by Nic Tatano
Tish plopped into the chair behind her desk as she tried to exhale her tension, then picked up Socks and put the cat on her lap. “I spend three hours questioning my client and then after lunch he starts cross-examining her. But he’s polite to her. Calls her Cynthia and gets her to relax. Questions her for about fifteen minutes, never once yelling or acting like a jerk.”
“I guess I’m missing the point. You’re upset because he was respectful to your client and didn’t ask a lot of questions?”
“Any other lawyer would have badgered the hell out of her and worn her down for hours. But he manages to make his point in a very short time. Then, and get this, while he’s questioning her he leans on my desk.”
“Oh, how awful. I can see why you’re so upset.”
“So I object and tell the judge he needs to stop calling her by her first name and lean somewhere else. So he goes over to the jury box, leans on the rail, flashes those big green eyes at the jury and smiles at them. You should have seen the look on this gorgeous twenty-year-old size four sitting in the front row because this is the first time he’s gotten so close to the jury box. She actually licked her lips and looked like she wanted to devour him. Oh, and get this. I put the device back in the water pitcher before we started and he objects first thing and the judge makes me take it out.”
Shelley nodded as she sat across from Tish. “So, let me get this straight. You’re basically upset that your boyfriend did not beat up your client who is already seen as a victim by the entire country. What a lowlife. Meanwhile, in order to punish him for this heinous act you’re suspending visitation rights with your cat.”
Tish sulked and put out her lower lip as she scratched Socks under the chin. “It wasn’t fair. I was expecting him to go after her with both barrels and instead he comes off as sympathetic. The jury likes him more than me.”
“I see. And you really don’t like hot babe jurors lusting after him.”
“You shouldn’t be flirting with the jury.”
“Was he flirting with her?”
“No, he wasn’t looking directly at her, just the whole jury. He’s so damn cute with those gorgeous eyes and that boy-next-door persona I guess she couldn’t resist. And it’s not only her, but all the women on the jury. Even the older ones. It’s like watching a damn episode of The Bachelor.”
“So, recapping for those not scoring at home… You’re so ticked off at a guy who happens to be your boyfriend for being nice to your client and attractive to beautiful women that you are going to deprive your cat from seeing someone she likes.”
Tish looked down at Socks and lowered her voice. “He can get his own cat.”
And then she heard it.
Spence shaking the bag of treats.
Socks perked up and Tish released her. “Go ahead, kitty, but you’re not leaving this office. I’ll get you some treats.” Socks jumped from her lap, ran to the bookcase and was stopped by the tower of boxes. She turned back to Tish and meowed. “Sorry, kitty.”
Socks heard the bag shake again, turned, made an amazing leap to the top box, then jumped down and disappeared into the vent.
“Sonofabitch!”
Shelley couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, cats can jump real high. Who knew?”
*
Spencer had bolted from the courtroom without saying a word to Peter Brent as soon as they had adjourned for the weekend. He sneaked out the back door of the courthouse to avoid the media gauntlet and made it back to his office without being spotted.
He flipped on the TV and saw a video of Brent holding his usual daily news conference as he fed treats to Socks and played with her awhile. The cat took off after twenty minutes so he grabbed his coat to head off to the hospital to visit Ariel.
And walked right into Peter Brent entering his office. Not looking happy.
“We need to talk,” said Brent.
“We can do that before you testify. Right now I’m going to see Ariel and I need to get there before visiting hours are over.” He started out the door.
Brent put his hand on Spencer’s chest, stopping him. “No, we’re going to talk now.”
“Fine, but first take your damn hand off me.” He locked eyes with Brent, giving him a death stare. The man dropped his hand. “What’s your problem now?”
“The way you treated Cynthia Riggs. How the hell did you let her off the hook like that?”
“I didn’t let her off the hook. I got exactly what I wanted from her.”
“She’s a shy, sensitive woman. You should have beat the hell out of her.”
“Right, let’s take cheap shots at a single mother everyone sees as a victim.”
“She’s the victim? I’m the victim!”
“I can think of half a billion reasons why you’re not.”
“I want you to recall her.”
“There’s nothing left to ask. And that’s not your call.”
“I’m paying you—”
Spencer got in his face. “You either back off and let me handle this case my way or your wife is going to know about your affair.”
The color instantly drained from Brent’s face and his eyes grew wide.
Spencer flashed him a sinister grin. “Yeah, how about that, I actually vet my clients. So unless you want your wife to end up with two hundred and fifty million dollars and your favorability ratings to sink even lower, you will get off my case, stop telling me how to be a lawyer, shut the hell up and you will do what you’re told in that courtroom. Am I clear?”
Brent slowly nodded. “Very.”
“And by the way, for what it’s worth, you’re about the sleaziest damn client I’ve ever had—and that’s saying something. Now get the hell out of my office, be at the courthouse at eight and in the meantime don’t even think about calling me tonight.”
*
Ariel muted the TV as she saw Spencer walk into her room. “I already heard from him right after things recessed, so I don’t need the recap.”
“From who?”
