In Love and Law

by Drake Koefoed

  “If you go at it like you went at it in the war, 99%.”

  “You won’t say anything to anyone about this?”

  “I won’t. But you should move. Doug is no good, you would be. The pay is good.”

  “I’ll think on it.”

  Will walked out, thinking of the last time he had heard that line.

  He went to the house, and found Paul Anderson at the door. They brought the new woodstove in. It was beautiful, and not made of scrap. On top, it had a grill with an overflow that led into the firebox. There was a stove lid and a barbecue grate to fit in if it was removed. They put the stove on the sheet metal covered floor. Will opened the door, and the ash door. He looked at the little exchange oven they were putting on top. Paul connected the flue, cutting the sheet metal with some shears. There was a ripping, roaring, smashing sound outside. Paul smiled. ‘some junk wood.’ Will looked out and saw a dump truck pulling away from several cords of wood.

  “It’s a masterpiece, Paul.”

  Paul set down a stainless hood. “I made the grill to fit this. You turn off the intake and put this over the grill, and the stove will suck up all the smoke.”

  “I have to pay you, Paul.”

  “No you don’t. I’m just starting on what I owe you.”

  “Whatever.”

  A truck stopped outside, and a couple of guys from Vinnie’s brought in the bed, and a bunch of other stuff. They put the bed and Hank’s stuff in his room. Will called the nursing home. “Will Ames. I’m calling to tell you my dad is moving out. No, uh, let me talk to the administrator. Cathy, this is Will. Remember me? My dad has moved out. Yeah, St. Vincent’s. Well, then there might be a problem with the care at your place. Of course, I am mister reason. Just clip the bill at today. I wouldn’t think of saying anything bad about you, darling. Well, maybe. An assistant district attorney seems to have her eye on me. I appreciate it. Oh, yeah, we might do that. OK, that’s fine. Bill to the law office.”

  “That does the nursing home. So you’re free, Dad.”

  The guys from Vinnie’s went to the nursing home, picked up the rest of Hank’s stuff, brought it, and put it into his room. He sat down at the table. “Is everybody happy?”

  “I don’t think so, Dad.”

  “Marie, come sit on your grandfather’s lap.”

  She looked at Will. “He’s your gramps, Marie.”

  She sat on his lap, and he put an arm around her. “It’s been a long time since I had a grandchild.”

  “Marie, gramps has a job for you. The state pays him for someone to help him out. He’s going to line you out to get that money, and he also gets some money for rent, and that is going to cover him and you as well. You take care of your gramps, and you will not need to worry about money again.”

  “I could have had the rent money. Last night. A guy would have given me $150. But I didn’t.”

  Hank stiffened. “You don’t ever do anything like that, Marie. Never!”

  “Listen to your gramps.”

  “I did.”

  “I told her about answering questions this morning. Try her out.”

  “Do you know William Ames?” “I can neither confirm or deny.” “Where were you last Saturday night?”

  “I am not consenting to any searches, I am not making any statements. My attorney is William Ames.”

  “Isn’t it a fact that you live at William Ames’s house.”

  “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “I decline to state. I want my lawyer.”

  “You’re really good, Marie. Anyone who thinks you’re a dumb chick is pretty dumb himself.”

  She basked in the praise. “I don’t know if I could do it really.”

  “Question me. I will show you the best way.”

  She slapped him. “You’re going to tell us what we want to know.”

  Will didn’t say anything.

  “You son of a bitch, you’re going to talk!”

  Will didn’t say anything.

  “You might think you’re smart, but you’re not.”

  Will didn’t say anything.

  “You think you can just sit there and not answer me?”

  Will didn’t say anything.

  “Did you see how quickly you got frustrated and angry, even though it was just acting?”

  “I wanted to hit him.”

  Let them hit you. Lawyers like Nat will come for them.

