The Advocate's Dilemma

by Teresa Burrell

  “Excuse me,” JP said and walked toward the metal detector where he stopped and spoke with a sheriff he knew from when he worked at the department.

  Dave Carr walked up as soon as JP left. He motioned his head toward JP. “Who’s the cowboy?” he asked.

  “That’s JP, my private investigator.”

  “Are you sleeping with him?” Dave asked lightheartedly.

  Sabre looked up, surprised at his question, and frowned at him, but her frown quickly turned to a smile at the absurdity of the question. “No. Of course not.”

  “He wants to.”

  “He does not,” Sabre said.

  Dave shook his head, then nodded. “Oh yes, he does. Even worse, I think he may be in love with you.”

  “That’s ridiculous. He isn’t in love with me and he doesn’t want to sleep with me. We work together. We’ve been working together for years and he’s never once come on to me. He’s always been a perfect gentleman.”

  “I work with you, too, and I want to sleep with you…but then, I’m no gentleman.”

  “I just don’t know what to say to that.” She tipped her head to the side and her eyebrows went up. “And not every man thinks like you do.”

  “Oh, yes they do. It’s just that not every man says it.” Dave glanced at JP. “But I expect the cowboy is a gentleman, and probably not even the pretentious kind. I watched the way he looked at you. He really cares for you.”

  “Of course he cares for me. I care for him. We’re good friends and we’ve been through some rough stuff together,” she rattled on. “I have lots of men friends. Take Bob Clark for instance. Men and women can be friends, you know.”

  “I agree. I’ve seen you and Bob together. He looks at you like he’s your brother. He strikes me as the kind of guy who would joke with you about sexual things, but you’re confident enough in your relationship that you know he doesn’t mean them.” Sabre gave him an inquisitive look. He continued. “But not your cowboy. He doesn’t tease, does he?” Sabre didn’t respond. “He just yearns.” Dave stretched out the word “yearns,” saying it very slowly and deliberately.

  Sabre shook her head. “He doesn’t yearn.”

  Dave nodded knowingly. “He yearns.”

  “That’s crazy. You obtained all that from one short conversation with Bob and a few minutes of observation of JP?”

  “Yup. It’s all in how they look at you.” He paused. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “No. You’re not right. Well, you’re right about Bob, but not JP. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t love me. And he doesn’t yearn,” Sabre protested. She was sure Dave was wrong.

  Dave smirked. “So, if there’s nothing between you and the cowboy, what’s standing between us and dinner Friday night?”

  “The Professional Rules of Responsibility. You’ve heard of those, right? Terrible conflict of interest.”

  “Good. We’ve established a time frame for our first date. As soon as this case is over for one of us, we’re going out.” Before Sabre could protest he said, “I’ll go tell Dana I’m off the case. I’ll even forfeit my retainer so she can get another attorney. So, Friday night then?” He turned as if to leave.

  Sabre laughed. She knew he was bluffing. Or was he? She didn’t really know him that well, but she liked his style. He came across as confident, but not arrogant or pompous. He had a great sense of humor and it had been a while since anyone had made her laugh like he did. “Don’t be silly. We need to move this case along. The children need closure.”

  He turned back. “Okay, then it’s a date…the first Friday after I file a substitution of attorney on this case. I’ll see you in court.” He walked away.

  Sabre watched Dave for a second. She found him very attractive but she was both impressed and annoyed by his comments. His flirting fed her ego but she wasn’t certain she was ready for anything more than that.

  She turned toward the metal detector and focused on JP. He ended his conversation and was walking toward her when a court officer announced their case for Department Five. She looked at him curiously, wondering if there was any truth in what Dave had just said about JP. She tried to reconcile the feelings that came over her, the pleasant thoughts of JP’s interest with the uncertainty as to whether or not she wanted them to be true. Then she sighed. Of course she didn’t want Dave’s comments to be true, and they weren’t true, just the ramblings of a curious man.

  “Ready?” JP asked, as he walked up.

