Harper Ross Legal Thrillers vol. 1-3

by Rachel Sinclair

  “I’m not lying,” he protested.

  “You are. Now tell me the truth. Why was your father-in-law left alone that weekend, when he was having so many health problems? Serious health problems, it sounds like. Tell me the truth. I can’t defend you unless you do.”

  He finally sighed. “I was supposed to look after him.” He looked down at the floor. “I was supposed to.”

  “You were. And where were you?”

  He looked out the window, his face bright red. “I was at the Marriott downtown. I was…”

  “Staying there with your mistress.” I nodded my head. “Go on. I’ve already caught you in two different lies. One more strike and you’re out.”

  “What are the two lies?”

  “You said that you went to Judge Sanders’ home because your wife had been trying to get ahold of him. If she thought that you were staying there with him and looking after him, why didn’t she just call you when she couldn’t get ahold of your father-in-law? In fact, why was she so desperate to get in touch with him when she thought that you were there with him?” I raised my eyebrow, trying to get a read on this guy.

  He shook his head and sighed. “She did call me. She thought that I was staying there with her father. I obviously wasn’t.”

  I nodded my head. “How many kids do you have?”

  “Why is that relevant?”

  “I just want to know. How many kids do you leave your wife to care for while you’re away with your mistress when you’re supposed to be looking after your father-in-law? And what ages are they?” I couldn’t disguise my disgust. This guy was a tool in college. No, not a tool, a rapist. He raped me. I doubted that I was the only one. Now he was cavorting with a mistress, telling his wife that he was going to be caring for her sick father, while no doubt leaving her at home with a brood of kids to look after.

  Michael Reynolds was making me nauseated.

  “Five kids. The oldest is…”

  “13. I know. I remember you calling me and telling me that you were expecting a child. That was the first time you asked for my forgiveness. I remember that well. How old is the youngest child?”

  He sighed. “He just turned five.”

  “And the other three?”

  “Ten, nine and seven.”

  I nodded my head. “So, your wife is home with five kids, four of whom are under the age of 10. And you’re off with your mistress instead of caring for your father-in-law.” I wrote this down.

  “Listen, I didn’t ever pretend to be a choir boy. I’ve made mistakes. That doesn’t make me a murderer.”

  “I guess it doesn’t. But go on with your story. One more lie, though, and you’re out the door.” I should have shoved him out the door anyhow, but I somehow couldn’t do it. I guess I was getting a perverse sense of pleasure watching him squirm as I pressed him on facts that he had no desire to disclose.

  He leaned back in his chair. “You’re judging me.”

  “Damned right. Now, as I see it, you need me much more than I need you. You’re standing on my last nerve. You need to start telling the truth, because if you don’t, I can’t defend you.” Of course I was judging him. He was an amoral guy with a violent streak a mile long. That was the most important thing that I learned in my years of counseling that I had to go through after this asshole raped me – it was an act of violence. It had zero to do with sex. It was all about power, control and violence.

  He sighed. “Okay, okay. I was with my mistress at the time that this happened.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Why is that important?”

  I rolled my eyes and threw down my pen. I crossed my arms as I stared at him. He stared right back for a few seconds, but, after about a half a minute of my staring him down, he looked away. I smiled as I realized that I was intimidating him. That was a good sign. “Mr. Reynolds, I need the name of your mistress. That’s your alibi, obviously.” Duh.

  “I, I, can’t give you her name. She, she’s married to a CEO of one of the largest companies in Kansas City. If he found out what we’ve been doing, he’s gonna divorce her and leave her penniless. That’s in their prenuptial agreement – if there’s any infidelity, she gets nothing.”

  “Guess she should have thought of that before she started sleeping with you.”

  Michael took a deep breath. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea to come to you with this. It seems that you’ve prejudged this whole thing.”

  “There’s the door,” I said, pointing to the door of my office. I wasn’t going to take his crap. He came in the door lying. That wasn’t a good sign, to say the least, and it didn’t bode well for the case going forward.

  He sat in his chair, not budging. He fidgeted for a few minutes and looked towards the door several times. However, he made no move towards it. He showed that he had no intention of leaving.

  He finally leaned forward. “Harper, again, I’m sorry for what happened all those years ago. I need your help here, though. I’m being charged with something that I clearly didn’t do.”

  “Why me? There are attorneys everywhere in this city. Why do you want my help so desperately?”

  “Because you’re the best there is. I was stunned about what you were able to do with that John Robinson guy.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about John Robinson. That was not my most shining moment. In fact, it was my low point.”

  “Regardless, even though he went on to kill somebody else, the fact that you got him off stunned me. It stunned the city. The nation, really. I saw segments on that case on Fox News.”

  “It wasn’t magical what I did. It was incompetence on the part of the prosecutor’s office. Nothing more, nothing less. Any idiot could have gotten that guy off. I’m not that good and I’m not that special. So, please, since we’ve already gotten off on a bad foot, I suggest that you look elsewhere for legal counsel. I do charge for this consultation, though, so you can pay that fee to my assistant, Pearl, on your way out the door.”