“Your least favorite client. He’s not happy.”
“He’s really not happy now.”
“Why, what happened?”
“He was ticked off that I didn’t go hard after Cynthia Riggs.”
“Right, he talked my ear off about that.”
“But he won’t be any more trouble now. I’m basically blackmailing him to get him to shut up.”
She leaned up on one elbow. “Okay, this oughta be good.”
“I told him if he didn’t let me handle the case without his interference that I would tell his wife about his affair.”
Ariel’s eyes widened. “No kidding, he’s cheating on Martha?”
“No, I just took a shot that he was. You’d told me his wife was a shrew and Kayla brought me a whole bunch of photos from that corporate trip with him surrounded by bikinis, so I put two and two together. Shoulda seen his face when I told him. He went white as a ghost.”
“Damn, remind me never to play poker with you.”
“Hey, a guy who’s nearly a billionaire with a wife he can’t stand on vacation with a bunch of bimbos hanging all over him. It wasn’t exactly a stretch.” Spence shook his head. “Still, the guy acts like he’s bulletproof. Something’s not right. And I need to figure out what it is.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tish loaded her notes into her briefcase, ready for the inquisition of Peter Brent. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel. She had everything she needed.
Along with an assist from her cat.
She threw on a bulky green sweater and gathered up her files as Shelley tapped on her door. “Tish, Cynthia’s here.”
“Great. Tell her I’ll be ready in five minutes.”
Shelley’s face tightened. “Seriously, you’re wearing that?”
“What?”
“That sweater. You have the most impeccable wardrobe of any lawyer, and that looks like something worn by a cat lady.”
Tish flashed a smile. “Exactly.”
Shelley folded her arms. “Enlighten me on the method to your madness.”
“I happened to read a profile on Peter Brent in which he talked about the fact that he always wanted a pet but was severely allergic to cats and dogs. Cats, in particular, made him itch like crazy, and when I’m home taking a nap I wrap myself in this thing and Socks curls up on top of me. This sweater is so loaded with cat dander it will make the guy squirm on the witness stand. Which I fully intend to lean on.” She picked up Socks and hugged her. “Gimme a fresh dose, kitty.”
Shelley chuckled a bit. “Incredible. Using your cat to win a case. I have to admit, this is pretty good. I’m coming down to the courthouse to see this.”
“And I’ve got a little payback for Spence. He’s not the only one who can flirt.”
“Sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way, but flirting is not one of your skill sets. I’m not sure the jury will pick up on it.”
“Oh, honey, it’s not for the jury.”
*
Tish stood up after Judge Winston started the proceedings. “We call Peter Brent.”
Brent got up, looking confident with head held high, and headed toward the witness stand. He smiled at the jury, the same charming grin he always exhibited during his TV presentations. The bailiff administered the oath and he took a seat.
Tish approached him carrying a few sheets of paper. All of which had been rubbed against her cat dander loaded sweater. She went through the usual preliminary questions, getting Brent to go over his history, that of his company and the development of the product, all the while standing close to him. After a few minutes he started to scratch his neck. She had him recap the story of how he’d laughed at the idea and then loved the prototype. After an hour of basic questions, she handed him a sheet of paper. “Mister Brent, is this a personnel review form that you give to all your employees?”
He took the paper and looked at it. “Yes.”
“And who is this a review for?”
“Your client, Cynthia Riggs.”
“You rank your employees from one to ten on various categories, with ten being the highest grade, correct?”
“That is correct.”
“Things like attitude, punctuality, quality of work, ability to get along with co-workers.”
“Right.”
“And what was Ms. Riggs’ score on her very first review that you’re holding now?”
He looked at the paper. “All tens.” He scratched his hand.
Tish handed him another sheet. “One year later, what were her scores?”
“All tens.”
She went through this eight more times. “Okay, so far she’s gotten nothing but perfect scores from you. Here’s her last review. I’ll save you the trouble of telling everyone she got all tens again. But I’d like you to read what you wrote on the bottom of the sheet.”
He took the paper and suddenly his face started to twitch a bit. He scratched it as he read, his voice lowered to a whisper. “Cynthia continues to be a spectacular employee. She turns out—”
“I’m sorry Mr. Brent, we can’t hear you. Speak up. And please start over.”
He raised his voice to a normal level. “Cynthia continues to be a spectacular employee. She turns out incredible work and her staff has nothing but good things to say about her. The best department manager in the company.”
Then he fidgeted in his seat, reached inside his jacket and scratched his chest. His eyes began to get watery.
“And then, after all those perfect reviews, calling her spectacular and the best manager you had, you demoted her.”
“She suddenly became a problem employee.”
“Why was that, Mr. Brent?”
“She kept bugging me because I wouldn’t pay for her invention or give her a share of the profits.”
“And you didn’t just demote her, you put her on a shift that made it impossible for her to care for her child. You did know she was a single parent, correct?”
“Yes.”
She handed him a bunch of greeting cards. “And you knew the age of her daughter, since these are birthday cards signed by you that you gave to her daughter. With personal notations in them. You gave these to her daughter when you attended her birthday parties, correct?”
