Accidental Lawyer_A humorous peak into Baltimore's legal community, with a thread of mystery

by Kim Hamilton

  I didn’t want to stop or get out of the car because I didn’t know if the shooter was following me. But I couldn’t leave Delroy.

  I lowered the passenger window. “Get in the car. Delroy. Get in the damn car!”

  “Jess. Is that you?” He was trying to steady himself after his near-death experience, still clutching his chest.

  “Yes, don’t ask any questions. Get in the goddamn car!”

  We drove in silence for three blocks then pulled over at a busy intersection.

  Delroy reached again for his chest, this time going inside his jacket. He brought out a flask, took a long pull, and handed it to me. I took my shaking hands off the wheel, grabbed the flask, and choked on its contents. I needed both hands to control it. Then I took another swig. It had an instant calming effect.

  “What happened back there?” he asked.

  “Someone shot at me as I was leaving the alley.”

  “Damn. Who’d you piss off?”

  I explained that it was most likely a drug dealer.

  He gave me a disparaging look. “You shouldn’t be doing drugs, Jess.”

  “I don’t do drugs. I’ll explain later. You alright?”

  “Sure. I’m fine. You got a spare tire in this tin can?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know how to change a tire.” I looked at him. “And you shouldn’t be changing a tire, either. I thought I gave you a heart attack.”

  He suggested I limp the car a couple more blocks over to his pawn shop. He lived above it, and his son lived half a block away. He called his son and told him to bring a tire iron and a jack.

  While we waited, I told Delroy about the threat I had received from Mad Dog. He reiterated what Dawson and Marty had said about those threats being harmless.

  “But the guy shot at me. That’s not harmless.”

  “It was a warning shot. If he wanted to kill you, he would have.”

  I didn’t find that at all comforting. “What’s your son’s name?”

  “Marcus. That’s him.” Delroy pointed toward a figure on the sidewalk and got out of the car. Marcus was carrying a jack and a toolbox. He appeared to be in his early twenties, clean shaven, cropped hair. He wore his shorts low on his hips, but not so low as to reveal the color of his underwear. His T-shirt bore the logo of the family business, Delroy’s Pawn Palace.

  There was a good amount of activity on the street. I scanned the near vicinity for anyone pointing a gun at me. Seeing no immediate threat, I joined Delroy and Marcus on the sidewalk.

  Delroy made the introductions. Marcus grabbed my right hand with both of his and pumped it. “My dad says you’re the shit when it comes to attorneys.”

  “High praise, thank you. And thanks for coming out to help with my tire.”

  He shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Dad said someone shot at you. That happen often?”

  “First time.”

  “You get used to it.”

  He asked me to pop my trunk, pulled the spare out, and got to work. “You’re lucky. I think the rim’s in good shape.”

  I sat on the curb close to Marcus and watched the activity on Holliday Street. Delroy was chatting it up with a cross-dresser at the corner. There were bouncers stationed outside of three different establishments along the street. Each had bright neon signs screaming to be noticed while Marcus was quietly humming a tune.

  After thanking Marcus and Delroy for their help, I headed home. I was still a bundle of nerves. Someone shot at me and he might try again. I was tired, sweaty, and dirty from sitting on the street. I needed a shower, but all I could think about was getting stabbed in my bathroom. I couldn’t go home alone. I decided to call on Mrs. B. At least she had a gun. It was tough to find a parking space at this hour, but I managed to find one half a block away. I fast-walked toward my house with my phone in my hand pretending to talk to someone, staying vigilant. The only people I saw were that disgraceful young couple practically groping each other while their dog pooped. Then I noticed Mrs. B sitting on her front porch. I was so happy to see her.

  “Jessica, I worry for you. You usually home by now on work night.” As I got closer, concern registered on her face. “What happened? Have you seen your hair? You don’t look too good.”

  Mrs. B poured some port into a teacup and handed it to me.

  “Thank you. It’s been a bad night. Someone shot at me. Blew my tire out.” I took a long drink and held my cup out so she could top it off.

  “Who would do this?”

  “I got a threat from someone earlier. One of my clients is supposed to testify against a drug dealer, and he’s threatening to kill my client and me if she talks.”

