Accidental Lawyer_A humorous peak into Baltimore's legal community, with a thread of mystery

by Kim Hamilton

  “Hold on.” I said, taking the phone away from my ear. “What time is bingo?” I asked Mrs. Bianco.

  “It starts at seven thirty, but we should get there around seven.”

  “Kari, I’m coming to pick you up. We’ll stop to get some takeout for dinner and meet Mrs. B back here.”

  We stopped at Brenner’s for takeout. I felt good about giving my business to them since I was going to strong-arm the owner into giving me money. It was the least I could do.

  Staring down at the ready-made food options, we locked in on the fried chicken. “How about some Cajun rice to go with it and a veggie salad?” Kari asked.

  I knew Mrs. B had a sensitivity to MSG, so I asked the guy working the counter if the Cajun rice or the fried chicken had any. He assured me that they did not. “We use all natural spices,” he said.

  With dinner in hand, we headed back to Fells Point.

  Mrs. B was dressed for bingo when we arrived with dinner. It was a rare occasion that she wasn’t wearing a housecoat. She had on a pair of black slacks and a floral blouse. She wore a hint of mascara, and her hair was pulled back into a neat bun.

  I had been in her home many times before, but this was Kari’s first venture inside. While our homes had been constructed at the same time and were identical in size and design, hers had some interesting modifications that her husband had made years prior to his death.

  The front door was made of reinforced steel and had locks worthy of Fort Knox. Her front windows were made of three separate layers of bulletproof glass. They were sealed shut.

  Kari noticed the windows and rapped on one. “This is one secure home you got here, Mrs. B.”

  “Mr. Bianco was a cautious man.” She led us back into her kitchen. “Not that it did him good in the end. But I feel safe in this house.” The back door leading from the kitchen to the backyard was the same size as the one in front, and the two kitchen windows over the sink were also bulletproof glass. There was a panel box near the back door that I knew controlled all the lighting in the backyard, as well as an electrical output that would zap anyone standing on her back porch either by the door or by the window. There was a similar panel in the front of the house.

  I unpacked the bag of food while Mrs. B laid out some plates, utensils, and napkins. Kari poured us sweet tea from a pitcher Mrs. B pulled from the refrigerator.

  Mrs. B eyed our mini buffet. “That Cajun rice looks good. Do you think it has MSG?”

  “No. I asked the guy.”

  We helped ourselves to healthy portions and started eating.

  “How far away is the bingo hall?” I asked.

  “It’s a few blocks west of here, outside of Little Italy. It’s at the VA hall.”

  As we ate, Mrs. B explained Franco’s recent routine for dropping off his mother. “Most folks enter through the side of the building because that’s closest to the parking lot. But Franco will pull up in front. He always walks her through the front door, helps her to her seat, and then leaves.”

  “Does he drive the car, or are his bodyguards with him?” I asked, grabbing a second chicken leg.

  “I don’t know. I’m always inside the building when she arrives. I get there early, you know, so I can get a seat up front. That’s where all the action is.”

  Kari helped herself to seconds on the salad. “So when do we strike? When he returns to the car?”

  “If we do it then, we may also be facing his security guys. How about we snag him in the hallway after he sits her down and before he heads out the door?”

  “That’ll work,” Mrs. B said. “There a closet right around the corner. I can hide in there until you need me to come knock some sense into that boy.”

  “We should get there before Franco does for a trial run,” Kari said.

  We hurried to finish our meal. I gathered all the trash and Kari wiped down the table while Mrs. B loaded the dishwasher.

  Since it would be dark when we returned, Mrs. B punched a few buttons on the rear control panel. “I keep the backyard illuminated at night. They’ll go on automatically once it gets dark.” She punched a few more buttons on the front panel as we left. “That sets the alarm.”

  There were a few cars in the fire station lot when we arrived. We entered and found a handful of elderly, yet quite spry, men and women bustling about, setting up the tables where the bingo paraphernalia and refreshments would be sold.

  “Hey there, you’re early, Magda,” a gray-haired woman said.

