Trial by Fury

by KG MacGregor

  Jalinda tipped her head from side to side as she studied her array of documents. “Yes.”

  That’s why Jalinda was her favorite paralegal. She never hedged on a yes-no question, and once she gave her word, she made it happen.

  Hank held up a hand while he hastily chewed and swallowed his sandwich. “What’s your hurry, chief? I thought you were waiting for that Cooke girl to get back from Europe.”

  “She’s not a witness to the events, and as far as we know, she didn’t have direct contact with the victim.” She tossed the newspaper so it slid across the table. “The NBA draft is two weeks from today. I want teams to think twice about picking these bastards. Let’s get Hayley’s story front and center while they’re talking it over. We file Monday in time to make the six o’clock news, and we release the video to the networks so it goes viral. That’ll give our allegations credibility.”

  The court wouldn’t appreciate her poisoning the jury pool. But then, they never did.

  The decision to file on Monday meant she should call Celia and give her a heads-up. Or better yet, see her. But first, there was something she needed to take care of.

  She picked up her desk phone and dialed her assistant. “Penny, get me Bill Auger.”

  * * *

  The brass walls of the Weller Regent Hotel’s elevator cast a near-perfect reflection that allowed Celia to check her look. For her meeting with Theo on the fortieth-floor terrace, she’d raced home from her office to change into a sleeveless gray dress with a silver chain belt that cinched her waist. Other than the occasional reception for a visiting dignitary or scholar, she attended very few events that called for anything other than business wear. This particular dress was left over from a cocktail social hosted by the faculty senate for the outgoing chair.

  Seeing Theo again called for flair, especially since they were meeting in a downtown cocktail bar at happy hour. Did that signal a change in attitude about dating? If Theo insisted on keeping their relationship purely professional, Celia intended to show her what she was missing. This case wouldn’t last forever. When it ended, she wanted to be at the top of Theo’s wish list.

  Stepping onto the terrace, she immediately noticed several professionally dressed women—some of them representing the profession that hung around hotel bars at happy hour. Young and smiling, teetering on four-inch heels and showing lots of skin. Not a place she thought Theo would have chosen.

  “I’m meeting someone. Theodora Constantine.”

  The sultry hostess, herself bound tightly in a black spandex minidress, lit up with recognition. “You must be Dr. Perone. Right this way.”

  Pleased to hear her name, she followed to a nearly deserted covered area of the terrace. With every step, she grew more certain of herself, throwing her shoulders back and lifting her chin. Determined to make Theo eat her heart out.

  Theo sat at a cocktail table in the corner, where a bottle of champagne chilled in a bucket of ice. Tucking away her phone at the sound of their footsteps, she stood and took in Celia’s appearance, giving away her approval with a smile. “Glad you could make it on short notice. I hope this is okay. I was afraid if we sat outside, we’d be fighting off drunken pharmaceutical salesmen.” She wore a salmon-colored skirt and matching blouse that managed to look both elegant and businesslike.

  “It’s fine. Kind of reminds me of those movies where the gangsters have their own private table in the back of the ethnic restaurant.”

  “A lot of those end badly for the gangsters. Should I be worried?”

  “Only if I wipe down my glass before I excuse myself to the ladies’ room.”

  “Ah, fingerprints.” Theo poured two glasses of bubbly and raised her glass in a toast. “To…gangsters in backrooms.”

  The lighthearted banter was reminiscent of their dinner at Sammy’s Pint. Theo’s mood was more upbeat, a pleasant departure from the rather pessimistic visit to her office, where she’d warned the case might not be winnable.

  “I’m sorry about the other day, Celia. I only meant to catch you up on the case, not to bring you down with bad news. And I’m sorry I haven’t stayed in touch. I think we’ve turned the corner on our preparation though, so I feel better about where we stand. And about everything else, if you want to know the truth.”

