by Rick Santini
As she shook his hand, the pressure lingered a split second longer than necessary.
Sex sells—everything.
Marta knew damn well there would never be sex with Ronald Rosenthal. Not as long as she was alive and breathing.
“Good job, Ms. Clarke. Mr. Yeung was not wrong about you. You can be sure we will keep you busy. Have a nice day.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fung, but this is far from over. My secretary will call you to set up an appointment in the next few days.”
“Right. You have her do that.”
Marta got a spooky feeling just listening to Tao. For a man just arrested on a Class A felony, he was far too cocky.
Billy arrived too late to sit in on the bail hearing. He phoned Marta from the airport and arranged for lunch. He wanted to talk to her about their newfound retainer and the consequences of it.
“The choice is simple. Either you return the million plus with a polite thanks-but-no-thanks, or we are all in. This means our clientele will be somewhat limited, our reputation branded, but we will not lack for much. You can move to a high-end condo and buy yourself a new set of wheels—as long as the client is pleased. Your call.”
Marta sat in a booth in the back of the bistro, playing with her food. She knew exactly what she would be getting herself, both of them, into. She was not sure of an exit strategy or if there was one.
Sorry, Mr. Yeung, it’s been fun and profitable. Thanks for sharing with me, but I don’t feel comfortable any longer, so find yourself a new defense team.
It didn’t work that way, and Marta damn well knew it.
Billy was patiently waiting for an answer. He was pretty sure he knew what it was. She had waited too long to walk away from the chicken that laid all those golden eggs. She was tired of living on the salary of an ADA and wondering if she would ever walk into a new car showroom, point, and say, “I want that one” without the expected song and dance.
“Yes, damn it, yes.”
The two of them raised their coffee mugs.
Real drinks would come later tonight.
“I suggest you pull out fifty thousand from the escrow account and go on a well-deserved spending spree. You might also consider a new car. Perception is reality in this business, and your four-year-old Nissan just doesn’t cut it. It will send a strong message to the DA’s office and the criminal bar and pile up your perception points with Mr. Yeung and any potential new clients. What about leasing a new Jaguar convertible or a top-of-the-line Mercedes SUV? Your call—you can now afford it.”
Marta now had a grin from one ear to the other.
“I like the way you think, Billy Jo. We will make one hell of a team.”
“We already have, we already have,” Billy replied.
CHAPTER 3
Dinner was spent at a high-end steak house/watering hole just outside the city limits where attorneys and judges were known to frequent. Not only was the food and service good, but the visibility was great. At times it is good to see, at others, to be seen.
This was one of the latter.
Marta was wearing a long black skirt with a slit halfway up her thigh. Her jet black long hair was piled up in a French braid. The waiter almost stumbled bringing the drink order over. He was staring at her ample cleavage, not where he was walking. More than a few members of the bar were there with their wives.
They were all talking.
A gorgeous black woman with a six foot three white dude wearing cowboy boots and a white Stetson could hardly be missed.
“That’s Gibson and Clarke, the new kids on the block.”
“She just left the DA’s office after twenty years, and the tall dude is Billy Jo Gibson, a legend in his own mind.”
“Someone said they’re now representing the Yeung Syndicate.”
Rumors were flying. Marta and Billy loved every minute of it.
The attention they were getting was overwhelming. The maître d’ came over twice to make sure everything was in order.
“How’s your New York strip?”
“I could eat here every night,” Marta responded. “Might not fit into my clothes within a week, but it would be worth it.”
Billy Jo had just cut off a thin slice of his medium rare filet mignon and was savoring the mouth-watering juices. He carefully placed his fork down on the side of the bone china plate, sipped a delightfully aged Brunello DiMontalcino red, and turned to Marta.
“Depending on how things work out in the next six months, I’m thinking of hiring an associate or two to handle the West Virginia office and spending more time up here. What do you think?”
“You’re the boss.”
“No, we’re a team, and we make decisions together. You’ve got the local reputation, the brains, and the moxie; I have far more years on the other side of the street. I have gotten away with more crap in a courtroom than you’ve ever thought of. That’s why we make a great team. That’s why we will make a bundle of money.”
Marta knew he was right.
Billy interrupted her thoughts.
“For now, Miranda can handle the office and paperwork. At some point, not sure when, she’ll need an assistant to do the typing and answer the phones. I suggest we get a first-rate CPA to keep track of everything. There may be a fair amount of cash flowing through our offices. I’m using the Grimaldi accounting firm. First-rate, fair, and honest. I would trust them with my life. Matter of fact, I do, every day. One last thing. We need an investigator. Someone who knows the ropes and is not afraid to bend and twist them. Must be sharp and loyal. Know of anyone?”
One name came to mind. She had been thinking about him more and more lately.
Rik Scott. He would be perfect.
“Give me a minute to think on it. Are you ready for dessert?”
“Maybe coffee only. Then I have to get back to my hotel and review a few files I brought up with me. I have a flight back at noon tomorrow. Let’s plan on an early breakfast so I can take a look at the Fung case and get your thoughts on how you want to handle it.”
