Last Lawyer Standing

by Douglas Corleone

  “I think it would be best if we expanded our list of possible suspects, Governor. Surely, someone in your position has made other enemies over the course of your political career?”

  “We all make enemies, Counselor.” Omphrey suddenly stood up. “Find me the motherfucker responsible for this, and I can assure you that your enemies in the state prosecutor’s office will quickly find themselves back in Los Angeles.” As he stepped past me, he smiled and addressed the stunned look on my face. “Oh, yes, Mr. Corvelli, I read Paradise on Fire. I know all about how Luke Maddox tried to win a conviction in the Simms trial by planting stories in a pyromaniac’s head. And I know how you turned things around to win your client an acquittal. How you took a knife in the gut to save the boy. That took some brass balls. That’s what I look for in a lawyer, Mr. Corvelli. That’s why I hired you.”

  CHAPTER 30

  That evening Scott and I sat across from Oksana Sutin’s building in a rented black Hummer, watching a black Lincoln idling in the parking lot. I was behind the wheel while Scott rested in the passenger seat holding a Walther PPK.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked.

  “Chinatown.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at me. “Speaking of Chinatown, did you go see my massage therapist yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Go see her. Lian will take care of that problem with your neck.”

  “Speaking of problems, any word from back East?”

  “Nah. If Pop and my brother, Chris, are still alive, then the feds are hiding them good. Cashman called me last week. He said Nico Tagliarini’s men are scouring Brooklyn looking for me.”

  “No one knows you’re here except Milt?”

  Scott shrugged. “Someone always knows something.”

  The black Lincoln finally pulled out of the parking lot onto Diamond Head Road in the direction of Kahala. I waited a bit then started the engine and followed.

  “What was the alias listed on your Eastern District indictment again?”

  Scott chuckled. “Scotty Two Dicks.”

  “How the hell did you get that name?”

  “’Cause my first hit, right, Nico told me to go out and whack this stronzo who ripped him off and to bring back his dick. So that’s what I did. Only Nico had been fucking with me. So there I was, standing in a room full of wiseguys with a prick in my hand. When the laughing died down, I asked Nico, ‘Well, what do you want me to do with this?’ Nico stared at me for like two minutes straight, then said, ‘What the fuck do I know? Now you got a backup. Hey, everyone, say hello to Scotty Two Dicks.’

  “Few days later Nico sees my brother, Chris, in the steam room, yada yada yada. Nico comes out and declares that Chris is hereafter to be known as Chrissy Half-Cock.”

  “Harsh.”

  Scott shrugged. “I guess. But he was still better off than Benny Brown Dick. Benny earned that name during a ten-year stretch at San Quentin.”

  As soon as the Lincoln turned off the main road, I killed my lights, and Scott readied his weapon. The door to Iryna Kupchenko’s apartment was now dead-bolted and she was accompanied by an armed driver at all times. So Scott and I unfortunately had no choice but to get creative.

  “This is as isolated as it’s gonna get,” Scott said. “Let’s do this.”

  I gunned the engine and jumped into the lane reserved for traffic heading in the opposite direction. I passed the Lincoln on the left, then immediately swerved in front of the Lincoln and slammed on the brakes.

  The Hummer’s tires screeched. The Lincoln’s tires screeched. The Lincoln struck the Hummer from behind and the impact flung me hard into the steering wheel. I spent a moment thinking I’d cracked a few ribs and resented Scott for suggesting we disconnect the airbags. Fortunately, my adrenaline quickly diffused the pain and prepared me for the next phase of the operation.

  “Ready?” Scott said.

  “Ready.”

  I threw off my seatbelt as Scott did his, then we opened our doors and leapt from the Hummer, Scott with a pistol in his hand, me with a blackjack.

  I stepped over to the rear door on the Lincoln’s driver’s side and swung the blackjack at the window, smashing it to pieces just as the butt of Scott’s pistol did the same to the window up front on the passenger’s side.