  “I see. You know, witness intimidation is common.”

  “But he shot at me!”

  She shrugged. “He missed.”

  What was wrong with people? Dawson, Marty, Delroy, Marcus, and now Mrs. Bianco were all taking this death threat in stride. Had they become so hardened by city life that a death threat was no bigger deal than Sabatino’s running out of chicken parmesan on a Friday night? Or was I overreacting to a common occurrence? I was too tired to contemplate the cosmic meaning of it all. I wanted to shower and go to bed.

  “Will you come over while I shower?” I didn’t care that I sounded childish. I was out of false bravado.

  “Sure. I’ll turn on the news.”

  “You got your gun?”

  She nodded, patted the pocket of her housecoat, grabbed the bottle of port, and followed me.

  “That stunt you pulled yesterday with the fire department worked,” I said as I unlocked my front door.

  She beamed up at me. “You mean you have a date with Mark?”

  “Yup.”

  “See. I told you. The third time is charming.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Mrs. Bianco’s port proved to be the perfect sleeping aid. I slept like the dead. No sooner had she left than I fell fast asleep and didn’t wake until my alarm went off. The sun was out. I could feel the heat penetrating my blinds even at this early hour. I didn’t need to see a forecast to know it was going to be another sweltering, sticky, frizzy-hair day. Of course, I had more to worry about than my hair. The events of last night replayed in my head. It scared me, but any follow through on these threats seemed unlikely according to common street logic.

  My cell phone rang, and I saw Sharlyn’s name on the display. It was 6:45 a.m. I knew it couldn’t be good.

  “Hi, Sharlyn.”

  “That punk-ass Mad Dog was here at my cousin’s house last night. He stopped his car in front and shot out her porch lights. Both of them.”

  “Did anyone get hurt?”

  “No. Just the lights. Two bullets, two lights. He’s an excellent shot. Darnell always said that.”

  I supposed that if Mad Dog always hits his mark, then there was truth to what everyone was telling me. If he had wanted to kill Sharlyn or me, he would have.

  “He shot at me last night, too. Took out my tire as I was leaving work.”

  “I’m sorry to have gotten you involved in this.”

  “I’m going to call the DA and let him know that we’re being threatened. I’m not sure what good it will do, but he should know.” I hung up with Sharlyn and gave Mrs. Bianco a quick call to thank her for taking care of me last night and apologize for being such a baby. She reiterated her offer to teach me to shoot and help me pick out a gun. “You are a young woman living in the city with a job where you meet not so nice people. You need a gun.”

  “Right now, I need a new tire. You know anyone I could call?”

  She said her husband used to use a guy who owned a car shop on Read Street. She had his number and remembered him as Flat Face. I took the information, thanked her again, disconnected, and called the shop. The guy identified himself as Bucky. He remembered Mr. Bianco and said I could bring the car in this morning and he’d have it ready in a couple of hours.

  I drove up Calvert and Monument Streets on the temporary tire with an abundance
of caution, receiving angry honks and offensive middle fingers along the way. Kari pulled into the DGA parking lot at the same time. “What happened to your tire?”

  “Someone shot at me last night.”

  “Girrrrl. You kidding, right?”

  “I’m not kidding.” I pointed to the alley. “Right out there, right after you drove off.” I gave Kari in an objective play-by-play of events affecting an outward calm.

  “That’s some heavy shit, Jess. What’re you going to do about your tire?”

  “I was hoping you’d drive me down to Bucky’s Auto on Read Street so I can drop it off.”

  “Sure. Let’s step inside first. I need to check the messages.”

  Kari went to the front office. I stayed in the kitchen to make coffee. While it was brewing, I looked out into our parking lot. No bad guys looming outside. I watched Marty, Dawson, and Sal pull into the lot at the same time. Marty parked next to me and stopped to examine my rear tire. He pointed it out to Dawson, who shrugged.

  “You get a flat yesterday?” Marty asked, holding the door open for Dawson.

  “No. Someone shot at me.” I was pouring myself a cup of coffee, trying to look casual. “Anyone want coffee?”