He looked at the cards and nodded. “Yes.”
“And you therefore knew that this change in her schedule to the overnight shift would really play havoc with her parenting”
“It was the only place to put her without firing her.”
Tish nodded. “Ah, that’s right, you didn’t fire her. You made her miserable and impossible to be a good parent so she’d quit.”
“Her resignation was her own decision.” He shifted in his seat again and scratched his neck. His face began to twitch even more. “She could have continued working for us.”
“Now, Mr. Gekko…”
“My name is Brent.”
“Sorry. I was watching the movie Wall Street last night and you remind me of the Michael Douglas character.”
“Objection!” Spence jumped up. “Your honor, she’s comparing Mr. Brent to the villain in a famous movie.”
“Sorry, your honor,” said Tish. “Wall Street was on TV last night and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities.”
Spence threw up his hands. “She just did it again.”
The judge turned to Tish. “Ms. McKenna, watch yourself. However, since you have been exemplary in my court in the past, I will cut you some slack on this since Wall Street was on channel eleven last night and I watched it.”
Tish nodded. “I apologize, your honor.” She turned back to Brent who again had his hand inside his jacket scratching his chest. “You okay, Mr. Brent? You look uncomfortable.”
“New shirt. A little itchy.”
“Sure, let’s go with that. Now, Mr.…Brent. How much money has your company made from Ms. Riggs’ invention?”
“I don’t—”
“Let me rephrase…how much has your own net worth increased since the invention hit the market.”
“I don’t have an exact number.”
She handed him a bunch of clippings from various publications. “These newspaper and magazine articles estimate the increase in your bank account between three and four hundred million. Are we in the ballpark?”
At this point it was all she could do not to laugh since Brent was now squirming in his seat looking like he was covered in itching powder. “Sounds about right.”
She pointed at his pants. “Guess that’s a new pair of slacks too, huh?” The crowd chuckled a bit.
“Your honor, please,” said Spence.
“Get back to your questioning, Ms. McKenna.”
“Certainly, Judge Winston. Mr. Brent, how much money have you paid Cynthia Riggs for her invention?”
“I didn’t owe her a dime. It was work product.”
“In other words, you paid her zero. Not a penny. And you got a few hundred million dollars. As you would say, sounds about right.” She turned to walk toward Spence, then pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and removed her glasses, at the same time using her thumb to knock her hair clip from her head. The clip fell off and hit the floor, sending her hair down to her shoulders. She crouched down in front of Spence to get it, tossing her hair a bit as she locked eyes with him.
He mouthed one word.
Whoa.
She shot him a slight smile from the floor that no one else could see, then got up, put her hair clip in her pocket and started to clean her glasses. “Your witness,” she said to him, in the sultriest voice she could muster.
He sat there, staring at her, jaw hanging slightly open.
She headed back to her own table and took a seat.
Spence was still sitting there.
“Mr. Capshaw, you’re up,” said the judge.
He didn’t move, still staring at Tish.
“Earth to Mr. Capshaw!”
He jolted back to reality. “Sorry, your honor, I was organizin
g my thoughts and didn’t think Ms. McKenna would finish so quickly.”
“Well, organize them on your own time. Tick tock, Mr. Capshaw. Let’s rock.”
An hour later she could see the frustration on his face. To the untrained eye he had done fine questioning Peter Brent, but she knew better having previously seen him in action. He had gotten flustered, off his game. That one little look with her eyes which were his Kryptonite had thrown him for a loop. At times he seemed to be lost searching for the right question.
And through it all she kept her glasses off. Every time Spence happened to look at her he turned into a lovesick puppy.
That should even out his flirting with the jury.
Brent was now squirming in his chair like crazy, looking uncomfortable in his own skin.
Thank you, Socks. You’re now an associate in my law firm.
And as she thought of the cat, she got another idea just as Spence wrapped up his questioning of Peter Brent.
Tish stood up. “Re-direct, your honor.”
“Proceed.”
She walked toward Peter Brent. “So, Mr. Brent, bottom line, anything that your employees bring into your office belongs to you, does that about sum things up?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Even if they are the personal property of the employee.”
“The prototype was not her personal property.”
“That’s up to the jury to decide, Sir. Let me put it to you another way. Let’s say you go home to your mansion one night—”
“Objection. We’ve already established that Mr. Brent is wealthy.”
The judge nodded. “Sustained. Go ahead, Ms. McKenna.”
“Let’s say you go home one night and you’re outside sitting on your porch when this stray cat walks up to you. It’s a nice cat, rubs against your leg, purrs. Since you like animals you wonder if it’s hungry. But you don’t have your own cat and therefore no cat food, so you give it a can of tuna. The cat eats the food and goes on its merry way. The cat starts showing up every night so next time you’re in the store you pick up a bag of cat treats, maybe even a catnip mouse so you can play with the cat.”
Spence stood up. “Your honor, is there a question remotely in our future?”
The judge turned to Tish. “Move it along, Ms. McKenna. Though I have no clue where you’re going with this.”