  I heard Iryna scream as Scott hollered, “Don’t you move, you cocksucker,” to the driver. I opened the door and grabbed Iryna by the forearm as Scott got into the Lincoln. I dragged her gently toward the Hummer, then stuffed her inside, telling her to climb over the console into the passenger seat. I climbed in after her, turned the key in the ignition, and started to drive, leaving Scott and the Lincoln and its driver behind.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Iryna was yelling at me. “You are going to go to jail for this, you bastard!”

  I remained silent. I knew that no one in her position—a prostitute with no visa—would possibly chance going to the cops.

  “What in hell do you want from me?” she cried.

  “Answers,” I said with feigned calm. “Just some answers.”

  * * *

  “What we all hope for is to make it to United Arab Emirates,” Iryna said, taking a drag off a long, thin cigarette and ashing out the window as we drove. “To somewhere where there is money, like Dubai or Abu Dhabi. Some of us make it there or to Bahrain or Qatar. But most of us are not so lucky.”

  I steadied the Hummer and glanced at Iryna, who for some reason looked thinner than when I’d first seen her. Or maybe she just appeared more fragile sitting next to me in this motorized monstrosity.

  “Where were you taken from?”

  “I was not taken.” Anger seeped into her thickly accented voice. “Nobody grabbed my hair like a caveman and dragged me onto a ship. I was brought here.”

  “Okay, where were you brought here from?”

  “From Odessa. It is a city in southern Ukraine. We girls, we go down to the port at night and stand around and wait for a car. When a car comes, we pose in the car’s headlights as the pimp leans into the window and negotiates price. Usually two of the two or three dozen of us are chosen. We hop into the car and get driven away. Far away from Odessa. And, believe me, this is a good thing.”

  I believed her. I’d read an article in Time not too long ago about the international sex trade, how Odessa had become a hub for women from the poorest parts of Eastern Europe following the collapse of the Soviet Union. Women from Russia, Ukraine, Romania, and Moldova fled their homes to cross the Black Sea from Odessa to the Arab states and Western Europe.

  But they weren’t forced and didn’t need to be. After decades behind the Iron Curtain, these women were entirely ignorant of the outside world and desperate for opportunities. The process was completely voluntary. These women weren’t fed lies or manipulated through trickery. They knew precisely where they were going and what they’d be doing when they got there.

  Still, only someone with the hardest of hearts wouldn’t feel sorry for them.

  “So, who is it who brought you to the United States, to Hawaii?”

  Iryna shook her head and smirked. “You must be so crazy. Because you do not seem so stupid.”

  “I’ve been beginning to think I’m a bit of both these past few weeks. But I’m something else too, Iryna. I’m tenacious. I will get my answers, even if it means you and I have to drive around this island nonstop the next five days and nights. Even if costs me twenty grand in gasoline because this goddamn Hummer gets a quarter of a mile to the gallon. And if all else fails, I’ll drive us right to the federal building in Honolulu and put you into the hands of my good friend in Immigration, Special Agent Marc Dalton.”

  Iryna shrugged her stick-thin shoulders. “If I tell to you this name, Mr. Corvelli, you might as well shoot me.”

  “I don’t think so.” I turned past a sign for downtown Honolulu. “From what I’ve read and from what you’ve told me, having you hauled back to Odessa would be a far worse punishment than killing you.”

  �
��You are right on that,” she said, sighing.

  “So what’s it going to be, Iryna. Just a name and I’ll never tell a soul where I got it.”

  Her chin dropped into her chest. “He is German-Irish,” she said quietly. “He calls himself Gavin Dengler. I have met with him just yesterday, so he is still somewhere on the island.”

  “Gavin Dengler,” I said aloud. “Okay, I’m going to pull over now. When I do, you’re going to give me a complete description of him. You’re going to tell me where I can find him. Then I’m going to drive you home. If your answers are entirely truthful, I promise you’ll never see me again.”

  She swallowed hard and swiped at a tear. “That is something I can promise you, too.”

  CHAPTER 31

  On the evening of the governor’s fundraiser, I grudgingly dressed in an Armani tuxedo and rented a stretch limo to pick up Audra at her house in Ewa. When she opened the door, my mouth nearly dropped, but I kept things in check by smiling and saying nothing more than the obligatory “You look beautiful.”

