That La Jolla Lawyer

by Robert Rogers

  He punched the button and said hello. “Mr. Dawson,” a man’s voice said.

  “That’s me.”

  “I’m Clyde Austin. I chair the campaign to elect Congressman Reid to the US Senate. We think the Congressman is an upstanding citizen and represents the highest family values. We think our country needs men like that in public office.”

  “I think we disagree on part of that,” Matt said.

  “I’ve been following the controversy you created by your appearance yesterday in Poway. Mr. Warner said you’d already made somewhat similar comments to him at campaign headquarters.”

  Matt waited for the punch line. He just about figured what was coming.

  “I’ll get right to the point, Mr. Dawson. My committee has agreed to pay you fifty thousand dollars if you’ll go on record as saying you made a mistake when you charged the congressman with cavorting with the young woman who I understand was killed in your home. We sympathize with you and can appreciate the guilt you must feel and why you’d want to lash out.”

  “I couldn’t do that Mr. Austin. That would be lying. I did not make a mistake. I was not lashing out. I was telling the truth. Sorry

  you have wasted your time.”

  “I’m sorry too. You are hurting a great man with your false charges.”

  “You shouldn’t allow yourself to be duped into believing that bullshit, Mr. Austin.”

  Matt hung up, put food out for Cat and got himself another cup of coffee. “Gonna be a three cup morning, Cat.”

  He didn’t have long to wait. His phone rang again. It was Edward Carpenter. Must have talked to the Austin guy, Matt thought as the man introduced himself. “Am I speaking to Mr. Dawson?”

  “You are. I saw you last night on TV so I know why you are calling. I’ll save you some time. I intend to stand by my story. I

  have complete back up for everything I said. As you know, Sarah spent the last few days of her life with me. We discussed all of her stories. Did you know, by the way, that she was working undercover on the congressman’s campaign, as she had done for her Pulitzer story? She told me all about what goes on in a

  campaign.”

  “Working undercover? She was putting you on Dawson. She was totally committed to getting the congressman elected.”

  “Ask Warren. He knows.” If he doesn’t know, he probably suspects. “I’ll tell you something else. She and the congressman were having an affair. I have documented proof which I’ll reveal when you file your suit on behalf of the congressman. No way in hell can anybody spin that. I also have proof that Dr. Larson or Reid, whatever she calls herself, lied last night about being at the medical conference. It had been cancelled. So, I’m not withdrawing my story.”

  He hung up.

  Now, I wait for the next card. I’ve just raised the bet. I’ll see if they’ll cover it.

  Chapter 23

  Denise called as promised to ask if he’d seen the news story and to ask if he had a response. She had alerted him they would be live.

  He told her about the calls from Reid’s attorney and committee chairman working to get him elected to the Senate.

  “I told them that I did not intend to change my story.”

  “How’d they respond?”

  “They hung up on me.” He told her he’d let her know if they filed suit against him.

  He figured they might wait for the polls to see if Reid’s TV denial had minimized the damage to the campaign. Once a lawsuit was filed, control would pass to the court.

  “Are you still volunteering?” he asked.

  “Kind of. I’m busy at the station. I’m getting more camera time, thanks to you so I have less time to help the congressman. I told Jeff I might have to quit or cut back.”

  “I’ve told them Sarah was undercover.”

  “You did!” She practically shouted.

  “I didn’t see any reason not to,” Matt said.

  “You’re right. Besides, I don’t have a handle on Sarah’s story anyway.”

  “If anybody looks or says anything suspicious, don’t waste

  time getting out of there. Remember what happened to Sarah. I don’t know if anybody there had anything to do with it, but they sure as hell might have. Carter will still be around there for a while.”

  “I hope I won’t need him but I’ll keep it in mind,” Denise said. “If you do get served, let me know. I’ll want to run a follow-up piece. More camera time for me,” Denise said.

