That La Jolla Lawyer

by Robert Rogers

  “You obviously have one of those marriages where you don’t keep secrets from each other.”

  After a pause, Stone said, “So what?”

  “Well, I guess she told you how she purred when we made love … during the trial. Got loud when she came. It was a turn on. Maybe she doesn’t have reason to anymore. I guess Viagra doesn’t work for everybody. Have you tried old goat weed? Some people swear by it.”

  “I’m going to kick your ass, Dawson. You lying son of a

  bitch.”

  “Be careful what you say about my mother. She’ll kick your

  ass. She’s a tough woman. However, she’ll have to stand in line behind me. And, when I finish with you, I doubt she’d bother.”

  “You’re baiting me to avoid facing the facts! Okay, I’m going to put that to one side for now but I’m not forgetting it. I’m still going to kick your ass.”

  “You know where I live.”

  Matt remembered his last fight; a client who refused to pay the fee after Matt had gotten him off a felony charge. After a shouting match in his office, he reached into his pocket for what Matt correctly assumed was a knife. Matt hit him and they had a knock- down-drag-out battle. Matt’s black eye attracted some derision in court the day after. It didn’t bother him a bit.

  Matt didn’t get paid that time. However, a year later, when the guy got into trouble again, he came back, money in hand for the past due bill and up-front money to cover the new trial.

  Stone shouted, “I do know! You live in a shack you took off some drug dealer.”

  “Good. Save me from having to send you a map.”

  “Piss off! Jennifer’s not going to pay you a dime. Certainly not $500,000 in fees for the psychiatrists you used. You never got her permission. She never approved those charges. No approval, no debt. She never signed a retainer agreement for your fee either.”

  Matt could almost see Stone grinning and shaking his head as he continued. “So, what do you have to back up you claim? Some kind of notion about a debt you concocted over two years after the trial. I can get a summary judgment on that claim!”

  “Damn, you have been thinking, Stone. I’m impressed. A lot of divorce lawyers are kind of sleazy and don’t know a hell of a lot about the law. Okay, let me educate you a bit, Stone. I didn’t have her sign a retainer agreement during our first meeting because I

  wasn’t sure if she’d be charged. When she was finally charged, I sent her an email retainer agreement. She replied via an email, accepting my fee estimate of $400K which under the circumstances turned out too damn low. I have a copy in my file.” Matt paused and smiled.

  When Stone didn’t say anything, he added, “But our weekend lovemaking during the trials made up for some of the difference in my estimate. By the way, she was damn good. Oh, and one other thing. I also sent her an email about the use of experts including the psychiatrists. She not only agreed via email, she accepted the benefits. Never once objected to anything. They did keep her out of prison, you know. I’d say she was at least equitably on the hook for the bill, if not by email agreements. Wouldn’t you? Gonna be hard to get by that one, counselor.”

  I don’t know if I have any of that shit but he doesn’t know it and I seriously doubt Jennifer does either.

  Stone punched off.

  “Damn, that felt good,” Matt said to himself. “I wonder what he’ll say to Jennifer about the lovemaking. That’s going to come as a shock to her since we never made love. I wonder if he’ll believe

  her. Like I’m wondering if she said I begged and whined over our noodles.”

  He went for a jog on the beach. The ocean air smelled fresh and rejuvenating. Birds flitted about and squawked when things didn’t go to suit them. An old dog joined him for a few minutes before dropping back.

  Stone’s threat motivated him to get back into shape. He’d never met the man, but had seen him in court a few times; the one time in particular. That was the day of the verdict when he walked out of the courtroom with his arm around Jennifer.

  “I hope the son of a bitch does show up here. I owe him something and there’s no statute of limitations standing between us on that debt,” he said sarcastically.

  He showered and booted up his computer to check the news, if any, on the senatorial election. There wasn’t much, quotes from both men promising everything to all voters.

  “Platitudes heaped on platitudes. They promise the world to everybody and once they go to Washington, they forget the promises and start thinking the voters owe them. They only answer the promises they made to their big money donors.”

