A Wake of Vultures

by Patrick Kansoer

  She previously served as an Assistant Public Defender in the Felony Trial and Misdemeanor divisions and tried numerous bench and jury trials. She served on the board of directors of Minority Legal Education Resources (MLER) where she taught bar examination preparation to students preparing for the Illinois bar exam; coordinated numerous session of MLER; taught tutor certification training; and assisted unsuccessful bar applicants assess the reasons for failing their bar examination.

  Keren is about thirty-three or four. Her face seems a little older than that. It has that stern look you see in old pictures of the plains Indians.

  At her best, it is a forceful and striking face, redolent of strength and dignity. At worst it sometimes would seem to be the face of a Harvard boy dressed for the farcical chorus line.

  But that body is mercilessly female, deep and glossy, rounded—under the tidy little fatty layer of girl pneumatics—with useful muscle.

  She is a well-toned 5'11'' and can take care of herself, thanks. She packs a gun in her purse, and she'll use it if she has to. She's willing to open a can of whoop-ass and she doesn't take any bullshit, especially from men. She kicks ass, usually not bothering to take names.

  It has been said that women tend to "marry their fathers". Keren married Lars, a Chicago cop when she was just about to finish law school. He was killed, shot by street gang members while on a call. Keren has not had a serious romantic involvement since.

  Keren knew a little about Douglas Rochford Gunn and what little she knew did not leave a sterling impression with her. Slick-talking, clothes horse ladies’ man was pretty much her assessment based on what some of the other attorneys has told here. But she knew that she was just a bit over her head with the lease payments and other overhead on the office. She really was tired of what had become the grind of the Public Defender’s office and wanted to make her new shop, “Valkyrie & Associates” a success.

  The only way to do that was to actually have some “associates” who could help pay the freight. It wasn’t an ideal situation and Gunn was far from her idea of the ideal associate, but she figured he had three things going for him: He was a member of the Illinois Bar; he had actual trial experience and, most importantly, he was looking to share office space and expenses.

  His reputation as a Casanova didn’t really phase her. He was five-foot seven to her five-eleven and she figured if he tried going too much over the line it was well within her capability to turn the bandy rooster into a capon in short order. And so, in short order a deal was struck and Odensdotter and Gunn became associates in the historical offices that once housed Earnest Hemmingway’s “Cooperative Commonwealth” magazine office overlooking the picturesque dumpsters on Couch Place. The Wells Street elevated trains rumbling by every few minutes lent a certain Chicago grittiness to the scene.

  5 Feral Cats

  Casting professional ethics aside, Gunn contacted many of the Jenner and Block clients he had in his rolodex. He concentrated on the bored trophy wives who were looking for big financial settlements from their Forbes 1000 husbands. For Gunn a lucrative divorce practice was born.

  In the beginning he was wildly successful with his female clients, both in the courtroom and in the bedroom. One of them was Carole Langley, a lithe forty-five-year-old redhead. She was styled for abundant lactation, and her blouses were not. She sported shapely legs and a perpetual "itch" that her inattentive husband failed to scratch.

  Gunn had met Langley at a "Friends of the Chicago Botanic Garden" meeting. It was one of the "social" gatherings that Gunn frequented, not for the betterment of society but for the betterment of his law practice.

  A friendly conversation progressed to a stop for a cocktail and a Chinese dinner at the Panda Bar. Over dinner it wasn't clear who had seduced who, but they topped off the evening with a sweaty romp at the Northbrook Red Roof Inn. This was the inauguration of Douglas becoming Carole's regular "bagel-on-the-side". That was not to say that Douglas limited himself to just one selection from the pastry case, so-to-speak. He fancied himself a connoisseur of all the female delicacies in the Patisserie and indulged often, if not judiciously.

  From time to time one of his client's kids would get into legal scrapes. Usually nothing too heavy-duty; open alcohol in a motor vehicle, loud muffler, possession of marijuana... small potatoes stuff. Easy to plead down to supervision and good for an extra five hundred to one thousand dollars in the bank with minimum work.

