Advice of Counsel (The Samuel Collins Series Book 1)

by Trueman, Debra

  “I’m not good with babies,” I said. I looked at my watch again. Where the hell was Mrs. Johns! The front door opened and slammed and I could hear footsteps walking quickly through the house.

  “Oh my goodness!” I could hear her say. “Oh, my! Maddie, dear?” Mrs. Johns came into the bathroom and took in the scene. “Bless your heart. Did you have an accident?” she asked the baby. This was no accident. Mrs. Johns smiled at me. “Hello, Samuel.”

  “Mrs. Johns,” I nodded.

  “It looks like you have everything under control in here,” she said. “Why don’t I get started on the crib? Where do you keep your cleansers, dear?” she asked Maddie.

  I was off the hook. Thank goodness for Mrs. Johns. I made a mental note that I owed her one and decided I would reduce my fee for preparing her will in consideration of her saving me from having to bathe the kid.

  “You okay then?” I asked Maddie, making another attempt at an exit.

  “Yeah. Thanks for your help Samuel.”

  “No problem,” I lied, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’ll leave your affidavit on the table. Call me if you have any questions about going to the EEOC.”

  I got out of the house as quickly as I could, and went home and took a shower to disinfect myself.

  Chapter 2

  Maddie called me the next morning at work to tell me she had gone down to the EEOC and filed her discrimination charge. I was curious as to whether her supervisor would take any adverse action against her. I almost hoped he did so we could amend the charge to include retaliation; the more ammunition we had, the better. It would be a great case to take before a jury, and Maddie would make a good witness after we got her a new hairstyle. The jury would definitely be sympathetic towards her.

  On a hunch, I called my investigator friend back and requested that he send someone into Maddie’s department at Datacare to see what he could dig up. I reasoned that if a supervisor was so blatant in his harassment of a subordinate, it could be indicative of the attitude of the higher-ups of the company, as well. And the higher up the executive, the bigger the payoff.

  While I had him on the phone, I asked if he had come up with anything on Landra Krally, but he said that so far she was clean. I told him to keep digging. My instincts told me that little Miss Krally was up to no good. And as much of a pain in the ass as my neighbors might be, I wasn’t going to let some con artist rip off their life savings.

  I called Mrs. Johns when I got off the phone to let her know how much I was going to charge for revising her will and my timeframe for getting it to her. I had knocked off $100 from my fee for her coming to the rescue during the baby-shit fiasco at Maddie’s house. She had risen several notches in my book with her calm and collected handling of the situation. Of course, she didn’t know that I had discounted my fee, so that meant I would have to quote the same price to Mrs. Howard since I knew the two would be comparing notes on my services and fees. While I had her on the phone, I inquired as to the inclusion of Landra Krally in her will.

  “Landra has been helping us out for years,” Mrs. Johns said. “None of our children live close to us and she’s like a daughter to us. We just wanted to acknowledge how we feel about her and thought it was a nice gesture.”

  A nice gesture? A nice gesture in my book was a gift certificate to Outback Steakhouse, not leaving someone a couple hundred thousand dollars in your will. How could I put it tactfully?

  “I know it’s none of my business, but have you conveyed your intentions to your sons with regard to the change in your will?”

  “Well, I don’t remember if we mentioned it or not? Is there a problem?”

  “No, there’s no problem. I just want to make sure you are absolutely certain that you want to leave such a large portion of your estate to someone who isn’t family.”

  I had never heard Mrs. Johns laugh before, and it gave a whole new dimension to her personality. “You’re very sweet to be concerned, Samuel, but you needn’t be. We’re absolutely certain.”

  I still didn’t feel good about it, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. I told Mrs. Johns I’d have the wills to her by the end of the week, then I hung up and dialed Mrs. Howard’s number. We went through pretty much the same conversation I’d had with Mrs. Johns, and I got the same response from Mrs. Howard. Somehow, this Landra Krally person had charmed her way into the Last Will and Testament of not one, but two of my neighbors. My question was, how many others had she conned?