  Sabre felt the calm and comfort his voice and presence brought over her. She was safe, safe from the uncertainty Dave had just provoked. They moved toward the courtroom. JP touched her lightly on her shoulder as he put his arm around her to shield her through the crowd. She tingled at his touch for just a second and then the feeling of familiarity and protectiveness swept over her. Dave was way off base, she thought, not even in the ballpark.

  ***

  Sabre took a seat alone in the back of Department Four and waited for the Foreman case to be called. JP had left the courthouse as soon as they completed the delinquency case, and Bob was waiting in the hallway for Sabre since he was avoiding any contact with his former client, Dana. Dave Carr walked in and announced he would be setting the case for trial, which prompted the court clerk to look for a trial date. The attorneys all gathered at the defense table with their calendars open. Carr used his phone, but Sabre still liked her paper version. She laid it open on the table as they searched for a date for the trial.

  The first date suggested by the clerk created a conflict for County Counsel, the attorney for the Department of Social Services. The second wouldn’t work for Sabre. They settled on a date just a little over a month away. Sabre marked it in her date book. It was on a Tuesday. Carr leaned over toward her with his pen in his hand. “Oh good, it’s open,” he said, as he drew several circles around the Friday following the trial date.

  Sabre glared at him for a second, but didn’t say anything.

  “Just making sure you don’t make other plans,” Dave said and smiled a boyish smile.

  Chapter 37

  JP watched Smithe’s black Mercedes pull out of his driveway and onto the highway. This was the third night JP had been staking out his house. So far, Smithe had been to the market, a pizza place, and a video arcade. The night at the video arcade proved to be the toughest because JP didn’t dare enter the arcade for fear Smithe would recognize him. JP breathed a little easier when he left the arcade alone. Tonight Smithe took a longer excursion. JP followed him all the way from Fallbrook into downtown San Diego. The streets were fairly crowded for a Wednesday night, but JP was able to keep the car in sight and still keep a safe distance behind him.

  Smithe drove down Fourth Street, past Horton Plaza, turned left, and made his way to Fifth Street. He drove slowly, peering out his window. JP knew what Smithe was looking for and it made his blood boil. He followed him three times in a large circle covering several blocks. Smithe then worked his way down Island Street, a quieter, darker street off the main drag. JP dropped back a little, then pulled into a parking spot when he saw Smithe stop and talk with two young girls who looked to be about ten and twelve years old. JP couldn’t see their faces so he judged them on size alone. He left the car running and watched.

  The creep isn’t even fussy about gender, JP thought, as he tried to figure out what he was going to do if the girls got in the car. His first instinct was to pull Smithe out and beat the crap out of him, but he decided to follow instead if it should come to that.

  The girls stayed back on the sidewalk. One started to move closer to the car and the shorter girl pulled her back. JP could see Smithe was still leaning toward them when they walked away rather rapidly. Good move, girls, he thought.

  Smithe pulled away and JP followed. The Mercedes crossed Fifth Street and JP was ready to follow, but then he spotted the skinny kid he had seen a few nights previously. Apparently, the boy had seen Smithe because when Smithe pulled away he saw the boy raise his middle finger at him a
nd yell, “Asshole.”

  JP cringed and then opted to follow the boy instead of Smithe, hoping he would lead him to Tuffy, or at least Tuffy’s assistant. He wasn’t certain if the boy was even working with Tuffy, but the pattern seemed to fit. The boy moved quickly down the street. JP looked around for the man in the cap but didn’t see him.

  Several times he lost sight of the boy as he scampered through the clusters of people on the sidewalks. The kid turned onto Third Street. JP cursed the one-way streets downtown as he drove to the next street and turned left. He circled the block and drove back down Fourth Street, hoping he chose the correct direction. The red traffic light gave him time to glance around. This street was not nearly as busy as Fifth except near the Brazilian Café, which he could see from the corner. Just as the light turned green and JP started to pull away, he spotted the skinny boy jaywalking as he dashed across Fourth Street and jumped into a car that appeared to be waiting for him.

