Phoenix

by Roy A. Teel, Jr.

  Chris looked at him and asked, “What gives you the right to smoke here?”

  Jim pointed to a free standing ashtray between the two men’s seats and said, “Howard is a cigar man. He allows smoking in his home. Relax, kid. I have a feeling things are going to get interesting.”

  The well-dressed woman led John down several twisting corridors until they came to a pair of closed sliding wood doors. She looked at him and said, “Mr. Cohen is waiting for you in his library.”

  She walked away, and John paused for a few seconds then pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket and said to himself, “Why do I have a bad feeling.” He pulled on the handle to one of the doors, which slid open easily, and he looked around the darkened room. There was a lawyer’s lamp on on the desk, and the smell of cigar smoke hung heavy in the air. John walked into the office and called out to Howard.

  “Agent Swenson, thank you for coming.” His voice was quiet as he spoke, and John looked around but didn’t see where Howard was. “Please, Agent Swenson, have a seat in one of my client chairs. They are quite comfortable.”

  John walked up to Howard’s desk and saw three books stacked on top of each other with a manila envelope between the pages of the top book, which was the California Penal Code. He looked around the darkened room, a room which was too dark for the early hour of the day, but he took a seat and asked, “Why did you call me, Howard?”

  There was a light cough and then a little laughter, and Howard said, “To be honest, John … may I call you John?” John could see the cherry tip of what he assumed was the source of the cigar smoke in a dark corner of the room. John nodded, and Howard continued, “Well, John, I called you because we have crossed paths so many times through the years and almost always with me or one of my associates representing the other side. I feel I can trust you.”

  John sat back in the tall leather chair and asked, “And just what is it that you are trusting me with, Howard?” There was some rustling in the corner where Howard was located, and John heard the sound of Howard putting out his cigar in a glass ashtray.

  “Secrets, John. Deep, dark, terrifying secrets.” John sat silent, looking at Howard’s desk and then back over to the dark corner. Howard coughed a little again and said, “I have been an attorney in Los Angeles for nearly five decades. I have done many, many things that I’m not proud of … most recently, the deaths of two of my fellow attorneys.”

  John put his hands behind his head. His huge arms strained against the fabric of his coat, his sidearm exposed in a double shoulder holster that he had under his suitcoat.

  “So, you do have a confession that is going to help me nab this murderer?”

  “I’m quite certain that everything that you need to catch the killer is in the pages in the envelope under the California Penal Code book on my desk as well as two other favorite legal books of mine. I’m afraid that I will be unable to assist you in your investigation, but what is contained in those pages will no doubt send the entire legal system in Los Angeles and the state all the way to the fuckin’ federal level on direct offensive.”

  John looked around the room and then back to the desk and asked, “Howard, you’re speaking in riddles here, and I’m concerned about your well-being. Would you please step into the light, so I can see that you are okay?”

  There was some shuffling of feet, and then Howard appeared out of the darkness. He was dressed in a black suit with a white dress shirt and a yellow tie. He had his hands folded in front of him, and John asked, “Howard, show me your hands, please.”

  Howard shook his head and said, “There is nothing in my hands that I plan to use to do you any harm, John. I want to thank you for helping me find Maria Martinez when she disappeared after her father’s death.”

  John nodded slowly and said, “The Barstow case. Did Maria ever tell you what she remembered?”

  “Yes, John. Oh God, yes. Usually I would invoke attorney client privilege, but that’s not necessary now as you will see in the documents I left for you. Maria spent nearly two years in therapy and through regressive hypnosis she was able to recall what happened after her father’s death and what Simon Barstow and the animals who worked for him did to her the night after her father died.” John started to stand up and Howard said, “I must ask you to remain seated, please, John.”

  John stopped moving and asked, “What are you going to do, Howard?”