  I finished up early at the office and went for a run in my neighborhood when I got home. Oliver must have seen me leave because he was waiting in ambush in the Johns’ yard when I returned. His face lit up when he saw me, and he came running over.

  “Hi, Samuel! Want to play catch?”

  “Oh, not right now, Oliver,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “I need to take a shower.”

  “After that?” he asked hopefully.

  I was about to put him off until another day, when a white Lexus pulled into Mrs. Howard’s driveway and distracted me. A girl got out and took some grocery bags out of the trunk and headed towards the front door. She looked about my age and was wearing a pink and black exercise outfit that showed her bare stomach and left just enough to the imagination. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail high on her head and it swayed from side to side as she walked. She looked athletic but incredibly feminine at the same time. My jaw fell open and I couldn’t draw my eyes away from her.

  She looked in our direction and smiled and called out, “Hi, Ollie!”

  He waved enthusiastically, then ran across the street to greet her. She set her grocery bags down and picked up Oliver and spun him around, then she smothered him with kisses all over his face while he laughed and fought to get away. I was in awe, totally transfixed on her. She had to notice that I was staring at her. How could she not? But when she looked in my direction again, she smiled casually and gave me a little wave, then gave Oliver one last hug before letting him escape. He came running back over to me as she gathered up her grocery bags and resumed her progress towards the door. She knocked on Mrs. Howard’s door and let herself in, and then she was gone.

  I started walking towards my door, with Oliver right in stride. “Who’s your girlfriend?” I asked, trying to shake whatever emotion had taken hold of me.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Oliver laughed. “That’s Landra.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. “That’s Landra Krally?” I exclaimed. No wonder the neighbors love her. Hell, I was ready to revise my will and I hadn’t even met her.

  “She’s really nice,” Oliver said.

  “She likes you,” I said, reaching down and rumpling his hair. He laughed and took my hand in his and studied my knuckles, then he held his palm up to mine and compared size.

  “Is your hand as big as David Robinson’s?” he asked.

  “Not even close,” I laughed. Now, don’t get me wrong, San Antonio loves their NBA Spurs, and David Robinson is a household name; but I was shocked that a three year old would know of him. “How do you know about the Admiral?” I asked.

  “The what?”

  “The Admiral. David Robinson,” I clarified.

  “He used to play for the Spurs. He’s a seven-footer. How tall are you?”

  “I’m a six-footer.”

  “Oh.” He said it like he was disappointed. “Are you a role model?” he asked with a hopeful note in his voice. “Mommy says David Robinson is a good role model.”

  I couldn’t argue. David Robinson had brought morals and values to a league full of gangsters and thugs. Somehow, those qualities had been translated into a negative, with his critics calling him soft -- the league’s choir boy. For me, I’d take Robinson over the league’s punks any day. “David Robinson is a great role model. I think you should stick with him,” I said, and Oliver smiled happily.

  Now . . . I’d never been big on kids, not that I’d been around that many of them. But in general, I didn’t like them. They were loud and o
bnoxious, and more often than not, they were dirty. Dirty hands, dirty face, dirty clothes. But Oliver was different. Not that he wasn’t dirty. I think he’d been digging for worms in the Johns’ flower bed while I was running, and he had dirt under his nails and all over his shirt where he had wiped his hands. But for some reason, I couldn’t help but like the kid, and I found myself telling him we’d play catch after I showered.

  He waited on my steps until I came back out, then we threw the football back and forth for the next 30 minutes. We were sitting on my lawn taking a break, when Mrs. Howard’s front door opened and out she came with Landra Krally. My heart rate picked up a couple of notches. They looked over and it was obvious that Mrs. Howard was talking about me, then they crossed the street and headed in our direction. Yes!

  I stood up and walked across the yard and met them halfway. I greeted Mrs. Howard then held out my hand and introduced myself to Landra.

  “Hi. I’m Samuel Collins.”