  He was reminded of an old song. Something about a miner who owed his soul to the company store. A politician owes his soul to whoever contributed the most to get him to Washington.

  “No wonder nothing ever gets done.”

  The next day, he called the garage he once used about his car.

  They sent a tow truck for it. He followed the truck in Sarah’s Prius and received an estimate of approximately two thousand dollars for tires, a battery, tune up and a wash.

  For dinner with Denise, he rummaged around in his closet for something less disreputable than usual. He decided on khaki pants and a shirt with a lightweight warm up jacket. Once dressed, he checked himself in the mirror. I still look disreputable but it’s a

  start.

  Chapter 12

  Matt hustled toward her car, a red Honda, as she parked outside the restaurant and opened her door. She wore a sloppily fitting pantsuit and matching flats. The floral blouse hung over her waist to give her a casual look. Her hair was freshly coifed.

  She looks better than last time, even with the pantsuit. He’d never liked the damn things. Too damned casual, he thought. He liked women to look like women. Probably makes me politically

  incorrect, but it can’t be helped. I am what I am. She’s probably lost some weight too. Not in the wrong places either, he noticed.

  Increased her jogging route. Something I’d better do also.

  Next came the customary greeting. He expected a sterile hug like the last time, but this time she gave him a warm, friendly hug.

  Hmm. Wonder why she changed.

  He responded in kind, even put a little extra into it. She added a kiss on his cheek. He looked into her eyes and smiled. What the hell, I’ll go with the flow.

  “Nice outfit, by the way.” He gave her an appraising look, up and down. “Very appealing.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled broadly. “Actually, it’s a present from my father-in-law, My ex-father-in-law to be accurate. He says I have to dress up to my position at ANN. He came over for business yesterday and took me to dinner.”

  “He has good taste. Shall we go in?” Matt asked.

  “Well, after a hug like that, and the compliment, maybe we should skip dinner,” Denise said with a smile and squeeze of Matt’s arm.

  Damn, that feels good, but I don’t need that kind of trouble just now

  “I don’t get many dinner invitations,” she said as an explanation.

  Ah, the reason for the warm hug and kiss and squeeze.

  He laughed. “I can’t believe that.”

  He showed her inside and the waiter walked them to their

  table.

  They ordered wine and the fish of the day, a name Matt

  didn’t catch but Denise seemed to understand so he went along and had what she was having. He never liked fish much anyway so the particular fish, or any fish, would probably not have made much difference. Likewise the wine.

  After a toast and the customary sip, she said, “Well Mr. Dawson, why are you wining and dining me? Do you have ulterior motives? I should be so lucky.”

  “No, I’d be the lucky one. I was thinking about Sarah and your face popped into my thoughts. So, I called.”

  “So, I’m a rebound date.” Her voice dropped.

  “No. But you were her best friend and I have to probate her estate for her parents and you are the closest link, the only person
who really knew Sarah, as far as I’ve been able to determine.”

  “Okay. I was being petulant. Most of the men in Sarah’s life smiled at me, said a quick hello and an equally quick goodbye, when they dropped by to pick her up. I was always second fiddle.”

  “Don’t let yourself think that. You’re first fiddle in my book,” he told her with a smile.

  “Thank you.” She reached across the table, smiled and touched his hand, tenderly.

  He turned his hand over and squeezed hers gently. “I only knew Sarah for a couple of weeks. She slipped in undercover and was there long enough to find out all I knew, well most of what I knew, about the Schofield case, before during and after, including Jennifer Schofield. Now, I have to pick up the pieces of her life for Mrs. Bush.”

  “I’ve met her. She’s a nice lady. I hope I can work a deal with her for the condo. I think it’ll be out of my price range, but I’m talking to a lender to see what I can do. I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore at Congressman Reid’s headquarters. That was Sarah’s idea from the start and I don’t know what was driving her. She dragged me along as a second pair of eyes.” She said the last with a noticeable grimace.

