by John Foxjohn
She sat, hands in lap, and all of her bravado left her. If she’d gone straight in, she might have retained her courage, but the wait zapped it from her. She did want to have her own firm and believed she might be ready, now. However, she didn’t want them to fire her.
Her cell phone rang and she checked the number on the caller ID, but didn’t recognize the number and let her voice mail catch it. She’d put the phone up when McMasters’ outer door opened and Edward Harkens motioned for her to enter.
McMasters sat where he had before, but with cigar smoke curling in front of him. Edward Harkens closed the door behind her, strode forward, and sat in front of McMasters’ desk, his nose twitching at the smoke.
Phillip Estes, the only other person in the room, sat with his body as stiff as rigor mortis, anger cutting lines in his scowling face.
McMasters indicated a chair with his cigar. “Have a seat, Kayla.” He leaned back and took a drag off the cigar. “Phillip came in to talk to me about all that is going on, and he thought you should be brought into the conversation.”
Kayla glanced at Estes and it pleased her that he wasn’t happy. Whatever made him unhappy had to be good for her. She glanced back at McMasters and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure why this meeting is taking place. There’s no mystery in what’s going on. The police are investigating Loren Estes for murder. I believe the DA has plans to charge her.”
She held her hands out, palms up. “This meeting isn’t going to change that.”
McMasters’ mouth twitched at the corners, but Estes leaped to his feet. His finger jabbed at Kayla. “That’s the reason I don’t want this woman defending my daughter.”
McMasters, who’d stared at Kayla until Estes said this, turned his head. “Have a seat, Phillip. You’ve said this same thing a number of times. I still don’t understand why you don’t want this woman, as you call her, defending your daughter.”
Estes settled back in the seat, still ramrod stiff. “She doesn’t have enough experience to know what’s going on.”
Edward Harkens spoke for the first time. “Sir, it sounds to me like she knows exactly what’s going on, unless you know something we don’t. I also know she is working to prepare just in case there’s a trial.”
Frustration and maybe fear crept across Estes’ face for a moment, then reverted back to anger. “She doesn’t realize the political implications here.”
Kayla crossed her legs. “You’re right. I don’t understand the political implications. Furthermore, I don’t care about them. It makes no difference in the world why they bring murder charges against your daughter. If this goes to trial, the outcome will be about criminal facts—trying this in court will be about criminal facts. Politics will never be mentioned.”
She intertwined her fingers in her lap, rolling her thumbs as Estes continued to tell McMasters and Harkens he didn’t want Kayla. Finally, she’d had enough. “Sir, I have something to say.”
Estes began to say something but McMasters held up a hand to stop him. “Go ahead, Kayla.”
She took a deep breath. “At the moment, I am assigned as Loren Estes’ attorney. We need to get something straight here.” She pointed at the door. “When I walk out of here, I’m either still the attorney representing her, or someone else is. No one has asked me, but I don’t want the assignment, and gave reasons why I shouldn’t represent her. No one has listened to me. Now, either leave me alone and let me do the job or put someone else on this.”
“Are you through?” McMasters asked.
“No, sir, I’m not. I don’t care who is paying for this representation. My client is Loren Estes and I don’t see her in this meeting. This is the last time that I’ll make a meeting like this when my client isn’t present. I have things to do, and one of those things is to confer with my client.”
She threw the newspaper on the desk. “If this goes to trial, no matter who represents her, this stuff will get her convicted.”
Kayla groaned on the inside. She’d screwed that up. She thought Estes would have a heart attack right in the office. People didn’t talk to the blowhard the way she had. McMasters stamping out his expensive cigar didn’t change her mind.
McMasters’ chair creaked as he raised his bulk from it. He planted his hands on the desk and leaned toward Kayla. “If you’re through, get out of here and get to work.”
Kayla strode out. What did a person have to do around this place to get fired?
* * * *
When Kayla approached Sarah Jane, the assistant looked up from her computer with big eyes. Kayla smiled. “I still have a job. Could you make a couple of calls for me? I need to talk to Amanda Rex with Belcher and Monahan consulting in Austin as soon as possible. Also,” Kayla glanced at her watch. “I need to speak to Loren Estes. I’d prefer today after two.”
Sarah Jane glanced up from the pad she wrote on. “Can I ask you a question?”
Kayla frowned. Sarah Jane had never asked her if she could ask a question before. She straightened her blouse. “Of course you can.”
Sarah hesitated and fidgeted before asking, “Do you go to church often?”
Her question caught Kayla off-guard and she tilted her head. “Not as often as I probably should.” She didn’t tell Sarah that it had been at least five years. She hadn’t lied. That would definitely qualify as not as often as she should. “Why do you ask?”
Sarah smiled and adjusted her hair. “Before a couple of days ago, the bosses had called no one to the sixth floor without them losing their jobs. They have called you twice and you still have yours.”
Kayla chuckled, turned and ambled into her office. Five minutes later, Sarah buzzed her saying she had Amanda Rex on the line.
“Amanda, this is Kayla Nugent in Houston. I need your help. I hope you’re free.”
“We’re kind of swamped, but I can assign someone to you. If it is important I could break away.”