  But beautiful didn’t do Audra Karras justice. With her maiden name back in place she looked every bit as stunning as she did during our senior year of high school. Dressed in a backless black dress, she lit up the night the way few women could. Even our driver, unsmiling until then, cracked a joke about getting her home by midnight, before his black stretch limo turned into a bright orange pumpkin.

  When we arrived at the Grand Polynesian resort in Waikiki, I took Audra’s hand and led her through the main lobby toward the Grand Ballroom, all the while smiling for the cameras. Since Justice Ingraham had stayed Turi Ahina’s federal case pending the state trial, there was no longer any reason Audra and I couldn’t be seen together.

  We were standing at the open bar, retrieving our first drinks, when Scott Damiano tapped me on the shoulder. Jake, still suffering from a terrible case of sobriety that began more than a year ago, had declined the governor’s invitation. So I invited Scott, who cleaned up significantly better than Flan.

  “Tremendous, Scott,” I said, eyeing him in his tuxedo. “You look terrific.”

  “Kevin, I’d like you to meet my date, Chloe.”

  Chloe held out her hand, and I took it. She was thin at the waist, with gigantic fake breasts, wearing a tight black dress that more than just accentuated them.

  “Haven’t we met before?” I said.

  “Maybe. I’m a dancer.”

  “Oh,” Audra said, stepping in. “Where at?”

  Chloe didn’t hesitate. “Striptopia on Kapiolani Boulevard right here in Honolulu.”

  “Oh,” Audra said again.

  “Well,” I said to Chloe, “if I haven’t seen you dance yet, I’ll be sure to drop by to see you soon.”She smiled as I turned back to Scott. “Well done.”

  “Hey, Kev, you told me this crowd was classy. I wasn’t gonna just head into Waikiki and grab the first two-bit hooker I found.”

  When I turned back, I was surprised to see Audra and Chloe had gone off on their own, chatting like old school pals. “Well, I guess that means it’s you and me, Scott. Let’s grab some cocktails and I’ll introduce you to the governor.”

  “Looks like I’m running with a much different crowd than I did back in Brooklyn,” Scott said as we stepped up to the bar. “Seems I’m heading up in the world.”

  I glanced around the ballroom, at the tanned Botox faces, the men wearing too much hairspray, the women too much makeup and jewelry. To me it looked more like a costume party than a $500-a-plate fundraiser.

  “Don’t be so sure of that,” I said.

  Full tumblers in hand, Scott and I merged through the crowd until I spotted the governor. Omphrey stood with another man, much taller with the unmistakable look of money. On the governor’s other side stood his wife, Pamela, Hawaii’s first lady. She was dressed to the hilt, complete with her best fake authentic smile.

  “Kevin,” the governor said cheerfully. It was the first time he’d ever called me by my first name. “So glad that you could make it. Of course, you know my wife, Pamela. And this gentleman is Mr. Tommy Duran. He’s a major land developer here in the islands.”

  I reluctantly shook Duran’s hand. He was handsome with dimples on either side of a rich, round face and one on his chin. His tux fit him like a glove, while diamond cufflinks peeked out from under his jacket sleeves. He had dark brown hair and matching eyes. I pegged him for about fifty, but he could well have been older; money often disguised age as much as a rubber mask.

  “Nice to meet you, Kevin,” Duran said during the too-long, too-firm handshake.

  I introduced them all to Scott Damiano, who gave them each a “How ya doin’?” before offering his left hand.

  Before another word could be said, we were surrounded by three more beautiful women—Audra, Chloe, and Tommy Duran’s wife, Holly.

  When Audra heard the developer’s name, she glowed. “I’m purchasing a unit at Water Landings in Kakaako.”

  I watched for Pamela Omphrey’s reaction, but there was none.

  “Really?” Duran said. “Well, congratulations. Let’s all hope we’ll meet no more opposition from the Land Use Commission.”

  The governor turned toward his wife as he tried to avoid Duran’s gaze. All of a sudden all of us were quiet.

