Lawful Deception

by Pamela Samuels Young

  “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  Mankowski stepped forward. “We have a warrant to search your home.”

  “Search for what? I told you I didn’t kill that bi—”

  “If I were you, I’d watch my language. We’ve got cameras rolling.”

  Mia noticed a cop off to the side pointing a camera in their direction.

  “Calm down, baby,” Mia whispered in Fletcher’s ear. “They want you to blow up so they can use it against you. Don’t give them what they want.”

  Mia stepped in front of him. “I’m his attorney. I’d like to see your warrant, please.”

  Thomas handed it to her with a smile.

  She scanned the document, but since she’d never seen one before and knew nothing about criminal law, she had no idea whether it was valid or not.

  “Please step aside,” a big cop ordered.

  When they didn’t move, the man bowled past them, clearing the way for the other cops to rush in. Gilda, Carina and Harmony were ushered outside with Mia and Fletcher.

  Fletcher turned to Mia. “I want you to take all of them to the Four Seasons until I can figure this thing out.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I’m calling Vernetta.”

  “Nobody’s going anywhere, Mankowski said. “Especially not you.”

  Fletcher wasn’t sure which one of them he was talking to, but before he could clarify, Mia got in Mankowski’s face.

  “Unless you have an arrest warrant, we can go anywhere we want.” She knew that much from watching Law & Order.

  “Lady, I’m instructing you to step back out of our way so that we can properly execute our search warrant.”

  Mia stayed put, both hands defiantly on her hips. “You don’t have a right to—”

  Mankowski turned to Thomas who gave a slight nod.

  “You’re under arrest.” Mankowski flagged one of the officers who pulled out his handcuffs. He grabbed Mia’s arm and whirled her around.

  Mia’s scream sounded more like a howl. “I’m a lawyer. You can’t treat me like this! I will sue every one of you!”

  She was struggling so violently, the officer was having a hard time cuffing her.

  Fletcher was so enraged he could hardly talk. “Why are you doing this? What are you arresting her for?”

  “California Penal Code one-forty-eight, obstructing an officer in the performance of his duties,” Mankowski explained.

  “You can’t do that! This is police brutality!” Fletcher puffed out his chest and balled up his fists as if he was about to strike a blow.

  Thomas stepped between Fletcher and his partner. “Would you like to join your fiancée? Because we can definitely make that happen.”

  Fletcher took a step back, but kept his eyes on Mankowski. “I’ll sue you for everything you got,” Fletcher spat.

  “Go for it, buddy. I don’t have much, but it’s yours for the taking.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Gilda was hugging herself and rocking back and forth like an addict.

  Carina was off to the side sobbing in unison with Harmony.

  The officer started tugging a handcuffed Mia toward a patrol car. She resisted him at every step, jerking her body in the opposite direction.

  “Help me, Fletcher!” Mia wailed. “Don’t let them take me to jail!”

  Fletcher looked like a helpless little boy. By the time he took out his cell phone, tears were rolling down his cheeks.

  CHAPTER 84

  Just as we pull onto our street Jefferson grimaces and pounds the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. Dang!”

  “What’s the matter?” I glance up the street and spot what just set Jefferson off. Special’s car is parked in front of our house.

  “I’m not having it tonight. We have a date with a hot tub. So send her ass home.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Special would be so hurt if she heard what you just said. You better be glad I’m not going to tell her.”

  “I don’t care if she knows. I’ll tell her myself.”

  By the time Jefferson swings his car into the driveway, Special is already out of her car and running up to us.

  “I saw it,” she yells. “I saw the video.”

  “We don’t care who you saw,” Jefferson says, his tone gruff. “You gotta go. We’re about to get our freak on.”

  “Hush, boy. Y’all can do that any time. This is important.” Special’s lips start flapping faster than the blades of a fan. “I bribed the security guard to show me the video of the man going in and out of the restaurant. I got a real good look at him too. But better yet, I got this.” She waves a piece of paper in the air.

  I climb out of the car. “What’s that?”

  “We don’t care what it is,” Jefferson barks. “Show it to her in the morning. Good night, Special.”

  “It’s the license plate number of Mystery Baby Daddy and probably Bliss’ killer too!”

  “Good work,” I tell my friend, knowing she’s craving a pat on the back. “But like my husband just said, we have some business to take care of. This is our first date night in ages.”

  Jefferson stands at the front door, sticking his key into the lock. “So good night, Special,” he repeats over his shoulder. “See you later. Preferably in a month or so.”

  “Dang, brother man, why’re you so crotchety tonight? Girl, you gotta give him some more often.”

  “Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” I say. “There’s nothing we can do with that information tonight.”

  “I called it into Eli. He’s going to see if one of his cop contacts will look it up for him.”

  “I think you should stay out of it and hand it over to Mankowski and Thomas. I don’t even think they have that guy on their radar. Based on the conversation you overheard in that restaurant, they definitely should.”

  Special scrunched up her face. “And let them get all the glory for solving the case? No way. I’m going to solve this puppy myself.”

  “We don’t care.” Jefferson steps inside and after I follow, he places one hand on the edge of the door and the other on the doorframe, blocking Special’s entrance. “Good night, Special.”