Kayla leaned back and picked up her pen. “It’s important and I want you on this one. Possibility of a murder trial and we need a jury consultant.”
Pages flipped, but Amanda didn’t say anything for a minute. “Have charges been filed yet?”
“Not yet, but Proctor says he’s taking this one.”
“Ah, Mr. P.,” Amanda said. “Have you gone to bed with him?”
Kayla turned the color of a fire engine. “Not hardly.”
“Just as well, he sucks his teeth in bed.”
Heat spread from Kayla’s face all the way to her toes. No way would she ask Amanda how she knew that. “Um—that’s interesting,” she got out at last, not meaning a word of it. “What do we need to do first?”
Amanda chuckled. “Nice change of subject, but on to the topic at hand. Right now, the first thing I’ll do is get my assistant started on a jury poll. We’ll do a random poll of voters in Harris County and see what’s important to prospective jurors.”
The pen began to twirl in Kayla’s hand. “What will that tell us when we start the voir dire?”
“Who you need to stay away from.”
Kayla answered all Amanda’s questions about Loren, her economic and social status, and anything else Amanda could think of. Amanda needed the information for a proper survey. When she hung up, Kayla stared at the paperwork she needed to do but didn’t think about the work. She didn’t believe that Darren Duval would suck his teeth. She thought about how his body looked and decided if he did, no one would notice, anyway.
As her thoughts went along these lines, the heat returned. When Sarah stuck her head in the door and said, “Kayla, Mr. Duval, the detective, is here to see you,” pressure cooker heat surged through her.
She tried to compose herself as she said, “Send him in, please.” When Sarah disappeared, she straightened her clothes and hair. It had been a long time since a man made her feel this way—a silly school girl with a crush. The word crush made her feel even sillier. A thirty-six year old woman shouldn’t have that word in her vocabulary. Besides, she didn’t have a
crush on him, or anything else. She didn’t know him at all.
Then he entered and she took a deep breath, flipping a strand of hair off her ear. He didn’t have pretty-boy looks, just rugged, handsome features. More his eyes and the way he carried himself. She indicated a chair. “Please have a seat.”
Before he sat, he laid a small recorder on her desk. “I’d like for you to listen to this.”
She frowned, but reached forward and picked up the recorder.
As he leaned back, he said, “Just hit play. It’s ready to go.”
Not knowing what the recording was about, she hit play, and set it on the desk. As it started, she leaned forward, picked up a pen. She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head, not believing what she heard.
First her feelings at the police department and now this. When the tape stopped, she asked, “Did they cash bond you?”
He chuckled. “Actually, that and gave me another warning to get out of town. I think your police department still thinks they’re in the old west.”
“Sounds like it.” She thought for a moment. “Mind if I make a copy of that tape? I’d like to let someone I know listen to it.” She didn’t know why, but she also wanted that tape for herself. It might be important later.
She called Sarah in and asked her to have two copies of the tape dubbed for her. When she glanced back at Duval, their eyes locked for several moments until she jerked her gaze away.
They talked about the case for thirty minutes but he made it hard for her to concentrate. Finally, she worked up the nerve to ask him, “Are you married?”
Confusion registered in his expression. “Nooo—divorced, why?”
“I need to talk to you more about this but have a meeting I need to get to.” She glanced at her watch. “Do you have any dinner plans?”
He leaned forward in his seat as if he wanted to ask something, but only said, “No. Want me to meet you here?”
She hesitated and started to say yes, but changed her mind. “Could you meet me at my home? Does seven sound good?”
When he nodded, she told him the address and he rose. “Seven is good for me. See you then.”
Shivers pumped through her as he sauntered out, his butt tight against his trousers. She leaned forward and put her face in her hands. “Please tell me I didn’t just ask that man out on a date.”
SEVEN
Darren couldn’t explain his feelings to himself, let alone anyone else if inclined to do so, which he wasn’t. He had to admit, he had no one to explain them to or anyone who would care. Something about Kayla Nugent intrigued him—besides the sexual attraction.
She didn’t compare to Loren Estes as far as looks went. He considered Loren Estes as one of those chocolate balls that looked good on the outside and tasted good, but had air on the inside.
Kayla Nugent was like a Snickers bar—good on the outside, but with substance that filled a person on the inside. Substance, he decided, was the best way to describe her. She had it, and others he’d dated, including his ex-wife, didn’t.
He tugged on an ear, frown lines creasing his brow. Did she ask him on a date or not, and did he accept a date or not? She could’ve meant it as nothing more than a convenience—they needed to talk and they needed to eat, so why not combine the two things. He knew one thing about women—he didn’t understand them at all.
Would she get mad at him if she’d thought she’d asked him on a date and he considered it business, or if he considered it a date and she wanted the business convenience? His old grand dad had always said, “When in doubt about people’s intentions, ask them.”
How in the world could he meet her and ask if she’d intended this as a date or business?
The way her blouse tightened over her small breasts when she took in a deep breath flooded him with desire. He had to snap these thoughts from his head. She presented a problem he hadn’t considered. He liked to remain professional and detached from the people he worked with and for. His aloofness from their world allowed him to look at evidence and situations without emotions that sometimes interfered with the job.
