Unfit to Practice

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Unfit to Practice Page 15

by Perri O'shaughnessy


  “Maybe he is all right,” Nina said. “Maybe he’s trying to help the Vangs. Maybe I’m causing them a big problem. I can’t help that if they won’t talk to me directly.” She firmed up her jaw.

  Paul said, “I hark back two days to our talk with Jack. Remember? He said the state bar problems usually have to do with money disputes. Have you talked to him about this? You could just pass on the check, avoid any question of malpractice, and flourish the power of attorney if Dr. Mai steals the money. You would be protected.”

  Nina waved her hand. “True, the power of attorney seems to be legitimate. Paul, would you pay out the money in these circumstances? Did I do the right thing morally? Totally aside from the fact that I’m exposing my own rear end.”

  Paul sighed and said, “Of course you did, honey. You have Mai’s address in Fresno? I’ll follow up for you.” She smiled and gave it to him. Paul went on, “I need to look at this large claim you put together. Maybe there’s some information hidden in a receipt or supplier’s note about where the Vangs live.”

  “Very little of the supporting documentation is in English.”

  “Can we have it translated?”

  “That’ll take too much time, Paul. I can’t hold the check for very long. Here are the police reports that detail the original robbery and shooting, the second attempt when Kao killed the robber, and the arson. These reports will tell you all I know about Kao Vang’s enemies. But first, obviously, you need to try to talk to Dr. Mai.”

  “Okay. We begin with Mai, who you just jump-started. He’s sitting in Fresno right now looking at the phone and realizing that if he doesn’t cooperate, nobody will see that money. He ought to talk to us. What else?”

  “The man Kao killed in self-defense. His name and address are in the police reports. The name was”-she flipped to one of the exhibits on the claim-“Song Thoj, age eighteen, a known gang member in Fresno.”

  “That brings up a new set of concerns.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I have to agree that I don’t think we understand enough about this situation,” Paul said.

  “So I’ll keep the check safe and you and Wish make sure I put it into the right hands, Paul.”

  “I realize that the main question right now is, where is Kao? But there is that other question hanging fire,” Paul said. “Are the bad guys who torched the Vangs’ convenience store also the ones who stole the files out of your truck?”

  “I hope not,” Nina said. She rubbed her forehead and went on, “But if they followed the Vangs to my office, if they followed me home, if they saw files and took them opportunistically, then they would know where the Vangs live. They would know about the settlement money. Which would make an extortion attempt possible.”

  Sandy stirred at this. “You’re suggesting they kidnapped the Vangs because of the files? Then they call Dr. Mai and say, get the money to us and we’ll let them go.”

  “Oh, my gosh,” Wish said.

  “It’s the kind of thought that strikes at three A.M., yes, Sandy,” Nina said. “Let’s hope it’s just another bad dream.”

  “But who are these ‘bad guys’?” Wish asked.

  “Let me know when you find out.”

  They took a break so Nina could deal with a couple of phone calls in her office. Wish walked outside.

  Sandy sat down behind her desk, slammed an offending open drawer shut smartly, and looked at Paul, saying, “And that’s only one file out of three. Now look. Why does she have to dredge so deep? How does a simple insurance claim turn into this? Is it her?”

  “In a way, it is,” Paul said. “Another lawyer would give Mai the money, make rapid washing motions with her hands, and move on.”

  “What about if these enemies stole the files?”

  “Another lawyer would say, ‘Let the police find the files.’ And move on.”

  “She feels responsible,” Sandy said.

  “Yeah. The advice Jack gave her was, try to prevent harm to the clients. He was thinking about her. But you know, she’s thinking about the clients. She does want to prevent harm. Reminds me of another lawyer I worked for once, a big-shot personal-injury lawyer. He’d work the claim for years, never give an inch, throw a thousand curves, wear down the other side until even the big insurance companies gave in and handed him the big recovery. Of course, by then, the client wouldn’t need the money anymore, because the client would have gone insane from the endless delay.”

  “I get you. He won the case but he didn’t do right by the client.”

  “You notice that she talked to Mai first, then asked us what we thought,” Paul said.