  She ducks underneath Jefferson’s arms and squeezes inside. Before he can grab her, my phone rings.

  Jefferson throws up his hands. “Don’t answer it.”

  “C’mon, babe. I have to check.” I reach inside my purse. “It might be important.”

  When I glance at the phone, Fletcher’s name flashes across the screen. I’m about to stick the phone right back into my purse, but a weird feeling prevents me from doing that. I tap a button turning on the phone.

  As I listen, my emotions heighten with his every word. With Jefferson and Special staring me down, however, I struggle to keep my face expressionless.

  “I’m sorry, Fletcher, but I can’t get involved. I doubt she’d want me to represent her anyway. You have Colin’s number. Call him.” I hang up.

  Special nearly jumps out of her shoes with curiosity. “What happened?”

  “They arrested Mia.”

  “What? I told you that heffa killed her!” Special starts jumping up and down.

  “They arrested her for obstruction of justice, not Bliss’ murder. And, excuse me, but haven’t you been saying all along that Mystery Baby Daddy killed Bliss?”

  “Well, maybe,” Special says sheepishly.

  Jefferson is still standing at the door, holding it wide open. “I don’t care who killed her. Good night, Special.”

  She’s about to sulk out, when my phone rings again.

  Jefferson’s eyes plead with me. “Babe, please don’t answer that.”

  “It’s Colin. I have to take it.”

  I’m relieved to hear that Fletcher has reached out to him so fast. But as Colin explains, he wouldn’t be
able to fly down from Oakland until morning. He wants me to cover for him until then. Based on what Fletcher told him, Colin thinks I can probably get Mia out of jail tonight.

  “I prefer not to get involved,” I tell him.

  And besides I’d love for Mia to spend a night in jail so she can see how the other half lives.

  Now, Colin is pleading with me and his pleas are far more effective than Fletcher’s. Or Jefferson’s for that matter.

  My husband knows from my pained expression that there isn’t going to be any hot tub action tonight.

  “It’s okay, babe.” Jefferson walks over, kisses me on the lips and squeezes me hard. “Do what you gotta do.”

  I hug him back, then turn to Special. “I need to see if I can get Mia out tonight. You wanna ride with me?”

  CHAPTER 85

  I don’t recognize the handcuffed woman who shuffles into the interrogation room at police headquarters. Mia’s weave sits askew and it looks as if she’s run through a wind tunnel. But it isn’t her hair, her smeared makeup or the three buttons missing from her blouse that disturbs me most. It’s her eyes. Mia’s eyes are dead.

  As she slumps into a seat across from me, I look up at Mankowski and Thomas. “I’d appreciate it if you could take the handcuffs off. Then I’d like a few minutes alone with my client.”

  “Is she going to talk to us?” Mankowski asks.

  “I’ll make that determination after I speak with her.” They’re actually doing me a favor by letting me see her so quickly.

  Mankowski grunts, takes off the handcuffs and leaves the room.

  I move my chair to the other side of the table, close to Mia’s. I don’t trust that the cops aren’t listening to our conversation.

  “I need you to listen to me,” I whisper into her ear. “When those cops come back in here, I need you to follow my instructions to the letter. Arresting you on an obstruction of justice charge is crap. They’ve targeted you as Bliss’ killer, but they don’t have enough evidence to arrest you. I think they baited you into going off so they could take you in.”

  The realization that she’d been set up suddenly dawns on Mia, because her dead eyes suddenly blink back to life.

  “But I told you, I didn’t kill Bliss!”

  “Please lower your voice.”

  I very much want to remind my temporary client that she has nothing to worry about since innocent people don’t go to jail. But doing that would be both petty and unprofessional. But it sure would feel good.

  “I know you didn’t kill her,” I say, though I don’t know any such thing. “I think I can get you out of here tonight, but I’m going to need you to do exactly what I tell you to do.”

  “Okay, but please just get me out of here! I can’t spend another minute in that holding tank! I just can’t! It stinks in there and those other women were so ghetto.”

  My instantaneous frown prompts Mia to try to clean up her comment.

  “But there was an older woman in there who was nice to me.” Mia toys with a loose thread on her faded smock. “She could tell I didn’t belong there. She kept this big gangbanger-looking girl from messing with me.”

  Lord, help me. I can’t wait to hand over this snooty child to Colin. Once he gets to town and takes over, I’m changing my phone number.

  “What I want to do right now is use this interrogation for information-gathering. Like I said, I don’t think they have probable cause to arrest you for Bliss’ murder. Otherwise, they would’ve gotten an arrest warrant. People mouth off to cops all the time. It’s totally within their discretion whether to make an arrest. They were hoping you got in their face.”

  “So they entrapped me?”

  Yes, fool. They must’ve started handing out law degrees to just anybody.

  “Entrapment’s a little more involved. But basically, they played you. Since you spoke to them before without representation,” I explain, “I suspect they figured you’d do it again. They wanted to interrogate you without counsel present in the hope of getting you to confess to Bliss’ murder.”

  Mia just blinks over at me, stunned at the realization of how the criminal justice system works in practice rather than theory.