  “Well, do you mind talking about that? That’s one of the areas I need to cover.”

  She sipped her wine. “Sure. I don’t know what I can tell you, but I’ll try.”

  “I understand Sarah and the congressman went to a big fundraiser in San Francisco a couple of weeks ago.”

  Denise looked down at the table, as if it was a subject she did not want to talk about. She didn’t say anything however, just looked at Matt, blank-faced, waiting to see what he was going to say.

  When he said nothing, she asked, “How’d … I mean, who said anything about San Francisco?”

  “The detective investigating Sarah’s death came by to see me.

  He wanted to know if Sarah had said anything about the fundraiser; you know, what went on. She hadn’t, but in the process, he told me about it. As much as he knew. Since you were her best friend, I assume she told you about it. Do you mind telling me? It might have a bearing on who killed her.”

  Denise’s face turned white. She leaned back. “What! You don’t think that had anything to do with … you know.” She sniffed.

  “I think it could have something to do with it. The police do too, I assume. At least they’re interested. From what the detective said, I’d say the Merlin guy, Jeff Warner, was pretty upset. Sarah must have said something to you about it. Warner is pretty tough, I understand. Not somebody to mess with. She told me it scared her.” He embellished on what he knew, coaxing her to fill in the gaps.

  It worked. She told him about it.

  “Sarah made me promise not to say anything. I was trying to honor her wishes.” She sighed, took a drink of wine, looked down at the table again, then said, “Sarah and Clint – that’s the congressman’s name – had a kind of thing going on. I don’t know if it was serious or just something she did. Maybe he was a challenge. She was like that. I feel like a dog telling you this. She made me swear not to tell a soul, ever.”

  “Under the circumstances, I don’t think she’d mind. If fact, I

  think she’d want you to tell me,” Matt said, truthfully.

  “I suppose you’re right. Well, Sarah went to the fundraisers with Clint. The one in San Fran was at the Mark Hopkins. All she told me was that Jeff was upset and threatened to kick her off the campaign committee. She said he was livid. I don’t know what caused it and Sarah didn’t say. I gathered it was too embarrassing for her to talk about. She said she’d tell me about it later, but she had you in her sights and used the threat as an excuse to move in with you, so to speak.”

  “You think they – Sara and Reid – were having an affair? No wonder Warner was upset. If the press got wind of it, goodbye

  Reid’s chances to become senator. I understand he is married.”

  “Yes, he is. Happily, if you believe the press reports. His

  wife’s a doctor. She doesn’t get involved in the campaign. As far as affair, I don’t know. As I said, it might have been a spur of the moment thing. Sarah might have been cultivating her source of info. If I had to guess, though, I’d say that was behind Jeff’s outrage. He wants Clint to win. Merlin stands to gain if he does, I’m sure. They’re putting money on the table to see that he does. Sarah said that much.”

  “I’ve heard that.”

  She agreed with a shake of her head and continued. “Clint has the look of a politician, tall, dark hair, square face, you know – honest looking - shows all his teeth when he smiles, which he does all the time. And, to quote Will Rogers, Clint never met a man, or woman, voter, he didn’t like. And, he especially likes the women,

  Sarah told me. He hugs them all and the younger ones longer than the older ones.”

  “I get the drift. The man’s a God, always with an eye for someone needing his talents,” he said cynically with a grin. He’d met plenty like that. Sooner or later, they needed his help to stay out of jail.

  “I suppose. I’m not sure Sarah thought the congressman was the right man for the job. I know it sounds odd, us working for him and all, but right after Jeff raised hell with her, she said, ‘Justice

  Traynor might make a better Senator.’ He’s the other guy in the race.”

  “She said that?” Matt asked.

  Denise nodded.

  “Did she say why?”

  “No, just that. She had something on her mind. I’ve known her long enough to pick that up, but she never said what it was.”