  Michael still didn’t leave. “Okay, okay, I’ll give you all the information you need.” He rolled his eyes. “This isn’t going to go over well with Kayla at all. Her husband is going to divorce her and leave her with nothing when this gets out.”

  “Not my problem. Now, your mistress’ name is Kayla. What is her last name?”

  “Stone. Kayla Stone. She’s married to Gerald Stone. He’s the CEO of Stone Enterprises.” Stone Enterprises was a chemical company that was based in Parkville, which was a suburb of Kansas City just north of the city.

  I wrote down her name. “She’s going to be your alibi, so I need to speak with her as soon as possible.”

  Michael smiled. “Does this mean that you’re going to go ahead and take the case?”

  “I didn’t say that. I guess I should clarify – I will need to speak with her if I decide to take your case. I haven’t yet decided that.”

  “But you’re willing to have an open mind.”

  I stood up. “Listen, Mr. Reynolds, I might take your case. I like a challenge. But I haven’t forgiven you for what you did. I never will forgive you for that. You’re the reason why I’ve spent thousands and thousands of dollars on therapy. I still have nightmares of that night. I was a drunk for years because of what you did. I even went through a period of my life when I had to be hospitalized for bulimia. All because of you and what you did. So, no, your apology isn’t accepted. You’re a disgusting piece of work, and it seems that you haven’t changed much, since you’re sleeping with a mistress while your wife is dealing with a sick father and five kids at home. You’re incredibly selfish, you’re violent, and the sight of you makes me sick.”

  I sat back down and stared at him. I fully expected him to tell me off and leave the office, but, instead, he just stared at me. “You might think that because you said those things to me that I’m going to not want to hire you. Sorry, but I now know that you’re the right one to be on this case. I like that you don’t take bullshit, including
mine. I like that you tell it like it is. That’s actually what I was hoping for when I decided to come and see you.”

  “Okay, then. My retainer is $50,000, payable in cash. I charge $500 per hour. I expect that this retainer will be exhausted by the time we get to trial, so you’re probably going to have to replenish it before we go to trial. That retainer will get about 100 hours of my time, and it goes quickly.”

  He got out a checkbook. “Not a problem.”

  Of course it’s not a problem. He’s married to a woman whose father was a District Court Judge. He’s probably wealthy in his own right. Douchebags have no problem making money, because they have no compunction in screwing people over to get to the top. “I didn’t think that it would be a problem. Please write me a check. I’ll put the money into my trust account, and I’ll give you an accounting of my time as I go along. Now that we got this straight, why don’t you tell me the rest of the story.”

  He sighed. “Well, okay. It’s all out in the open, so I’ll just tell you that my wife called me when I was at the Marriott with Kayla. She was worried about dad, because she couldn’t get ahold of him. I don’t even know why she was so anxious to speak with him, but she apparently was. I lied and told her that I was out getting some fried chicken for dad and me to eat for dinner, but, of course, I was really at the hotel with Kayla. I rushed home and found him lying in the living room. He was shot twice, once in the chest and once in the head.”

  I kept writing as he spoke. “Okay, so, you lied to your wife about where you were. What time was it when you got to the house to find your father lying on the floor?”

  “Midnight.”

  “Midnight. What chicken place is open at midnight?”

  “Well, she called me at 11 PM,” he said.

  “What chicken place is open at 11?” Here was another hole in his story. Either his wife was the dumbest broad alive, or she didn’t believe his chicken story. Maybe the wife wasn’t so innocent, either.

  “I don’t know, KFC. Actually, grocery stores sell fried chicken, and they’re open late. I didn’t tell her where I was getting the chicken, I only told her that I was out getting chicken.”

  “And your wife never questioned why you were getting dinner so late for you and your father-in-law? I mean, your father-in-law was 76 years old. I doubt that he was used to eating at 11 PM.”

  “What does it matter if my wife believed my story or not?”

  “It matters because I keep catching you in lies, and I strongly suspect that I’m catching you in another one. Maybe it’s insignificant, but you have to give me each and every detail correctly. That’s the only way that I’m going to be able to piece all of this together.”

  He sighed. “I did tell my wife that I was getting chicken,” he said weakly. “I doubt that she believed me, though. It was a stupid story, anyhow, but it’s the best I came up with on the fly.”

  I shook my head. “Your wife probably isn’t stupid. Her father was a judge and intelligence is generally inherited. I doubt that she’s a dummy. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that she knew exactly where you were when she called you about her father.” That was a safe assumption, but why was that important?

  “You’re right. I mean, she hasn’t ever said anything to me about Kayla. It’s not like she spies on my emails and texts and that, but I would imagine she at least suspects. But what does that matter?”

  I tapped my pen on my cheek. “I don’t know. I’m going to write it down, though, and maybe something will come to me. So, you were with Kayla, your wife was at home, your wife no doubt knew that you were Kayla and hasn’t yet confronted you on the fact that you have a mistress. Go on, what happened when you got home and saw your father-in-law lying on the floor with gunshot wounds in his head and chest?”