  It was through what started out as a small-time case with Carole Langley's delinquent son that Douglas Rochford Gunn made the acquaintance of Jacob Sherman.

  Robert Ayers Langley Junior... a spoiled rotten rich kid looking for teen-aged thrills and adventure had amassed quite a petty crime jacket with the Winnetka police by the time he reached his seventeenth birthday.

  Being representative of the "digital generation" Bobby Langley spent an inordinate amount online. That was how he had become friendly with Jacob Sherman and Snoopwiki.com. Finding out that Langley lived in Winnetka and was looking for adventure, Sherman convinced Bobby to start rummaging through some of the trash of his upscale neighbors.

  He promised Bobby that if he ran across anything juicy that that it would end up in a "tell-all" article on the blog and that in return Sherman would provide Langley with some of the newest online games.

  Bobby knew exactly where he was going to start.

  The Leopold family lived in a palatial Georgian mansion on a five-acre estate next door to one of Bobby's high school gamer pals.

  Old man Leopold toiled as a financial adviser handling many of the investments of the well-to-do denizens of the North-shore suburbs.

  His wife, Glenda, was one of those plastic high fashion, plastic surgery enhanced society wives. She dabbled in interior decoration, charity fund-raising and the occasional encounter with one or more of the local tradespeople. After all, a neglected wife has needs and Max Leopold was too busy goosing other folks' fortunes to concern himself too much with attending to Glenda.

  The last act in this three-ring suburban circus was the well-proportioned sixteen-year-old Myra Leopold, Raven haired with an athletic body and a million-dollar smile, (which was just about what Max Leopold said it cost him in orthodontist bills).

  Bobby Langley figured that he could rummage through the Leopold’s refuse and maybe come up with something juicy for Sherman. If he could wangle his way into Myra’s panties that would be just a little added bonus.

  The word among the crowd was that Myra’s libido was every bit as overactive as her mother’s. Some of the senior boys had stories about doing odd jobs around the place and getting some nice bonuses from Glenda Leopold.

  Bobby decided that his best bet was to cozy up to Myra to get access to the family’s trash from the inside and, if Myra lived up to her reputation among the local jocks, access to her insides too. From Bobby’s point of view, this was definitely a win-win and he set about putting his plan into motion.

  The following day he stopped over to his friend Karl’s house. Karl was a neighbor of the Leopold’s and knew Myra but only in a social sense. Karl was a true gamer nerd who had no interest in sex, so he was a bit grossed-out when Bobby asked him to arrange an introduction but agreed to help his friend. He called the Leopold number and, as luck would have it, Myra answered.

  “Hey, My, this is Karl from next door.”

  “Hi Karl, what’s up?”

  “Well My, a friend of mine from school came over. I think you might know him from school, it’s Bobby Langley.”

  “Well, I don’t know him, but I have seen him hanging around with you at school. He’s kinda cute in a nerdy sort of way.”

  “Yeah, well, he thinks you’re cute too and would like to maybe… well… you know, get together or go out or something.”

  “Well, I can’t today. My mom has us running around this afternoon and I’ve got a boring family thing tonight. I’m free tomorrow though. If he wants to come over around noon or so.”

  “Hold on, I’
ll ask him. Hey Bobby, she says she can’t today but how about tomorrow around noon?”

  “Tell her that’s good. I’ll just sit here waiting and licking my eyebrows.”

  “I can’t tell her that you idiot.”

  “Tell me what Karl?”

  “He says that tomorrow is fine and he’ll just lick his eyebrows until then.”

  Myra giggling; “Tell him that sounds like fun and I’ll expect him to show me when I see him tomorrow. I gotta run now. Bye.”

  “Bye My. She said she’ll see you tomorrow and you need to show her how you lick your eyebrows. How can you do that? Your tongue won’t reach that far.”

  “Karl, you are a real tool sometimes, but thanks for making the call.”

  “No problem Bro. You want to play some Grand Theft Auto?”

