by Don Passman
As I sat down, Hannah punched the other two phone lines and told them she’d call back. Then she half-sat on the edge of her desk and said, “So, what’s up?”
I forced a little chuckle. “Well, there’s been this stupid mistake with the cops, and some of my friends think I need a lawyer.”
“What kind of mistake?”
Her phone rang. She reached around and flipped a toggle switch on the side. The phone shut up, though the line kept blinking.
I told her about the cops questioning me and how they said they found my DNA at a crime scene.
She said, “Your friends are right. You need a lawyer, even if it’s just a mistake. I can recommend some good people.”
“Recommend? Aren’t you a lawyer?”
“I’m really busy. Besides, I can’t represent someone when there’s another relationship.”
“What relationship? I haven’t seen you in ten years.”
She smiled. “Then let’s leave it that I’m too busy.”
“Look, Hannah, I’d really feel more comfortable with a friend helping me.” Especially a friend who might give me a discount.
Hannah shook her head. “Murders take too much time. The cases are real—”
“Killers?”
She gave me a stiff grin. “I’m sorry. I just can’t. It’s nothing personal.”
How do I bring her around? To get an audience involved in a trick, you first have to hook them. Get them going the way you want, then pull the switcheroo. I said, “I’m a magician now.”
She cocked her head. “Really? I remember you doing magic in the high school talent show.”
“Yeah. I dropped my floating chrome ball. I can still see it clunking against the wooden stage and rolling into the audience. I’ve never been so humiliated.”
Hannah laughed. “I don’t remember that. I was in the show, too. I played guitar and got so nervous that my leg started shaking.”
I remembered that. She was so huge that the guitar looked like a ukelele.
I said, “If you take my case, I’ll get you into the Magic Castle whenever you want to go.”
“Harvey…”
I stood up. “What’ll it take? I’ll do magic at your birthday party. I’ll cut your lawn on weekends.”
She smirked at me.
I got on one knee, clasped my hands in a begging gesture, then produced a red silk handkerchief from between my hands. I held the silk out for her. “If you take me on, there’s more where this one came from.”
Hannah laughed. She didn’t take the handkerchief.
She said, “Were you this weird in high school?”
“No. I’m less weird now.”
She shook her head, let out a sigh. “Tell you what. I’ll look at your case tomorrow. No promises.”
I grabbed her hand. “Thank you, thank you.”
She pulled her hand back. “I said, ‘No promises.’”
“Of course.” I got up off my knee. “Say, what do you charge?”
“I didn’t say I was doing this.”
“I know. I mean, hypothetically. Isn’t that what you lawyers say?”
“Hypothetically, I would charge you a friend’s rate. Ten thousand. I know that sounds like a lot, but it isn’t.”
Next to Nadler, it sounds like Kmart. “Fine. Done.”
“Not done. I’m only going to take a look. Come back tomorrow at two fifteen. I’ll call the cops and get a copy of your file.”
“Thank you, thank you.” I turned to hustle out before she changed her mind.
Behind me, I heard her call, “No promises.”
Without turning around, I waved my arm over my head.
* * *
When I got back to my apartment, my mother was standing in front of the door with her fists on her hips. She said, “Why didn’t you call me back about Nadler?”
“I had bad cell phone reception.” At least, I’m sure the reception would have been bad if I’d turned the phone on.
“For eighteen hours?”
I took my keys out of my pocket. “Sorry. I found another lawyer.”
Her eyes burned into me. “I went to a lot of effort to get Nadler.”
“I appreciate it, but I hated the sonofabitch. Besides, I can’t let you spend that kind of dough.”
“That’s my business.”
I toyed with my keys, jingling them. “You can’t afford it.”
“I’ve got savings for emergencies.”
“No. You’ve got savings to live on. Besides, I found someone who’s just as good and way cheaper.”
Mom gave a sarcastic “Ha.” “And just who do you think is as good as Michael Nadler?”
“Hannah Fisher.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “Who?”
“She’s a Harvard lawyer. She’ll make me a priority.”
“Yeah, probably because she’s got nothing else to do. How did you find her? Yellow Pages?”
“I knew her in high school.”
“High school? You want to use someone your age?”
“I’m twenty-nine, you know.”
She shook her head. “You need a lawyer with years of experience.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. The cops will see that. Mom, I’m using Hannah. That’s final.” Assuming she’ll take my case.
Mom let out a breath. “Let’s put it this way. I’m happy to pay for Nadler. But if you want to go off on some tangent, you can pay for that yourself.”
“Fine.”
Yikes!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Next morning, I phoned in to ask about substitute teacher work. When the nasal woman told me there was nothing available, I said, “How’s it possible that every teacher in Los Angeles is healthy today?”
“Mr. Kendall, I don’t make the rules.”
* * *
That afternoon, at two fifteen sharp, I grabbed the handle of Hannah’s office door and twisted it hard.
Locked.
I looked at my watch. I actually managed to show up on time. Where the hell is she? We had an appointment.
