That La Jolla Lawyer

by Robert Rogers

  Carter interrupted. “Take it one step at a time. Yeah, I

  know.”

  He got up and punched the machine for another cup of

  coffee, listened to the beans being ground and watched the freshly brewed coffee pour into his cup.

  “Okay,” he said when he sat down again. “What do you want me to do now?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll call you.”

  Carter walked out, as glum as he was when he walked in. Over his shoulder he said, “Getting too old for this shit, Matt. Too old.”

  “You said that during the Schofield trial,” Matt reminded him. Carter scoffed. He’d be over the next day.

  *****

  At ten sharp, Matt hurried into Starbucks for his Sam Spade report. Inside the bathroom, he grabbed the envelope left for him and shoved it into his pocket. On his way out of Starbucks, he saw a youngish woman with long dark hair tied behind her head. She was ostensibly staring at the monitor of a laptop computer. She looked like the same girl he’d seen the day he left the envelope.

  Could be Sam Spade, he thought.

  He went home, made himself a cup of coffee and sat down to read the report.

  Dr. Larson wrote prescriptions for Adderall to Jerome Whitehall and to M. Reid three years ago. To her son and herself under her married name.

  Matt consulted his notes. That was when Reid first ran for congress. The pills had to be for him. He needed energy to meet the demands of a campaign schedule.

  He mumbled to himself. “Makes sense. Adderall would have picked him up from being laid-back and happy-go-lucky to being a candidate full of piss and vinegar.”

  Dr. Larson continued with the prescriptions monthly for over a year. She quit prescribing for herself but continued with Jerome for a few more months. Then, the prescriptions began for Warner and continued until last month when they stopped. And, none for

  Jerome either.

  Why did they stop?

  He recalled from one of his criminal defenses that users bought amphetamines from street dealers.

  Cisco wouldn’t know who’s buying. He’s the distributor.

  But, he may know something.

  He called. No one answered. He left a message for Cisco to call. And, while he waited, he evaluated what he knew and what he didn’t know.

  Dr. Larson never prescribed Adderall directly to Reid but did prescribe to her son and to herself in her married name. She most likely used different pharmacies to lessen the possibility of being recognized. Once Reid won, her picture likely appeared with his so she quit prescribing to herself.

  All of a sudden, Reid developed an overflow of energy and, according to Sara and Denise, a big sex drive. Sure as hell could be linked to Adderall use.

  Stopping the prescriptions with Jerome could have been as simple as he didn’t want to be part of it anymore. He isn’t Reid’s son. Of course, the foundation gives him a living. Without Reid’s political power, the foundation might not exist.

  Matt put on his jogging shorts and did thirty minutes on the beach. He was ready to work when Carter rang the doorbell.

  Matt gave Carter the benefit of his mulling over Sam Spade’s report. “After Reid became addicted—I’m assuming—a decision was probably made to go to the street for the drug to lessen the possibility of being found out. Sarah somehow stumbled onto his addiction and made the note. Then, she was killed to cover it up.”

  Another thought tried to push into Matt’s consciousness but didn’t make it.

  “Well, counselor, what do you want me to do? I’ve gone as far as I can with Stone and Reid.”

  “I don’t have any fresh ideas, Carter. I’ve called my old client,

  Cisco, but he didn’t answer. I’m not sure what he can do either. I’ll have to think about it.”

  Carter told him Margie had chores for him so he was going home. “Call me if you come up with anything. I’ll do the same.”

  “Yeah.”

  Matt sat at the kitchen table and stared into space. It wasn’t long until his phone rang. It was Cisco.

  “Amigo, you surprise me. I give you card to impress you. I never expect a call. How can I help?”

  Matt explained his problem. How could he find out who is buying Adderall on the street.

  “Whew. That is big problems you ask to me. I will think on it and call you back, Amigo. I will find a way to help you.”

  Matt sat back in his chair. He felt something touch his hand and knew what it was. He looked down. Cat was standing on his back legs, and reaching out with his right paw to touch Matt’s hand. He meowed.