  Magda? That was Mrs. B’s first name? It never occurred to me that she even had a first name. It was strange hearing it for the first time.

  “Hi, Emma. These are my friends, Jessica and Kari. They drove me here. I’m showing them around.”

  “See you at the table,” Emma said.

  We glided toward the front of the building. There was a set of double doors leading out into the front hallway. The hallway was empty except for a water fountain and a banquet-sized table that held an array of colorful brochures. Another set of double doors led out to the front steps.

  “So, this is what will happen,” I said. “Franco will pull up to these steps, then escort his mom through both sets of doors, deposit her in her seat, and return through the first set of doors. That’s where we’ll meet him. Kari, you’ll stand by the doors leading outside while I talk to him. You need to be checking to make sure neither of his security guards tries to come inside.”

  “If they do, I’ll go out and chat them up to stall them.” Kari pulled her shoulders back and smoothed out her hair. “That Paulie one’s kinda cute.”

  “Alright, that’ll work. Mrs. B, you stand around the corner.” I looked at Mrs. Bianco to make sure she understood. Her face was pale with a hint of green. She had a distressed, pleading look in her eyes and was holding her stomach with both hands.

  “I need to get to the bathroom.” She headed down the hall. Kari and I followed her.

  “What’s the matter?” Kari asked.

  “I’m having an intestinal disturbance,” Mrs. B said as she pushed her way through the ladies’ room door. “Don’t follow me.”

  Kari and I waited outside.

  “I sure hope it wasn’t the food,” Kari said. “Because we’ll be fighting each other for bathroom time.”

  “I feel fine. How about you?”

  “I feel great. I was even thinking about getting me one of those snickerdoodles that lady was putting out.”

  The bathroom was around the corner from the entrance hall. We heard the front doors open and watched from a distance as Franco walked in holding his mother’s arm. They proceeded straight through to the bingo hall.

  “Damn,” Kari said. “Our plan is in the toilet.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Metzger murder investigation was stalled. There was no new information. The charges were still pending on Dawson. I feared the real killer was getting away and no one seemed to care.

  I expressed my concerns to Kari. “Nobody seems interested in finding Harvey’s murderer.”

  “That’s because its last week’s news. People have moved on.”

  “But Dawson’s name hasn’t been cleared yet.”

  “He doesn’t seem to mind. The clients who threatened to fire us decided to stay. Plus we’ve got more criminal cases than ever. In fact, the suspicion of murder seems to attract a certain clientele. Dawson’s setting records with new criminal defense cases. I guess they’re more comfortable with one of their own.”

  “But Dawson’s not one of them. He’s not a criminal. He didn’t murder Harvey.”

  “Well, now that’s almost too bad. It sure is good for business.”

  Sheesh.

  I went to see Dawson to refute such idiocy. His door was closed, so I gave it a knuckle knock and announced myself. He summoned me in where I found him seated next to the safe. He was counting out money and wrapping small stacks of it with rubber bands. He had a clipboard next to him with a list of clients and dollar amounts next to each.

/>   “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I’m doing the filing.”

  “You’re filing money?”

  “Just keeping track. I have to collect our retainers up front on all these new criminal cases, and I’m trying to devise a system. We’ve never had so much criminal work. Marty and I have court almost every day for the next two weeks.” He stacked the money in rubber-banded bunches inside the safe.

  “You don’t seem too concerned that your name hasn’t been cleared yet.”

  “It’ll all be forgotten soon. Meanwhile, we need to take care of business.”

  He reached back in the safe, grabbed a wad of cash, and tossed it to me.

  “That’s a bonus. Use it to make a down payment on a new car.”

  “My car runs fine.”

  “Your car’s a blue-collar car. You need a car that tells people you’re a professional.”

  Good grief. I never did care much about cars, and I didn’t feel like discussing it now. I clutched the money and held my hands behind my back. “You may not care about clearing your name, but it’s important to me.”

  He waved a dismissive hand at me and returned to his filing.

