Lethal Lawyers

by Dale E. Manolakas

  “It won’t come to that.” Sophia thought to herself she wouldn’t let Detective Rutger come to anything.

  She saw Taylor’s hand resting on the table and contemplated taking it. But dinner came and he pulled it away. Sophia smiled. Taylor smiled that charming, dimpled, and magical smile that had first attracted her to him.

  “My spaghetti looks gorgeous. But . . .” She leaned forward and whispered. “ . . . I have never seen such a small serving.”

  Taylor laughed. “We’ll get you a second plate of spaghetti or two desserts to fill you up.”

  “In that case, do you want to taste the meatball?”

  “No, thank you.”

  They talked about her caseload and what she had worked on that day as they ate.

  “You worked on Dante’s case? When did you guys get back to the office?” Taylor asked.

  “Right after lunch.”

  “You didn’t go to the interment?”

  Taylor was surprised.

  “Nope. We all billed today. Bill. Bill. Bill. But no conferences with Dante, only with Paul. Dante wasn’t around. So Paul and I billed a half hour to conference when I got some antitrust answers from him. I have an idea—if you want to bill, we could do a conference to Dante’s Safe Baby Seats tonight," she said facetiously and laughed.

  "No thanks.” Taylor was subdued and serious.

  “I was just joking.”

  “I know. But what do you mean Dante wasn't around? How do you know?”

  “Well, at least he wasn’t in his office.”

  She caught herself too late. Taylor knew she was at Dante’s office that afternoon. In her wine haze, she thought fast. She wanted to stay out of everything.

  “How do you know?” Taylor insisted.

  “I called him. I don’t remember. I was at the library. I was at Paul’s office. I was all over.” Sophia covered her slip-up as best she could. “I would have been in your office, but you were busy. You’re always busy.”

  “Seriously. Were you at Dante’s office?”

  “What does it matter?” She felt her third glass of wine and slowed down. “He wasn’t there. I think.”

  “What do you mean, 'you think’?”

  “Nothing,” Sophia faltered. “I knocked and he didn’t answer. He wasn’t there. That’s what I mean. What is the big deal, Taylor?”

  “Nothing.” Taylor flashed his disarming smile and backed off. “I looked for him, too. That’s all. Hey, let’s have dessert and one of those liquor espresso drinks.”

  Taylor took out his cell phone and texted a quick message.

  “Sorry, Sophia, I forgot something.”

  “That’s all right.” She pushed her wine glass away. “But I’ve had enough to drink.”

  “Nonsense.” Taylor finished his text and put his cell away. “Tiramisu and Amaretto. A wonder duo.”

  Sophia looked into Taylor’s dark eyes and saw blue, the detective’s blue eyes. She blinked them back to Taylor’s and reached for his hand. This time he didn’t take it away.

  “No thanks. I feel like another kind of dessert.”

  Taylor gave his card to the waiter.

  "I do, too.” He discreetly dangled the key to the law firm condo low beside the window side of the table.

  “You can come to my place.” Sophia slid her hand up his thigh under the tablecloth. “I’ll make you pancakes in the morning. Pancakes and coffee?”

  “I don’t want to drive.” Taylor signed the bill and took his card. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Before Sophia could object to the arms-length, sterile firm condo, they were there again. Taylor stripped. He fumbled with Sophia’s blouse and then just hiked her skirt up.

  “Hold on a minute.” She pushed him away onto the bed.

  She removed her own clothes. All of them. He watched.

  “Nice bod, lady.”

  Sophia was pleased to be admired, but the generic noun of address “lady” rattled her.

  However, she slid in next to him and kissed him gently on the mouth. Tenderly. Sweetly. Like Steve had kissed her in the stairwell. She reached up and gently touched his five o’clock shadowed face.

  Taylor grabbed her hand and put it on his bursting cock. She stroked him and licked his neck.

  He moaned, but he lay still without moving.