  Celia had no idea what “everything else” meant, but she liked this interesting new dimension that appeared when Theo allowed herself to relax. With one leg gently bobbing as it swung across her knee and her elbows resting languidly on the arms of a chair, she was the very picture of sex appeal.

  Snapping her thoughts from that observation, Celia reminded herself this was supposed to be a business meeting.

  Theo explained that they’d completed their preliminary interviews and were confident they could establish a cause for action. It was time now to file their case and blow the lid off the secrets at Harwood University.

  The news stirred a surprising sense of apprehension. Celia had been ready to level charges the first day she’d gone to Theo’s office, but since then had come to accept the slow wheels of justice. The thorough investigation, the meticulous planning. And warnings about all the things that could go wrong. Now everything was ready to explode. At least in the interim she’d gotten her promotion.

  “I was just coming around to accepting the fact that our case was dragging out. I’ve been telling myself every day that patience is a virtue.”

  “And it is…or so I hear. I don’t have any myself. You can chalk the timing up to my mean streak.” Theo folded her arms across her chest. With a wily look, she said, “I decided we should get this out there a couple of weeks before the NBA draft—see if we can give those teams second thoughts about who they might be picking.”

  Celia sighed and shook her head. “Why? You think their fans won’t support a rapist? Look at Harwood. They were more than willing to ignore what happened to Hayley so they could win a championship. What makes you think the NBA will be any different?”

  “Because professional sports is big business. Teams look long and hard before they draft somebody with character issues. It’s a risk, but nothing a good PR agent can’t clean up. This case is different though. It would be downright reckless to spend your first-round draft pick on somebody who might be going to prison for twenty years.”

  She had a point—if it were true. “You honestly think that could happen?”

  “There’s always a chance. I’ve been looking at that video.” She shook her head with disgust. “Once its makes the nightly news, a lot of alumni—especially women—are going to hit the roof. Don’t be surprised if Harwood backpedals and decides to investigate. They’ll have to do something to save face. And there will be talk of the DA stepping in. Even a whiff of criminal charges could torpedo Frazier and Caldwell’s draft position.”

  Celia chuckled sardonically. “Wouldn’t it be something if both of them dropped to the second round? Millions of dollars down the drain.”

  “And while that would be great news, it’s just the tip of the iceberg. Remember, we’re still going after them for wrongful death. Your boss included.”

  The reminder triggered a ripple of anxiety, the same one she’d fought before bringing the case to Theo in the first place. “Tell me again how I’m not going to lose my job over this.”

  * * *

  If only she could laugh off Celia’s concerns.

  “That’s actually why I wanted to meet this afternoon, to give you a heads up about next Monday so you’d have some time to prepare.”

  “You said they couldn’t touch me.”

  “Mmm…they can’t. At least that’s my legal opinion. You’re a whistleblower and you have tenure. With an academic contract like that, you’re practically bulletproof, but that doesn’t mean they won’t hassle you. In fact, you might experience some blowback right away, so I wanted to put you in touch with a friend of mine.” She produced a business card from her pocket, feeling immensely proud of herself for resolving this particular issue—for more
reasons than one. “William Auger. Like me, he specializes in litigation.”

  Celia examined the card and handed it back. “I thought you were my attorney.”

  “I can’t be your attorney, not if I’m representing Donald Lipscomb. You’re a witness. That makes it a conflict of interest. But Bill’s a good guy. He’s expecting you tomorrow morning at eleven. He’ll be your point person going forward.”

  “Just like that? I don’t even get a say in the matter?”

  She was taken aback by the sharpness of Celia’s response. “Of course you do. I can make some other recommendations or you can find someone on your own. But whatever you do, you need to do it quickly. Your name won’t be in our filing, but your testimony about the meeting you had with Gupton and Tuttle will. In fact, it’s the linchpin of how we tie the university to the wrongful death. They’ll know you’re involved. You could very well find yourself locked out of your office as soon as they receive notice, which could be as early as Monday afternoon. Bill can help you if that happens.”