  “She didn’t want us to feel like we had responsibility in making that decision not to pay out the money?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hmph.”

  Nina came out of her office. “Ready for the next round?” she said. “What are you looking at?”

  “A pretty good lawyer,” Sandy said.

  “Let that be my epitaph,” Nina said.

  Five minutes later, back in the conference room with a half-dozen doughnuts piled on a plate in the middle of the table, Nina said, “And now we discuss the second file-the Cruz custody case. The players are Kevin Cruz, his soon-to-be-ex-wife, Lisa Cruz, and his ex-girlfriend, Ali Peck.” She went through the background and summarized the hearing.

  “Ali may be the best lead we have on the lost files,” she finished. “How did Riesner hear about her? Did she contact him directly?” She wiggled a chocolate doughnut out of the middle of the pile and took a bite. As she talked, she had been doodling ducks and snakes all over the page in front of her.

  “Check,” Wish said. He made another note. He had pages full of notes by now.

  “We have an address on this girl?” Paul said.

  Sandy passed it over, studied the doughnuts, and picked out a glazed one, which she set neatly on a napkin beside her coffee. “Watch out. Alexandra Peck still lives with her parents,” she said.

  “But Kevin Cruz already lost custody,” Wish said. “Aren’t his problems too late to fix?”

  “At the hearing last week, he only lost temporary custody,” Nina told him. “I agree, now that Ali has been outed, the temporary-custody order isn’t likely to change, and there’s still the possibility of further damaging charges hanging over him. But let’s speculate with what we know. Let’s think further. How did Ali get outed?”

  “Assume the files were stolen to find out Kevin’s secrets, you mean,” Paul said.

  “Okay,” Wish said. Relying on a genetically programmed aid to thinking, he was worrying his lower lip exactly like Sandy did sometimes. Paul looked over at Sandy and darn if she wasn’t doing it, too. Nina’s pen scribbled angular abstracts all over the nice clean page she had just exposed on her pad. Paul noticed that he himself had just polished off his second doughnut. So had Sandy.

  They all felt the strain.

  Wish finally let go of his lip. He raised a finger. “Mrs. Cruz.”

  “She hit gold there,” Sandy agreed, tearing off another chunk of doughnut.

  “Mom, are you sure you want that?”

  A dreadful, anticipatory silence descended upon them. Sandy drew herself up slowly. “Sometimes I feel like hog-tying you and leaving you out in the field for the red ants,” she said.

  “But you said-” Wish blurted.

  “Dip him in powdered sugar first,” Paul advised.

  “But she said I should stop her if she-”

  “Nina?” Paul said hastily. “You were saying?”

  “Lisa Cruz testified at the hearing on Thursday morning,” Nina said. “She could have picked up my truck key lying on the counsel table during a break, or on the ground if I dropped it and she saw me. It’s also just possible Jean Scholl, the patrolwoman who found the Bronco, had something to do with it. She was there that morning in court. I saw her.”

  “Yeah, but how could anyone know you would leave files in there that night?” Wish asked.

  “You
know what I think?” Nina said. “I don’t think anyone deliberately set out to get my files. I think someone found or stole my key and then used it late that night with a vague hope that they might gain access to something they could use against me, or to win a case. Something balled up in the litter, even.”

  “Sometimes when you’re looking for a break, you see a chance and you say, dingdong! This could be my opportunity!” Wish said, still casting a wary eye upon his mother.

  “We’ll talk to Ali,” Paul said, “and do some checking on Scholl.”

  “I’ll tell you who won that day. Lisa Cruz’s lawyer,” Sandy said, referring to Jeff Riesner. She did not look at Wish as she took a big bite of her doughnut.

  “I like to think I would have noticed such a loathsome creature slinking around my driveway,” Nina said.

  “I still have a good friend at that man’s law firm. She eats lunch with his secretary every day,” Sandy offered.

  “Wouldn’t hurt to try to find out what Riesner was doing Thursday night,” Paul said. “Check him out, Sandy. But quietly.”

  “Will do.”

  “Which brings up a point,” Paul said to Nina. “Nicole Zack actually was in your driveway on Thursday night.” He angled toward Wish, explaining. “Bob’s girlfriend.”