  “Listen, I have a favor to ask.” He told her about hearing her co-workers talking about using the station’s mainframe for

  research and wondered if she could use the computer to find out how many shares the Reids and Warner own in Merlin.”

  She told him she didn’t have the skills, but the financial reporter was a whiz with computers and could find anything. She gave him Allister Schumacher’s name and phone number.

  “I know Allister from the wake party. He plays a mean

  drum.”

  “I’ll tell him. He’ll like that. He loves to play those things,”

  she said.

  *****

  Matt called Allister and told him what he needed. “How much stock or options are owned by Clint Reid, Jeff Warner, Marcia Reid and Marcia Larson in Merlin? Larson’s Marcia’s maiden name.” He wanted dates of ownership, option prices and numbers.

  Allister said, “I may have to hack in here and there, but I’ll find what you need. Denise’s been beaming since she met you in person. Of course we all know you from the trial. None of us thought you had a chance. Give me a day or so. I’ll have to do it at night when the computer is free.”

  Matt thanked him. I’ll forever be known as that La Jolla Lawyer who got the woman doctor off after she murdered her husband in cold blood. What the hell, if it opens doors, why should I complain?

  He called Denise to tell her he’d made contact with Allister. “I owe you a dinner. Pick an expensive restaurant and we’ll go.”

  May be risky to lead her on but what the hell, I’ve spent the night with her. What’s left to risk? We had a great time, but I’m still too old for her.

  His doorbell rang.

  “Who in the hell could that be?” He walked to the front and looked out the window. It was his ex-client, the drug dealer, Cisco. He wasn’t wearing an Armani, just a white shirt, stiff collar and pants with razor sharp pleats. Shoes with a shine so bright you could practically see yourself in. And still had his top knot neatly tied and warning all he was not to be messed with.

  He opened the door. “Still Cisco?”

  “Is still Cisco,” the man smiled.

  “Come in. Is it too early for a beer?” It was early afternoon.

  “It is never too early for a beer, amigo.”

  They sat at the kitchen table and drank a beer together. “So,

  why did you drop by?” Matt asked.

  “I see the television. You are on it. With important people!

  Politics, man. Politicians only point fingers, never do anything. Always find somebody to blame for what they didn’t do. Better you stay out of it.”

  “I may open my office again, Cisco. Good publicity. What is it

  they say? All publicity is good.”

  He shrugged. “Not for me. I don’t want any. I take money instead.”

  He finished his beer and left. As he had previously done, he raised an arm and seconds later, the expensive car, a stretch Mercedes with tinted windows, rolled up for him.

  Matt figured in some strange way, he might be the man’s only friend, even if that were only on a professional level. In his line of work, I might be the only guy he can trust. I wonder if the bond between lawyers and their clients, especially ones like Cisco, aren’t like the bond that forms between patients and their shrinks.

  *****

  Matt took the time to look at office space a broker had called

  about. An attorney firm in La Jolla had an open office and could promise some overflow work. The rent was
high, but it was La Jolla, the high rent district in San Diego.

  He wasn’t home more than five minutes when Carter called, excited. “Matt. I just got a call from my buddy in the police department! Triplett just got an anonymous call that said you have Sarah’s laptop. You’ve got about fifteen minutes to find it and get it the hell out of your house. I’d come out and help but I can’t get there in time.”

  Matt hung up. “Hell, my doors are always locked these days.

  Has to be outside.”

  He checked the front and the back even around the house for freshly turned dirt patches. No laptop.

  “The car! Has to be there!” he said.

  The locks on his old car didn’t work anymore. He ran outside and opened the trunk. There it was, wrapped in a towel, Sarah’s laptop. He snatched it up and shoved it through his neighbor’s hedge as Triplett was turning the corner a block away. The neighbor was at work. Seconds after he was back inside the house, the doorbell rang.

  Triplet stood outside, shifting from left to right, holding a

  paper in his hand. Matt opened the door. “What–“

  “Warrant to search these premises,” Triplett said and pushed Matt aside. Three uniformed policemen followed him.