  “What do you mean someone shot you?” Dawson said.

  I gave them the details. “Now do you think those are empty threats?”

  “How many shots did he take at your car?” Dawson asked.

  “One.”

  “How many shots did he take at Sharlyn’s two lights?”

  “Two.”

  Dawson and Marty exchanged knowing looks. “The guy’s an ace marksman. He’s trying to scare you, is all.”

  “Well, it worked.”

  #

  After Kari helped me drop off my car, we returned to the office. My first order of business was to call Chip. I dispensed with the usual pleasantries and got right to my point. “Sharlyn and I are getting death threats. She thinks it’s Darnell’s flunky, a guy they call Mad Dog. They’re trying to intimidate us to keep Sharlyn from testifying.”

  “What kind of threats?”

  “First we received a text and a phone call. Then last night, he shot out my tire as I was leaving work. He also shot out two of Sharlyn’s porch lights.”

  “Who?”

  “What’d you mean, who?”

  “Which one did the shooting, Darnell or Mad Dog?”

  “Sharlyn says Mad Dog’s the marksman, so we assume it’s him.”

  “How many bullets?”

  “One for my tire—”

  “And one for each light?”

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s typical witness intimidation. You should file a police report. I’ll call Darnell’s defense attorney and tell him about these intimidation tactics. He’ll deny that Darnell’s involved, but at least he’ll know I’m aware of it. Let me know if anything else happens.”

  “Any chance he’ll plea out so Sharlyn doesn’t have to testify?”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Well if talks do open up, remember, I still need a truthful statement from him about the accident. It would mean a lot to Sharlyn.”

  “At this point, I doubt there will be a deal. He wants his day in court.”

  #

  Sharlyn came in carrying a tray of freshly baked something. “I brought you some of my pocket pastries. Hal wants your opinion before he puts them on the menu.” She put the tray on Kari’s desk. Kari and I reached for the biggest one at the same time. She gave me a look, and I chose another. They looked like puffed pastry stuffed with some kind of filling. They had icing and sprinkles on top. Like Pop-Tarts, but softer and prettier. I sunk my teeth into one and felt the gooey chocolate filling run down my wrist and my chin at the same time. I moved my head forward and stepped back to avoid getting any on my clothes. Kari had the same oozing problem, but neither of us could put the things down. There was no way I wasn’t taking another bite. It might be messy, but damn if it wasn’t the best pastry I’d ever had. As I opened my mouth to go in again, Sharlyn ran into the kitchens for napkins. My second bite was more problematic than the first. The rest of the filling squirted and landed on my shoe. Kari was smarter than me and shoved the whole thing in her mouth, where it exploded in a good way.

  Sharlyn shoved napkins at us. “I’m sorry. I should have told you they’re messy. Hal’s going to put a warning on the menu and serve them with a paper bib.”

  I sat down on the sofa to get the chocolate off my shoe. “Don’t apologize. It was so worth it.”

  “Umhh,” Kari was still chewing. “Best thing I ever had.” Her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “Messiest one, too,” I added, licking the rest of the chocolate off my wrist.

  “Hazelnut,” Sharlyn said. “The chocolate has hazelnut in it.”

  I was still licking my fingers when Tony walked in. “Musta been good.”

  “Damn best thing you’ll ever eat.” Kari pointed to the tray on her desk. “Try one. Sharlyn here made them. Sharlyn, this is Tony.”

  Rather than eyeing the pastries, Tony was eyeing Sharlyn. He stood up a bit taller, reached out his hand, and said, “Nice to meet you. I think I’ve seen you around. You work at Hal’s, right?”

  Sharlyn’s eyes turned soft. She blushed.

  Kari picked up the tray of pastries. “Here. You gotta try one of these, but hold up a few napkins. The insides will fly out.”

  Tony examined the tray, grabbed the smallest one, and used three fingers to shove the whole thing in his mouth. He smiled with his mouth closed and gave a thumbs up while he chewed. We all watched in silence.

  “Oh, man. You’re a magician with the pastries. That was the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Maybe if you make them smaller, they’d be more manageable and won’t make such a mess.”