  Then suddenly Taylor pulled her under him, spread her legs with his, and fucked her. This time, it was a hard and long fuck. But a fuck.

  He never kissed her. He pinched and twisted her nipples until she yelped in pain as he thrust harder and harder.

  When he was finishing, he worked on her with his hand to make sure she came.

  She pretended.

  “That was great.”

  “Yeah,” she lied. “Amazing.”

  “I like you, Sophia.”

  Taylor got up and dressed. Sophia followed suit.

  “I have a squash game at the crack of dawn.”

  “I understand. I have to get out and see my parents.”

  They each went their own way.

  ⌘

  Chapter 68

  The Cobra Spreads Its Hood

  Sunday, Sophia was flying half-speed and hung-over. She didn’t understand Taylor. Or maybe she did and couldn’t admit he wasn’t what she thought he was. She believed he was courting her, but the courtship dance was lonely. At least, he had said she was “great.” But then, she had said he was “amazing.”

  While Sophia fought her hangover, she droned through laundry, grocery shopping, a long nap, and even some antitrust research on her home PC. She found some antitrust cases and read some words. They were “Greek” to her with her hangover, but she didn’t care. It’s not like all these clients weren’t getting their pound of flesh out of her.

  She felt guilty about not seeing her parents, yet again. But when she called and begged off from the visit and Sunday dinner, her mother, as always, said she understood. Her dad, also as always, was in front of the television. From the time she had started law school, her once generous time with them had become minimal.

  * * *

  Monday, first thing in the office, Sophia entered her weekend billables, even Sunday’s marginally focused hours scattered between errands. She probably shouldn’t have billed any of Sunday’s time, but did. Let Dante write the hours off. She didn’t care anymore.

  She started some research, but couldn’t focus.

  Sophia swirled around in her chair and looked out the window at the gray fall sky. She wondered how anyone was supposed to work here with the infighting and irrelevancies. She rotated back and checked her emails. There was a global inter-office heartfelt thank you from Frank’s widow to the firm. Death is not an irrelevancy. Nor was showing respect by going to a funeral.

  Sophia was not ready to start billing with her brain at half-mast. She went to the cafeteria for a double latte. She couldn't resist grabbing a giant cinnamon roll smothered in white cream cheese frosting. She put it in a carton to go, grabbed some napkins, and went over to talk to James, who was taking salsa and sour cream for his steamy breakfast burrito.

  “Hi, James. How are things going?”

  “Okay . . . That’s not true. Today is the last day for me to get out responses to discovery in one of Dante’s Safe Baby cases and I can’t find him to sign off. I couldn’t find him all weekend.”

  “Oh?” Sophia kept her visits to Dante’s office under wraps, as she should have the night before.

  “Strange. I know he’s always here on Saturday and usually Sunday.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I saw Marvin coming back from the Edinburgh Grill with takeout Saturday. He went over them. He said the objections were thorough and the answers formulated right.”

  “That’s something.”

  “But he doesn’t know the case and can’t bill for learning it. So basically he would have okayed anything.” James was obviously frustrated and this time rightfully stressed out.

  “Can
you wait?”

  “A little, but if Dante has changes, it will be tight. I depend on word-processing and I have to proof everything meticulously. There’s no time left for all that. I hate this pressure.”

  “I could look at them, but you know more than I do!”

  Her offer was a mere gesture of solidarity because she knew less than nothing about discovery responses or the case.

  “Thanks for the offer. But I’ll check for Dante later.”

  * * *

  On the way back to her office, Sophia wondered how long James would last at Thorne & Chase. He was always one step behind, always desperate. As she walked by Marlene, she was prepared to be ignored, as usual. But this time Marlene gave Sophia a big smile.

  “Good morning, Sophia.”

  “Good morning.” Sophia mirrored her tone and smile as she kept walking.

  She started on her latte and wondered at that strange smiling encounter. She fantasized that Toak had finally dumped Marlene and she needed Sophia’s allegiance to prevent him from moving her station. That way Marlene could torment him instead of Sophia. The drama never stopped here.