I leaned against the door, looking down the hall. A middle-aged woman came out of an office wearing a flowered dress with little gold disks sewn onto the fabric. She walked over and handed me her card. “Hello, I’m Madame Louisa.”
I glanced at the card. Ah, yes. The Psychic Advisor. “Harvey Kendall.”
“If you’re a friend of Hannah’s, I’ll give you a free fifteen-minute session.”
“Not today, thanks. You know where Hannah is?”
“She’s gone every day from a little before one until about now.”
“Where’s she go?”
Madame Louisa shrugged.
Some psychic.
I heard the sound of the building door opening and looked over to see Hannah hustling down the hall, swinging a shiny black leather briefcase. When Louisa saw her, she backed up and disappeared into her office.
Hannah said, “Sorry I’m late.”
“I hear you’re out every day around this time. Where do you go?”
She glared at me. “Not relevant.”
I put up my hands in surrender. “Sorry. Objection sustained.”
She unlocked her office. I followed her inside. Hannah hit a wall switch and the fluorescent lights flickered on with a low buzz. The answering machine blinked angrily.
Hannah said, “Sit.” She waved at the guest chair, where the stack of papers had grown larger since yesterday. I put them on the floor and sat down.
Hannah opened her briefcase, pulled out a few sheets, and picked up a yellow pad. She stuck a ballpoint pen sideways in her mouth, rolled her desk chair around in front of mine, and sat facing me. As she crossed her legs, her skirt rose up her thigh.
Hannah took the pen out of her mouth. “Okay,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Let’s talk about your case. First, what’s Michael Nadler got to do with this?”
I slid back in my seat. “What do you mean?”
; “I spoke to the cops. They said Nadler was asking about your case. What’s his involvement?”
“Nothing. My mother wanted him to represent me. I wanted you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you meet with him?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I thought he was an arrogant sonofabitch.”
Hannah’s face relaxed. “Good for you. Nadler is a scum-sucking publicity hound who puts his own interests in front of his clients’.”
I smiled. “You don’t have to hold back your true feelings.”
“Sorry. That wasn’t very professional.”
Memo to self: Do not piss off Hannah.
She scribbled something on the yellow pad and said, “Tell me what you know about this.”
“I never met Sherry Allen. I certainly didn’t kill her.”
“Uh-huh.” Her tone sounded like that was irrelevant. Without looking up from her notes, she said, “They found your semen in the dead girl.”
I felt my breath catch. “Semen?!”
She looked up at me. “Yes.”
I realized my mouth was open. “Semen? That’s absurd.”
“It’s a perfect DNA match. Any idea how it could have happened?”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “It didn’t happen. It’s ridiculous. It’s … impossible.”
“At the moment, it’s a fact.”
I stood up and started pacing, shaking my head. “It has to be a lab mistake.”
“Possible. Not likely. If you slept with her, that would explain the semen. It doesn’t mean you killed her.”
“I didn’t sleep with her. I never met her.” In reality, the only woman in my life for the last six months is my bird, Lisa.
Hannah said, “Do you have an identical twin? That could explain the DNA.”
“No. Only one of me.”
“Is there anything that could connect you to this girl?”
“No.”
She looked at me. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you knew her under another name?”
“You sound like the cops.”
“Good.”
I made a sweeping flat-hand gesture with both hands, like the umpires use when someone’s safe on base, and shook my head in an absolutely not. “I don’t know her. I mean, I didn’t know her. Whatever you’re supposed to say.” I started biting my cuticle.
The phone rang. Hannah got up and flipped the toggle switch to silence it.
She sat, recrossed her legs, and tightened her lips. “Harvey, I have to ask you some uncomfortable questions.”
I put my hands under my thighs to keep them away from my teeth and cleared my throat. “Okay…”
“I’m sorry to do this. It’s necessary.”
I nodded.
Hannah spoke while looking down at the pad. “Do you have any criminal history?”
I laughed. She didn’t.
I said, “No. Nothing but a DUI in Virginia.”
“The cops mentioned that. What happened?”
“I was in college at the University of Virginia. A bunch of us got drunk after finals. The group decided I was the least drunk, so they elected me to drive home. Accepting that honor wasn’t one of my better decisions.”
“Bad piece of luck. Virginia is one of the few states that takes DNA for any arrest. Most jurisdictions only take DNA from felons.”
“Great. On top of that, they used a needle to take my blood, and I get really freaked out by needles.”
Hannah looked up. “I’m not crazy about shots myself.”
I felt my pulse quicken from the talk about needles. “Yeah. I was really sick when I was a kid. I had to have a lot of injections.”
She went back to looking at her yellow pad. “You have any substance-abuse issues?”
“No.”
“Liquor?”
I took my hands out from under my thighs and grabbed the chair arms. “Maybe I’ve been seriously drunk five times in my life, counting that time in college. I don’t even like booze.”
“Drugs?”
“Why are you pushing this?”
“I’m not making any judgments. We can’t afford to be surprised.”
“No drugs. No sex. Just some rock and roll now and then.”