  “You’re right!” Sharlyn said. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. I could make them bite-size and have four to a serving.” She stepped toward him sheepishly and gave him a chuck on the arm. “I’ll talk to my boss about it. Thanks, Tony.”

  I had to interrupt this awkward display. “Tony, can I see you for a moment?”

  Tony came into my office. I resumed my place behind the desk while he took a chair on the other side.

  “How’re you feeling? What’d the doctor say?”

  “I feel great, Jess. Good as new. The doctor said everything healed well. I can start work again tomorrow.”

  “Then I’m going to settle this thing for you.”

  This was unchartered territory for me. I had to make a deal with the mob. I couldn’t have anything in writing. I’d have to tear up the retainer agreement. There’d be no record of this settlement. It would be a cash deal. Unmarked, small bills, delivered in a gym bag, at night, near the Penn-North Metro stop. Okay, maybe not that dramatic, but certainly unorthodox.

  “To be clear, Tony, we’re doing this outside of normal procedures. There will be no record of this. In fact, I will shred your file. It will be a cash deal. Not that there is anything wrong with this type of transaction. There is nothing illegal about two people coming to an agreement over an issue like this. It’s a little unconventional, that’s all.”

  “Got it. I don’t care about the formalities. When do I get the money? Will he still offer fifteen grand?”

  “Let’s hope so. We’ll remind him of the pain you suffered, the concussion, the fear you had that perhaps there was some permanent injury, things like that. I know how to sell it. I’ll set up a meeting with him and keep you posted.”

  “Should I be at the meeting?”

  “No, I go alone.” That sounded more melodramatic than I intended, but it seemed kind of cool. Jessica Snow takes on the mob.

  We returned to the reception area where Marty and Dawson were sampling Sharlyn’s pastries. Chocolate was splattered everywhere. Dawson looked like a toddler at his third birthday party. Chocolate on his face, in his hair, down his shirt. Marty was a mess, too. Kari had a roll of paper towels and spray cle
aner in her hands and was busy wiping away the mess.

  Tony walked over to Sharlyn. He said something. She giggled. He said something else. She giggled some more and on it went.

  I joined Marty and Dawson, who had moved into the kitchen for coffee.

  “Tony’s fully recovered from his accident at Brenner’s, so I’m ready to make a deal with Franco Giovanni. I’m going to try to meet him within the next couple of days. Any advice?”

  “Wear a vest,” Marty said.

  “And a garlic necklace,” Dawson added.

  “That’s for vampires,” Marty said.

  “Oh. Meet in a public place?”

  “Yeah, that’s a good one. And wear comfortable shoes in case he drives you out to the desert and leaves you there.”

  “In that case, you might want to bring a bottle of water, too.”

  “Thanks, you guys. I’m so lucky to have such savvy mentors.”

  When I returned to the reception area, Tony and Sharlyn were still hanging out. They had their cell phones out and were exchanging contact information.

  Moments later, she entered my office with a silly schoolgirl grin. “Tony seems kinda nice.”

  “Yes, I think so, too.”

  Her smiled faded and she stood still, staring at me. “Wait, you and Tony aren’t a thing are you? I mean, I don’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes. I’ll back down. You can have him.”

  “Whoa, wait Sharlyn. No. No. No. Tony and I aren’t a thing. I don’t have any interest in him other than his being my client. He’s all yours. But thank you for offering.”

  She giggled and tossed her hair. “Okay, good.” Standing up tall, she straightened the spaghetti straps on her dress and bounced out the door where Tony was waiting for her.

  The office phone rang. Kari went to grab it while I headed toward my desk.

  “Dawson Garner & Associates, how can I help you?” There was a pause then I heard fingers snapping. Kari was trying to get my attention. I turned toward her to see a giant grin on her face. “... right, I remember you. How’s the fire business going?” She listened to his response, her eyes locked on mine. “Don’t I know it,” she said. “Well, you be careful. You want to talk to Jess? Hold on.” Kari pressed the hold button and put the phone down. “It’s Mark.” She started chanting, “Jess gets a firefighter, Jess gets a firefighter.” She added some impressive dance moves behind her desk.