Adv04 - The Advocate's Dilemma

by Teresa Burrell

  “You and Sammy?”

  “And my dad.”

  Sabre asked, “Did your mom know?”

  “No, she would’ve been mad so we didn’t tell her.”

  “What about Riley? Did he ever use any drugs or alcohol?”

  “No. Riley’s too square for that.”

  Sabre was tempted to lecture Marcus on the dangers of drugs, but then she thought about the fact that she hadn’t objected to his medication and it all seemed so hypocritical. And she knew if she said anything right now, it would probably just keep him from speaking freely about what happened.

  “Do you know what kind of car Sammy has?” JP asked.

  “It’s a white 1989 Acura. Sammy said he had his license plate made special with his name on it, but that didn’t make much sense to me because it didn’t really have his name on it. I think it was just another one of his lies.”

  “What was on the plate?”

  “SMS8925. He said it meant Sam’s ’89. When I asked him what the twenty-five was for, he said he needed two more numbers so he used his age.’”

  “Thank you, Marcus. You’ve been a really big help,” JP said. “Oh, one more thing. Do you know Sammy’s last name?”

  Marcus thought for a second and then shook his head. “No. All I ever heard was Sammy.”

  Sabre put her hand on JP’s shoulder. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with Marcus alone for a moment.”

  JP stood up. “Sure. If you don’t need me here, I’m going to take off. I have to check out a few things.”

  Sabre nodded. She knew he was going to try to find Sammy’s car.

  After JP left, Sabre took Marcus by the hand. “Are you doing okay in here?”

  “Yeah. It’s not so bad, but do I get to go home soon?”

  “I don’t think it will be more than a few days. The doctor says you’re doing well. We have a hearing set for Wednesday. If the doctors aren’t willing to release you at that point, then they’ll have to show good reason to keep you here.”

  “Do you know when my dad’s funeral is?”

  “Nothing has been set yet. The medical examiner has to release the body first and that takes a little while…sometimes.” Sabre said cautiously.

  “You mean because he was murdered?”

  “Yes, they have to gather all the evidence they can first.”

  “Will I go to his funeral?”

  Sabre found his question curious. He didn’t ask if he could go, but rather if he was going. Then she thought about her own father’s funeral. She hadn’t wanted to go because she knew it would make his death real, but her brother, Ron, encouraged her. Later she was glad she went because it also gave her a chance to say goodbye and start healing.

  “I’ll do everything within my power to get you there.”

  “Okay.”

  After a few minutes of talking about his routine at the hospital, Sabre decided to pursue the earlier line of questioning. “Marcus, what happened that was different the last night you ‘worked’ with your dad?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Why was the big guy chasing you?”

  “Dad took his money, but the guy didn’t get what he paid for.”

  “What had he paid for?”

  Marcus looked down at his feet and his voice dropped so low it was barely audible. “Me,” he said.

  Chapter 15

  Three hours of sleep was all Sabre managed after her conversation with Marcus. She was so angry at George she thought she would have killed him herself if he weren’t already dead. He had tried to run a scam with his son as the bait. She couldn’t even think about what would have happened if Marcus hadn’t gotten away. She could only pray that it was a con and that he wasn’t pimping him out. Marcus said nothing had ever happened, but Sabre wasn’t sure she could believe him. What if he didn’t always get away? What had that poor boy had to endure at the hands of his father?

  When Marcus had told her about that evening, Sabre’s face had reddened with anger and though she tried to hide it, she was sure Marcus had seen the horror on her face because he stopped talking.

  Sabre showered, fixed her hair, applied her eyeliner and mascara, and dressed, but it was still too early to go to court. When dawn broke she called JP. She was certain he was up by now. He seldom let the sun rise before he did. He answered on the first ring.

  “Good morning, kid,” he said in a chipper afternoon voice.

  “I take it I didn’t wake you?”

  “I’ve been up for almost an hour.”

