Talon Winter Legal Thrillers Box Set

by Stephen Penner

  Come on, Talon thought. If you’re going to ask it, then ask it. If not, move on.

  “I was wondering if…”

  Talon raised an impatient eyebrow. “Yes?”

  “If…” But then Curt just sighed and looked down again. “Well, just, if you ever need an investigator again, you know, let me know. I’m always looking for more work and, uh, you know, I thought we worked well together.”

  Talon smiled slightly. “Yeah. We did.”

  After a moment, she followed up with, “Is that it?’

  Curt thought for a moment, then put a smile on his face. “Yeah. That’s it. Just looking for work.”

  Talon matched his packaged smile. “Okay. If I need an investigator, I’ll give you a call.”

  Curt nodded, then stood up again. “Well, I guess I better go. Those ducks aren’t gonna feed themselves.”

  Talon laughed lightly. “Yeah.”

  Curt looked at her coffee cup again, at her laptop, then finally at her face. But he couldn’t hold the gaze. He turned away as he said, “See ya.”

  Talon didn’t reply. She just turned her attention back to her laptop. For a few seconds anyway. There was a yoga mom with a double stroller coming up the street, talking to herself, and trying to avoid a crazy guy dancing on the curb. Just what she needed to distract herself from her own thoughts. And feelings.

  CHAPTER 10

  Talon ended up eating lunch at the coffee shop. It was easier than packing up all her stuff and going someplace new. And she wasn’t in the mood for much more than a bagel anyway. But by the late afternoon, her stomach was making the case for a new locale that offered some sort of protein. And her nerves were advocating for alcohol. A day at work on the case—a sunny Saturday, even—and she wasn’t any closer to a strategy than she had been when she’d first spread her stuff across that counter by the window. She needed something more than, ‘Not my pants, not my drugs, not my gun.’ The jury would never believe the pants part, which meant they wouldn’t believe any of the rest either. And Ezekiel Frazier would be sentenced to life in prison without parole because he couldn’t quit crack cocaine. Because he was an addict. And Black.

  Talon took a deep breath and lowered her head into her hands. Maybe Will would be out and she could cook something at home. She’d need to pick up a bottle of wine on the way home, though. Will had already drunk everything in the house. Selfish jerk.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  Talon raised her head again, to see the pleasant visage of Marshall Lenox standing over her.

  “Oh, hey,” she said. “Mr. Lenox.”

  “Please. Call me Marshall.” He sat down next to her, without waiting for an invitation. “My offer is still open.”

  Talon started to shake her head, thinking he meant his offer on the Frazier case. But then he pulled a penny out of his pocket and set it on the counter. “I’ll give you two cents if those thoughts involve the Frazier case.”

  Talon smiled. “They involve all my cases, Marshall. I’m always thinking, considering, scheming. You can’t win unwinnable cases unless you’re constantly thinking about how to win them.”

  “Unwinnable?” Marshall repeated. “No case is unwinnable.”

  Talon tilted her head. “Well, they should be, right? The State shouldn’t be filing charges unless they can prove it beyond a reasonable doubt. You can win an unwinnable case, but not by letting them run the show. You have to have a show of your own.”

  Marshall nodded. “So, what’s your show for Mr. Frazier?”

  Talon thought for a moment, frowning. “Yeah, I’m still working on that. I can attack the drugs, but they were in his pocket. I can attack the gun, but it was under his seat. Or I can attack the connection between the drugs and the gun, but that basically concedes the possession of them.”

  “None of those sound compelling,” Marshall offered.

  “I know,” Talon answered. “It’s not enough to try to poke holes in the State’s case. That’s necessary, but not sufficient. I have to give the jury something else to consider.”

  “Or,” Marshall reminded her, “you could concede the case, and give the Court of Appeals something to consider.”

  Talon stared at him for a moment. “Are you really still pushing that? I thought I made myself clear.”

  “Oh, you did,” Marshall agreed. “Crystal. But let me ask you something.”

  Talon crossed her arms. “Okay.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  Talon’s arms fell uncrossed. “What?”