  Chapter 4 The Northwest Sea

  Musical theme; Angel of a Morning by Juice Newton Will looked into the pantry, and there was nothing there. He walked down to the convenience store on the corner. A robber was pointing a gun at the girl who usually worked nights, a little blonde with short hair. Will grabbed the gun with his right hand, and brought the robber’s arm down. He brought his knee up, and dislocated the robber’s elbow. He took the robber by the hair and smashed his face into the counter. He put the robber’s gun in the back pocket of his overalls. The robber struggled, and Will smashed his face into the counter again. “I’ll fucking kill you, you son of a bitch motherfucker!” “I give up.”

  “Call 911. Robbery suspect in custody. He has a dislocated elbow, needs medical care.”

  The clerk made the call.

  Suddenly the store was full of police. “This is your suspect, guys. I will let go of him when you tell me to. Fingers off the triggers, please.”

  “Release him and hold your hands up.”

  Will did so. An officer came and cuffed the robber.

  One of them took the gun out of Will’s pocket.

  “Take it easy with him, guys. He is one of us. That’s a veteran Marine officer and Military policeman.” there.”

  The uniforms stepped back. “Captain William Charles Ames, USMC, I presume. I am the Codfish, Melvin Alan Wright. Mel to you, Sir.”

  “You don’t need the ‘Sir’, Detective Chief.”

  “Uh, maybe until I get a silver star.”

  “It’s just a ribbon and a little piece of metal.”

  “The fuck it is. Can I buy you breakfast, Captain?”

  “Sure, Chief Mel.”

  They got in Mel’s car and drove to a pancake place. They went in and got some coffee, Will with his usual ¾” of milk.

  “There might be some question about your use of force.”

  “I’m not a cop.”

  “True. I don’t have a problem with it, but.”

  “You’re making a suggestion?”

  The waitress appeared. “We’ll have the big breakfast.” She left. “That was my suggestion.” “Out with it?”

  “You’re going to upset the powers that be. The case is not really prosecutable, but they could try it on.”

  “Charge me with excessive force? I could have killed him and it would be justifiable.”

  “Preaching to the choir. You may have crossed the Rubicon. The little voices are starting to say ‘Will for DA’. You would carry the department. Yeah, you’re a defense lawyer, but they think you’re tough but fair. You would shred the bad cops, but we don’t have many, so they are not a bloc. The women like you. You’re an old fashioned gentleman. A treat a lady like a lady guy. The rank and file looks at you as an MP and an infantry leader; a man’s man. A no shit about it hard guy, which you are. If Doug lets you get charged with excessive force, he’s asking you to take his job, which I would like to see. I think you’d stand up to any motherfucker, any time, anywhere, and do the right thing. I know you’d be nice to a lot of petty offenders, and I don’t give a shit. I want a DA who will go balls to the wall against the robbers, rapists, murderers, and such. I don’t care about your permissive attitudes about drugs. I want a DA who will do in the people who hurt people. People are what matters, Will.” “Now you preach to the choir.” “Do it.” “I don’t have money.” “Ralph Cunningham does.” “Why would he want me to be DA?” “Sarah Cunningham bring back any bad memories?” “Oh. That’s a never forget it.” “You would prosecute Leon P
arries?” “With proof I would.” “Would you ask for death?”

  “I’m not real hot on death, but for what was done to Sarah Cunningham, give me the shotgun.”

  “I will tell Ralph. Just what you said.”

  Will went back to the office, returned some calls and did a lot of paperwork. There was a knock on the door. “Hello.”

  It was Chrissie. “I saw the lights on.”

  “Come in.”

  “If I was a robber…”

  He held up a 3” Stainless Smith .357. “I would have blown you away.” He put it away.

  “It can’t be too real fun to live with that level of paranoia.” “It isn’t. But it’s just the way it is.”

  “I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner. Not starting a fire fight.”

  “I would like to.”

  “I hope you mean dinner.”

  “I want to get out of this suit, and I don’t have a back room. So you won’t be offended?”

  “No.”

  He took off the suit, and put on a pair of overalls. He put the .357 in an Uncle Mike’s holster on his right hip.

