“Got it. Anything else I should do?”
Milk shrugged.
“Everything okay?”
Milk looked around the office. “Yeah.”
Jo looked at her watch, twenty minutes until nine, the start time. “Would you like some water? Something to drink?”
He shook his head.
“It feels strange not having my phone with me. How about you?”
Milk shrugged.
Twenty more minutes with the silent giant. “Anything you want or need?”
Milk shook his head.
“Have any advice for me?” Jo asked with a warm tone in her voice.
Jo felt Milk’s eyes stare directly into hers. “Do what Omar tell you.”
Jo kept the eye contact. “Any thoughts on the best way to accomplish that when the litigants show up?”
Milk lowered his gaze to the desk covered by the black tablecloth. “Be the boss.”
“Thanks. Will do.” Jo looked around the office. “Can you give a message to Omar for me?”
Milk looked back into her eyes.
“Detective Browning is asking questions about a double-murder. I want to talk to Omar, but first I want him to know that his phone is probably tapped. Can you have Omar call me.”
Milk stared hard into her eyes.
Jo sighed. “Detective Browning came to see me. I know Omar expects this. I want to help stay in front of it.”
Milk’s stare abated and he revealed a great big smile. “Thank you.”
Jo’s eyebrows raised in confusion. “You’re happy about this?”
“That you with us.” Milk gave a single nod.
“I’m trying to get away, live a boring life as a judge. But I seem to keep getting pulled towards Omar.”
Milk looked even more confused than Jo. “Why would you want to pull away from Omar?”
“I think he sometimes operates on the wrong side of the law.”
Milk paused. “I’d side with Omar over the law every time.”
“How did he get such loyalty from you?”
“Story for another time.” Milk rose. “I’ll wait for them by the front door.”
Jo stood. “Okay. I’ll wait in there?”
Milk nodded, then left Jo.
* * *
“Have a seat,” Milk commanded of Blake McConner and Markus Racic. Once they sat, Milk asked, “Who got the filing fee?”
Markus reached into his sport coat, pulled out a white envelope stuffed with cash, and handed it up to Milk.
He took it, stepped to the office door, and knocked with his free hand.
Milk moved to the corner of the office and called out, “Welcome to the Gangster’s Court. Specially presiding today is Judge Joanna C.”
A moment later, Jo opened the door and walked to the table.
“Court is in session,” Milk stated.
“Thank you.” Jo looked at Milk. What’s his real name?
Blake and Markus looked at each other.
“I understand you have sought help from-” Jo cleared her throat to prevent from choking on her next words, “the Gangster’s Court. Procedurally, we will have the claimant state his case. Then the respondent. Then I’ll permit cross examination from each and I will ask questions as I see fit. If more information is needed before I can rule, I will order the matter continued to make sure we get it right. And once we have a final decision, it is final, and will be binding, without appeal.”
Jo looked at Markus. “Do you understand and agree to be bound by this Court’s decision?”
The elderly man cleared his throat. “Yes.”
“And what is your name?”
“Markus Rac-.”
Jo held up her hand. “We don’t use last names here.” She give a quick, tight-lipped smile to Markus. “Welcome.” She turned to Blake. “What is your name, sir?”
“Blake.”
“Do you understand and agree to be bound by the Court’s decision?”
“I guess.”
“Is that a yes?” Jo asked sternly.
Blake fidgeted in his chair. “Yes.”
“Markus, please tell us why we’re here.”
Markus shifted in his chair. “I voted for you. I know you’re a real judge. I wasn’t expecting you to hear this dispute.”
Jo held up her hand again. “This forum is completely confidential and completely outside the California Penal Code and Canons of Judicial Conduct. Any breaches of confidentiality will be handled by the Court’s staff.” Jo gestured to Milk. “And each person, including me, will deny being here.”
Jo darted her eyes between Blake and Markus. From their rigid posture and fidgeting, Jo could tell they were uncomfortable. “Before we begin, let me tell you a quick story that explains why I’m here.”
The men looked interested.
“My friend was robbed and his laptop was stolen. The laptop had military secrets on it because he works for a defense contractor. The laptop had a tracker on it, the police were given the location, but wouldn’t go recover it. Without anyone getting hurt, Omar retrieved the laptop within a half hour of being asked to help. This forum offers you Omar’s results for your dispute without the weight of the legal system slowing things down.”
Jo looked at Markus. “From what I understand, there is a property near the beach that will be sold for re-development and you two are the only two who qualify for the contract. You want help resolving the matter to save time and money. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” Markus sat a bit straighter in his chair.
“Blake,” Jo said. “Do you understand that’s why you’re here tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me just tell you, I don’t like the idea of harming the City or any innocent party. So when I decide this matter, it will be within a penumbra of fairness. I’m not going to collude to rip off the City, but I will work with you to ensure we have a prompt and reasonable resolution that saves everyone involved a whole lot of time and money.”
Markus scratched the gray hair on the back of his head. “Okay.”
“Good.” Jo set her hands on the table and looked at Markus. “What do you think the site is worth?”