  “Are you hungry?” Marshall repeated with a broad smile. “I know a great place just a few blocks from here. Just opened. Let me buy you dinner.”

  “Uh…” Talon wasn’t sure whether to accept.

  “Purely business,” Marshall expounded. He patted his wallet. “That way N.A.J.P. will pay for it. Expense account.”

  “Fine,” she relented, “but I’m not going to accept your offer.”

  But Marshall just smiled. “Maybe I have more than one offer for you.”

  * * *

  “Poké?” Talon asked as she stopped up short in front of the restaurant. “Kinda gross.”

  “Kinda super healthy,” Marshall replied.

  “And gross.”

  Marshall laughed. “Well, okay. Maybe. They do have a grilled chicken option.”

  “If I don’t want the eight types of raw fish?’ Talon clarified. “Great. Sushi in a bowl. Just what I wanted after a long day of no food.”

  “You had a bagel,” Marshall said.

  Talon turned to him, a bit startled. “How did you know that?”

  “I saw the plate next to your laptop,” he explained. “The knife with butter and crumbs on it. Simple deduction.” He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not stalking you.”

  Talon surrendered a laugh too. “Okay.”

  Although she started wondering how he happened to find her in the coffee shop. Of course, Curt did too. Maybe it was just a popular coffee shop. Or maybe they were both stalking her. Or maybe they ran into each other at the park and Curt told Marshall where she was. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

  Marshall opened the door for her.

  “Thank you, sir,” as she stepped through.

  But Marshall threw a mock-stern look at her. “I told you, call me Marshall.”

  In the event, they only had six types of raw fish and Talon actually went ahead and got the salmon. She could be healthy when she wanted to. She could also eat ice cream bars and champagne for dinner, in her robe, binge-watching whatever her latest show was. At least, she could do all that when her condo was her own. Her stomach tightened at the thought of Will still being there. How much longer? she wondered with a sigh.

  “It’s okay,” Marshall responded to her sigh. “If you don’t like it, we can go someplace else.”

  “No,” Talon assured him. “Just thinking about something else.”

  “The Frazier case?” Marshall ventured.

  “Sure.”

  Marshall paid the cashier with his N.A.J.P. credit card and they found a table in a far corner. Windows were nice for solo work, but discussing criminal cases out loud required a little more privacy. Especially when you were talking about how guilty the defendant was.

  Once they were seated and Talon got a few bites of food in her, she started to feel the edge come off her mood. “Actually,” she said, looking around the restaurant, “this is nice. Healthy. Casual. Normal. A little trendy, but normal. I was afraid you were going to take me to someplace stuffy and ostentatious.”

  Marshall smiled and cocked his head at that. “Do I seem stuffy and ostentatious?”

  “You seem like you’re very aware of how others perceive you,” Talon answered, “and of controlling that.”

  “Of maximizing that,” Marshall corrected.

  Talon would have responded, but she’d just taken a bite, so she shrugged to encourage him to keep talking.

  “Like it or not,” he went on, “we’re all judged every day by h
ow we look. From the people who cross the street when they see a Black man coming, to the jurors who want to vote for the pretty lady lawyer because—well, just because.”

  Talon swallowed her bite. “Did you just call me pretty?”

  Marshall smiled. “No. I think I called myself Black.”

  Talon laughed. “Oh, okay. Well, yeah. You’re right.”

  “About which?” Marshall asked. “Me being Black, or you being pretty?”

  Talon didn’t answer. She just smiled and took another bite of her healthy, trendy, gross dinner.

  As they approached the end of their meals, Marshall still hadn’t made any offers, about the Frazier case or anything else. And Talon wasn’t the patient sort.

  “So what’s your offer?” she asked. “You said you had an offer. Maybe two.”

  “Have you ever considered working for a non-profit?” Marshall asked. “We may have an opening coming up and, well, I was wondering if you might be interested.”

  Talon was taken aback. She’d expected a sales pitch on Zeke’s case, not a job offer.