  Karl and Bobby wasted the rest of the afternoon crashing cars and shooting up the world on the computer but Bobby’s mind wasn’t in the game and, for the first time, Karl whipped his ass, which made Karl very happy.

  The next day was Saturday and Bobby was ready to put his plan into action. At five minutes to noon he was driving his bike down Laurel avenue to Burr where he turned left to the automatic gate across the access drive to the Leopold place.

  Myra was standing there waiting for him as he pulled up she hit the button that swung the gate open. Bobby nearly ran into the shrubbery when he got a good look at what Myra was almost wearing. The open midriff knit top was tied at the waist and exposed most of Myra’s ample chest and the boy shorts made of the same material clung tightly to her girl parts. Myra giggled as she saw Bobby go wide-eyed at her appearance.

  “Seems like you like what you see.”

  “Uh yeah. That’s quite an outfit you’re almost wearing. I don’t know if I could get off the bike without getting a part of me caught on the frame.”

  “Well, it’s pretty easy to get out of, so why don’t we go up to the house and we can do something about your discomfort after you show me that licking your eyebrows trick you talked about yesterday. Anyway, let’s go up to the house and we’ll see if I can’t help you get off… your bike.”

  Bobby was both excited and just a little bit miffed. Myra was coming on to him like a horny goat which he found a bit off-putting. He was enough of a traditional male to believe that he should be the one making the advances. But, on the other hand, he certainly didn’t want to say or do anything that would mess up what promised to be a very interesting afternoon.

  Myra led him up to the kitchen entrance to the house putting a little bit extra sway into her hips. He found his jeans getting uncomfortably tight and wondered to himself if he might be in a little over his head. His brain wasn’t so completely muddled with sexual fantasy that he didn’t notice the recycling bin next to the refuse can by the door. He expected that he would have the chance to rummage through that later to find something for Sherman.

  “You can leave your bike here by the door,” Myra said as she ran her hand up his thigh and squeezed his excitement. “Mmmm that’s gonna be fun” she said, “Hurry up and follow me up to my room. We’ve got about four hours before my parents are due home.”

  “Uhhh, I don’t have any condoms with me Myra”

  “Don’t worry about it Bobby. I never liked taking a shower with a raincoat on and, besides, if there’s any problem, I have a cousin who is a gynecologist.”

  The following two hours were quite the workout for Bobby. Myra was demanding and knew exactly what she wanted and what she liked. By the time they had been at it for two hectic hours she had worn herself out and went to sleep, snoring gently while the evidence of their encounter stained the sheet beneath her.

  Bobby felt used and cheap but this gave him the opportunity to rummage through the Leopold recycling to see it there was anything useful. He rolled out of the bed as quietly as he could and hurriedly got dressed. The last thing he wanted was to wake Myra and start the session over. Carrying his shoes in his hand he crept down the back stairs into the kitchen where he finally stopped to put on his shoes.

  The recycling container was next to the garbage can to the left of the kitchen door. Lifting the lid, he began to rummage through the papers not really sure what might be of interest to Sherman. Bobby found that he couldn’t get to the bottom of the bin and after practically falling head first into it he decided that his best bet would be to tip it over and crawl in to get to the stuff down near the bottom. With the top half of his body inside the recycling barrel Bobby was unaware of Max Leopold’s presence until Max kicked the bottom of his foot and yelled; “Just what the hell are you looking for in there? Get out of that barrel this second.”

  “Yes sir. Yes sir. I’m sorry sir. I didn’t mean nothin’ bad sir.”

  “Who the hell are you and what are you doing rummaging through my recycling? How did you get in here when the gate was locked?”

  “I came over to see Myra sir. On my bike. I’m Bobby Langley sir. Myra let me in sir. There’s my bike by the garbage can. We talked for a while and then Myra said she was tired so she’s taking a nap. I was gonna leave but I was curious about what might have been in the recycling bin so I was looking through it. I didn’t mean any harm sir. Really I didn’t.”