“Present value, fifty million. Developed, a hundred million. About twenty million to develop.”
Jo turned to Blake. “What do you think the site is worth?”
“His numbers are close. I’d say developed, a hundred and twenty; maybe thirty million to develop. With litigation, bid costs, and affordable housing offsets, it’s worth about half of the margin. His present value estimate of fifty million is good.”
“Affordable housing offset, what’s that?” Jo asked.
Blake cleared his throat. “Whenever a developer is approved to develop property, the government requires a portion of the property to be priced at affordable levels. Those can get built off-site. So our two-million-dollar condo doesn’t magically sell for two hundred thousand. Instead, we’ll build the necessary housing a bit east, where things are more affordable.”
Jo put her hands in her lap as she thought for a second. “What are the numbers for off-site affordable housing? Cost, profit, that kind of thing?”
“We need fifteen percent of total units to be affordable. Max price they can sell for is two hundred and fifty thousand. Depending on materials, permits, overhead, that’s basically cost. Barely any profit.”
“Just over cost?” Jo asked.
Blake nodded.
“I get it,” Jo said. “So there is little incentive to build affordable housing. Same risks as building higher-end homes, but without the margin.”
Blake and Markus nodded.
“You’ve both drawn up plans, right?”
They nodded in agreement.
“How hard would it be to find a cheaper site and pare down the upgrades so the condos were more affordable?”
Both men shook their heads. Blake said, “Complete re-draw.”
“I know I haven’t heard the dispute yet,” Jo
said, “but I’m wondering if you could agree to one person developing the beach site and the other doing a project with more than the necessary eight units for affordable housing. I’ll tell you that San Diego does not have enough affordable housing. This could be a net win for the City and you guys.”
Markus shook his head. “Rent is capped at seventeen hundred and sale at two hundred and fifty thousand. With the high build costs, it’s really hard to make anything that cheap.”
Jo sighed. “Which is why the City requires builders to make those when they develop another project.”
“Exactly,” Blake added.
“Tell me about the fair housing requirements,” Jo said to Blake.
“Affordable housing requires rent or mortgage payments to be less than thirty percent of monthly income. About seventeen hundred a month in rent.”
Markus cleared his throat. “Cheapest I could build something decent for is one-fifty a square-foot. A two bedroom, thousand square-foot apartment, would cost a hundred and fifty thousand to build. With free land.”
“Land isn’t free,” Blake added. “Problem with affordable housing builds is they compete for the same land to build on as half-million-dollar luxury apartment developments, which drives up the land price.”
Jo paused for a second in thought. “What about a project that has smaller and less equipped, more affordable, on the first few floors. Then raise the price as you go up so that the units range from two hundred to five hundred in the complex?”
“Easier said than done,” Markus said. “It costs so damn much to build because of all the regulation. Which is why we’re here before you. A high-profit site opening up and the chance to do something is rare.”
Jo nodded. “I understand. And we’ll get to the more formal hearing soon if we can’t work this out informally.”
Blake said, “Hold on. I got a lead on another site in El Cerrito. I was thinking about developing it with the intent of making it student housing for State, but this could be perfect for a dozen units on the lower end, mixed with more upscale. I think I could grind a real profit from it.”
“Were you planning on using the site for affordable housing if you got the site?” Jo asked.
“No. I was going to pay the fee to avoid it.”
Jo raised her eyebrows. “You can pay a fee to avoid building the required affordable housing?”
“Yes,” Blake answered while Markus nodded in agreement.
Jo looked Blake in the eye, then Markus. “It sounds to me like a partnership would make sense. This isn’t a Court ruling, just a suggestion. But could you two agree to work together, one builds the beach project, the other the State project, and split the profits? That would get a lot more housing built, help San Diego, and everyone wins.”
Markus shrugged, then looked at Blake. “I could work with that.”
Blake’s face flushed red. “I’m sure you would. You get in on my State development in exchange for nothing on your end.”
“Hold on,” Jo said, raising both of her hands. “We’re not exchanging offers. We’re just thinking of what might be possible. And it sounds like we’re hitting on something. If Blake is giving more, it would make sense to agree to something other than a fifty-fifty split.”
“I agree,” Markus said. “I wouldn’t ask for a piece of your project for nothing.”
Blake released his tight grip on the chair. “Alright.”
Jo glanced at her watch. “Why don’t we spend some time trying to work through a settlement? If we can’t reach an accord by midnight, I’ll hear your arguments and hand down a ruling.”
They agreed. Two hours and a coffee run by Milk later, the exhausted group shook hands with an agreement. They would present the projects to the City Council together and split profits, with Blake getting fifty-eight percent of the profit.
Milk opened his eyes wide to get Jo’s attention. She didn’t notice. Slighly more subtlety than an end zone dance, Milk waved his arm and pointed at the office
She finally noticed. What the heck? Jo looked at the usually reserved Milk gesturing hard toward the office. Oh. “Excuse me, gentleman. You are excused from the Court. Mr. Omar and his staff will follow-up with you.”