After his talk with Kayla, he’d lost some of that distance and he couldn’t afford to let that happen. He needed this job, needed the money, and he had no illusions about Estes’ reaction if he didn’t get results. Darren’s business required results, and Kayla Nugent definitely threatened his ability to do his job. He didn’t believe she even knew it. Probably didn’t care, either.
In his room, he called Kevin’s cell phone, but his mother answered and told him that Kevin wasn’t in. She lied because his son always took his phone with him.
As he listened to her and the same old story, his mind drifted to Kayla and her beautiful smile that lit up a room. If she was as she appeared, he didn’t believe he’d ever seen a more caring person in his entire life. More than likely she had an acting ability like his ex-wife. Paulette had given off those vibes before he married her.
“Are you listening to me!” snapped his mind back to the phone call. “Uh-uh. I’ve heard this all before.”
In the midst of her telling him he had never listened to her, he hung up.
Trudging to the bathroom, he washed his face with cold water, dried it, and decided he’d walk to Denny’s.
When he stepped out the front door, a stretch black limo with tinted windows idled in front of the door. A uniformed driver stood on the passenger side and close to the rear door.
The bellman signaled the driver. Spiders crawled up Darren’s back. He reached for his gun, but stopped. Although he had a license to carry one in Chicago, he didn’t in Texas. Not wanting to go to jail, he hadn’t brought his. The police ordeal that morning made him glad he didn’t bring his gun. Instead of a cash bond on a false traffic stop, they’d have put him in jail.
“Mr. Duval, sir?” the driver asked.
Darren rubbed his stubbled chin and reminded himself he needed to shave. “I’m Darren Duval. Who are you?”
“Sir, that isn’t important. My boss would like to speak to you for a moment.” The driver didn’t wait for an answer, but spun like a soldier doing an about face and reached for the door handle like it was inconceivable for anyone to refuse his boss’s request.
Darren didn’t know who occupied the car, but it wasn’t Estes. The man who brought him to Houston didn’t act this way, or at least never had.
He shrugged. Might as well see who and what the big man wanted. He strode forward as the driver opened the door. The door shut as he sat with his back toward the driver.
Across from Darren and at the other side of the limo, a large man reclined with a swing-out desk full of papers. At least he thought he was a man. The dark tint of the windows and the position of the limo at that time of day cast shadows on the person’s face.
He’d bet a hundred dollars against an onion that the man had planned it just that way.
Without speaking, the man gathered the papers and put them in a folder as the limo pulled away from the hotel. Darren waited as the man pulled a compartment out of the seat that held a portable bar. “Would you like a drink, Mr. Duval?”
He still couldn’t see the man’s face, but the voice confirmed that a man had requested his attention. Darren could have used a drink, but this wasn’t the time or place. “No, but I’d like to know who you are and what you want with me.”
The man chuckled—not a mean chuckle—more as if he had figured what Darren would say. “You’ll find out who I am in good time, Mr. Duval. Right now, I’d like to know more about you.”
Darren steepled his fingers in front of his chest. He prided himself on the ability to read people and he’d bet money he didn’t have that this man not only had power, but already knew everything about him. He leaned back in his seat. “Is there something about me you need to know that you don’t already?”
Again the chuckle. “You’re as astute as people led me to believe.” The friendliness left the man’s voice. “Mr. Duval, let’s cut to the chase. I need a job done and I wa
nt to hire you to do it.”
“Actually, it happens that I have a job at the moment. Once I take an assignment, I finish it before taking anything else.”
“Commendable.”
The way he spoke that one-word answer left Darren with the feeling that a but should have followed.
The man leaned forward. “I know what your job is and I also know you’re highly qualified to do it. The job I want you to do is along the same lines.” He reached down, opened a briefcase, and brought out a thick envelope and handed it to Darren.
Darren raised an eyebrow without accepting the envelope. “Mind telling me what’s in that.” It aggravated him that he couldn’t see or didn’t know who this man was. Why all the secrecy?
“Take the envelope and see for yourself.”
Against his better judgment, he let his curiosity get the better of him. He remembered his grandmother saying, “Curiosity killed the cat.” More than likely, he’d be the cat.
He whistled when he opened the envelope. As his thumb scraped over the edges of the bills in the envelope, his heart hammered. The envelope contained numerous one-hundred dollar bills and a folded sheet of paper. He glanced up.
“Fifty thousand dollars there, Mr. Duval. That is an installment. You do the job I want and do it right, you’ll receive another fifty thousand.”
He had trouble breathing. One hundred thousand dollars. What he could do with that much money? He could buy Kevin the things he wanted to without having to let his stepfather do it. He could wait to take important investigative jobs and not have to slink around following cheating husbands and wives.
He glanced up from staring at the money and the amount in the envelope slapped him upside the head. He thrust it back at the man. “I’m afraid you need to find a better investigator because the one you hired to check me out did a poor job. You have the wrong man.”
A smiled creased the man’s mouth. “I don’t think so, Mr. Duval. Why don’t you read the note inside?”