  “Do you carry all the time?”

  “Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”

  “Does it get women excited?”

  “Not anyone I would want to excite. ‘a gun is just a tool.’”

  “’No better and no worse than the man who carries it.’”

  “That’s right.”

  “I have a carry permit because of being a DA.”

  “You have a piece?”

  “No.”

  They went out the door. “North American Arms makes a nice little revolver in .22 long rifle. Or you could get a little automatic. I’d get a good sized purse, pack a Glock 19 9 mm.”

  “I was thinking of carrying a big purse, and an M-79.”

  “An M-79 will get people’s attention. You have that 40mm muzzle, it kind of makes the point that you’re serious.”

  “Good for bikers and such.”

  “Plus you can have a few rocks in your purse, beside the canister. Just in case you want to blow a couple of Harleys off the road at 300 yards.”

  “You never know when you might want to.”

  They got in her car. “I’m driving, I’m buying. We go where I say we are.”

  “Even with me being the guy with the gun.”

  “Yes. Us big shots say ‘shoot that guy.’ We don’t do it.”

  “A colonel told a friend of mine that. This captain had grabbed up a 16 and shot a V.C. The colonel said if he wanted to shoot people, he could be a sergeant, and if he was a captain, he should order other people to do it.”

  “Nonsense?”

  “No. Actually right. You do what you need to do, but an officer is there to command.”

  “I see.” They came to a Chinese restaurant. “You like this all right?” “Oh, for sure.”

  They went in. The waitress started to seat them by the window, but Will led her to the back to a booth against the wall with a view to the parking lot. “Can we sit here?”

  “Yes.”

  They sat, and asked for Tsingtao.

  “Back to the wall, Mr. Earp?”

  “Yes, please. The thing to have here is the house special.”

  “Well then I’ll get it. Rumor has it that you could get charged with assault on that little tussle in the convenience store.”

  “You’ve seen the tape?”

  “Everyone who is anyone has seen it. The part everyone likes is the second time you bash his face into the counter.”

  “Is there audio?”

  “There is, and it is being quoted widely. Doug is quietly pissed. He thinks if any action is taken by his office, you will declare for DA.”

  “If any action is taken by his office, I will declare for DA.”

  “If you were the DA you would be my boss.”

  “The guidelines do not apply to a pre-existing relationship. If you kiss me before you run for DA, then it isn’t proscribed conduct.” “Consider yourself kissed.” “That does not work that way, Chrissie. You know that.” The waitress, Carol, brought their dinners.

  Chrissie said, “Carol, do you know how to take pictures with a cell phone?”

  “Uh, probably.”

  “You get the thing you want in the viewfinder, and push the left button. Something is about to happen, and I want you to take a dozen pictures, OK?”

  “Sure.”

  She got out of her seat, and jumped on Will. She kissed him all over the face and on the neck, and held him by his hair while she kissed him on the lips.

  She took her cell phone back, and looked at the pictures. “Nice work, Carol. Thank you.”

  She started in on her dinner. “Can I put these on my Facebook page?”

  “Sure.”

  “Armed, extremely dangerous, and compliant. Women in Uzbekistan will envy me by tonight.” She uploaded the pix. “I’ll have ten thousand friend requests tomorrow. I always grant them. If you were on Facebook, you could be my friend, and you could see my private pictures. One of them is me in a string bikini with my DA badge on it. I think I look pretty good.”

  “I imagine you do.”

  “I’m having my way with you tonight. You’re compliant. You won’t say no.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’m your princess.”

  “You are.”

  “Tell me about the rights of a princess.”

  “Her person is sacred. She has the right to be confident that she will never be pushed, slapped or otherwise misused. Not merely the right not to have those things happen, but the right to know they will not. She does not need to keep tabs on her prince, because it would be unthinkable that he would cheat on her. Nothing on Earth is too good for her. The question is, is it good enough for her. She does what she likes. Her integrity is beyond question. Lying is as much beneath her as a drainage ditch is below the soaring eagle. Her word is not to be questioned. Her conduct is impeccable, and her motives and intentions are not open to question. She is entitled to be protected at any cost. She is entitled to be treated as the princess she is. Forever.”