  JP followed the 1984 silver Nissan as it moved toward Pacific Coast Highway but was unable to get close enough to see the license number without being detected. He kept his distance. About a mile later the car turned right and onto a side street and then into a narrow alley where it stopped. JP passed the alley and then pulled over, far enough forward so he couldn’t be seen. He took his gun out from the console, stuck it in his belt on his backside, and then placed a small LED flashlight in his pocket. He quietly closed his door and moved stealthily up the alley on the same side as the parked car, hugging the buildings as he moved along. Total darkness camouflaged him on the first two buildings, but an open space approximately fifteen feet wide stood between him and the next one. He stepped into the street just as the lights from a car lit up the spot where JP stood. He stepped back into the shadows. The freeway above him curved just enough that traffic moving north sent light into the gap. He waited, hoping for the traffic to let up so he could cross without being obvious. He waited in the shadows, watching the Nissan he had followed. He listened. The engine was off and the window was open on the driver’s side. JP could hear voices, but he couldn’t make out what was being said. He couldn’t see the boy, but the arm of the driver rested on the door, a cigarette dangling from his hand. Every so often the driver raised his hand, appearing to be taking a drag of the cigarette.

  If it was a “john ,” JP figured the boy was relatively safe until the cigarette was finished, but the car was old and beat up and the driver wasn’t likely to be someone the kid would’ve tried to scam. JP glanced from the car to the street above him and back again. For a second, the traffic let up and JP hurried across the open area, apparently undetected since the car didn’t move. JP stood still and assessed his plan of attack. He knew he’d have to move quietly and quickly to keep the element of surprise and he assumed the cigarette only had a few more drags on it. Though it was dark, he needed to avoid the path of the car’s mirrors. He inched his way closer to the car until he came within twenty feet of the vehicle and dropped down behind a trash can. He could barely see the profile of the driver’s face. JP waited.

  When the driver flicked the cigarette on the ground, JP stepped out and in four long, quick steps JP was standing next to the man he had seen several nights before tailing the boy. JP shined the flashlight in his face and pointed his gun at him and said, “Get out of the car, slowly. Keep your hands where I can see them.” JP looked at the little boy sitting next to him. “Just sit still. I won’t hurt you.” His voice came out sterner than he had intended. The boy stared defiantly at him but didn’t speak.

  JP stepped back slightly, allowing room for the door to open. The man began to step out of the car with his arms stretched out and palms facing JP. Just when he had both feet planted on the ground, the passenger door was flung open. JP glanced up for just a second and the man reached out toward JP’s arm to fling the gun out of the way. JP grabbed his arm with his left hand, flipped him around, and slammed him against the side of the car in one swift move. “Bad move, punk,” JP said, just as the skinny kid ran off down the street into the darkness.

  JP took a deep breath and patted him down, checking for weapons. Satisfied he didn’t have any, he spun the man around so he could see his face. “Well, if that don’t put pepper in the gumbo,” JP said. “You ain’t nothing but a kid yourself.” He looked to be no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, perhaps even younger. JP could feel the kid trembling under his touch. He stood there for a moment just looking at him. Then JP holstered his gun with his right hand while maintaining his hold on him with his left. The kid wiggled and JP quickly shoved his right arm under his chin.

  “I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-five years old.” he squeaked.

  “Yeah, and I’m the pope.”

  “Are you a cop?”

  “No, but you should be wishing I was, kid, because I can make a hornet look cuddly when I’m crossed.” JP lightened up on his grip. “What’s your name?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “You’re not too bright, are you?” JP pushed his arm harder on his neck as a reminder and squeezed the kid’s arm tighter. “I have a gun; I have you pinned against the car; and I’ve told you I’m not a cop. This may not be the time to open your ten-gallon mouth. Now this is how this works. I’m going to ask you some questions and my arm here is going to act like a lie detector. Each time you lie to me it’s going to push a little harder.” The kid was silent. “Now, what’s your name?”