  She smiled and looked me in the eye when she shook my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Samuel. I’m Landra Krally.”

  Her hand was soft and warm, and I held it longer than necessary before releasing it.

  “Sara told me she had a new neighbor. You moved in last Thursday?”

  She had the most beautiful white teeth and big brown eyes. “Yeah. Do you live around here?” I asked. My eyes kept traveling to that bare stretch of stomach, and I was trying, unsuccessfully, not to openly stare at her.

  “I live a couple of streets over. She smiled down at Oliver, then looked back at me. “Ollie told me you taught him how to throw a football.”

  I looked at Oliver. “Did you tell her that?” I asked him, nudging his shoulder.

  “Yes,” he laughed. He shoved me back with both hands, putting all his weight into it, but he couldn’t budge me.

  “Well, don’t just talk about it,” I told him. “Show her how good you are. Go out for a pass.”

  He backed up about 10 feet and I threw him the ball. It hit him in the chest and fell right through his hands. “Watch, Landra!” Oliver called out, picking up the ball. He threw a pass that came right to me.

  “Ollie, that’s great!” Landra said, clapping her hands, and I could tell she was genuinely excited for him. She looked at me and gave me that incredible smile again. “You’re really awesome, you know that?”

  The comment was so off the wall it left me speechless. But it was the way she said it that really got me. Like the matter wasn’t up for discussion. You’re awesome, and that’s the end of it. And as much as I liked the idea of being awesome in Landra Krally’s eyes, I had to set the record straight. All I had done was show the kid how to hold the ball right and swing his arm. Oliver had done all the work.

  “Oliver’s got a great arm. He just needed a couple of pointers to get him on track,” I explained.

  She smiled again and kind of cocked her head, like she was checking me out. I realized that if Maddie had done that, it would have totally irked me. Landra Krally pulled it off with no problem.

  “Do you have dinner plans?” she asked.

  She was just like Oliver – you had no idea what was going to come out of her mouth next.

  “Tonight?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.

  “Yeah. Why don’t you come eat with us? We’re just going down the street to get a burger at Chester’s.”

  I pretended to think about it for a couple of seconds before agreeing to dinner with Landra and Mrs. Howard, then I looked down at Oliver. “You want to come?” I asked him.

  “Yeah!” he said happily, jumping up and down. “And can I get some of those chips that give you bad breath?”

  Chips that give you bad breath? I was stumped. “What do they look like?”

  “They’re orange and they’re triangles.”

  “Nacho Cheese Doritos?”

  “Do those make your breath smell bad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think that’s them.”

  “Yeah, you can get some. Go ask your mom if you can come.”

  Mrs. Howard had been conspicuously silent, but the smile on her face told me she had been planning this encounter since Mrs. Krally had planted the notion in her head the week before. She kept looking from Landra, to me, and back to Landra, and she looked very pleased with the way things were going.

  We set the dinner date for 6:30 and Landra and Mrs. Howard went back across the street. Oliver had gone home to ask if he could come to dinner with us and the phone was ringing when I got back inside.

  “You want to take Liver to Chester’s?” Maddie asked.

  I literally cringed when she said it. “Listen, Maddie,” I told her. “You’ve got to quit calling Oliver Liver. It’s the worst nickname I’ve ever heard. Your just asking . . . no, I take it back . . . you’re begging some little punk to beat the shit out of him. Why can’t you just call him Oliver?”

  If she was insulted she hid it well. “I never really thought about it. But I guess you’re probably right.”

  “I am right. Believe me. When I was a punk, I beat up kids for lesser offenses all the time.”

  Maddie laughed. I guess she thought I was kidding. “You’ll need a car seat,” she said. “I have a spare one in my garage, or you can take my car if you want.”

  I’d seen Maddie’s car. “I’ll take the car seat. Tell Oliver I’ll pick him up at 6:25.”