  He recalled seeing one of Traynor’s campaign posters – It’s time to bring Justice to Washington.

  “Could have been the Warner guy spooked her. Of course, she was just in it for the story. She had a right to pick either candidate. Nothing to say she had to like Reid for the job. She was after a story. Still, if she was sleeping with him…”

  “I didn’t say that. Just that it was a possibility.”

  “Right.” But, you pretty much implied that she was.

  After that, Matt steered the conversation to small talk, mostly about Denise, her hopes, wishes and aspirations; his usual. People always liked to talk about themselves and he rarely wanted to talk about himself.

  She told him the ANN staff was talking about holding a “wake” party for Sarah. “I think I’ll have it at the condo. It should hold all of us. Can you come?”

  “I’ll try. Let me know when.”

  She would.

  He walked her to her car, hugged her and opened the door.

  He promised to call her again and added, “I enjoyed talking with you Denise. You are a rare gem; a truly natural and likable person. It’s refreshing to sit down with someone who has no hang-ups needing a fix.”

  “Thank you, Matt. I don’t know if all that is true, but I love hearing it. Call me anytime.”

  “Count on it.” His conversation with her reminded him of when he practiced law. He never knew whether he was saying something genuine or something “staged” to further some goal or other. I probably have a blackened soul.

  *****

  He drove home. It was after ten. The house was dark as were the others along the street. Most inhabitants were working people who had to get up early so they went to bed early. He stopped Sara’s Prius in the front yard space, slid out and took a step toward the front door. A sudden commotion from the street caught his attention.

  Three guys in dark clothes and gloved hands had burst from behind a truck on the street to charge at him.

  The biggest guy waved a small baseball bat overhead. When Matt saw that, he knew they didn’t mean for him to have all his faculties after they’d finished.

  Instinctively, he charged into the guy with the bat, knocking him back a step, off balance. He grabbed his knee to send him to the ground. Without thinking, he kicked out with his left foot at the next guy who had lunged toward him, fists swinging. It grazed the guy’s stomach but did little damage. The big guy rolled
over to get to his feet. The other guys were swinging at him, some making contact, some missing.

  Matt stomped the big guy’s hand causing him to lose his grip on the bat. Still going on instinct, and ducking and weaving to avoid as much punishment as possible, he whirled around with his right elbow leading and caught one of the other guys in the stomach. He grunted but didn’t stop swinging.

  Matt figured him for a pro, all of them by the way they’d circled and kept swinging. The big guy got to his feet and weighed in. However, because the other two were practically on top of Matt, he wasn’t able to swing the small bat effectively. A couple of blows hit Matt in the back. More than hurt, they fired him with an adrenaline surge that went right to his fists.

  Even so, he was taking a good beating. He got in a few licks; caught one guy with an uppercut, knocked him back shaking his head. He got another with a good headbutt, and chopped down on a knee that sent the guy staggering back, almost out of commission.

  But, for the most part, it was all one way, theirs.

  When he was down and groggy, the biggest of the three kicked him in the stomach and said, “You bastard. Kiss daylight goodbye.” He raised the little bat to club Matt.

  That was when the sound of a siren reached them.

  “Let’s get out of here,” one of the guys told the big guy. “Cops on the way.”

  “Screw the cops!” He began a downward swing with his bat.

  Matt rallied his strength enough to roll into the big guy’s shins, causing the bat to hit the ground behind Matt and splinter.

  “Shit!” he hollered and stepped back for another shot but saw he was only holding a stub. Matt braced himself.

  One of the others punched at the big man’s arm and shouted at him. “I’m leavin’ man. The cops are on the way. Good luck to you.” The siren was much louder.

  The big man shrugged and turned away, stopping to say, “Better for your health, pal, if you mind your own business. You won’t get lucky next time.” He threw the stub at him. It glanced off his shoulder with a sting.

  Matt heard a car start and drive off seconds before a police car with flashing lights stopped on the street in front of Matt’s house. Matt was barely conscious, on the ground.