  “It’s not a job offer,” Marshall clarified. “Not yet. But I have a good idea that there’s going to be an opening in our Seattle office in the next one-to-three months. We’d have to open it through normal channels, of course. But if you were interested, well, I’d be interested.”

  Talon wasn’t sure what to say. So she said that.

  “Well, just give it some thought,” Marshall replied. “It’s different from trial work. And it’s non-profit, so the money isn’t great. Good dental, though. But we need good lawyers, and you’re a damn good lawyer.”

  “Thanks,” Talon replied. Even as her head raced at the thought of a steady paycheck, a Seattle office, and a dental plan. But no trial work. She wasn’t sure what to think. But that didn’t keep her from thinking about it.

  “And regarding the Frazier case,” Marshall continued. “Have you thought more about my proposal?”

  Talon shook the not-quite-a-job-offer from her head. “Only enough to confirm I’m not going to do it.”

  Marshall nodded, obviously expecting that answer. “And why not?”

  “Because it’s not in the best interests of my client,” Talon answered. She stopped herself from adding, ‘Duh.’

  “And who determines what’s in his best interest?”

  “I do,” Talon said. “I’m his lawyer.”

  Marshall shook his head. “You advise him, but he makes the decisions. For example, who decides if he testifies at trial or not, you or him?”

  “Him,” Talon admitted. “But after I advise him whether it’s a good idea or not.”

  “But he can ignore your advice, can’t he?”

  Talon nodded reluctantly. “Yes.”

  “And who decides whether to accept a plea offer?” Marshall went on. “You or him?”

  “Him,” Talon answered. “After I advise him.”

  “And again, he can reject your advice, right?” Marshall asked.

  “Yes.” She knew where he was going with this. And it pissed her off that he was right.

  “So, who should decide whether to accept my proposal,” Marshal asked, “to a stipulated trial so this issue can get to the appellate courts on the best possible factual and procedural grounds? You or him?”

  Talon didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

  “I’ll talk to him,” she conceded. “But I’m going to advise him against it.”

  “Of course you are,” Marshall knew. “And I’m sure you’ll be persuasive.”

  But that wasn’t what Talon was worried about.

  CHAPTER 11

  Same jail, different meeting room. But the rooms all looked the same anyway. Cinder block walls, painted institutional white, with no windows save the one looking back out into the hallway, which was also white cinder block. Everything was white. Except the inmates.

  The corrections officer opened the door and Ezekiel Frazier stepped inside to talk with his attorney.

  “Hey,” he said amicably enough as he sat down. But he was noticeably more subdued than their last meeting. No smiles. Not to start with anyway.

  “Hey,” Talon returned. “We need to talk.”

  “Yeah, I figured you weren’t here to play cards,” Zeke said. “Something change?”

  “Not exactly,” Talon answered.

  “New offer from the prosecutor?” Zeke asked, a bit of hope in his voice.

  “More like something we can offer them,” Talon said. “Maybe.”

  Zeke’s eyebrows dropped. “Like what? I ain’t no snitch. And I got nothing to offer anyway. My cellies aren’t talking to me about their cases and I don’t know nothing about no unsolved murders or anything.”

  Talon shook her head. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

  Zeke’s eyebrows knitted even closer together. “What is it then?”

  “Look, I want to run something by you,” Talon started. “But I don’t want you to get mad.”

  Zeke thought for a second. “Then don’t run it by me if it’s gonna make me mad.”

  “Yeah, it’s not that easy,” Talon said. “It’s your decision, not mine. So I have to run it by you.”

  Zeke crossed his arms and frowned. “Are you always this scared?”

  Talon bolted upright in her seat. “What?”

  “Are you always this scared?” Zeke repeated. “Just say it. Don’t play games. Damn, is this how you negotiated with the prosecutor for me? No wonder I didn’t get any offers.”

