by Kay Hadashi
The lawyer showed her to a chair in an interrogation room. Leaving the door open, he got her a cup of water. He sat opposite from her at the table. For being at the police station so late at night, he was surprisingly cheerful. “Please don’t worry about fees. Detective Ota said you’re having legal trouble on several fronts, and that your lawyer might not be suited for some of it. Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”
“I have everything under control.”
David smiled slightly. “Just like you did with that hooker in there?”
Now calmer, Maile looked at him anew. He was clever. He also needed a shave and a necktie before he could appear in court, but he was otherwise neat and tidy. Trying to remember what his uncle looked like in the history books, she could see a similar angular face. It wasn’t just the uncle, but more details about the family were coming back to Maile, of their prominence in the islands and around the world.
“Why do you want to help me?”
He leaned forward. “Like I said, Detective Ota indicated…”
“That’s Ota feeling sorry for me. Why are you here? We’ve never met. We have no investment in each other’s lives.”
David leaned back in his chair again. “Sometimes people just want to be kind.”
That was enough to turn on Maile’s waterworks. David gave her a handkerchief from a jacket pocket and waited quietly until she composed herself again.
“I, uh, just got a divorce. It’s not even final yet and the jerk has one girl pregnant and is dating another. I sunk all my money into his stupid bar, and now he’s broke and needs to sell it fast to pay his bills.” Maile unfolded the linen kerchief, noticing the monogram, before blotting again. “Right after we separated, I lost my job at the hospital because of a med error some other nurse made, but somehow the hospital determined it was my fault that the patient died. The hospital felt compelled to report me to the professional licensing board, who suspended my license. Tomorrow morning I’m supposed to be in a hearing with the licensing people to get it back, something I’ve been waiting months for, but that Mrs. Abrams in the US District Attorney’s office stuck me in a cell full of hookers calling it protective custody, because she wants me to appear as a witness in Prince Aziz’s trial. My budget lawyer is overwhelmed and doesn’t know what to do, and I have no money to pay her, or even pay my rent that’s due in a few days. People keep thinking I’m kidding around when I say I’ll be living beneath a picnic bench at the park pretty soon, but I’m not.”
“Where are you working?” he asked.
“Up until today I was working for my brother-in-law’s tour company as a daily guide, but I quit because I thought I’d have my real job back as a nurse pretty soon. I can’t very well go ask for it back either, because I let him know what I thought of his job, of him, and his family.”
“How much do you have in the bank?”
“I’m overdrawn.”
“What about your family? Can they help?”
“My mom relies on me to help pay her medical bills, and my brother gets his college tuition money from me.” Maile continued to wipe her eyes. “The problem is that if I don’t show up for that license hearing in the morning, I don’t get my license back, and I can’t go back to work as a nurse. Instead, my case gets filed at the back of the line, and it could be months before it gets heard again. But for some reason, that Abrams woman seems to think my being in her courtroom tomorrow morning is more important.”
David stopped taking notes on his yellow legal pad. “That’s…overwhelming.”
“Tell me about it. None of this stuff is my fault. I’ve broken no laws, but once a week, I’m brought here to the police station and stuck in a cell full of hookers and head cases.”
“From what I saw, what was going on in that cell did seem personal.”
“Yeah, me and the girls are becoming old friends. I might be joining them in Chinatown one of these evenings, just to earn food money.”
“Might be better ways of managing your situation than that, Ms. Spencer.”
“Manage my situation? I need to go back to kindergarten and learn the basics, or at least how to stay out of fights.”
“In all honesty, if I were a patient in the hospital, I’d want a nurse like you to fight for me.” David put his yellow pad away in his briefcase, and stood. “We should get going.”
“To where?”
“My place. I’ve signed you into my responsibility until tomorrow morning. And yes, there’s plenty of room and privacy, and even a lock on the spare bedroom door.”
“I can’t afford this sort of treatment, Mister Melendez.”
“First, it’s David, and yes you can afford it. What you can’t afford is spending the rest of the night fighting with your friends in lockup.” After getting the few things she’d brought from a personal property locker, David led her out to the garage. “I do have one question about your friend back there.”
“Star Spangled Hooker?”
“Yes. Did you pull her hair out? Because that could be considered battery.”
“It came out on its own. I think she’s had so many chemical processes done, that it’s breaking off and falling out by itself.”
If Maile was impressed with David’s car, she was doubly impressed with his downtown condo. It was close enough that she could’ve walked to his place as quickly as they drove there.
“There are ladies’ clothes in the closet,” he told her when showing Maile to her room. “Maybe you can find something in the morning to wear.”
“This outfit isn’t okay?”
“You split something in the back, and maybe there’s something better than your cellblock fight outfit.”
Feeling a little insulted by his comment about her taste in clothing, Maile looked in the closet, full of women’s clothes in various styles and sizes. On the opposite side were men’s clothes. “Who does all this belong to?”
“I need to do this occasionally, have men or women stay here the night before a hearing. For most, it’s better than the police station.”