  I looked over Mrs. Howard’s will again while I passed the time before dinner and it snapped me back to reality about Landra Krally. I had obviously been thinking with a different part of my anatomy. But no matter how attracted to her I was, and the attraction was undeniable, there was every indication that she was trying to defraud both Mrs. Howard and the Johnses.

  The fact of the matter was, con artists are very likable people. That’s how they get away with what they do. They’re generally good looking and they’re always charming. They assert themselves into a person’s life, they gain their trust, and then they rob them blind. Landra Krally actually fit the description to a tee – she was good looking, she was charming, she had asserted herself into my neighbors’ lives, she had gained their trust, and each household had changed their will for the sole purpose of including her as a beneficiary. The facts and my instincts told me that something was up. By the time dinner rolled around, I had the matter back in perspective . . . or so I thought.

  My doorbell rang at 6:20 and there was Landra Krally standing on my front porch with those white teeth and big brown eyes, and this time her hair was down, which made her look even more beautiful if that was possible. She had changed clothes, thank God, so at least I didn’t have to stare at her stomach, but even in faded old jeans, she exuded this . . . something. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It wasn’t sex. It was . . . She was so wholesome. She looked so healthy and vibrant. Hell, even her skin was perfect. She was like the perfect piece of fruit. That was it! Landra Krally was the forbidden apple. And damned if I wasn’t Adam.

  “You want to all go together?” Landra asked.

  “Sure. I need to get Oliver’s car seat. Let me get my keys,” I told her. “You want to come in?”

  “Yeah, let me see what you’ve done with the place,” she said smiling.

  She followed me inside and walked around my house, making herself at home. I watched her go from room to room, and I tried to remind myself that she was probably scoping out my stuff so she could rip me off later, but it was hard to imagine. She seemed so nice. I didn’t want to believe what I had convinced myself of just two minutes earlier.

  “It looks really good!” she said enthusiastically, after she had checked out the whole house. “Did you pick the colors yourself?”

  “Yeah. I’m not finished painting yet. I’ve still got to do something to the walls in the TV room back there.”

  “Why don’t you let me paint rock walls for you back there? I did it at my house and they look incredible.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit,” she
said smiling. “Do you have a beer or something?”

  I was so infatuated with this girl it was ridiculous. I liked everything about her. Except that she was stealing hundreds of thousands of dollars from my neighbors. But then, if they were stupid enough to let her rip them off, maybe they deserved it.

  I pulled out two bottles of beer from the fridge and opened one and handed it to her. “Do you want a glass?”

  “No. This is fine, thanks.” She took a swallow of beer and licked her lips, and I realized I was staring at her again.

  “What do you do for a living?” I asked. Other than ripping off my neighbors.

  “I work part-time at a shelter.”

  I didn’t see that one coming. “Really?” I said trying to hide my surprise.

  “Yeah. And I help out Sara and the Johnses. Have you met Verna and Andy?”

  “Yeah,” I said, distracted.

  “And you’re a lawyer,” she stated. She was leaning against my counter, checking me out again. It was almost like she was sizing me up, trying to determine if she could take me on. “What kind of lawyer are you?”

  “Well, that depends,” I said. “Do you mean, what kind of law do I practice, or do you mean, am I a nice lawyer or a dick?”

  She smiled and took another drink of her beer. “The second.”

  “I’m a dick,” I said without hesitation.

  Landra laughed out loud. God, she was beautiful. I was staring at her again, and I must have had a stupid smile on my face, because she finally asked what I was smiling at.

  “I guess at you. I didn’t realize I was,” I told her truthfully. And then I couldn’t help myself. I had to get it out in the open. “Exactly what is your relationship with Mrs. Howard and Verna and Andy Johns?”

  “My relationship? They’re my friends. Sara’s actually my Godmother. And technically, I guess I’m their employee, if you want to call it that. They each pay me to help them out with things. But first and foremost, we’re friends. Why?”

  “I just wondered.”

  If she was up to anything, she sure didn’t show it. She didn’t even flinch when I asked. She was either really good or she was really good at being bad.