  “It was still dark an hour ago.” Sabre often wondered if JP just liked the morning hours, or if it was a habit carried over from the military or police department. So she asked, “Why do you get up so early?”

  “Someone has to get up to wake the roosters.”

  Sabre smiled aloud. It felt good after her somber night.

  “This is mighty early for you. What do you need?”

  “I couldn’t sleep last night. I would’ve called Bob but I’m sure he isn’t awake yet. You’re the only one I know on this coast who gets up this early.” After she said it, she thought how bad it sounded, as if he were her last choice. He wasn’t, really. Besides Bob, there wasn’t anyone else she’d rather talk to. She was about to apologize when she heard JP’s voice.

  “Would you like to get a cup of ‘joe’? I have a few things I’d like to discuss with you anyway.”

  “I’d like that. Coffee Bean?”

  “See you there in about fifteen minutes.”

  Sabre opened the door to her shoe closet. It was a custom closet made when she rebuilt her condo after a fire had burned it to the ground. This closet housed only shoes, all forty-eight pairs, which was considerably less than she had before the fire. She put on a pair of navy blue Louis Vitton pumps that matched her suit perfectly and drove to the coffee shop. She was glad she had called JP. She felt a little better already.

  Sabre pulled into the parking lot and parked next to JP’s pickup. He looked like a real cowboy as he stood leaning against his tailgate. But then he is a real cowboy, she thought. About as real as they come. He may not have the ranch, but he walked, talked, and lived like a cowboy. She thought for a moment that he was born about a hundred years late. She could picture him riding a horse and stopping at the local saloon, holster on his hip, everyone looking up with respect as he passed through the swinging doors.

  Sabre was so engrossed in her time travel that she was startled when JP opened her car door.

  “You’re as jumpy as spit on a skillet,” JP said.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you walk up.”

  They went inside The Coffee Bean, ordered their drinks, and sat down at a small round table across from one another. When Sabre told him about the rest of the conversation with Marcus, she could see the anger move across his face. The muscles tightened and his jaw clenched. Then he took a deep breath and reached across the table, wrapping his hand around Sabre’s.

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to find Foreman’s killer, if for no other reason than to shake his hand and thank him for removing that skunk from God’s green earth.”

  For just a second Sabre felt herself a little unnerved by his touch and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t a creepy feeling, but rather an unexpected warmth. “You may have to get in line. Other than perhaps Sammy, his kids may be the only people on this earth who didn’t want him dead.” She relaxed a little and just as she began to feel comforted by his hand on hers, he pulled it away.

  “Yeah, and I wouldn’t count Sammy out, either. Don’t forget the visit they made to Frank Davis’ house. George apparently owed him money, too. Who knows what that was about. It may have been a scam they ran where he didn’t get his cut or payment for the marijuana Sammy seemed to be supplying. Whatever it was, money is a huge motive for murder. Speaking of which, I drove around downtown San Diego last night looking for Sammy’s car but I didn’t see it. I asked around a little bit. A few people knew who he was but no one
admitted to having seen him recently. The consensus on the streets is that Sammy is all hat and no horse. No one takes him too seriously.”

  Sabre took a sip of her decaf mocha. She sat silently for a moment, then looked at JP.

  “What are you thinking?” JP asked.

  “Why do you think Foreman was in my office? And how did he get in?”

  JP shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been tossing that over and over in my mind but that has me as confused as a goat on Astroturf.”

  Sabre laughed aloud. She thought about her anger with Foreman, herself, and her self-consciousness when JP put his hand on hers. Everything seemed to come together and release itself in a burst of laughter when she visualized the poor goat on Astroturf.

  JP smiled and winked at her. “That’s better,” he said.

  Sabre did feel better. She decided the next time a visual of young Marcus running from some creepy pedophile popped into her head she would try to conjure up the goat on Astroturf instead. “I’m good. Thanks. But I think I’ll stop on my way to court and see how Marcus is doing this morning. Are you working on the Foreman case today?”