  “Tear the place apart,” he told them. “It’s here someplace.”

  For the next thirty minutes, the four policemen indeed did turn everything over searching for the computer. And, when that search was finished, Triplett eyed Matt’s old car.

  “The car. Hell, he probably put the thing in his car.”

  He ran outside and opened the trunk while the other policeman searched the interior.

  Matt heard Triplett curse, “Damn. The bastard must have moved it. Son of a bitch.”

  He went back inside and asked, “What’d you do with it?”

  “With what?” Matt asked.

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about. The Bush girl’s laptop. You took it from Padgett…when you killed him. His wife said he’d found it and was taking it home when he was killed. He must have told you Sarah Bush had left some shit on it that nailed your ass to the wall. That’s why you killed him.”

  “Damn, Triplett. You have an active imagination. Have you tried writing children’s books? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. When I talked to Padgett, he said the computer was in Sarah’s desk and you were going to pick it up.”

  “Bullshit! Don’t push your luck, Dawson. You’re in these murders up to your slimy neck and I’m going to nail you.”

  “I had nothing to do with either of them. Okay? What the hell would I be doing with her laptop? I’ve been a lawyer long enough to know you don’t keep shit like that around. Get smart, Triplett.

  Somebody’s playing games with you.”

  With me too.

  Triplett cursed and left. The four other policemen followed.

  Later, Matt noticed a car with tinted windows parked down the street. He figured his house was under surveillance.

  I can’t keep the computer and I can’t throw it away. It’s evidence. No doubt whoever had it has wiped the hard drive clean. Still, I have to keep it just in case. Maybe Carter can store it someplace.

  The neighbor didn’t get home until late and rarely came outside except on weekends. So, unless the guy saw the towel Matt had wrapped around the computer, he should be safe.

  I pissed somebody off. The killer, no doubt. Coming on the heels of my Poway adventure, I’d have to say somebody working for Reid wants me out of the way.

  Carter called. “Are you a free man?”

  “I am.”

  “I’d like to come out but I suspect the cops will have your

  place staked out for a few days to see if you do anything suspicious. No need for them to put me on their list.”

  “That’s right. A car’s been outside since Triplett stomped off mad,” Matt said.

  “I assume the computer got lost,” Carter answered.

  “It did.”

  “Make sure it stays lost. You made somebody’s shit list, big

  time.”

  “Yep. Somebody wanted me to spend time in the crossbar

  hotel,” Matt said with a laugh.

  “Food’s bad, I hear.”

  “I’ve heard that from clients.”

  “Keep your doors locked and check front and back every morning to make sure the Easter bunny hasn’t brought another present during the night. Just so you know, I resigned today…from the congressman’s campaign,” Carter said.

  “Anybody comment?”

  “No. The guy asked why and I told him I was tired of it. That seemed to satisfy him. I expect Warren will be a different story.

  He’ll think he has spies all over the place.”

  “Good. Make ’em think.”

  When Matt drove to Trader Joe’s for cat food and odds and ends, the car followed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a guy wandering around behind him. He wasn’t buying anything. The car followed him home but drove away when it got dark. It didn’t

  return.

  When he called Carter, Carter sounded relieved and said, “I’ll be right out. I have something interesting to tell you.”

  While Matt waited for Carter, he ducked out the back of his house and retrieved the laptop from the neighbor’s yard.

  *****

  He handed it to Carter, still wrapped in the towel it had around it when somebody put it in his trunk.

  Carter looked at it but didn’t touch it. “What do you want to bet, it’s been wiped clean. Data and fingerprints. Incriminate you and lose nothing.”

  “My thought as well.”

  “I’ll take it home. Put it in a storage unit I’ve had for old junk my wife collected before she died. That’ll be after I let a guy I know see if he can open it.”

  “Let me know if he finds anything,” Matt said.

