That La Jolla Lawyer

by Robert Rogers

  “I’ll be at campaign headquarters tomorrow during the day. We can try it in the evening. I’ll ask Allister. I figure you’ll want to be there?”

  “What time?”

  “Seven.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He drove home. Passing the pub, he smiled and remembered the evenings he spent there, nursing his beer and listening to the loud exchanges of guests and the bawdy music of the Irish Red Necks.

  I’m glad I’ve moved on. A real life feels a hell of a lot better than a depressed one.

  He pulled off the street into his driveway and onto the yard where he still parked. As he got out of the car, he saw a small black car approaching from down the street. It had pulled out of a parking space along the street as he was turning in. That wasn’t strange, but it was odd that it didn’t have its lights on. In one of those instant conclusions, he chalked it off to driver’s lapse that’d be corrected. He looked again. The car was driving somewhat

  slowly though and what was strange, the back window was down. The car was abreast of his lot by then.

  A black barrel was being poked out, no face or hand, but Matt knew they were there. The barrel bumped against the window frame before it could be leveled at Matt. That gave Matt time to dive behind the rear of his car. The first blast lit up the night. Shotgun pellets sprayed the ground, some raked his back and butt. He felt the burn but didn’t stop to think about it. He immediately rolled toward the safety of the other side, then under the car.

  As he rolled to get out of range, another blast lit the street and churned up the yard behind him.

  “You get ’im?” A voice called out.

  “Hit the sucker! Don’t know how bad! Stop the car! I’ll -”

  “No fuckin’ time! Damn shotgun! Told you!”

  The car sped away.

  When Matt heard the car race away, he crawled from under the car and stood.

  Damn, the pellets stung. He figured he owed his life to the unwieldiness of the shotgun out the window.

  Lights went on along the street, but he didn’t wait around to talk or for the police. He drove to the nearest emergency room and asked for help. He explained what had happened. The attendant took notes and asked him to wait in a treatment room. By that time, the police had caught up. They took a statement while he waited to be seen.

  “We were here before, sir. The night three guys beat you up,” one policeman said. Matt shook his head. He didn’t remember but sure as hell wasn’t going to argue. He just wanted it to be over.

  “You’re high maintenance. Looks like,” the second guy said with a slight smile.

  “Yeah,” Matt said.

  A nurse came in with a treatment gown and asked him to disrobe. He put it on. The policeman left.

  A young doctor walked in, white smock and stethoscope

  around his neck. “Get on the table. On your stomach. I’ll have a look at the damage,” The doctor said.

  Matt did as he asked.

  “Not too bad really. Got a few shotgun pellets here and there.

  Less than a dozen got you, but I bet they burn.”

  Matt grunted his agreement.

  “I’ll dig ‘em out. Won’t take long. It’ll hurt some. Get me some disinfectant for the pellet wounds,” he told the nurse.

  To Matt he said, “You’ll have a sore bottom for a few days.

  Your back didn’t catch that many.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, Matt lay there while the doctor and nurse tortured him — his assessment — by digging out pellets which had burned into the flesh and resisted being removed. Finally, he heard the last one plunk into a metal bowl and seconds later, the doctor say, “That’s it.”

  Matt rolled off the bed onto his feet.

  “We put some ointment on the wounds,” the doctor told him. “That’ll help with the pain. I’ll give you some pills.” He handed him a pill container.

  “When’s the ointment supposed to kick in? It still burns like

  hell.”

  “Take a pill before you leave. I’d say by the time you get

  home and have a beer you’ll be feeling better.”

  Matt thanked them, paid the bill and made his way back to his car. Some of the pellets, he noticed, had blasted the rear fender. Fortunately none had hit the tire or the gas tank.

  He had a hard time sitting down but finally did, long enough to get home. Like the doctor suggested, he took a beer from the fridge and drank it sitting on a pillow at the kitchen table.

  About midnight, minutes after Matt had dozed off, lying on his stomach, his phone rang.

  “Who in the hell can that be?”

  It was a hospital. “Is this Matt Dawson?” the caller asked.

  “Yes,” Matt answered.

  “Carter Nelson was admitted about an hour ago with multiple gunshot wounds, one to the head. That one could be serious. The other one was to his shoulder. Your card was in his wallet.”

  “Is he terminal?”

  “Well, I’ll say no for now. The bullet only grazed his head but it did make a good sized furrow. He’s still unconscious. We’ve removed the bullet from his shoulder. I think he’ll be okay, but we won’t know for certain until he regains consciousness. Head wounds are unpredictable.”

  Son of a bitch. Must have been the same guys who shot at me.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “No need. He’ll be out till morning, at least. I’d say call in the morning and get an update.”

  “Okay”

  He figured to have a hard time getting back to sleep, but didn’t. The pill took up where it had left off. He didn’t wake up till Cat climbed on the bed and touched his paw to his hand. He was hungry.

  He roused himself, got out of bed and fed them both. He took another pain pill with his second cup of coffee. That killed the pain he felt when he sat down on his pellet- speckled butt.

  Triplett called. Mostly to grumble about how much trouble he’d become. He also asked if Matt had any idea who shot at him.