  He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to call one of my friends at the department, Ernie or Greg, and have him run Sammy’s plate as soon as they’re in. I can try Greg shortly. He’s usually in early.”

  “Have you heard anything from Klakken?”

  “No,” JP said. His response sounded blunt.

  “What is it with you and Klakken?”

  JP shook his head. “It’s old history.” JP stood up. “I should get going. You should, too, if you want to see Marcus.”

  Chapter 16

  Bob waited for Sabre outside the front door of juvenile court while she finished her morning calendar. When she walked out carrying her usual armful of thick manila folders, she spotted him smoking a cigarette near the California buckeye tree in the concrete planter. She so wished he would quit again; she really hated the smell of cigarette smoke. Bob never smoked in the car when they were together and he was the most courteous smoker she had ever met. He was especially careful to hold his lit cigarettes in a position so the smoke best avoided whomever he was near. But she worried about his health. He had been smoking since he was twelve and he went through a couple of packs a day.

  “You were late getting here this morning,” he said. “Did you sleep in?”

  Sabre smiled. “Hardly. Before court I had already had coffee with JP and made a visit to Alvarado Hospital to see Marcus.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Marcus or JP?” she asked, even though she knew who he meant.

  “Marcus. I know how JP is.” Bob spoke softly and slowly using a Texas drawl. “He’s ‘happy as a teenage boy in a whorehouse’…or some other ‘JPism.’”

  Sabre laughed when he misquoted his friend. “I’ve never heard him say that one.”

  “I ad libbed a little.”

  “JP would be proud. And to answer your question: Marcus is doing okay; it looks like they’ll release him tomorrow. Is your client still objecting to his going back to his grandma’s?”

  “I don’t know. I told her it has to be better than putting him at Polinsky or a temporary foster home.”

  “I don’t get it. Unless there’s a problem at his grandma’s that we don’t know about, why wouldn’t she want him there?”

  “She hasn’t said. I think she’s just mad at her mother and Frank for not liking George when he was alive.”

  “Nobody liked George when he was alive. How can she defend him? He was such a creep!”

  Cocking his head to one side, Bob looked at Sabre. “Did you learn something new about him?”

  Sabre nodded. “But for now it’s attorney client privilege. Just know he wasn’t a very nice man.” Sabre took a step in the direction of the parking lot. “It’s only ten thirty, a little early for lunch.”

  Bob snuffed out his cigarette and followed her. “I need to pick up some things from my office for my trial this afternoon. Come with me and then we’ll go to lunch from there.”

  “Why not? If we get back here early, I’ll spend the time on prep for my trial.”

  When Bob and Sabre walked into Bob’s office building, they were greeted by Detective Klakken.

  “Mr. Clark, may I ask you a few questions?”

  “Certainly.” Bob led him into his office and took a seat behind his desk. “Please have a seat.” He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. Sabre followed them in and sat next to the detective. Klakken looked at Sabre as she sat down. Bob said, “She’s with me. Now, what can I do for you?”

  “How well did you know George Foreman?”

  “I only saw him one time.”

  “And that was in Ms. Brown’s office?”

  “Yes. I had an appointment with Dana and he came along.”

  “You said he was angry. What about?”

  “He came in with a chip on his shoulder. I spoke with the two of them together first, but I wanted to talk with my client alone and he became irate when I asked him to leave.”

  “Do you know why Foreman would be carrying a cigarette butt with your fingerprints on it?”

  Bob shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  “How would he get it?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t smoke inside my office, but I do put my cigarettes out in the large stone ashtray in the outside hallway. I suppose he could’ve taken one from there.”

  “Are you having an affair with Foreman’s wife?”

  “What!” Bob and Sabre both said at the same time. Then Bob said, “Of course not.”

  Sabre said, “Why would you even ask that?”

  Klakken looked straight at Bob when he answered Sabre’s question. “Because his wife said George was jealous of you, Mr. Clark. I’m just trying to determine if there was any basis for that jealousy.”