  #

  I called Helen to see if she had any new information on the investigation. She didn’t.

  “I’m disappointed in O’Mallory. He seems to have dropped the ball on this,” she said.

  “He has. I called him last week to explain my concerns about Olivia’s plan to leave town. He was unimpressed. Maybe you and I should go talk to him together. He doesn’t think much of me, but he respects you.”

  Helen made arrangements to meet O’Mallory at a coffee shop in midtown. He was surprised to see me tagging along.

  “How’s your boss doing? He hasn’t booked a flight and packed his bags has he?”

  “Funny. Ha ha. He’s got nothing to do with this, and you know it.”

  Helen placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and jumped in. “Kevin, we have a theory about the murder, and we can back it up.” With her hand still on my shoulder, she guided me into the booth and slid in next to me.

  I looked at Kevin O’Mallory. His eyes showed fatigue. He was wearing an ill-fitted blue blazer with a wrinkled collared shirt underneath. A bit of a contrast from when he first stepped into our office. I wondered what had him so out of sorts. It didn’t seem to be worry over who killed Harvey.

  “Let’s hear what you got. I don’t have a lot of time. I’m due in court at eleven.”

  “I’m heading there, too,” Helen said. She turned to me to explain. “The trial for Terrell Smith starts today. He’s the alleged head of the East Side drug ring that Detective O’Mallory took down a couple of months ago.”

  I looked at the detective. “You’re testifying?”

  “Yeah, so let’s make this quick.”

  Helen took the lead. “We have reason to believe that Olivia Metzger killed her husband, and Juan Carlos may have helped.”

  “I’ve investigated Olivia. She didn’t do it. Just because the woman is having an affair, doesn’t mean she murdered him.”

  I inhaled and was starting to form my words when Helen kicked me under the table.

  “There’s more to it than that,” Helen said. “She’s fleeing. We know she’s booked a one-way flight to Barcelona. Two tickets. She’s on the run, and you’re letting her slip through your fingers.”

  As she spoke, I realized how lame our theory was. Sure, Olivia was an adulterer. Sure, she’s getting out of town with her boyfriend. That didn’t make her a killer. Maybe O’Mallory had read her right. Maybe she was innocent. And if so, she may be as interested in finding her husband’s real killer.

  “Who else knew that Metzger was running a Ponzi scheme?” I asked.

  “Dawson was the first to find out, on that night. The night he killed him.”

  This guy wouldn’t let it go. He was plucking my nerves. Helen must have noticed my agitation. She spoke before I exploded. “Look, Kevin, you can’t know that for sure. Have you checked the phone records, talked to the other investors? It’s too easy to hang this on Dawson. You’re a detective—you have to dig deeper.”

  O’Mallory’s face reddened. His tired eyes narrowed, and he jabbed an angry index finger at Helen. “Don’t you tell me how to do my job.” He stood up, threw a couple of dollars on the table, and walked out.

  “I’ve never seen him lose his cool,” Helen said. “I guess I went too far.”

  Helen and I returned to the office and told Kari about our chat with O’Mallory.

  “Looks like we’re on our own,” she said. “Any ideas?”

  “Let’s assume O’Mallory is right—that Olivia and Juan Carlos didn’t do it. Maybe she knows something that can help us. She’s a source of information that we’ve been avoiding because we thought she was a killer. I think it’s time we pay her a visit,” I said.

  “I tried to talk to her,” Helen said. “She slammed the door in my face.”

  “That’s because you’re a reporter, no offense,” Kari said.

  Helen shrugged.

  “Kari and I will go talk to her. We’ll say Harvey left some personal items with Dawson and we are returning them. Then we’ll strike up a friendly conversation and see what we can get out of her.”

  Helen left for the courthouse to watch the Terrell Smith trial. Kari and I went to tell Dawson of our plan.

  He was counting money again.

  “Kari and I are going to talk to Olivia Metzger. We think she may be able to tell us something about Harvey and the Ponzi scheme or something that might help get you off the suspect list.”