  “I told the guys last night everything I saw. It wasn’t much. I think the guy in the back seat, the one doing the shooting, had a hard time positioning the shotgun. The street’s pretty rough. That’s why he missed me, I think.”

  That satisfied Triplett as having done his duty. He hung up.

  After the call, and with some difficulty, he got into his car and drove to the hospital where Carter had been taken. When he walked into Carter’s room, his old buddy was sitting up in bed, looking dazed and half-conscious.

  “Matt,” he said weakly when he saw Matt come through the

  door.

  “Damn Carter. Hell of a way to get a good night’s sleep.”

  “I’d pass if I had the choice.”

  “What happened, if you’re up to telling me?”

  “I’m up. I went to the store for a six pack and a newspaper. I

  had in mind reading the latest about Reid. See how he was squirming,” Carter said with a more accented drawl than usual because of the pain medicine he was on.

  “Thanks to you, he is.”

  “You pointed and I barked. Anyway, I got back, rolled in front of the garage and got out to come in the front door. Just like always. Well, as I came around the car, two guys came from behind a car on the street and started firing. The first shot caught me in the shoulder. Knocked me down. Well, you know I go prepared, so I grabbed at my pistol and started shooting. I hit one guy with my first shot. He staggered back, bumped into his buddy who was unloading on me but with his buddy in front of him, his shots were high. He had an automatic. I emptied my chamber and drove them back. The guy with the automatic fired one more shot and that’s all I remember. One shot must have hit me in the head. I assume they took off.”

  “Maybe they had to get the guy you shot to a doctor.”

  “Could be,” he said with a slurred accent.

  “We’re pissing people off these days, old buddy.” Matt told Carter what had happened
to him an hour earlier. “I’ve got a speckled butt to show for it.”

  “No shit!” Carter’s response was slurred. “What do you reckon? Somebody wants both of us out of the way.” He lay back and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. “Sorry, Matt. They just gave me a shot of something and it catches up with me now and then. I expect I’ll sleep pretty good tonight.”

  Matt told him what he’d found out about the Merlin

  shareholders last evening and his dinner with Denise. “With that much money on the table, I’d say either one might have been

  motivated to get us out of the way.”

  “I agree,” Carter said. His eyelids drooped.

  “Tonight we’re going to see if we can log onto ANN’s mainframe to see if Sarah left anything in her files about anything. I think I have her password.”

  “Let me know what you find.”

  “Yeah. We have to be on our guard. Whoever paid those guys – I’m assuming — will no doubt be watching to see what we do next.”

  “They say I should be fit enough to leave in three days. I’ll get you some protection,” Carter said.

  Matt left to let him sleep. He drove to the nearby Denny’s for a late senior breakfast. He rested the rest of the day and did little moving about to let his butt heal some. By evening, it felt less sore and he was able to drive to the ANN building to see if the password he’d given to Denise had worked.

  Chapter 26

  Denise was in the computer room staring at the monitor. She motioned for him to join her.

  There were no roses on her desk, he noted in passing.

  Her “Reid for Senator” T shirt had been replaced by one with “ANN” across the front and she had arranged her hair in a ponytail.

  She must have resigned from the campaign. I’ll ask.

  She saw that he was walking gingerly and asked, “What happened to you? You hurt yourself?”

  He explained that somebody tried to kill him and Carter last night. He escaped with minor wounds but Carter was still in the hospital.

  “They had a shootout with Carter, but more or less missed me with a shotgun an hour before. I ended up with a sore behind.

  They switched tactics for Carter. I’m assuming it was the same two guys.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Was it because of the Poway incident?”

  “That’s my best bet, but who knows?”

  “Well, maybe after tonight you’ll be better informed.”

  “I hope so. Sooner or later, we’re going to get somebody to poke their heads up.”

  “Hopefully before somebody catches you not looking,” She waved a hand at him. “First it was three guys with a bat. Now a shotgun. You’re a walking invitation for violence.”

  “Yeah. High maintenance, the cops say.”

  “They’re right.” She turned to the keyboard and typed in Matt’s first choice of numbers for Sarah’s password. “Okay, let’s see where your numbers get us.”

  It worked. She stared at the list of Sarah’s files that had begun to appear on the monitor.

  “Have a look, Matt,” she said. “Do you see anything you want

  to look at?”

  Matt looked over her shoulder and began to read from the

  list. “Lottery Fix. School Board corruption. High Speed Rail. Future stories, I assume. Nothing I know anything about. Ah, Trial. I’d like to look at that one. Here’s one, Senate. Click on that one.”

  Denise did.

  Matt read the listing. “Story angle — how much does the candidate have to sell to get elected? Will that leave him any integrity for handling real problems? Financial contributions, contributor. Supporters. Major contributor–Merlin. What will they want? Warner–watchdog. Already in control. Clint and Warner talked contracts. Big dollars. Wife–cold, unfeeling, status-conscious. Probably shunned when young. Not trustworthy? Clint–good campaigner/attractive. Likes women. Making suggestions to me. Warner pulls his speech strings. Does Clint have a position of his own? His beliefs? Also, too much energy? Making suggestions! Handwritten note/Warner’s desk/Adderall. Note to me- check it out.”