She put down her pen. “This isn’t a joke. The cops are focused on you. They’re building a case.”
I realized I was gripping the chair arms so tightly that my knuckles were blanching. I let go. “Sorry. That’s just my way of, you know, dealing with stress.”
“Where were you the night Sherry was killed?”
“At the Magic Castle. With David Hu. Remember him from high school?”
“Who?”
It was so tempting to get into a “Who’s on First?” routine. “Skinny Asian kid who was on the debate team. Remember?”
She stuck the pen sideways in her mouth and spoke through her teeth. “Sort of. He’ll vouch you were there all night?”
“Yes.”
“Give me his information.”
I gave her David’s phone number and e-mail. She wrote it down, then flipped back through the yellow pad. Hannah played with a strand of her hair while she studied what she’d written.
I said, “I made a mistake, talking to the cops, huh?”
Hannah looked at me. “In a word, yes.”
Ouch. I felt my shoulders slump.
She said, “It’s history at this point. Just don’t talk to them again. They’re allowed to say anything to trip you up. They can even lie, to trick you into saying something, and what you say is still admissible against you. So don’t fall for their BS. And don’t miss any chances to shut up.”
“Okay.”
Hannah turned her yellow pad facedown on her lap. “We need to hire a private detective to work on your case.”
I jumped up from my chair. “That means you’re in?”
She blew out a sigh. “I suppose.”
I jumped out of my chair. “Thank you, thank you.”
“Sit.”
I sat.
Hannah said, “I want letters from your family and friends, attesting to your character. We’ll need those to reduce bail if you’re arrested.”
“Thank you for saying ‘if.’”
“I’m going to write the DA, offering to surrender you. That way, they won’t just show up and slap you in handcuffs.”
“That doesn’t sound as good as the ‘if.’” I stood up and started pacing.
She said, “Have the police searched your apartment yet?”
I stopped pacing. “They’re going to?”
“I want our detective to search it first.”
I sat down across from her. “Why do we need a detective?” Which I can’t afford.
She uncrossed her legs. “I use an ex-cop. He knows what the police look for. We’ll need him to do some other investigating as well.”
I have no idea how I’ll pay this guy, but “Okay.”
Hannah said, “By the way, if there’s anything in your apartment that shouldn’t be, now would be a good time to have a spring cleaning.”
I turned up my palms. “Trust me, there’s nothing offensive in my apartment except some bird droppings.”
Hannah stood up and tossed her yellow pad onto the desk. “One last thing. Are you aware that criminal lawyers get paid up front?”
Uh-oh. “Why’s that? So you don’t get stiffed if your client ends up in jail?”
“Yes.”
I grimaced. “You could have sugarcoated that a little.”
“Harvey, do you not have the money?”
“I’ve got most of it.” If you consider thirty percent to be the definition of “most.” “Maybe we could work out a payment schedule?”
She gave her head a quarter turn, looking at me skeptically. “I’ve never done that.”
“I’m good for it. I’ve got magic gigs lined up. And I substitute teach. Hey, we magicians really understand devious. Maybe I
can do some detective work for your clients.”
Hannah rubbed her eyes with her fists. “I have to think about all this.”
CHAPTER NINE
Next morning, I called for substitute teaching work.
Zippo.
I asked for Charlie Nelson, the supervisor who usually comes through for me. When he got on the line, I said, “Charlie, I’ve called for two days and they’ve said there’s no work. Hard to believe every teacher in Los Angeles has broken out with ‘healthy.’”
He cleared his throat. “You know the drill. I got seniority issues. I got unions up my ass.”
“I need work. I’ve got some serious bills.”
“Well … let me look into it.” From the tone of his voice, he may as well have said “If I were Pinocchio, you could feel my nose from where you’re sitting.”
Does he know about the cops? I don’t want to educate him if he doesn’t. Am I being paranoid? Screw it. “Charlie, is this about the cops?”
I could hear his chair squeal. “I guess maybe someone said something to somebody.”
“I haven’t been accused of anything. They just asked me some questions. It’s not fair.”
“Let me look into it.”
“You already said that. Charlie, I need this.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I clunked down the phone and called Marty Levin, my magic agent. As soon as he answered, I said, “Marty, it’s Harvey. I need work.”
“And good morning to you, too.”
“I mean it. I got bills to pay.”
“Oh. That changes everything. None of my other clients have bills.”
“Is there anything for me? Anything?”
“Sorry, Harvey. Not in the next few weeks.”
“I really need this.”
He sighed. “All right. Let me shake the trees.”
I speak “Marty” well enough to know that meant “Not a prayer.”
* * *
Later in the morning, I showed up at Hannah’s office. I didn’t want to call first. If she was going to blow me off, maybe she’d reconsider if I was standing right there.
When I opened the door, she was on the phone, pacing as she spoke. Hannah looked at me, then went back to her conversation.
When she hung up, she said, “Harvey, I can’t take your case. I’m already swamped, and you obviously can’t afford a lawyer.”