  “Something I should have done a long time ago. I am coming clean, John. I am entrusting you to deal with the scum of this city and the corruption of law and the courts. I’m not proud, John, I’m not proud of many of the things that I and my law firm have done. They say that we all have a day of reckoning, and today is that day for me. I asked you here because not only do I trust you, but after the Barstow affair and the sudden appearance of the Iron Eagle, I suspected that you and the Iron Eagle might be one and the same.”

  John sat still in his chair and said, “A coincidence, Howard. The Eagle and I crossed paths in that case strictly by coincidence.”

  Howard laughed and said, “No, John. I don’t think so. Don’t worry. I have never told a soul about my theory. It’s safe with me and will die with me.” Howard unclasped his hands and snapped his wrist, and the light from the desk lamp caught the glint off of a steel blade in his hand. Howard said, “Please deal with this, John. You’re the only one who can stop the killing and bring those who have done wrong to justice.” With those words, Howard raised the steel blade to his throat.

  John leaped out of the chair, but Howard was too far from him. John felt the arterial spray as Howard drug the blade across his throat. He reached Howard and put his hands around his neck and called out in a loud and powerful voice for help, “Call 911. Someone call 911. Jim, Chris, Sam – get the hell in here.”

  Jim was blowing smoke in the air when he heard John’s voice. The well-dressed woman went running in the direction of John’s voice, and Jim and the others were hot on her heels. When they arrived at the library, Jim could see John working on someone, and Sam and Chris shot into action. Jim walked over to the office phone and dialed 911 then left the phone off the hook as he heard the sound of sirens coming down the busy street below.

  The ER at Northridge was jammed. Sara and Karen were running around like crazy trying to keep up with the crush of patients. There wasn’t a spare pair of hands when an ambulance pulled up at the entrance. The EMT pushing the gurney was calling a code blue, and Sara was running down the hall in his direction when she saw John covered in blood with a serious look on his face. Karen saw John from down the hall and started screaming and running for the gurney. Sara moved Howard into an overflow room, and John grabbed Karen as she ran in a panic and said, “It’s not Chris, Karen. It’s not Chris.”

  Karen rushed into the room, and Sara was trying to stop the bleeding from Howard’s throat. Two other nurses and a doctor were performing CPR as electrodes were being attached to Howard, who was showing no pulse and no respiration. Sara was calling for a surgical suit and a neck surgeon, but the blood coming from Howard’s neck was but a trickle, and she could see his pupils were fixed and dilated. She called out to Karen and said, “The victim’s throat is slashed and crushed. We need to perform a tracheotomy.” Karen pulled over a crash cart, and Sara slathered Howard’s neck with iodine and then cut into his throat to try and set a line to get him some air. She was able to set an air line, and she hooked up the ventilator while Karen worked on closing the gaping wound in his neck.

  Both women were working on Howard when they heard one of the other doctors call, “Clear!” and hit Howard with the defibrillator paddles. His body jumped on the gurney, but the monitors showed no heartbeat. John looked over at the large clock on the wall. It was ten fifty-five a.m. He watched as they worked on Howard until eleven ten. Sara had called for a rib spreader and was going to open Howard’s chest for heart massage as others were pushing units of blood into him
when John, who was leaning against the wall in the back of the room, said, “Call T.O.D., Sara.”

  Seething with anger, she looked over at him and said, “I’m the goddamn doctor, John, not you. You do your job, and let me do mine.” Karen was looking at Sara who was ferocious in her actions. Sara had Howard’s shirt open, and she took a scalpel and cut a long thin slit under his rib cage and made a few more incisions until she could reach her hands under Howard’s ribs and grabbed his heart and started to massage it.

  John stood silent until eleven thirty and was about to speak when Karen looked at Sara and said, “Call T.O.D., Sara. He’s not coming back.”

  She looked at the clock on the wall across from John and said in a loud voice, “T.O.D. eleven thirty-six a.m.” She moved away from Howard’s lifeless body and pulled off her bloody gloves and threw them in a hazardous material bin. She looked over at John and said, “This is your area now. Call Jade and have her put him on the slab.” Karen put her arm on Sara, who shrugged it off as she stormed out of the room.