  “You want water?” Matt asked.

  Cat dropped to the floor, glanced over his shoulder at Matt, then headed toward the bathroom. Matt followed the cat to the bathtub where he jumped onto the top of the tub and sat to wait.

  Matt reached down to turn on the spigot to begin the flow of water. Cat looked at Matt to make sure he was going to stand behind him while he drank. It was their usual ritual. The cat’s broken tail wagged ever so slightly as he enjoyed his morning fill

  of water.

  “Is that how you got a broken tail?” Matt asked, “Drinking without somebody covering your back? Maybe we both have that in common. I had a broken tail after Jennifer screwed me, but mine got better.”

  After a minute, Cat jumped down. He’d had enough. He went to find a place with some sun to curl up and sleep. He wandered into the living room and went to the window where the sun had

  cast a wide ray on the carpeted floor. As he surveyed the space, he paused to stare out the window. His broken tail twitched as he watched a small bird hop from branch to branch in the hedge, in search of a bug or something to satisfy its needs.

  Finally, his instincts satisfied, Cat plopped down in a curl and began a nap.

  Cisco called back. “Mucho problemo, amigo, but it is solve. Maybe, I can do what you want. No charge. But, it is maybe, my friend. Maybe.”

  Matt almost laughed. Cisco was not in the business of working for nothing.

  “Thank you, Cisco. Give me a couple of days to put a package together. I’ll call you.” He outlined the gist of what he had in mind.

  Cisco did not act as if it would be difficult, but Matt thought otherwise.

  Cisco gave him another number. “This one direct. Other is for my people to call for more, you know. I bring person who will do what you need. You call me only Cisco. And, llevar barba. I will have beard, like you. This is big favor I do for you.”

  Matt searched his memory for the word for ‘I understand.’ It came to him. “Entiendo, Cisco.”

  Cisco laughed and hung up.

  At dusk, Matt began pondering a Denny’s bite to eat. He always got their senior breakfast special regardless of the time of day. They were always accommodating, always ready with a fresh cup of decaf.

  He was at the door of his car when Carter rolled up in his old Jeep and eased out. “Going someplace without me?” he called out.

  “Denny’s. Need to feed my stomach. It’s been growling. Want to come? I’m buying. I was going to call you later anyway. I’ve got a job for you.”

  Carter grunted an “okay” and got in.

  Carter got a bowl of their chili with coffee. “Best damned chili

  in town,” he announced.

  Over dinner, he asked Matt what needed to be done.

  He needed pictures of people who could be buying drugs for Reid on the street.

  “That’s like looking for a needle in the haystack, Matt. How in the hell do you expect to do anything with pictures? That’s a fool’s errand. It boggles my mind that you’d even consider such a dumbass thing.”

  “Easy old buddy. Don’t blow a gasket. My ex-client is back in business big time. He’s the biggest in the state and certainly in town. Reid has a house in La Jolla, Mt. Soledad, view of the ocean, the Shores, the works.”

  “I know. Warner’s stays there when he’s in town.”

  “Cisco says there are three places people buy drug
s in the La Jolla area. There’s a beach just north of La Jolla, south of Del Mar along the old highway. That’s one. Kellogg Park in the Shores is the main place. And, the Mt. Soledad memorial. That’s only a drive-in, kind of arrangement. A user calls for something. One of Cisco’s guys will drive through the place. If anybody’s standing around, Cisco’s guy will stop and see what gives. Cisco says his people are very careful.”

  “Well, that begins to make sense. You give the pictures to his dealers. They check to see if they recognize anybody. Hell, Matt, you know they don’t spend a lot of time looking at faces. They stick out their hands and take money. I imagine they’re mostly watching to see if any drug cops are running in their direction.”

  “I don’t have any other options. Do you?”

  “What if his guy recognizes somebody? How does that help

  us?”

  “We stake out a dealer and take pictures.”

  “Lots of time sitting in a car or on a bench, looking suspicious. Dealers and users aren’t dumb. Nobody would come within a mile of the place if they see anybody taking pictures.”