  “That sounds like a load of bullshit kid.”; Max hollered. “I don’t know what you were trying to find in that recycling but whatever it is, you were committing a theft. I’m going to call the Winnetka police and have them throw your ass in jail.”

  “Daddy, what’s all the shouting about? Bobby, what’s going on?”

  Bobby answered before Max could get started; “I told your dad that I had come over on my bike and we visited but you were tired and said you were going to take a nap. So I started to leave but I was curious about the recycling stuff and was looking through it when your dad got home.”

  “Looking through it my ass,” Max bellowed. “You had tipped the damn thing over and were head first inside it.”

  Myra giggled. “You had your head in the garbage can Bobby? That’s silly.”

  “Not the garbage Myra, the recycling. I was just being stupid.”

  Max grabbed a sheet of paper from the overturned recycling barrel and took a pen out of his breast pocket. “Write your name, address and telephone number on this boy. I’m going to have a talk with a friend of mine at the Winnetka police department and have him send someone over to talk with you to clear this up. You have no business going through my recycling or anything else. And you, young lady, get back into the house. You know the rule about not having anybody in when your mother or I aren’t home.”

  “Yes, daddy.” Myra said and turned back to the door. “Bye Bobby,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Bye Myra. Here’s my name and address sir.” Bobby said handing the piece of paper to Max. “May I leave now?”

  “Get on your bike and get out of here before I change my mind about having you locked up,” Max growled as Bobby quickly got his bike and started pedaling down the driveway. Bobby figured that Mr. Leopold must have had one of those remote things because as he approached the gate it swung open to allow him to get out and started to close again when he had passed the gateposts. He rode directly home and called Douglas Gunn’s’ private cell number figuring he needed the lawyers’ advice just in case Max Leopold was serious about calling the cops.

  “Hello, this is Douglas Gunn.”

  “Hi Mr. Gunn. This is Bobby Langley. I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure thing Bobby. How can I help? Are you in trouble?”

  “I’m not sure Mr. Gunn. I mean, I might be and that’s why I need to talk to you.”

  “O.K. start at the beginning.”

  “Uh, Mr. Gunn there might be a policeman coming to the house. Could you maybe stop by right away please.”

  “O.K. Bobby. I’m about fifteen minutes away. Stay put and if the police show up at the door just tell them that your family attorney is on his way right now. Be polite, but don’t answer any questions until I get there. Make sure
that you have my phone number written down on a piece of paper so you can call me if they decide to take you into custody. Just keep calm and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “O.K. Mr. Gunn. I’ll do that. Just please hurry and get here.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can Bobby. Just keep calm. I’ll see you soon. Bye now.” The connection was broken and Bobby hurried to get a piece of paper to write down Gunn’s number in case he needed it.

  Twelve minutes later Douglas Gunn was at the Langley front door ringing the bell. Bobby opened it immediately with great relief.

  “Thanks for coming right over Mr. Gunn. Am I glad to see you.”

  “O.K. Bobby, let’s go into the living room and sit down. I want you to tell me the whole story from the beginning without leaving anything out. Now, what’s this all about?”

  For the next ten minutes Bobby told Gunn the whole story, the contact with Sherman Jacob, the offer of a top computer game if Bobby found anything that could be used in the blog, the sex with Myra Leopold and how Max Leopold later caught him rummaging through the recycling bin and then threatened to have him arrested. Gunn was about to explain the legalities of Bobby’s situation when the doorbell rang. Both Bobby and Gunn went to answer the door to find a Village of Winnetka policeman standing there.

  “I’m officer Kyle. Are you Bobby Langley?”

  Douglas Gunn interrupted. “What’s this about officer?”

  “It’s about me asking the kid if he’s Bobby Langley and just who the hell are you?”

  “My name is Douglas R. Gunn, officer.” Gunn said, “I’m the family attorney. Let me give you one of my cards.” Gunn reached into his breast pocket and produced a business card that he handed to the policemen.

  The policeman’s aggressive demeanor quickly changed to a more cautious attitude.