  “Chris.”

  “Chris what?”

  “McKenzie.”

  “So, Chris McKenzie, how old are you?”

  “Eighteen, but my ID says twenty-five.”

  “What are you doing with that little boy? You can’t find anyone your own age to play with?”

  “That’s sick. It’s not like that.”

  “So, tell me what’s it like then.”

  Chris paused for a second. “He needed a ride so I picked him up.” JP pushed harder on his neck and Chris said, “Okay. We were running a scam.”

  “What kind of scam?”

  “Stealing money from rich guys.”

  “And just how do you do that?”

  “Dillon gets close enough to get their wallet and then he runs.”

  “How does he get ‘close enough?’”

  “Sometimes he pickpockets them in a crowd.”

  “And other times he’s lured into their cars?” JP added.

  “Are you a john?” Chris asked. JP pushed hard on his neck, more of a reaction than a conscious choice. Then he let up. Chris sighed. “Just askin’.”

  “I’ll do the askin’,” JP said. “Who’s Tuffy?”

  “That’s m…me,” Chris stuttered.

  JP pushed hard. “I know you’re not Tuffy. For one thing, you’re not old enough and you certainly aren’t smart enough. Now, who is he?”

  Chris gasped for breath. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

  JP let up. “Start talking.”

  “I’ve never met Tuffy. I used to work the streets, like Dillon, with a guy named Sammy. He was my queen. That’s what Tuffy called the person in charge. I don’t know his last name. When I got too old for the streets I had to stop, but then my grandpa died and I inherited his car so I got a queen position. You have to have a car to be a queen.”

  “Is Sammy still a queen?”

  “No. I don’t think he works for Tuffy anymore. I see him once in a while, but I’m pretty sure he’s not working with him.” Chris was struggling to keep his footing as he stood there pinned to the car.

  JP let up a little on his hold so Chris could get his balance. “How many queens are there?”

  “Just two of us, I think. There’s a guy named Jaleel who’s been at it longer than me, but we’re not allowed to talk to each other.”

  “How long have you been doing it?”

  “Six months.”

  “And when you’re caught and asked about Tuffy, you’re supposed to say it’s you, right?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t think I�
��d ever be asked, because no one is supposed to know about Tuffy.”

  “Did you know about Tuffy when you were working out there scamming the rich guys?”

  He nodded. “The other kids told stories about him, but no one had ever seen him, just stories that they had heard about the horrible things he would do to kids if they messed up. Everyone was more afraid of Tuffy than they were of the marks or the cops.”

  “How many kids are working with Tuffy?”

  “I have three and I think Jaleel has four. People say Tuffy has groups all over San Diego and in all the big cities across the country.”

  “But you don’t believe it?”

  Chris shook his head from side to side, then shrugged. “Could be, I guess.”

  “If you’ve never seen Tuffy, how do you deliver his money?”

  “It changes all the time. He sends a text of where and when to make a drop.”

  “Where do you go today?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Where’s your phone?”

  “In my pocket.” Chris pointed to the left side of his pants.

  JP patted it, making sure that’s all that was in there. “Give it to me,” JP said.

  Chris reached inside his pocket and slowly withdrew his phone. He handed it to JP who took a quick look at the text message folder. “There are no text messages.”

  “We have to delete them as soon as we get them.”

  JP dropped the phone in his pocket and reached out his hand. “Give me your keys.”

  “They’re in the car.” JP glanced in and saw them hanging from the ignition. He let loose of Chris. “Okay, get lost.”

  “What?”

  “Go.”

  “What about my car? And my phone?”

  JP acted as if he were reaching for his gun. “Go! Run!”

  Chris took off in the same direction Dillon had gone earlier. JP reached inside the car and withdrew the keys. Then he took Chris’s cell phone out of his pocket and re-checked the text messages. A new one had just been received. “Kettner and Ash, 10:15 p.m. trash.” He jotted down the phone number from the text and opened up the contacts, but it was blank. He dialed 9-1-1.