  “I agree. We can’t figure everything, Carter. First we get the pictures. I already have some.”

  “You need me to get the rest?”

  “Can you do it? Do you feel up to it?”

  “Give me the names and address, if you have them. If not, I’ll get them and clean the lens of my camera. I’ll get the pictures but, Matt, I ain’t gonna sit in a effin’ car all night for God knows how long, to take pictures of people buying drugs.”

  “I haven’t asked you to. We’ll try it the easy way first. The dealers know their regular buyers. It’s part of how they stay out of jail.”

  “Good point. I can see that.” He took Matt’s list. “I’ll get on it in the morning.”

  He glanced at the list, looked at Matt and said, “I reckon we could run a bluff on ole Jerome. Tell him we know he’s been buying illegal drugs on the street. Hint that we know it’s for his stepfather. See what he says.”

  “Yeah. He’d run to his mother and tell her we’re onto them.

  They’d quit buying on the street,” Matt said.

  Carter agreed. “I guess we’ll try your way first.”

  “Yeah. I guess. I wanted to mention something else. A

  thought finally made it into my brain. Why was Sarah murdered?”

  “Hell, Matt, We’ve been saying it was to keep her quiet so Warner and all the rest with their snouts in the trough could collect on their investment in Reid. Money is the root of all evil, my grandmother used to say. Warner threatened her. She complained to Reid. He complained to Warner and Warner decided she had to go. Another possibility, Reid’s wife, the status-conscious doctor, wasn’t gonna stand still for Sarah’s bedroom threat. I believe we got ourselves a shit pot full of people who’d love to bump Sarah off.”

  “I’m not arguing that, Carter. You’re right. But, what I’m

  getting at is this. We’re so hung up on Reid, we may be

  overlooking somebody else. How about Stone and Jennifer?”

  “How about the homeless guy Triplett invented? How about lots of people? What does that buy us besides confusion?” Carter asked.

  “I don’t want us barking up the wrong tree.”

  Carter sighed. “I guess I could take on one more tree, Matt. We’ve got the Reid tree and now, the Stone tree. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Why not? Stone could still be tried for murder or as a conspirator. Scandal for her and prison for him. Plenty of motivation to kill Sarah,” Matt said.

  “Nice for talk, Matt. We’ve done a lot of that since you called me, but it ‘ud sure be nice if we had a tad bit of proof?”

  “Ah, as in Shakespeare, there’s the rub,” Matt admitted.

  “And I don’t see old Shakespeare standing around offering a damn thang. So, if you come up with a productive thought, as in

  legal proof, let me know. I’ll wait for penny in the slot” Carter laughed, referring to his chicken story. “In the meantime, I’m getting’ on this other job you just gave me, shaking Reid’s tree. Pictures ‘R’ me.” He shook his head.

  “Many more like this one, Matt, and I’ll get a motor home and me ‘n Margie’ll travel.”

  Chapter 33

  The following evening, Carter brought the photos Matt needed to complete his package. “I had to wait a couple of hours for some of them to show. Boring as hell. I’ll be sending you a bill.”

  “I’ll be waiting for it. I’d ask you to meet Cisco with me, but he’s so damned skittish these days, I figure he might get cold feet if he sees a stranger.”

  “He should know me. I did the investigation on his case.”

  “Should, but no need to rock the boat. He’s already hesitant

  about doing it.”

  “No problem. Margie is cooking plank salmon tonight.”

  “Lucky man. I have to buy mine at a restaurant and Denny’s

  doesn’t sell it.”

  “Anything from Stone?” Carter asked with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Not a damn thing.”

  “Does that worry you?” Carter asked.

  “You know it does. Did we make a mistake?”

  “My thinking too.”

  *****

  Cisco showed up with a scruffy-looking guy in an olive drab short- sleeved shirt, matching pants and tennis shoes. Didn’t looked as if he’d ever used a razor and smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a month. Cisco looked as dapper as ever, smiling so all his capped teeth showed. He did have a crop of black hair stuck to his face, his beard.