  “Of course. Okay, you want to hear the interesting thing I told you on the phone?”

  “I’ve been waiting.”

  “Triplett called me,” Carter said.

  “No shit?” Matt asked.

  “No shit? He referred to the fact that I had been a cop back when and also that I had worked as an investigator after I retired, part of the time for you. He wanted to know if I still worked for you. I told him not since the Schofield trial.

  “He said he had asked for authority to keep an eye on you twenty-four hours a day for a while and wanted to know if I’d be interested in participating,” Carter said.

  “Be damned.”

  “I’d say. He said you were his main suspect in both deaths and he was determined to nail you.”

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “I told him no. I had a job I was working and couldn’t break away. If that changed though, I’d call him,” Carter said.

  “I guess he’s frustrated. Two murders and no real suspects so he picks me as good for both murders. I haven’t seen anybody

  today.”

  “He said he’d just asked for authority. That may take a day or so.”

  “Let me know if you hear anything. Not that I’ll do anything

  incriminating, just be nice to know I’m being followed. Cops are after me. Somebody wants to frame me. Warner wants to put me in the hospital. Life’s getting interesting,” Matt said ruefully.

  “To whom much is given, much is expected. From all that, you can assume, biblically, you were given much. I guess I backed right into that! So with that, let me ask, what’s next? I know

  you’re not going to sit here in the dark,” Carter said.

  “No.”

  Matt told him Denise had put him onto a guy who might be able to track down who owns what in Merlin. “Allister’s his name.”

  “I talked to him while I was on janitor duty at ANN. Nice

  guy.”

  “Apparently he knows his way around computers. Enough to

  do a hack job on Merlin’s,” Matt said.

  “That’s good, but even if we k
now for certain, how will it help us?” Carter asked. “I know you’ve already rattled Warner’s case about his stock in the company. But, everybody in the world knows politicians are in it for the money. They drive an old Chevrolet to DC and leave in a Tesla or something equally expensive.”

  “It’s a ravel I want to pull.”

  “We’ll need a hell of a lot more than a ravel to build a case for murder against Merlin or its significant shareholders.”

  Matt shook his head in agreement. “You know what I say?

  As the dollar signs get big, the motive for murder gets bigger. Suppose Sarah was about to uncover something damaging enough to derail Reid’s candidacy? And, suppose that would cost the shareholders millions?”

  Carter shrugged. “I can’t argue with that but we don’t know shit, Matt.”

  “One step at a time, Carter. Let’s get the shareholder list first

  and see if anything comes to mind.”

  “I hope your mind is working better than mine. Mine hasn’t

  come up with a damn thing.”

  It was Matt’s time to shrug. “Hell, I know you’re right. Oh, by the way.” He laughed. “I meant to tell you. Jennifer called before I got out of bed right after ANN ran the Poway story. Listen to this. She wanted to know if Franklin could be of any help to me.”

  Carter laughed. “What a crock. They’d want to help you into jail. That way they could avoid paying you the money they owe.

  What Jennifer owes, anyway.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hell, Matt, I still think old Franklin was in the house the night Schofield was killed. It wouldn’t take much for me to think he shot the man.”

  “Maybe, but the cops tested Jennifer for residue. She fired the gun,” Matt said.

  “The first shot. Sure. It missed. How about the shot that killed him?”

  “Let’s see how it plays with Stone being the shooter.” Matt

  thought a few seconds then said, “How does this hit you? Lights off, like the neighbors said. Jennifer is standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Aaron whom she’s heard drive up. Stone’s off to the side in case she needs help. There’s enough ambient light for her to see Schofield’s shadow approaching. She waits until he gets close and shoots. In the dark, or maybe because she’s nervous, she only hits him in the shoulder. He falls back. Stone turns on the light and sees Schofield trying to crawl away. Tells her to shoot again. She freezes. He snatches the gun from her hand and finishes the doctor off.”