  Finally, between sips of champagne, Duran asked Audra what she did for a living.

  “I’m a federal prosecutor,” she said.

  “Really? And just what are you doing nuzzling up to a criminal defense attorney? Is he that good in bed?”

  Duran laughed alone, coaxing awkward smiles from each of us. Audra’s cheeks, meanwhile, burned red.

  “We’re just friends,” I said.

  “If you’ll all excuse me,” Omphrey said politely, “I have to run around and scare up some votes.”

  Duran, too, excused himself and his wife. Scott escorted Chloe and Audra to the bar, promising to bring me back another highball. Which left me alone with Pamela Omphrey.

  “Quite a man, your husband,” I said to fill space.

  “Sometimes,” she said, bowing her head. “But then, as a criminal defense attorney I’d imagine you’ve seen the worst of the worst.”

  I knocked back a bit of my Ketel and club. “Certainly no worse than a politician’s wife must have seen.”

  “How is it that all lawyers loathe politicians and vice versa when all of you attended law school?”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I loathe lawyers, too.”

  Pamela grinned. “So, is my husband still going to be a politician come November?”

  “You know I can’t speak to you about the investigation, Mrs. Omphrey.”

  “Who said anything about the investigation?” she said without looking at me. “I already know all I need to know about Ms. Sutin. I know she was a harlot. I know that she was a drug addict. I know that my husband was fucking her. And I know that Wade was in Washington when she was murdered. I know he didn’t kill her.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “No, my question wasn’t a legal question, Mr. Corvelli, it was a political one. Do you think my husband will win in November? With all this shit that’s going on?”

  “The governor has my vote,” I lied.

  “Mine, too.” She sighed, then took a sip of her martini. “Just when I’m sure my husband was born without a spine, he finally stands up to someone like Thomas Duran.”

  “On Kakaako?”

  She finally looked me square in the eyes. “Kakaako is really just the tip of the iceberg. What Duran really wants to get his hands on is the North Shore. But not on my watch. I swore, if Wade ever caved on the Waimea Valley project, I’d divorce him.”

  “I read about the public hearing.”

  “You realize, it’s not just about keeping the country country,” Pamela said. “It’s the environmental impact of ocean pollution from septic systems and construction sediment runoff.” She smiled mirthlessly. “But of course, all that doesn’t fit on a
bumper sticker.”

  “No. Nor does it fit neatly into a four-second sound bite.”

  She nodded. “I suppose that’s something politicians and lawyers can agree on: the dreadfulness of the modern media.”

  “Nothing brings people together like a common enemy.”

  “Nothing else brings people together, period. Not these days. Even tragedy possesses a brutally brief shelf life. And what’s more tragic than what we are doing to this planet, Mr. Corvelli?”

  Even in the dim light of the banquet hall, I could see a wall of moisture forming in front of Pamela’s eyes.

  “If it’s any consolation,” I said, “many people here in the islands, myself included, appreciate you standing up for the environment. This country could use more first ladies like you.”

  “It’s a rare pleasure to hear that. Thank you.”

  Hours later, after a dinner that included seafood cakes and a whole-tomato salad, grilled mahimahi, Kona lobster, and steak, with pineapple shaved ice for dessert, Audra and I said our good-nights to Scott and Chloe and the Omphreys and the Durans, then exited through the lobby to our waiting limousine.

  “To the young lady’s house in Ewa first, sir?” the driver called back to me from the front seat.

  Audra looked at me. “I’m up for a nightcap if you are.”

  I hesitated. I was tired, due for another few Percocet, and my life was complicated enough. But finally, before I could change my mind again, I loosened my tie, opened the top button of my tuxedo shirt, and said, “To Ko Olina please.” I glanced at my watch. “And we’d better hurry because it’s almost midnight.”

  CHAPTER 32

  When we arrived at my villa in Ko Olina, Grey Skies didn’t greet me at the door. He liked strangers even less than I did but was usually enamored of beautiful women. I checked his food dish and was surprised and concerned to see that it was full. But I found him a moment later, fully awake and content, lying on my bed in the living room.