  In her office, her message light was blinking. She hoped it was Taylor. Instead, Roger told her to come to his office to talk about her assignments. She didn’t want to go and particularly did not want to be alone with him. She decided to call him. Hopefully, that would be enough.

  “Roger. It’s Sophia. You called?”

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” She sparkled at him, but really meant “fuck you.”

  Sophia knew Roger was not a sincere “good morning” greeter and was power playing to get the robotic workplace words out of her.

  “How are you this morning?”

  “Fine. And you?”

  “Great.” Roger was “great” having reprimanded her roundly and stepped on her day. “Come on up. We have to talk.”

  “I’m kind of busy.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  He hung up.

  Sophia didn’t hop up. Instead, she drank her latte. She needed it. She needed her gooey cinnamon roll, too, but didn’t have time to enjoy it. If Roger was cornering her to rehash the Frank incident, she decided she would walk out on him. Then she thought of Saturday—revealing to Taylor that she had looked for Dante. But she trusted Taylor would not have told Roger, not after their love making, or fucking, or whatever it was or wasn’t. Sophia didn’t want to torture herself with analysis today. Besides, Taylor didn’t know she had heard them ransacking Dante’s office.

  She opened her cinnamon roll, ran her finger through the frosting, and put the big blob in her mouth. It was delicious. The frosting was creamy with orange zest and vanilla. Sophia gained more courage with the sugar burst. She finished her latte. Then she couldn’t resist a huge bite of her cinnamon roll sans fork and knife. It was fluffy, gooey, and bursting with cinnamon and raisins.

  She downed a second bite, grabbed her legal pad and a pen, and left for Roger’s office, chewing and savoring the intense sweetness.

  * * *

  As she started down the hall, she saw Marlene leaning on Toak’s doorjamb and laughing. Toak was sitting on his desk, his feet dangled well above the ground.

  Marlene zeroed in on Sophia walking by.

  “Oh, Sophia, Mr. Toak wants to see you,” called loud enough for Toak to hear in his office.

  Sophia turned back to Marlene’s desk. “I was . . .” she answered, still chewing and unable to verbalize any excuse on the spot.

  Marlene smiled sweetly. “Now? It’ll only take a minute.”

  Sophia thought Toak had reconsidered her memo and went to Toak’s office.

  “Sophia.” Toak met her at his door. “I wanted to make sure that you go see Roger first thing this morning.”

  She swallowed the now unenjoyable bite of her cinnamon roll and garbled, “I was just on my way.”

  Sophia wondered what Toak had to do with Roger’s call.

  “Good. And take yourself off my case. We’re filing the summary judgment motion. You were wrong. In more ways than one.”

  Toak walked back into his office and shut the door in Sophia’s face.

  Sophia stood there a second. She knew this was trouble. Trouble from the little man. But she was off his case. That was good. Let him file the motion. She was glad she was off his case. He was malpractice waiting to happen, if it hadn’t already.

  “Have a nice day,” Marlene called out from her desk.

  Sophia realized she was still standing by Toak’s door and hadn’t moved.

  As she walked away, she didn’t react to Marlene’s taunting. She surmised Roger probably wanted to put her on another case to keep her plate full, and Toak was just being an ass.

  Sophia relaxed. She was rid of Toak and he would get his when the judge dismissed his motion for lack of standing.

  ⌘

  Chapter 69

  A Woman Scorned

  Sophia took the elevator to Roger’s office, avoiding the cameras. She didn’t like being watched, particularly with today’s Toak muck she had been forced to endure.

  She knocked on Roger’s half-opened door.

  “Come in. Have a seat.”

  “Good morning.”

  Sophia sat down poised with her pad and pen to write down a new case and billing number.

  “I had a call from Chet. He let me know he wouldn’t be needing you on Super Vacuum anymore.”