  “You’re still hung up on that?” He put some cash in the safe and closed it. “I guess it’s worth a try. I know there are rumors about her infidelity, but Harvey understood. He truly did love her.”

  “Do you have anything that belonged to Harvey?”

  “Yeah. I borrowed his putter last weekend.” He walked over to this golf bag near the window and pulled out a club. “I also have his cigar cutter.”

  “She won’t want the cigar cutter.”

  “She’ll want this one. It’s a rarity. Olivia gave it to him for their anniversary last year. Take a look.”

  He reached into a zippered compartment on the side of his bag, pulled out a small object, and handed it to me. “It’s made from a Mammoth’s tusk. Presumably ten-thousand years old. Thing’s worth about $400.”

  I examined the cigar cutter. It had some markings on one side. “What do these mean?”

  “That’s to show its authenticity. They produced a limited quantity. Each one is numbered. It’s kind of a status symbol among cigar smokers to own one.”

  We took the putter and the cigar cutter and left his office.

  “Before we head out to see Olivia, I’d like to peak in at the Terrell Smith trial for a little while. Chip is second-chairing, and O’Mallory is testifying at eleven. I thought I’d catch a little of it, to get a feel for the criminal trial process.”

  “Sure,” Kari said. “I’ve got some paperwork I need to do here. We’ll see Olivia once you get back.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The Circuit Court for Baltimore City was housed in a mammoth stone building that occupied an entire block of downtown Baltimore. I was not a regular here because most of my cases were settled out of court. I joined the security line to be screened for weapons. It was similar to the security at the airport. I laid my handbag and briefcase on the belt and watched as it moved through to the screening box. I was glad I remembered to leave my can of mace in the car, or I might have been strip searched.

  I walked along the marble-lined corridors and entered the courtroom through solid wood-paneled doors. All eyes were on the witness. It was Detective O’Mallory. There were about forty to fifty spectators. I recognized the back of Chip’s head. He was sitting next to the State’s Attorney. Helen had found a spot a few rows back and was at full attention. To my surprise, Franco Giovanni was sitting in front of her. He wa
s flanked by his boxy duo. I slid into the bench next to the door, out of direct sight of anyone facing forward. There was no jury. Judge Binderhoff would decide the case.

  O’Mallory must have just taken the stand. I recognized the standard questions setting forth his credentials. Through another series of questions, the State’s Attorney established probable cause for the search of Terrell Smith’s home. I could see Franco looking down into his lap as if checking his cell phone, or playing Candy Crush. Then came the details about what was found at the scene. A massive amount of heroin was recovered, as well as some firearms. Franco raised his head and watched the exchange between the prosecutor and O’Mallory.

  “What about cash?” asked the prosecutor. “Did you find any cash in the house?”

  “Yes, there were stacked bills in two shoe boxes we found under the bathroom sink.”

  “How much money was recovered?”

  “The money was counted by one of the officers on the scene. It was just under $30,000.”

  I looked at Franco. He was working his jaw muscles, and his hands gripped the back of the seat in front of him. He turned to say something to Elvis and saw me. His eyes locked on me. He whispered something to Elvis, who nudged Paulie. They turned their expressionless eyes toward me. After a few uncomfortable seconds, they focused back on the front of the courtroom. I decided it was time to go and started sliding across the bench toward the door when my cell phone rang. I’d forgotten to silence it. It continued ringing while I fumbled around for it in my messenger bag.

  Now everyone looked at me. O’Mallory rolled his eyes, Franco gave me a curious smile, and Helen laughed out loud. Chip gave me a blank stare.

  “I’m so sorry, Your Honor. I’m leaving.”

  #

  Kari and I hopped in my car for the short trip up the JFX to Olivia’s house. I stared straight ahead as we passed the billboard bearing my face, pretending not to see it.

  I was concerned about our conversation with Olivia. She didn’t know me, and I didn’t want to be too pushy. We had to earn her trust and ease into a conversation about her husband’s dirty business, all within a short window of time. We also had to be sympathetic. After all, she did lose her husband.