  “I’m your princess.” “You are.”

  She came around the table at sat next to Will. She nibbled at her dinner.

  “You’re taking me home tonight. I’ll move in tomorrow.”

  “Yes.”

  They went to his house. They set the alarm because she had court in the morning.

  * * *

  Breakfast was quiet. “Marie, will you help Chrissie move her stuff in? She’ll pay you.”

  “Rub my nose in it?”

  “Don’t be like that, Marie. I’ve been after Will for five years.”

  The phone rang. Will picked up. “Let me put you on speaker then. Let everyone hear.” He turned it on. “This is Marcie Della. The best model I ever worked with”.

  “That’s supermodel to you, dude.”

  “How do you back that?”

  “Elle says it, Cosmo says it, and Sports Illustrated says it.”

  “Then you’re a supermodel. Congratulations, Marcie.”

  “Supermodel Marcie Della has a contract to be the point chick for Phillipa shoes for even more money than you think.”

  “So why is a Louisiana supermodel calling an Oregon criminal defense lawyer?

  “She can use any photographer she likes, and she’s calling the best.”

  “Shucks, girl. I haven’t shot fashion since the 35 mm. days.”

  I’m coming in on a Gulfstream because I’m Imelda Marcos, a Lear can’t even carry all my shoes. Your fees are in the contract, and they are obscene. I’m going to buy some ridiculously overpriced digital cameras for you. You’re going to get a chance to shoot the hottest babe on the planet with the latest technology. There is only one wrong answer you can give me. You try to say that word, and I will put my fingers in my ears. You say the ‘y’ word, and you might even get lucky.”

  “I have a girl fri
end and she is here.”

  “Well, you know I was just teasing.” Chrissie rolled her eyes. “I’m ready to take ten thousand pictures of the prettiest feet on the planet.” “I’ll fax the contract to your office, and love you forever. Be ready to leave for New Orleans tomorrow, and maybe Italy next day.”

  She hung up.

  “That was for real, Marcie Della?”

  “Known her since she was posing for Juniors. I shot her when she was ‘back to school’ in the Sunday supplement for $50.” “That was a long time ago.”

  “Don’t say something like that to a model. They seem arrogant, but they are usually very insecure and easily hurt.”

  Marie snarled. “You’re so worried about hurting women’s feelings.”

  “Marie, don’t start that. You have a place in my home, and in my heart. You’re family to me.”

  She looked down.

  The phone rang again. Will hit the answer key.

  “William Ames?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Clara Hart from Channel 2. Your phone sounds funny.”

  “On speaker. Is that all right?”

  “Sure. Can I interview you for the 4pm news?”

  “Can you give my niece $500 and another $500 to the victim?”

  “The responsible media does not pay for stories.”

  “Well, let the irresponsible media know they can have an exclusive but not for free.”

  “Do you think your story is worth $1,000?”

  “Do you think a commercial is worth $100,000?”

  “I could talk to my supervisor.”

  “I’m sure you could, Ms. Hart. You are well spoken, charming, intelligent, and from a fashion photographer’s point of view, elegant, well dressed and stylish. Speaking to your supervisor should be easy for you.”

  “You’re very complimentary, Mr. Ames.”

  “I meant what I said, Ma’am.”

  “I’m flattered, Mr. Ames. And I like it.”

  “It’s only fair to tell you, Ma’am, that my princess is listening to this.”

  “I will ask Mr. Anderson.”

  “Larry Anderson. Station manager. We are not in the habit of paying for stories, Sir.”

  “Some habits are bad. The best I can do is $750 for each of them.”

  Hank smiled.

  “I’ll see about it.”

  “Clara Hart again. You seem to have the touch for making people mad, Mr. Ames.”