With that, Maile was left alone. After locking the door, she got a quick shower and dressed again. Feeling uncomfortable about the situation, she slept on top of the bedcovers, the two hours she had to get rest. When she heard commotion outside her bedroom door and smelled coffee brewing, she changed into an outfit that she’d found a few hours before, something suitable for the federal court hearing that day.
Maile kept the kitchen island between her and David while she sipped coffee. “Kinda feel like we’re finishing a date that didn’t go right.”
“You’re not the first to have said that. Breakfast? About all I know how to make is scrambled eggs or cereal.”
“Never mind. I usually skip breakfast and go for a run. What happens today?”
“I talked to your real lawyer and explained I’d be with you in federal court while she went to your other hearing, and that if there was time, I’d get you there to meet with the licensing people.”
“There’s no way of convincing Abrams to put off my testimony till some other time?”
“Prosecutors have these things timed to the minute, just for ultimate dramatic effect. And believe me when I tell you she won’t be happy to see me there today.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“She hasn’t been in her post long, but we’ve already met a couple of times, and on opposite sides of the courtroom.”
“Does that mean you’re representing Aziz?”
“No, but in her eyes, I may as well be. Anybody not on her team is considered the enemy, including the judge and jury. They’re the ones she needs to convince that Aziz belongs behind bars, which won’t be easy. His legal team is the slickest money can buy.”
“I thought you would’ve been?” Maile asked.
“In Honolulu and the West Coast. The Prince’s team is the best in the world.”
“I see. That’s why it’s so important for Abrams to have all her witnesses present and accounted
for?”
“Right. She can’t risk blowing a case this big on witnesses not showing up, or being in a mess when they do.”
“Sorry about last night. I’m not usually a train wreck.”
“You weren’t. Not too much, anyway. There’s something else you need to know that’s just as important as Mrs. Abrams. Judge Delacourt is presiding over the case.”
“I don’t know what that means,” she said.
“He’s just about as hard-tailed as judges come. He doesn’t like anybody for any reason, ever. As far as he’s concerned, we all deserve to be sent to prison. That’s another reason why Mrs. Abrams is so uptight today. Delacourt being a stickler about procedure is putting it politely. Maniac might be a better term.”
“Thanks for the warning. I still don’t understand why my role in this is so important to you?” she asked. “Are you trying to get a job in her department?”
David chuckled. “Anything but. It’s more a matter of politics. Just trying to make friends with her office, or at least find a way to get on her good side. That’s why you don’t need to worry about paying me. I was going to be in court today anyway.”
“Not so sure she has a good side,” Maile said, as they went down the elevator to his car. It was a quick drive to the federal courthouse. Once there, David led her through a maze of corridors until they found the right courtroom. Inside, a large team of Middle Eastern men were sitting stoic and quiet at one table, Prince Aziz seated with them. At another table were two women, plus a young man that looked unhappy to be there with them.
“Is that Abrams?” Maile whispered to David.
“Yes, and her trusty sidekick, Miss Wright. And it would be easiest for everyone if you called them by Missus and Miss.”
“Who’s the dork in the plaid sweater vest?”
“This week’s paralegal. Don’t bother learning his name. Mrs. Abrams goes through them faster than postage stamps. Wait here.”
Maile watched as David went to the government’s legal team. He nodded in Maile’s direction, and Maile waved back. There was further discussion about something, before she was waved over to them.
“Miss Spencer, thank you for being here this morning. I hope you rested well last night?” Mrs. Abrams said, barely looking at Maile.
“Actually, it’s Kamali’i-wahine Hokuhoku’ikalani, and no, I didn’t rest well. The first half was spent in a jail cell, thanks to you and the marshals you sent.”
“What do I have to do to make sure you are cooperative on the witness stand?”
“Address me correctly, and in the way I choose.”
“Which is what?”
“What I told you last night on the phone, and told your assistant, Miss Wright.”
“Ms. Spencer?”
“Very good!”
“Ms. Spencer, please have a seat in the back of the courtroom until you are called.”
When David said he would remain at the desk with the prosecution, Maile left them with a shrug, wondering what was coming her way that morning.
Chapter Thirteen
Other than a field trip during high school to attend municipal court, and to answer three questions from a judge in family court regarding her divorce, this was the only time Maile had ever been in a courtroom during a hearing. This one today was for the lawyers to make opening statements and initial presentation of evidence in Prince Aziz’s trial for international trafficking of women, organized prostitution, multiple counts of kidnap, and solicitation of prostitution. That’s where Maile came in.
The time she met Prince Aziz was a few weeks before when she was hired to take him on a round-the-island tour. At the end of it, she was offered a massive tip, but only if she had dinner with him. Needing the money and figuring no harm could come from having a meal in a classy restaurant, she complied. That dinner ended with an envelope stuffed with cash put in her hand, and the insinuation that there would be even more if she spent the night in his hotel suite. Federal agents and Detective Ota broke it up just as she was counting the money.