  He stopped and looked at Denise who had been reading with him. “Sarah was into it,” she said.

  “I believe she was. Do you know anything about Adderall?”

  “Never heard of it. She asked me to run a check on

  methamphetamines but I hadn’t gotten around to it when she died.”

  “Tell you what, print that file for me. Let me stew over it at

  home. I’ll look up Adderall. I’ll research Reid’s political positions before he began his run for the Senate to see how much he’s changed to accommodate Merlin. I wish we could have seen Sarah’s notepad. I imagine she was beginning to jot down answers to her questions.”

  Denise typed in the command to print out Sarah’s Senate file. The sheets began filling the printer tray immediately. Matt put them on a table.

  “I’m sure I’ll want the Trial file printed as well. Can you print that for me and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  She looked at him with the innocent smile she had. “I don’t mind. I did most of Sarah’s grunt work. I’m used to it.”

  He smiled back. “Say, maybe we can do something this weekend. If I’m ambulatory. I don’t want to embarrass you.”

  “You always look like a real man, Matt. You would never embarrass me.”

  “Thank you. By the way, your ponytail is a real turn on.” She blushed and thanked him.

  “Tell me more.”

  He chuckled and gave her a knowing smile.

  “Can I pick something for the weekend? There’s an exhibit at Balboa Park I want to see. Would you mind?”

  “I’d love it,” he said. He doubted he would, but he was going

  to try. “Balboa Park it is then,” he said.

  Within minutes, Matt had the sheets for Sarah’s Trial file. He’d mull over both files at home. See if anything jumped out at him.

  I wouldn’t turn down a good idea.

  Denise said, “I think what I just gave you on the trial was stuff I’d put together for her. Looks like it. Names and numbers. Your old investigator’s on the list. I thought he was dead, but I located him. Your name’s also on it. I wanted to go out and interview the people, but Sarah said no. She enjoyed being the front part of the team. Her Pulitzer gave her that right. I was stuck with being the gofer.”

  “I can see how that might get old after a while.”

  She shrugged. “You have to pay your dues and I didn’t have a Pulitzer to wave around.”

  Matt added a shrug. What she said made sense.

  “I will report on the shootings. They’re news in light of the fuss you kicked up in Poway,” she said.

  “Go ahead. Might stir them up some more. Sooner or later, they’ll make a mistake and we’ll have them.”

  “I hope it’s not over your dead body.”

  “Me too. To that end, I assume you’ve resigned.” Matt

  gestured at her ANN tee shirt.

  “Yes. I did, kind of. I told Jeff I didn’t have time anymore.

  Too busy working.”

  “What did he say? He called Carter, after he quit, and asked him who he had been working for,” Matt said.

  “I know. Jeff told us. He asked if I really believed in Reid. I told him ‘wholeheartedly.’ He talked about how Sarah worked undercover to get a story. He mentioned her Pulitzer. He more or less said he thought she had been working undercover at the

  campaign headquarters before she was killed,” Denise said.

  “I told his attorney, Carpenter, after Poway that she had been.

  He was trying to trap you.”

  “I figured. You may have told me before. Sorry if I forgot. Lots of stuff has been happening. Anyway, he asked if I had also been working undercover with her.”

  “I figured he’d come to that conclusion. That was why I wanted you out of there. I was afraid you’d end up like Sarah,” Matt said.

  “He
didn’t seem upset. Of course, I tried to look shocked and puzzled. ‘No way was she undercover. She always spoke highly of

  the congressman… and you. If she had anything else on her mind, she never mentioned it. And certainly, I wasn’t undercover. I thought we were both a hundred percent behind the congressman.’”

  “Did he believe you?” Matt asked.

  “I don’t know. He mumbled something about how bright she

  was.”

  “That kind of left it in the air.”

  “It did. I hung my head like I was embarrassed and said, ‘I

  think she was in love with the congressman. She never said, but I got that impression. So, I know she wouldn’t have been doing anything undercover.’ He seemed satisfied. I guess you know by now that reporters can lie like lawyers if it moves their story

  along.”

  It was Matt’s turn to laugh.

  “The temp head wants me to volunteer from time to time to see if anything newsworthy is going on … Poway things. Since he’s my boss, I guess I will. I’ll call anyway and offer. I have to confess, Matt, with you poking around, stories keep leaping out from dark shadows. I’m waiting for you to drop the other shoe.”

  “I have to find it first.”

  They walked out together. In an abundance of caution, he walked her to her car, a late model Honda. She unlocked the door, turned and kissed him on the lips. “Until this weekend,” she said and winked.

  *****

  He checked out the street in front of his house and looked for any suspicious shadows around the house before he got out of his car. He saw nothing outside or inside.

  The news from the hospital was good. Carter was doing well.

  Matt pulled a beer from the refrigerator and strolled back to his computer. After it had booted up, he typed in “Adderall” then, clicked on the first link that came up.

  “Ah, a drug to treat people with ADHD.” He knew ADHD meant somebody had an attention deficit hyperactivity problem.

  He read the rest of the link. Adderall made users become very energetic and ready to go. One user said he felt like he was on top of the world.