  Talon thought for a moment. Then she set her jaw and jutted a finger at her client. “Okay, three things. One, I’m not scared. Not of you, not of the prosecutor, not of anyone. Two, I’m hesitant. I’m hesitant to explain this to you because it’s a stupid and terrible idea and you shouldn’t do it. But three, it’s your decision, so I have to tell you. I just want to make sure you understand, before I tell, you that it’s a terrible idea and—“

  “And I shouldn’t do it,” Zeke finished. “Yeah, I heard you. So fucking tell me already.”

  “Plead guilty.”

  Zeke took a moment. “What?”

  “Well, not plead guilty exactly,” Talon clarified. “Just waive your right to a jury, to confront witnesses, to call witnesses, and to testify. Just let the judge read the police reports to decide if you’re guilty. And he will find you guilty. So it’s basically pleading guilty.”

  Zeke just stared at her.

  “The only sentence you can get is life in prison without the possibility of parole, so that’ll be your sentence,” Talon continued. “But you can appeal.”

  “Appeal the judge reading the police reports after I told him he could?” Zeke asked.

  “Yeah,” Talon answered. “That probably won’t work.”

  Zeke just sat there, frowning, arms crossed. He didn’t say anything.

  Finally, Talon asked, “So, what do you think?”

  “I think I need a new lawyer,” he answered. He stood up quickly, sending the small chair he was seated on flying into the corner. “Why the fuck would I do any of that? You want me to just sign up to die in prison?”

  Talon shook her head. “Now, see. Three things again. One, you’re angry. Two, I told you you’d get angry. And three, I told you not to.”

  Zeke stared at her through narrowed eyes for several seconds. Then he laughed. Finally showing a glimpse of that smile. She made a mental note to make sure the jury got to see that smile.

  “Sit down,” she said. “And I’ll tell you three more things.”

  Zeke nodded and took a single step toward the corner He grabbed the plastic chair with a large hand and swept it back under himself as he sat down again. “Okay. Shoot.”

  Talon pointed at him. “I told you it was stupid. I told you should reject it. Now I’ll tell you who suggested it. You ever heard of the National Appellate Justice Project?”

  Zeke laughed. “No. That’s some lawyer bullshit. Ask me if I’ve heard of the Hoover Crips or the Native Gangster Bloo
ds. I don’t know shit about no National Lawyer Justice Whatever.”

  “Yeah, I’d never heard of it either,” Talon said. “It’s a bunch of lawyers who try to help people who’ve been convicted of crimes. I don’t know, maybe they do appeals for free or something. But they want to take your case up to the Supreme Court because they think they can use it to knock out the Three Strikes Law.”

  Zeke nodded. “That’d be good.”

  “Yeah, it would,” Talon agreed. “But they can’t do it if I win. If we win. You can’t appeal an acquittal. So they need a conviction.”

  “What happens if they win the appeal?”

  Talon shrugged. “Depends. If they strike the whole thing down, a lot of people get out of prison early. A lot. If they say it’s unconstitutional just when applied to drug possession cases, then you get out early, but most of the rest of the lifers will still spend their lives in cages.”

  “That sucks,” Zeke said.

  “Yeah, it does,” Talon replied. “But I don’t give a shit about any of them. And you shouldn’t either. I care about what happens in this case. I care about what happens to you.”

  Zeke laughed. “You don’t care about me.” It wasn’t angry, but it was realistic. “I’m just another defendant. Win or lose, you’ll forget about me as soon as the verdict’s in.”

  Talon hoped that wasn’t true. But it wasn’t completely untrue either. “I don’t have to care about your case forever. But I care now. Sure, I don’t want you to go to prison, and certainly not for life. But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I hate losing,” Talon said. “And I fucking love winning. So let’s win this.”

  Zeke smiled and nodded. “Okay, lawyer lady. Whatever you say.”

  She was about to say, ‘Good boy,’ but she stopped herself. She suddenly understood how Will could have let that ‘Honest Injun’ slip. Maybe she was too hard on him. Then she realized she was losing focus.

  “We need to convince the jury you’re innocent,” Talon returned her attention to her surroundings. “Not just ‘not guilty.’ Not just, ‘the State didn’t prove it.’ But actually, really truly, affirmatively innocent.”