  She looked at John and said, “I’m sorry. She gets pretty passionate.”

  John nodded and said, “Well, she has good reason to be passionate about this patient.”

  Karen looked confused and asked, “She knew the victim?”

  John nodded and said, “Yes, she does, and so do I. Tell Sara I will call her later. This has gone from an attempted suicide to a suicide, and I am the one who found Mr. Cohen. I have to get to the crime scene. Jade will take care of Mr. Cohen.” Karen nodded as John pulled a sheet over Howard’s body then pulled his cell phone from his hip. She heard him call Jade and spout out police lingo that she didn’t understand. He hung up the line and made another call, and in a matter of two minutes, there were three deputies standing guard outside the ER room door. John walked out of the room with Karen right behind him.

  “What the hell is going on, John? It’s a suicide not a homicide?”

  He never looked at her as he walked out the automatic doors of the ER and said, “We don’t know what we are dealing with right now, Karen. And until we do, this case, like many, many others I deal with, is considered a homicide until I know more. Jessica is on her way to retrieve the body. The Sheriff will not allow you or anyone else into the room until the coroner has taken possession of the body. Tell Sara I’m sorry, and I’ll call her later.” With those words, John disappeared out of sight.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Your Honor, Howard Cohen

  has committed suicide.”

  The scene at Howard’s office was one of sheer panic. Word of his suicide attempt had the entire firm on edge. John walked back into the office where he had been less than an hour earlier, and it was now a full-blown crime scene. Jim, Sam, and Chris had their CSI teams, and Jade was working with several of her team members. As John approached the building, he was stopped by Howard’s longtime partner.

  “Agent Swenson. My name is Ken Miller, and I am one of Howard’s founding partners. I understand that you went to the hospital with him. How is he?” John motioned to Ken to follow him, and the two men made their way up to Howard’s condo.

  John pulled him aside and said, “This is not public knowledge, and it is off the record. Are we clear?” Ken nodded. John looked at his terrified face and said, “Mr. Cohen didn’t make it. He’s dead.” The man stood in stunned silence staring at and through John. There was a moment of quiet tension when John said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Miller, but as of this moment I don’t know what we are dealing with here.”

  Ken looked at John and said, “I thought it was a suicide.”

  John shook his head and said, “I can’t confirm or deny that at this time, sir. Right now, we are treating this as an active crime scene. We are going to need all of your staff to remain here for interviews.” Ken nodded slowly as he walked out of the foyer into the elevator.

  Jim was standing with Sam as Chris was working with his team. The straight razor was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, and the now brightly lit room was covered in arterial spray. John was still covered in Howard’s blood, and Chris and Jim stared at him. Chris was looking at the razor and asked, “He was still moving, right John? You didn’t disrupt a crime scene or move a dead body?”

  John looked at him and said, “Mr. Cohen was still moving. I found him alive, and he slit his throat right in front of me after a long conversation.” John pointed to Jim and Sam and said, “Jim, there’s something over on the desk we need to bag.” Jim looked around the room. There were several books stacked neatly with a manila envelope in between the pages.

  Jim said, “Well, if we’re playing the game ‘Clue,’ I would say that fuckin’ Colonel Mustard did it in the library with a straight razor.” John didn’t smile neither did Jade or Sam.

  John put on a pair of gloves and said, “Cohen is dead. I just left the hospital. Now we need to figure out why a high powered LA attorney just offed himself.”

  Jim pointed to the manila envelope and said, “Well, the first clue, Mr. Wizard, is in that envelope that is pressed between the pages of the California Penal Code.”

  John looked down at the book and said, “Interesting. The section of the penal code deals with corruption within the ranks of those in the service of the court.”

  Jim nodded and said, “You got it, my boy. The fucker is pointing us to corruption in law and in our court system.” He laughed, pulling out a cigarette and putting it in his mouth. “I just can’t believe it. Corruption in the practice of law and the judicial system? Say it isn’t so.”

  John took the small stack of books with the envelope and said, “Whatever the hell we do, we need to put this under lock and key in my office immediately.” Jim nodded as did Sam.