  “Bob has a girlfriend?”

  “Bob does not have a girlfriend,” Nina said. “But you’re right, Paul. You need to speak with Nikki. She’s capable of a joyride.”

  She handed over a copy of the written statement Nikki had given to Officer Scholl. “The police found no fingerprints, nothing, in the Bronco.”

  “Impossible,” Paul said. “Unlikely, anyway. They must not be looking hard enough. I’ll also have a chat with Officer Scholl.”

  “Oh,” Nina said. “I should tell you I told her about these three files.”

  “Got it,” said Paul.

  “So Bob has a girlfriend,” Wish said. “When I was thirteen, I fell in love for the first time, too. She was a year ahead of me in school, on the track team. Sita, that was her name. She broke my heart and I’ve never been the same.”

  “He never could watch a track meet again,” Sandy said. “It does something to you.” She popped more of her doughnut into her mouth and chewed.

  “Make fun of me if you want, Mom,” Wish said. “You always put on this big act about not being sentimental. But I heard you crying in the kitchen the night Dad called and said he was coming home-”

  Sandy’s face began to turn purple and her eyes bulged. Wish watched the changes with an alarmed expression.

  “What was that you said, Wish?” Paul put in hastily. Wish seemed unable to take his foot out of his mouth this morning. They all knew how much Sandy hated any mention of her private life. “I didn’t catch it. Nina didn’t either.”

  Nina nodded vaguely. Sandy said nothing. She was grimacing and seemed to be building up to something. Paul thought, oh brother.

  “Oh, but before you say anything more, Wish, I have a question for Nina,” Paul said, trying to deflect whatever was coming. “Um, so, returning to the issue of Bob’s girlfriend, didn’t you tell me once she doesn’t have her driver’s license yet?”

  “Bob does not have a girlfriend,” Nina said. “And not having a license isn’t necessarily going to stop you from driving. I’d like you to talk to Nikki. Now can we move on? Wish? Sandy?”

  Sandy’s eyes were still popping. She made a gargling sound. Her hands gripped the edge of the table. Paul thought, this is it. She’s gonna explode like Krakatoa. Wish finally did it this time.

  “Sorry, Mom,” Wish said. “Mom?”

  “He’s extremely sorry,” Paul repeated. “Sandy?”

  Nina watched Sandy. They all watched Sandy, waiting for the forthcoming eruption, ready to take cover under the table if necessary.

  Sandy coughed loudly into her napkin. She coughed again. Her highly bruised color faded slightly back toward normal.

  “Why didn’t somebody clap me on the back?” she demanded. “Couldn’t you see I was choking? None of you did a darn thing to help!” She glared at them. “Now, what’s so funny?”

  When order returned, Nina said, “People, File Number Three presents what I think are the most urgent problems. Let’s go through this. These two young women, sisters, were staying here in South Lake Tahoe at Campground by the Lake, right off Rufus Allen Boulevard-” She summarized the facts of the campground homicide.

  Paul struggled to assimilate it all. He wasn’t used to having so much thrown at him at one time. Nina was going to run him ragged with all these people. But he had to agree, with the file gone and Nina’s notes on the events of that night gone along with it, Angel and Brandy needed to make their report to the D.A. and the South Lake Tahoe police even if he had to drag them there by their crimped and moussed hair. He and Wish would have to roust them from Angel’s beauty salon right after the meeting. Paul liked barbershops with their phallic striped poles and no-nonsense razor jobs where the tacit guy agreement called for lickety-split efficiency, and he couldn’t understand why women had such a different take on the same operation. What exactly did women do to their hair that could possibly require an entire afternoon?

  “Angel’s salon is located in Harveys Casino, in the basement,” Nina said.

  Paul said, “I think Angel and Brandy have to come first. If this fellow Cody is the one with the files, he’ll come after Brandy. It’s possible. Telling it all to one of the deputy D.A.’s over at the courthouse may or may not get them adequate protection. Brandy shouldn’t be at home alone.”

