”

  Any notes she had on her notepad are long gone. And the police will get her laptop, assuming the killer didn’t get it. Padgett said it was in her desk.