Ota had been chivalrous, and got Maile out of trouble that time by whisking her away before anybody knew what was happening. Since they had been investigating and following the Prince around the world for months, the federal agents had cast a broader net. They were alleging that Aziz would have drugged Maile during the night, and kidnapped her when the Prince left town the next day, Maile being the next victim in an international trafficking ring.
Maile sat quietly while three hours of legal maneuvering passed by, most of which consisted of lawyers badgering each other until Judge Delacourt told them to knock it off. Maile was deep into thought about what had gone wrong in her life when she heard the judge’s gavel whack something hard. Looking up, she saw others in the courtroom stand while the judge left for his chambers. Wondering what was happening, she watched as Prince Aziz was escorted away.
David approached her.
“What’s going on?” Maile asked.
“That’s it for the morning. We have a recess for two hours until the afternoon.”
“What?” Maile checked the time on the wall clock above her. “It’s not even noon!”
“That’s how Judge Delacourt is.” David lowered his voice. “He likes his breaks, but he likes convictions even more. When the prosecution can’t seem to get their act together, he finds ways of helping them out with a spare break here and there.”
“But nobody ever asked me anything! Why was I even here if they weren’t going to ask me questions?”
“Witnesses taking the stand won’t be for a few days yet. What you saw this morning will carry through this afternoon.”
“I could’ve been at my own hearing!” David tried hustling Maile out to the corridor while she griped. “I missed that to just sit here all morning?”
Maile finally broke free from his grasp and marched straight to Abrams, who was busy stashing yellow legal pads and forms into her briefcase, and giving commands to her assistant and paralegal. When she spotted Maile headed in her direction, she tried rushing for the door.
“I want a minute with you!” Maile said, catching up with the woman.
“I’m sorry. I have many things to prepare for this afternoon,” Abrams said dismissively.
“Not until after we talk.”
Abrams turned around, and pretended to act patient. “What is it, Miss Spencer?”
“Ms. Spencer. You had me sit here all morning, even when you knew I had to be somewhere else, and you know you had no need for me today. Can you give me any sort of sane explanation for that?”
“I can see you’re upset…”
“Answer my question.”
“Let’s have a seat.” Mrs. Abrams aimed for gallery benches.
Maile blocked her way. “I said, answer my question.”
Abrams seemed shook, or at least close to losing her patience when she looked at David. “David, can you do something about this?”
“You’re the one who subpoenaed her for opening arguments.”
Maile continued to glare, close to tears. “My entire morning has been wasted pointlessly sitting in a courtroom, while I could’ve been across town fighting for my career and reputation as a nurse. Neither one of us are going anywhere until I get an answer.”
“Look, you’re one of my primary witnesses and I needed you present in court today for a show of force. Prince Aziz and his legal team needed to see you to know the prosecution is serious about our allegations. That’s why we spent so much time arguing the fine points of law that will surely come up during the trial.”
“That’s baloney, and you know it.” Maile stuck her finger in Abrams’ face. “If I’ve lost my chance at getting my license back, you’re in trouble.” Maile got even closer. “You have no idea how close I am to being homeless, understand? If that happens, it’s on your head, and no one else’s.”
Maile turned to leave, brushing past David as she went.
“Miss Spencer, be back in here in the courtroom
in two hours or you’ll be held in contempt of court for criminal disobeying a court subpoena.”
“Certainly, Ms. Abrams. And from this point forward, consider me a hostile witness, to both prosecution and to defense, Ms. Abrams.”
David chased her down in the corridor. “Where are you going? She was serious about you being back in court this afternoon.”
“I know. I need my own clothes back, and a ride to my apartment, if you don’t mind?”
“I have a few minutes before I need to be in court for my own case, but I can do that much.”
“You know, I quit my job with the tour company yesterday morning,” Maile said as they drove across town.
“That’s what you told me last evening.”
“I thought I was done with that, and with those idiots.”
“Idiots?”
“The Smith Brothers. My ex-husband, Robbie, and my ex-boss, Thomas. Two biggest idiots in Honolulu. Except for me.”
“You’re not an idiot, Maile,” David said. “You got caught in something that anyone could’ve been.”
“Caught in something? What is it with lawyers that you don’t seem to understand when I say I needed to be in that licensing hearing this morning? If I don’t have a license, I can’t get a job as a nurse. How difficult is that to understand?”
While she changed clothes at his apartment and on the drive to her room near the university, she told the story about the patient that had perished on a busy night in the emergency room through no fault of her own. When he pulled to the curb in front of her building, he asked, “Where’s the building you live in?”
“That’s it, right there.”
“It looks more like a…”
“Flop house?”
“I was going to say boarding house,” he said. He unclasped his seatbelt and went with Maile.
“You don’t need to walk me into my place. I’m a big girl and this wasn’t a date.”
“I have time.”
When she got inside her room, she figured he wanted to see how she lived. “What do you think? Pretty glamorous digs, huh?”