  “She’s worried about her fiancé,” Nina said. “He seems to have disappeared. It’s another unsettling event of the weekend that may or may not be connected to the theft of the files.”

  “It’s a lot, Nina. I don’t think we can bodyguard Brandy plus look for the boyfriend and get the other work rolling, too.”

  Nina said, “I have an idea. I’ll see if Andrea can put Brandy and Angel up at the Tahoe Women’s Shelter. Brandy shouldn’t go back to Palo Alto, especially if her boyfriend isn’t there.”

  “Excellent,” Paul said. “Give us a chance to try to untangle a few things. The sisters have to come first. There’s some major exposure there, and I think it goes beyond speculation.” He pushed his chair back.

  “We’ll crack it,” Wish said. He got up and gave Nina a serious nod.

  Paul and Wish went outside and slid into Paul’s Mustang. Wish drew on his sunglasses and smoothed back his hair.

  “Let’s roll,” he told Paul.

  12

  D OWN BELOW HARVEYS CASINO, through caverns measureless to man, amid the video arcades and Mexican restaurants and the boutique bursting with burlwood bears, Paul and Wish found a curtain of orange crystalline beads framed by an archway. Beyond that, a door with a glass insert advertised the salon. On the glass, painted in flesh-pink and sea-green tones, Cupid shot an arrow toward filmy clouds shaped into the words Angel’s Heavenly Hair.

  Wish shoved the beads out of the way and stepped through, followed by Paul, who took a battering as the beads, released by Wish, fell back into his face.

  “Oops,” said Wish.

  The stench of primitive chemistry greeted them as they pulled open the door. A chime rang, unnecessarily announcing their arrival into the small room.

  Several female faces turned to look at them, looking both intrigued and astonished. They had entered the forbidden precincts.

  A young woman with brown hair, dressed in a long soft skirt, stepped up to a kind of podium. “Um,” she said, flipping a notebook open and picking up a pen. “What can we do for you?”

  “We’re here to see Angel Guillaume and Brandy Taylor,” Paul said, handing her his card. “Are they here?”

  At the back of the room, a girl with white tips to her choppy hairstyle, a mouth full of pink tissue squares, and hands full of hair nodded so vigorously a few of the tissues flew. “Mmpf,” she said. She wore a pale blue apron with a white badge in the sha
pe of Gabriel blowing his horn over her breast. Angel, it said.

  The girl who had greeted them said, “I’m Brandy. Why don’t you sit down and wait here for a minute.” Pretty and young, she curved sweetly enough to guarantee Wish couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “My pleasure,” he said.

  She dimpled at him. Wish sat down on a prissy brass-legged bench in front of a window. He picked up a magazine with pictures of women with long hair, short hair, tall hair, wide hair, but he was distracted, watching Brandy walk away. Paul continued to stand while Brandy took the spike-haired blond by the arm and steered her through a pastel curtained doorway in back.

  Angel’s the punk star, he thought, making his quick classification. Brandy’s the gentle dreamer. Another woman with an angel badge came rushing out from the back, brandishing a pair of scissors like a relay runner who has just been passed the baton.

  “I’ll finish you up,” she told the lady in the front chair with twists of cone-shaped aluminum on her head.

  “If I wanted you, Jill, I would have asked for you,” said the lady. Jill smiled, bent over, and gave a vicious yank to a metallic cone.

  “Hey!” her client said.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did that hurt?” She winked at Paul. “How do you know Angel?” she said a moment later. They could all hear the whispered voices rising from behind the curtain.

  “I don’t. Not yet, anyway,” said Paul. “Mind telling me what you’re doing there?”

  “Frosting,” she said, then laughed at his expression. “I’m streaking her hair. It brightens up a dull look. Helps transition ladies to gray.”

  “You saying my hair’s dull and gray?” asked the client.

  “Oh, come on. Would I insult you? You’re one of our best clients,” Jill answered without answering.

  “Angel, I don’t have all day,” called the other woman in curlers.

  The whispers stopped. Angel came out first, smoothing her apron. She put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, said a few words in a low voice, and walked up to Paul, followed closely by the girl in the skirt. “Follow me, okay?”

 

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