  “Shit.”

  “I’m sorry, Celia.” She hadn’t anticipated such a hostile reaction and blamed herself for taking so long to admit that Celia would benefit from having her own representation. That meant letting her go, something—for purely selfish reasons—she hadn’t wanted to do.

  Celia fell back in her chair and closed her eyes. “Jesus, this is really happening. I’m going to lose my job after all.”

  “No, you won’t. You have to trust me. And Bill. Especially Bill. He’s very good and he won’t let that happen.”

  After an extended silence, Celia opened her eyes and shook her head as if clearing her thoughts. “In light of this wonderful, wonderful news of yours, can you possibly tell me why we’re drinking champagne?”

  Theo smiled triumphantly as she poured another glass. “Because…I was thinking…if you follow through with meeting Bill, it neutralizes any ethical considerations someone might raise about a conflict of interest.”

  Celia froze, a blank expression overtaking her face.

  It suddenly occurred to Theo she’d never actually gotten a response to her overture about a more personal relationship. Since Celia hadn’t objected to the possibility, she’d taken for granted she also felt an attraction. “Uh-oh…this is potentially embarrassing.”

  “What on earth are you talking about? What’s embarrassing?”

  “It’s possible I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. I’ve been worrying all this time about how to handle a conflict of interest, and it might even be moot…because I never actually asked if you’d be interested in going out.” Theo felt her confidence plummet under Celia’s bewildered gaze.

  “That’s what this is about? You wanted me to have a new lawyer so we could date and there wouldn’t be a conflict of interest?”

  Embarrassing…humiliating. Meekly, she replied, “That was sort of my plan.”

  Celia abruptly snatched Auger’s business card back from Theo’s fingers and leaned back, raising the glass of champagne to her lips. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  Chapter Nine

  Theo’s navigation system delivered her to a small community of colonial townhouses, yellow brick with dark green shutters. She located Celia’s and pulled into a short driveway in front of a one-car garage.

  The neighborhood was pleasant enough but too suburban for her tastes. Tranquility and backyard barbecues weren’t worth the commute. She didn’t have an hour a day to waste sitting in Atlanta’s crazy traffic. The only reason she’d driven out to Dunwoody tonight was because it struck her as rude to ask Celia out without offering to pick her up.

  She adjusted the zipper of her aqua blue minidress to the hollow of her breasts and strolled casually to the front door while making a conscious decision not to be nervous. Up until now, she’d shared mostly her attorney persona with Celia—confident, capable, in charge. Tonight they were on equal footing, a pair of women on a first date.

  The red door opened and Celia grinned back. “I give up. You found me.” She was, in a word, a knockout. Her black spandex dress left one shoulder bare, and her shoulder-length dark hair followed the same line, parted on one side with long bangs angling across her brow. Two-inch platform heels brought her almost to eye level, since Theo, conscious of their height difference, had worn low-heeled dress sandals.

  “Wow.” The word tumbled out mindlessly as she eyed Celia up and down. “Sorry I’m late. Friday traffic is horrendous.”

  “Can’t say I didn’t warn you. I could have met you at the restaurant, you know.”

  “That just isn’t a date in my book.”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed you were old-fashioned.” She stepped aside to invite Theo into the foyer. “You look wow too, by the way.”

  The small living room was done in vibrant hues—a pair of deep red love seats angled around a colorful rug, accented with pale yellow throw pillows that matched the opposite wall. The dining area, where an abundant array of fake wildflowers decorated a glass-topped table, was opposite a staircase to the second floor.

  “This is lovely.” And smaller than it appeared from the outside. Cozy would be the polite word.

  “Thanks, but none of it’s my doing. When Gina left for Ohio, we both sold everything and started over. This was the last of the sales models and I bought it furnished, all except for my office upstairs.”

  Theo’s eyes came back to Celia, who waited by the door with a small beaded purse. She might not have been much of a decorator, but she certainly knew how to dress herself.