  “Are you going to read the note here?” Sam asked. John shook his head, and she asked why not.

  He looked at her and said, “Because Howard Cohen was one of the most powerful lawyers in Los Angeles. This is his suicide note, and based on what has happened and what he told me before he killed himself, he placed it there, and I know it doesn’t paint a flattering picture of fellow lawyers, judges, and whoever the hell else. There are too many people who would want to make this document disappear.”

  “Other than the three of us,” Sam asked, “does anyone else know about this document or the books?”

  Jim pointed to Chris and said, “Just your young protégé over there, who you better wrangle really fast.”

  John called Chris over, and they put the books and envelope into evidence boxes, and John said, “We need to get these out of here and back to our office and under lock and key NOW!” Chris nodded, and the two men left the building.

  Saul Winston was listening with his cell phone in his hand. Terry was off on the other side of the bedroom, but he could see that she was straining to hear the conversation. Terry asked, “It’s a woman, isn’t it Saul? It’s a woman you’re talking to?” Saul put his fingers to his lips and said nothing. The female caller was talking in a loud voice, which made Saul pull the phone away from his ear.

  “Look, Saul. I’ve done you a favor. I have your bitch ex-wife at my place now. You better figure out what you want me to do with her because I have a ton of things to deal with, and I did this as a favor to you.”

  Saul laughed and said, “A favor? I’m paying you a hundred thousand dollars for this little project, so you aren’t doing me any favors. You’re doing yourself a favor. Do we have anything on Janet that we could charge her with?”

  “NO … what the hell are you thinking? The bitch knows it’s me who grabbed her, and if she hasn’t figured it out yet, she will quite quickly connect the dots and figure out that you ordered her abduction. So again, I ask you what do you want me to do with her?”

  Saul looked at Terry, who had her back to him and was looking out the window of his bedroom. “Just hold on to her for a day or two. I have to make a few calls.” />
  He hung up the line, and Terry turned around with her hands on her hips and said, “What the hell was that all about?”

  Saul put the phone down on his nightstand and said, “None of your damn business.”

  She walked back over near the end of his bed and said, “Well, Mr. Winston, it is my business. I provide you with the girls you like to beat and fuck. I provide you with all of that entertainment that you lost when Janet told you to shove it and split. The voice on the other end of the phone. I know I have heard that voice before.”

  Saul was wearing a blue silk robe over his nude body, and he slowly walked around to the end of the bed and asked, “Really? You think you have heard the voice before?” Terry nodded. “Well then, who was it, Terry? Who was I talking to and what was I talking about?” Terry began to back away from him as he grew more and more agitated.

  She let out a nervous laugh and said, “I … I don’t know, Saul. It was just a familiar voice, that’s all. I mean, I don’t know who she was or anything. I have heard her voice before, that’s it.”

  Saul got in close to Terry’s face and asked, “What are your plans today?”

  Terry was leaning away from him and said, “Um … I have a couple of clients this afternoon, but I should be finished with them by six. Why?”

  Saul stepped back and said, “I want you here for the day. I will pay your full rate. Cancel the other guys and call some more girls. I want to party again tonight.”

  Terry stepped back and said, “Um … yeah, sure. No problem. Just let me make a few calls. I can’t leave my johns high and dry without calling them. I mean, they pay good money for me.”

  Saul nodded and said, “Make your calls while we get some breakfast.” He pointed to the bedroom door and followed as Terry walked ahead of him.

  Judge Alice Walker was on the bench, reading a small computer screen in front of her as the State and the defense were arguing a felony arrest case for murder. The prosecution was demanding that the suspect be held without bond while the defense was arguing for release pending trial. The two women were going back and forth arguing when Walker’s clerk motioned to her bailiff who walked over to the clerk’s desk where she handed him a piece of paper and pointed to Alice. The bailiff brought the paper to her while court was still in session. She opened the small slip, read its contents, then folded it slowly and slammed down her gavel.