  “Why? Did the cases settle?”

  “No. He just doesn’t need you.”

  “I only billed things he asked me to do. Is there some problem with what I’ve done?”

  “Not that he said. He just has enough people on it.”

  “Okay. What do I do? Go talk to him?” She rewound her interactions with Chet for any offense she might have committed or any inappropriate dealings with any of his cases. There were none, none that she could decipher, but then the quicksand in this firm came up fast and was deadly.

  “You can do what you want, but he was definite.”

  Now Sophia knew how Tricia felt when Frank kicked her off his case, like someone knocked the wind out of you with a full body blow. But she had done nothing wrong that she knew.

  “You want some advice?” Roger asked.

  “Yes,” Sophia lied, but what was she supposed to say to this man’s face—“no?”

  “Take the file back quietly and give it to his secretary.”

  “I already entered my billing for this weekend on Super Vacuum. Will those hours stay?”

  “I don’t know. That’s up to Chet. He could write them off.”

  “Okay.” She got up, wondering if she should go talk to Chet. “Thank you.”

  “Just a minute.”

  Sophia sat back down.

  Now it was coming, she thought. The other real reason he had me come to his office, because he could have kicked her off Chet’s cases by email or on the phone. He thinks she heard him ransacking Dante’s office Saturday. She shouldn’t have trusted Taylor. She decided on the spot that she would just lie and deny to Roger’s face, like she did about Frank. She was used to lying now. She was starting to hate these people.

  “Dante sent an email late Saturday that he would not need you on Safe Baby Seat any more either,” Roger said.

  “Saturday? But . . .” Sophia shut up about Saturday.

  “But what?”

  “But . . . what am I going to work on? How am I going to get my billing done? Carlisle’s Waddington Development is not active.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How can I . . .”

  She stopped because she knew Roger was billing-starved himself—just like her. More than that, why would he make any effort for her under the circumstances? She was surprised he was not dancing a vengeful jig up on his desk to celebrate her anguish. She knew she had been happy Roger lost the goddess case and client. Why not? He had been such a jerk going through her office.

  “I’ll put you on my co
ntingency case when I bring it in. And you still have my client, Gant Properties.”

  “But there’s nothing in Gant until the depositions, and I’m prepared for them.”

  He looked at her for a long moment. “At least I’m not taking you off.”

  Roger closed the file in front of him, looked back up, and added, “For now.”

  Sophia was angry. She felt her adrenaline amping her up, along with the latte. Toak and cheery Marlene knew this was coming. Toak was to blame. And she knew Roger was enjoying this. She hadn’t played ball with him. He was threatened by her and wanted her gone. Toak wanted her gone, too, and Frank was already gone. She had no protector.

  Sophia’s Greek upbringing was exploding in her. She needed to shout the truth and be heard and argue until the air was cleared and this was settled. She wanted to scream at Roger while he enjoyed her humiliation. She wanted to scream in his face that she had seen him at the intersection when Frank died, that she still had Doug’s calendar with notes to destroy him, and that she had heard him ransacking Dante’s office Saturday. She wanted to shake Toak like a rag doll and tell him he was a bad lawyer, a rotten person, and if he hadn’t been a Daddy’s boy, he’d be out on the street with his whore Marlene.

  But caution and fear ruled the moment. So Sophia didn’t do anything that was in keeping with her blue-collar Greek upbringing. Instead she just asked, “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  She stood and with difficulty maintained her equilibrium. “You’re the assigning partner. I need more work. Can you get me some?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “You’ll try?”

  “Yes, I’ll try.”

  Sophia felt one inch high as she walked out of Roger’s office and down the hall. Roger was blowing her off, and she knew it. The partners were stonewalling her. Toak was the instigator, and Roger was only too happy to fan the flames of her demise.

  She barely made it to the stairwell before tears welled in her eyes. Then she saw the camera. She regained control, put her head up, and walked down the stairs to her office floor.