  “How’d it go with Bill?” she asked once they’d settled in the car. It was actually none of her business, but she wanted peace of mind that she’d handed Celia off to the right person.

  “Fine, I suppose. He seems like a pretty good guy. He advised me to clean out my personal effects from my office immediately just in case they change the locks after they find out I’m a snitch. So much for my weekend, huh?”

  It was tempting to offer to help, but probably better if she kept her hand out of Celia’s dealings with her attorney. Besides, she was intent on enjoying Celia’s company tonight without the weight of the case hanging over them.

  “I’m glad you like him. But now that we’ve got that out of the way, what do you say we make a deal not to talk shop tonight?”

  Celia laughed. “Fine, as long as you promise me we aren’t going to talk about Little CeCe instead.”

  “Not sure I can make that deal.” Theo gave her a sidelong glance and noticed a prim smile. “What’s wrong with talking about Little CeCe? You should be proud of her.”

  “For what I did when I was ten? That was a whole other world. It blows me away that you still remember it.”

  Theo decided against mentioning she’d watched a pair of episodes on YouTube the night before.

  As they neared downtown on Interstate 85, vehicles slowed to a crawl across all five lanes.

  “I don’t know how people stand this. I’d go crazy if I had to drive in and out of the city every day.”

  “Why do you think I take MARTA?”

  After less than a mile, traffic came to a standstill. Theo did her best to stay calm, all the while watching the clock. Their dinner reservation at the Ritz-Carlton’s Atlanta Grill was for eight, and it was already ten till. No way would they get all the way across town on time. “Let me just make a quick call.”

  The hostess, though polite, was firm. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Constantine. We won’t be able to hold your table tonight. We could reseat you at ten.”

  If she’d been alone in the car, she’d have offered the woman several hundred dollars just to keep their table open. But then Celia might think throwing money around like that was tacky.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Celia said. “Someplace else is fine.”

  It mattered to Theo. She’d planned the perfect date—dinner at a five-star restaurant and then dancing at Compound, Atlanta’s trendiest club. Friday was Ladies Night. The last time she’d gone—admitted
ly over a year ago—they’d arrived after ten thirty and had to wait forty minutes just to get in the door.

  “Hold on. I’ll make this work.” She tried Park 75 at the Four Seasons—a wedding rehearsal banquet—and The Cafe at the Mandarin—nothing before nine fifteen.

  “Seriously, Theo…I don’t care where we eat. I came for the company.”

  A practical solution was staring her in the face—the Spring Street exit. Theo hesitantly cleared her throat and said, “My place is just a few blocks from here. If you’d be willing to skip the restaurant, I’m sure I could throw something together.”

  After a pause that reeked of trepidation, Celia answered, “Fine by me.”

  Or maybe that was Theo projecting her own misgivings. A first date wasn’t supposed to be at one of their homes. It was too private, too personal. Too presumptive.

  She had a rule about sex—not until the third date at least. That wasn’t just an arbitrary number she’d pulled out of thin air. It took her that long to rule out any potential conflicts. In her profession, she couldn’t afford to find herself in a compromising position. Virtually anyone who worked at another law firm was out. Ditto for drug users and those she deemed ethically challenged.

  Naturally, that also included anyone associated with the people she was currently suing. But just because she’d already broken that dictate didn’t mean the other rule was squishy too. Sleeping together on the first date was reckless, not only for the professional risks, but for the way it short-circuited getting to know someone. Sex was much better when she had time to develop feelings for a woman. Maybe Celia was right—she really was old-fashioned.

  And here she was again making assumptions, this time taking for granted that Celia would even want to sleep with her. She’d only agreed to dinner.

  * * *

  Celia didn’t know what to make of Theo’s unusually anxious mood. Clearly she was annoyed about losing their dinner reservation, but that didn’t explain the tension in her voice. Especially since it only started once they agreed to have dinner at her place instead of a restaurant.