  “The guy was a druggie,” Bob said. “He didn’t need a reason for his jealousy.”

  “Where were you on the night when Foreman was murdered?”

  Bob tilted his head and spoke slowly. “I was home. I went straight from home to Sabre’s office and you were already there.”

  “Do you have someone who can corroborate that?”

  “Am I a suspect?” Bob said a little louder.

  “Just asking,” Klakken said.

  Bob stood up. “This is over. If you have any other questions, you’ll have to take me in.”

  Klakken stood up and started for the door. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Clark.” And he walked out. The door closed behind him.

  “What the heck was that?” Sabre asked.

  Bob snickered. “I think I’m a suspect.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Sure it is. Klakken is chasing his ass.”

  “But this could turn into a nightmare.”

  Bob waved his hand in dismissal. “I didn’t do anything. How could he possibly find enough evidence to arrest me, much less convict me?”

  “Yeah, because that never happens. Innocent people are never arrested or convicted,” Sabre said, rolling her eyes. “Heck, even an investigation could ruin your reputation. You better take this seriously.”

  “I am taking this seriously. I seriously think the guy is an idiot.”

  “Bob,” she pleaded. “You need to talk to an attorney.”

  “I am talking to an attorney,” he said, smiling.

  “You know what I mean.” Sabre paced back and forth in front of his desk. “Someone who can advise you and represent you if you need it. You know I can’t do that. I have a conflict.”

  “Why? Just because you represent the dead guy’s kids, you can’t represent the guy who’s accused of killing him? Well, how silly is that.”

  Sabre stopped and looked Bob directly in the eyes for about three seconds before she spoke. “I mean it. I’m worried. This could get out of hand.”

  Bob continued to act cavalier, but his smile seemed a little forced and his eyes showed concern. He f
inally walked around the desk and put his arm around Sabre’s shoulder. “Okay, Sobs. I’ll talk to Leahy. He’s the best around…besides you, of course.”

  “Of course.” She smiled a half smile but the thought of Bob going to jail made her ache inside. She loved Bob like a brother, almost as much as her biological brother, Ron, and she had already lost Ron. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing Bob.

  Chapter 17

  JP thought about Bob’s predicament as he drove to Bob’s office. He knew his friend hadn’t committed a murder, but he worried about Klakken. By now Klakken would know that a close friendship existed between him and Bob, and he feared the anger the detective felt for him would cloud his judgment. JP knew him to be an honest man, but an angry one. JP hoped Klakken had let his resentment of JP go after twenty years, but when he thought about what had happened between the two of them, he wasn’t sure he would be very forgiving, either.

  When he walked into Bob’s inner office, he saw a dark-haired man who was approximately fifty years old standing near Bob’s desk. The man reached out his hand, “Jerry Leahy. I’m not sure we’ve met.”

  JP reciprocated, shaking his hand. “JP Torn. I’ve seen you around the courthouse but I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. However, your reputation precedes you. Nice to meet you.”

  “My reputation? Professional or social?”

  Just then Bob walked in.

  JP paused. “I was speaking professionally, but you are definitely loved by the women.”

  Leahy smiled a devilish smile. “Please tell me. Is it good or bad? My reputation, that is. Is it good or bad?”

  “Good, I’d say,” JP said.

  “Ah, Mr. Leahy’s reputation,” Bob said. “Let me tell you what that is. Have a seat.” JP and Jerry sat down. Bob walked behind his desk and sat down as he continued his description. “You are known as the ‘Columbo’ of juvenile court….Very clever, but you don’t flaunt it and as a result your abilities are deceptive, especially to those who don’t know you, and consequently you are often underestimated. You can go into a courtroom on a case with very few facts or little information and still know exactly what to do. You’ve been practicing over twenty years, which means you’re seasoned, but unlike many attorneys in your position who have seen just about every scenario and have long since become stale in their defense tactics, you approach each case like it’s your first.” Bob paused. “How am I doing so far?”