“Thank you,” Markus said.
“Thank you,” Blake added.
The two men turned for the door. Milk commanded, “Hold for the Judge to vacate the premises.”
They stopped and stood still. The three men watched Jo leave the waiting room and go into the doctor’s office.
“Gentleman, I need another minute,” Milk said.
Blake and Markus took their seats again. Milk moved behind Jo’s desk and stood in front of her chair. He planted his hands firmly on the table. “A few rules the Judge may not know about. Going back on your word in the Court is punishable by death. Going to the police, same.”
Milk watched them turn rigid. He could only guess how hard their hearts were beating. “Don’t talk about the Court on the phone. Don’t tell people about it who you don’t completely trust.” Milk flashed a big smile. “With that understood, your referrals are welcome.”
Blake and Markus left in silence.
Milk sat at the table, counted out twenty thousand from the envelope, and shoved that in the inner pocket of his suit coat. He picked up the envelope with twenty thousand dollars remaining in it and knocked on the office door.
Jo opened the door to Milk holding an envelope out to her.
“You did good,” Milk said.
“Thanks.” Jo looked at the envelope. “What’s that?”
“Your fee.”
Jo took it and saw a phone number written on it. “Thank you.”
“Omar’s number. He’ll expect your call at noon.”
“Thanks.” Jo pointed to the waiting room. “I’ll take care of the chairs.”
Milk shook his head. “I got it.”
Jo smiled at the big man. “We’ll both take care of it.”
21
“Late night?” Annette asked Jo in the hallway outside her chambers.
Jo shook her venti Starbucks iced coffee. “Got to sleep a little after two.”
“I’ll try to move the calendar quickly for you today.”
“Thanks. See you in a few,” Jo said, closing the door behind her. She set her coffee and purse on the coffee table and put on her robe. Getting home late, showing Dzuy the twenty thousand in cash, and talking about it necessitated the Starbucks run this morning.
She looked at her watch, one minute to eight. She would barely keep her record of starting on time intact. After downing two gulps of coffee she went to the bench. A long hour and a half later, she had her first recess of the day.
After de-robing, she sat on the couch, took a sip of watered-down coffee, and dialed Omar’s office number. Three rings and a voice message came up.
“No one at Omar Investigations can take your call, leave a message,” a woman’s recorded voice said.
“Hi, this is a message for Mr. Omar. This is Jo Channing. Please give me a call back. I was hoping you might be able to help me with … a little information.”
She sunk into the couch, let out a sigh, and closed her eyes for fifteen minutes of rest before her next session. A knock on the chambers door woke her. “Yes,” Jo called out.
“We’re ready to start at your convenience,” Annette said through the door.
Jo glanced at her watch, she was past the break and really had to pee. “I’ll be on the bench in five minutes. Sorry.”
She got through the second morning calendar and was back in her chambers for the lunch break. Her phone rang right after noon. “Hello?”
“It’s Marcos Omar.”
Jo got up from the couch. Good. He knows something’s up, he never calls himself Marcos. In a hushed voice she said, “Thanks for calling me back. A detective came to see me to talk about your car being at the scene of a double-murder.”
“Me too.”
“Oh, were you able to help explain to
him who might have done it?” Jo slowly walked to her desk.
“No.”
“I know you don’t like giving information to the police—a”
“—It’s too dangerous,” Omar interrupted.
“But last time you were able to give me information that I took to them, in secret, and you were okay, right? We really helped the community just by helping the police a little.” She sat, rolling her chair up tight to the desk.
In a quiet voice, Omar responded, “I think people suspect I gave information to the police and that’s why they stole my car to set me up.”
“Who is they?”
“Come on, Judge. I like living.”
Jo sighed. “What if you get out of town now? I can tell the detective, then they won’t know it was you.”
There was a short silence on the phone. “I have to make sure my mom is situated. Tell the cop tomorrow—I’ll try to leave tonight.”
“Thank you. Who was it?” Jo picked up the pen on her desk, ready to write down a name.
It was silent for a moment before Omar responded, “You sure you can trust this guy? That this will be anonymous?”
“I think so.”
“Only think so?”
“Yes. I can’t promise, but here are the options. One, the police waste time watching you, maybe even arrest you because they think you were involved. Two, help them focus on the right lead and put the murderers away.”
Omar sighed. “Jose Oliva.”
Jo wrote the name down. “How solid is your information?”
“I talked to my tenant out front—they have their own cameras. They had an angle of Rose getting dropped off. I saw the plate and looked up the car. It was registered to Jose Oliva.”
“That’s great,” Jo said with relief in her voice. “That’s something the police could have found on their own. It won’t blow back on you because my tip will be to go ask for camera footage.”
“Perfect. Don’t give them Jose’s name then.”
“I won’t. I’ll ask the officer to get the footage through an anonymous tip.” Jo set her pen down, amazed that she actually believed Omar’s story. “You’re doing the right thing.” Jo pulled her phone away from her ear and saw the call had ended.
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