  He shoved out his hand and gave Matt’s a hard squeeze. Just like they say to do in the books, Matt thought.

  They sat around the kitchen table. The guy nervously glanced

  at Cisco every few seconds. Matt lay out the photos in front of the guy.

  “Ever see any of these guys before?” he asked.

  The man studied them for a few seconds. Shook his head. “No see.” He spoke at length to Cisco who translated for Matt.

  "He says he does not look at his buyers. If he did, they might run away. He hands them a bag of what they buy. They hand him bills.”

  “Yeah. I was afraid of that.”

  “But, this one,” he pointed at Jerome’s picture. “He thinks he remembers. Because he is young and not look like user. But not see him in long time.”

  Matt nodded. That was something at least.

  “Ask him if he makes sales at Mt. Soledad.” The Reids lived within walking distance of Mt. Soledad. And, Warner was staying with the Reids.

  Cisco spoke to the guy in rapid Spanish. The guy spoke back, also in rapid Spanish. Matt could speak a few words of Spanish, but they were talking much too fast for him to catch anything.

  Cisco looked at Matt. “He gets calls from buyers. He drive there. If he sees person who calls, he stops. Buyer gives money and takes package. He leaves right away.”

  “How often?”

  The man shrugged, looked at Matt. “One buyer, two times a month. Three buyers, Three times in month.”

  Matt asked for a description of the one buyer and was told the buyer wore a floppy hat that covered his face. Tall. Wore dark

  glasses and work clothes.

  “Like my clothes,” the man said, sweeping his hand over his shirt and pants. “Funny to wear dark glasses at night.” He grinned. “Like I care.”

  Matt asked the same about the other buyers. None sounded as interesting as the “tall” buyer with the floppy hat.

  Matt leaned over the table and told Cisco. “Tell him to take the pictures and if he does recognize any of them, he should call you and you can call me.”

  Cisco and the man exchanged words. “He says he knows he won’t recognize anybody. It is a waste of his time but if I ask, he will do it.”

  “Okay tell him to forget it. However, the next time he gets a call for a Mt. Soledad buy, have him call you and you call me. I’m only intere
sted in the tall guy with the floppy hat. Will he know the man’s voice when he calls?”

  More words were exchanged between Cisco and the man.

  The man twisted his head back and forth, but seemed to be agreeing with something Cisco said.

  Cisco looked at Matt and said, “He says maybe he recognize tall man with floppy hat, when he calls. Always fifteen minutes from call to time he show up.”

  “I can make that. Just barely.” Matt said.

  The two men left Matt to think about his next move. A picture of somebody in dark glasses wouldn’t be much evidence. And, in fact, might not even be Reid or Warner.

  But, my money is on Warner. He wouldn’t let Reid go out like that.

  *****

  Carter came over the next day. Matt told him what Cisco and his street guy told him.

  “About what we figured,” Carter said. “So, I know what you’re thinking. When the call comes, we both rush out. One of us takes the Mt. Soledad site, the other Reid’s house.”

  Matt laughed. “Yeah, but who knows when the call will come in?”

  “Pain in the ass,” Carter said. “Waiting. Not knowing.”

  “Any other happy thoughts, old buddy?”

  “No. We could stake out Reid’s house but that’d be worse. Best to wait for Cisco’s call or his dealer’s. Then drive like a bat- out-of-hell to get into place before Reid or Warner show up. I figure Warner.”

  “Me too.”

  “Suppose it is Warner. What does that buy us?”

  Matt chuckled. “You’ve asked the million dollar question. I don’t have an answer. Warner says, ‘Okay, you’ve got me. What are you going to do about it?’”

  “It might have media value,” Carter said. “Voters are a fickle bunch. A hint that the drugs were for Reid would be enough to sink him. You’d be the one to stand up and say it to the world and

  then duck.”

  “If the shoe fits, wear it,” Matt said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.

  We wait for the call.”

  “I’m out of work, Matt. You have anything else for me to