Marta temporarily forgot about her luncheon appointment with Ronnie Rosenthal. First things first.
That would be Rik Scott.
Billy Jo called for the check and reached in his wallet for his new metal credit card, the latest in prestige in the industry. Marta reached over and playfully slapped his hand.
“We now have a new business account card. This is strictly business. Let the IRS split the cost with us.”
Billy smiled.
“Now you’re thinking like a businesswoman. Thanks.”
“I’ll call you in the morning.”
Marta gave him a peck on the cheek, let others stare as she slid out of her chair, and gave the parking slip to the teenage parking attendant who was visually undressing her.
“Now that you have something to think about when you meet your girlfriend later, could you please stop staring and get my car?”
The pimply teenager blushed and ran off looking for the four-year-old dark gray Altima.
Marta headed home. Alone.
I’ll look good in a new Jag ragtop. Maybe silver with a black top and gray leather interior.
Marta then thought of Rik Scott, the new investigator currently working for the county. He was officially part of the sheriff’s office but was assigned to the district attorney for all big cases. Rik was a hunk. A solid six-foot black man whose muscles rippled when he got nervous. He had a killer smile and body. More important, he was smart and discreet. He would be perfect, in more ways than one, to be the office’s private investigator.
It was close to ten p.m. when Marta got home, showered, and crawled into bed. It was then she did something totally out of character. She found Rik’s number on her cell phone.
“Rik, it’s me, Marta Clarke.”
“What’s wrong? Are you in trouble? Did you get arrested for anything?”
“No, none of the above. I wanted to talk to you. Is this a good time?”
“Marta, it’s t
en fifteen. What’s so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning?”
“I have a job offer for you and didn’t want to wait. As you know, I left the DA’s office and now have my own shingle—actually with Billy Jo Gibson. We’ve just picked up a major client. Can I assume this conversation is not taped and considered confidential?”
“Marta, you know me better. Lay it on me.”
“We may be representing Xiang Yeung and his associates. We will need a first-class investigator. One who is smart and very discreet. The first person I thought of was you.”
“I’m honored. Tell me more.”
“First, we would pay you twice as much as you’re now making. The hours may be long, and it would be a personal services agreement. When I call, you must be available.”
“Sounds too good to pass up. When do I start?”
“As soon as you can get that tight ass over to my place. The door will be unlocked. I think you’re smart enough to figure it out. And be discreet.”
“Give me twenty minutes, Boss.”
CHAPTER 4
“Rough night? It looks like you didn’t get much sleep.”
Marta turned to Billy Jo while she was having her second cup of coffee. They were in the hotel coffee shop.
If you only knew, Billy, if you only knew.
“Been doing a lot of thinking. Did not get a great deal of sleep last night. A second secretary makes good sense. We can elevate Miranda to senior assistant. As to a private investigator, I think I have the right person. He’s a deputy in the sheriff’s office and does most of the high-level snooping. His name’s Rik Scott.”
“You know him better than I do. Check him out, and if he fits the bill, hire him.
Yes, I do. Yes, I did. And yes, he more than fits the opening.
“Will do. I have a meeting with the ADA handling the Fung case, so let’s skip a big breakfast and review the complaint. I have it right here.”
Marta pulled out a brand new ultra-thin file.
***
Three hours later, Marta was having an iced tea at her noon meeting. She could take no more coffee without floating away. She tried to concentrate on Ronny but was having a difficult time. She was also sore. She was thinking about last night, or had it been early this morning? She’d thrown him out at six thirty so the neighbors wouldn’t see him and she could get thirty minutes of shuteye before taking a long, hot shower.
Her body had demanded it. It had been too long. Far too long.
“I can probably reduce this to a Class B felony. He would be looking at three to five with a recommendation…assuming he gives up his supplier. Best I can do.”
Marta wasn’t sure whether to laugh in his face or be insulted. Instead, she signaled for the waiter.
“Is something wrong, Miss?”
“No, the service is great; it’s the company that just made me sick. I need some fresh air.”
“Marta, be reasonable. I’m sure we can work something out. Please.”
Marta reached over and whispered in Ronny’s ear.
“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last dick on earth. When I get finished with you, your sorry dick will be in your mouth, where it belongs. You are a piece of shit excuse for an ADA. You know that, don’t you? Saltmeyer assigned the case to you because no one else would take it. It’s a loser. You’re a born loser, Ronny. Accept it. And have a nice day.”
With that, Marta was gone. She had no Plan B.
Ronny sat there in shock. Not what he expected.
Am I really a loser? I graduated near the top of my class. I was Law Review. Saltmeyer would never assign a loser to me, would he?
Ronny lost his appetite. He left a twenty on the table before lunch had even been served and walked slowly back to his office. He had to review the file and the arresting officer’s report one more time. He knew he had missed something. He just wasn’t sure what.
“Miranda, please come into my office. We need to have a little talk.”