  “You didn’t say anything in the squad car, right?”

  “No,” she squeaks.

  “Okay. So when they come back in here, I’m going to do most of the talking. You should only respond to a question when, and only when, I tell you to. Our goal here is to get information, not give it. You understand?”

  Mia nods, but it isn’t clear to me that she understands everything I’m saying. She seems to float in and out of the room.

  The door opens and Mankowski sticks his head inside. “How much longer are you going to need?”

  “Your timing’s perfect.” I make my tone as conciliatory as possible. “We’re ready now.”

  Thomas sits down at the table across from us while Mankowski remains standing. I figure Thomas is taking the lead since he built a rapport with Mia when he questioned her before.

  “Ms. Richardson,” Thomas begins, “we want to ask you one more time where you were this past Tuesday evening, between the hours of eight and ten.”

  “Whoa, cowboy.” I hold up a hand. “You arrested my client for obstruction of justice. Sounds like you want to question her about Bliss Fenton’s murder. That’s not what we’re here for.”

  I want to force them to put their cards on the table.

  Thomas looks up at Mankowski. It’s apparent that he’s the more experienced cop.

  Mankowski grabs the remaining empty chair. He straddles it, with his hands griping the back of the chair.

  He gives me an aw shucks, grin. “Okay, counselor, I should’ve known, you were too smart for us.”

  His compliment is total bull. I entwine my fingers, prop my elbows on the table and lean in. If I hadn’t been wearing a dress, I would’ve mirrored Mankowski’s pose and straddled my chair too.

  “If that’s the case, detective, then why don’t you stop playing games and just tell us what you’ve got? Since you chose not to bait Fletcher into an obstruction of justice charge, it sounds like Mia’s your number one suspect. But you obviously don’t have enough evidence to arrest her. I guess I can also assume you didn’t find anything during the search either or you would’ve formally arrested her for murder. So, detectives, exactly what do you have?”

  The big bad Mankowski doesn’t like me calling him out. But this is the fun part of criminal practice. Lawyers get off on moments like this.

  The two cops make eye contact again. They seem to be able to communicate without saying a word.

  Thomas retakes the lead. “Okay, here’s what we got. A week or so before Bliss Fenton’s death, your client threatened her in the parking structure of the Century City Mall. We have an eyewitness to that confrontation.”

  Mia straightens up like a steel pole. Before she breaks her promise to keep her mouth shut, I place a firm hand on her arm, shutting her down.

  “A lot of people threatened Bliss Fenton,” I say. “What else you got?”

  “Jessica Winthrop retained Girlie Cortez to sue Fletcher McClain for custody of Bliss’ daughter. Your client offered Ms. Cortez a fifty-thousand-dollar incentive to make sure Jessica, and not her husband-to-be, obtained custody of the kid.”

  When I briefly glance her way, Mia lowers her head.

  The allegation throws me, but I don’t miss a beat. “That obviously happened after Bliss was dead. Doesn’t sound like evidence of murder to me.”

  “No, but it does go to motive.” Mankowski is no longer grinning. “I think the prosecutor’s opening argument would go a little bit like this. First, your client gets Bliss out of her life by shooting her down in her own home. Then she tries to make Bliss’ kid disappear too.”

  Mia gasps, causing me to squeeze her arm harder. Thi
s girl could’ve never practiced criminal law. She can’t even put on a game face when her own freedom is on the line.

  “You need more than motive to prove a murder case, detective. You need evidence. And so far I haven’t heard any. What else you got?”

  Thomas looks over at his partner. This time Mankowski nods. I have a bad feeling that whatever they hit us with next could be a problem. Thomas reaches inside his jacket and pulls out an envelope.

  “We’ve also got this.” Thomas slaps a photograph on the table.

  I pick it up. It shows an intersection and captures four cars going through it. It must have been a digital photo because it’s very clear. I can see that the street is Jefferson Boulevard.

  Mia leans in over my shoulder. It takes her a moment to recognize what she’s looking at. After studying it for five seconds, she starts to shake.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “That’s your client’s BMW going through the intersection of Jefferson and Playa Vista Drive right around the time Bliss was murdered. But she told us a couple days ago that she was home reading that night.”

  “I didn’t kill her!” Mia shouts. “I was getting my hair done that day at the House of Carlton on Lincoln. I—”

  My eyes lock on Mia’s. “Please don’t speak until I ask you to.”

  “They’re crazy if they think I—”

  I clutch Mia’s arm in a vice grip. “I’ve got this,” I say, through clenched teeth. “Please don’t say another word.”

  She covers her face with both hands and starts blubbering.

  I turn back to the detectives, whose faces sport matching grins.

  “As you just heard, my client was driving through that intersection because she was on the way to get her hair done. I’m sure her stylist can confirm that.”

  For Mia’s sake, I pray that’s true. That is something the cops can easily check out. If Mia is lying, that won’t bode well for her. Regardless of whether she got her hair done, it doesn’t look good that she was in the area around the time Bliss was killed.

  Mankowski spreads his hands, palms up. “Doesn’t mean she still didn’t have time to shoot Bliss before or after she got her hair done. Hell, she probably planned it all out that way.”