  He sighed and hung his head. “I called the police, of course.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Okay, I’m just going to assume that you’re perfectly innocent of killing your father-in-law. We’ll get into why the police are so quick to accuse you later, namely, we’re going to get into the issue of motive. But, for now, I’m going to assume that you didn’t have a thing to do with Judge Sanders dying.” I took a deep breath. “Under that assumption, you were framed, big time.”

  “Of course I was.” He seemed to get excited. “You believe me, then.”

  “I don’t. It’s my job to be skeptical. I told you that I’m only going to assume that you’re telling me the truth. Now, I’m going to assume that you’re not lying to me. It seems to me that somebody is framing you.” I looked at the police report, which was in my file for this guy. “And I see that the gun hasn’t yet been recovered. But it will be. I can almost guarantee you this. It’ll be recovered.”

  He leaned back, apparently not hearing my musing about the missing gun. “Who would frame me?”

  “You got any enemies? Besides me, I mean?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Where do I begin?”

  “Where indeed? Let me ask you this. What you did to me in college – was I the only one?”

  His face got red. “No.”

  “I thought not. How many other girls did you did that to?”

  I looked at the ceiling. “Five.”

  My blood started to boil. This guy needed to be in prison. He did. I had the chance to put him there, even if he didn’t have a damned thing to do with his father-in-law’s death. Society would thank me for making sure this jackass went to prison for something.

  I wrestled with this while I looked at him. “Five. Okay, I’ll go ahead and put these five women on your enemies list. I need their names.”

  “I can’t give you those.”

  “You will give me those.”

  “No, I literally can’t. They were randos from various parties. I didn’t know their names then, so I certainly don’t know them now.”

  I counted to ten and stared at the ceiling. Was I going to be able to go through with this? All I needed was evidence that this guy might have killed Judge Sanders, and then I could make sure he fried. If I passed him onto a different attorney, that attorney might make sure that he went free, even if he were guilty. I couldn’t chance that. I had to stay the course. As hard as it was, I was going to have to stay the course.

  “Randos. The women you raped were randos. You can’t even refer to them as human beings – you’re dismissing them as randos. As if that makes it alright – you never got their names, so you don’t have to feel guilty for what you did to them. Is that about the extent of it?”

  He paused. “You’re right. I need to be more respectful in my language. Okay, they were women that I met at various fraternity parties. I never knew who they were. I never had them in class or anything like that. I never saw them again. Is that a little better?”

  “Better in what way?”

  “Well, I’m not calling them a derogatory term like rando.”

  I took a deep breath. “Regardless, I would imagine that they know who you are. They’re on your enemies list, whether you know it or not. Now, who else is on your enemies list?”

  He swallowed hard. “This is hard for me to talk about.”

  “Boo hoo. You need to talk to me about this, because I need to know who might go through the trouble to frame you. Maybe I can figure out if there’s an intersection between these people hating you and them wanting your father-in-law dead as well.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “It’s like this. Let’s say that you know of somebody who might want your father-in-law dead. He was a powerful senior judge who was quite liberal in a fairly conservative district. Let’s just say that there was somebody out there who wanted him dead so that a Republican can appoint his successor. That’s a good theory. Now, if there was somebody who wanted Judge Sanders dead because they didn’t like the opinions he writes and that person also hates you – two birds, one stone. They get rid of the judge and they get to frame you for the murder.”

  He leaned forward. “You’re being awfully
flippant about this whole thing.”

  “It’s not my job to get emotionally involved with the facts. Now, I need a list of people who hate you. I can start to glean, from that list, who might also have a reason to kill Judge Sanders.”

  “I’ll work on that list at home. It’s a long list.”

  “I’m quite sure that it is.” You don’t go through life being an amoral sociopathic douchebag without pissing off a lot of people. That was for sure.

  “Is there anything else you need to know about?”

  “Yes. Was there an autopsy done?”

  “No. Why would there be? It’s pretty obvious how he died. No question there.”

  I sighed. “Seriously? No autopsy was done? I mean, come on. Your father showed classic signs of being poisoned right before he died, and nobody cared to look at that angle?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Signs of poison? Really?”

  “Really. Weight loss, hair loss, depression, aching bones, nausea – all this in a man who was previously healthy. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with him. That all spells arsenic poisoning to me.”

  He cocked his head. “Huh. Nobody even thought about that.”

  “It can be undetectable. Unless the doctor is specifically looking for it, he might not find it. I’m going to have to have his body exhumed. I hate doing that.”

  “I see.” He nodded his head, as if the light bulb just came on. “Poisoned. Somebody was after him long before he died.”

  “Well, it’s possible that it was more than one somebody. It’s odd that whoever decided to poison him didn’t just let the poison take its course. Why go through the trouble of poisoning him if you’re just going to go ahead and and kill him with a gun?” That was another good question for me to ask. Another answer that I needed to find out. Then again, maybe he wasn’t poisoned – maybe it was all a coincidence.