“Did I do something wrong? All the discovery papers are on your desk. I verified Mr. Fung was released two hours ago. I called him on his cell and set up an appointment for you at two tomorrow afternoon. The schedule shows you have no appointments or hearings. I can’t think of anything I’ve left out.”
“Miranda, you’re doing a great job. A super job. I just wanted to let you know we’re looking for an assistant for you, to relieve you to do more important work. If you know anyone, set up an appointment to have me interview them. Oh, and we decided to hire our own investigator. What do you think of Rik Scott from the sheriff’s office?”
“He’s a hunk. My god, all the girls stared at his ass when he came by our offices. I’m told he’s very bright and knows how to get things done.”
You can bet your sweet white ass on that.
“He’ll be starting just as soon as he gives his two-week notice. If he needs anything, give it to him.
Except yourself.
“That will be all, Miranda.”
Marta felt drained. She was exhausted. She needed to go home to rest. Alone.
***
“Mr. Scott?”
“Yes.”
“This is Billy Jo Gibson; I believe you know my partner, Marta Clarke. I wonder if we can talk for a few minutes.”
Rik immediately became defensive. He had no idea what or how much Billy Jo knew. His last instructions had been to be discreet.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Gibson?
His tone was respectful. Billy Jo would soon be his employer, but by the same token, he had a confidence to honor.
Billy picked this up immediately. He had spent the better part of the past twenty years trying to determine if a witness was being forthright or trying to conceal something. It had become a fifth sense.
“I’ll be back in Newark early next week. I understand you are still an employee of the State. I don’t want to create a conflict of interests or breach of a fiduciary relationship, but it might be helpful if we could talk. I am also interested in exactly what your job description is and what you can do for us.”
“No problem, Mr. Gibson. Call me when you’re back in town, and I’ll make myself available to you. Have a great day, sir.”
Before Billy could comment, the line went dead.
He had a good idea he knew why.
***
Rik called Marta. She didn’t answer—she was sound asleep. Rik was uncomfortable leaving a message. He hung up.
CHAPTER 5
ADA Ronald Rosenthal studied the reports till his eyes burned. Marta had to be bluffing. She was playing mind games with him, and it was working.
“Good afternoon, sir. I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice. I wanted to discuss the Fung case with you. I had a brief meeting with Ms. Clarke, who now represents the defendant.”
The DA, Big Russ Baylor, had a big grin on his face.
“How is Marta? I hope you gave her my best. She was my number one assistant for the past ten years. You better watch yourself, young man, or she’ll hand you your lunch—in your own basket. She’s that good. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Is there something I should know, sir?”
“There’s a lot of things you should know. The first thing is not to get sucked in by what Marta will or will not tell you. Once she gets in your head, you’re toast. Now go do your job, and let me know if there are any major problems. Have a good day, Richard.”
“Ronald, sir. Ronald Rosenthal.”
“Of course, my mistake. Good luck, Ronald.”
Now both of them had gotten into his head. Poor Ronnie didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.
***
Tao was standing in front of Mr. Yeung, waiting to be invited to sit down. It would have been totally disrespectful to sit without being given permission. If nothing else, respect, custom, and learning what your role in life was were the keystones to Xiang’s success. That and the fact the man was cold-hearted and ruthless. He would smile at yo
u one minute and order your hand cut off the next.
Begging, pleading, did no good. It only added insult to the behavior. At times it resulted in both hands being cut off. The lesson was not for the poor victim; it was for the others. They would learn by seeing what weakness cost them.
Either you are strong or you die the death of a worthless swine.
It well could have been Yeung’s creed.
“Please, have a seat, my good friend. Tell me, what are your first impressions of Ms. Marta Clarke?”
Tao knew his boss had already met with her. He did not know his feelings and needed to act gingerly.
“Be honest with me, Tao. It is the only way. I will not bite you or cut off your hand. I must know if she can be trusted for far bigger matters. Your case will fall by the wayside—that I can promise you. I need only to know how much I can trust the Black Widow.”
Tao had never heard the expression before and did not know how to react. Xiang sensed this and gave him the explanation he deserved.
“For many years, while Ms. Clarke was an assistant district attorney, she acquired the name, the Black Widow. My sources tell me it was well earned.”
Tao relaxed, but just a bit.
“She cannot be intimidated. I tried—it did no good. She knows who she is and what she wants. She obviously trusts Mr. Billy Jo Gibson, her partner. She does not trust her ex-boss, District Attorney Russell Baylor, or the judge of the court, Steven Saltmeyer. As to trust, I cannot say. I suggest some type of test to see where her loyalties lie.”
Here Fung paused, wondering if he should go further. He decided he had no choice.
“I know she now has a new boyfriend, a deputy sheriff by the name of Rik Scott. He arrived at her apartment last night at exactly 10:49 and left this morning at 6:33. He parked a late model black Corvette six doors from her apartment building. I do not believe her partner, Mr. Gibson, is aware of the relationship.”
“Thank you, Tao. Now, I suggest you go back to work and be far more careful than the last time. Another mistake and we may have to end our fine relationship.”