Mexico Is Forever

by Benjamin M. Schutz

  “So is there a warrant out for her on that?”

  “No.”

  “Repeat that.”

  “No, n-o. Very strange. His story is that he’s covering up some amateurish handling in the office. I smell ca-ca from afar, Walt.”

  “What does your client say?”

  “Oh, here we take a sharp left turn into Bonzoville. She says that after the bust she’s contacted by a guy who offers to get the charges dropped if she’ll go shoot a porn video in Mexico. The problem is she says this guy knows as much about making porn as Jesse Helms.”

  “How reliable is your client, Leo?”

  “She’s not good that way. I got on to her in a contested inheritance case. You could make a pretty good case for fraud on her and the executor. On top of that, she’s already lied to me once. Before she was a fraud she was a porno actress, not a lifestyle known for encouraging candor and veracity.”

  “What do you think, Leo?”

  “I can’t see a reason for her to concoct this story. I don’t see a payoff for her. She’d already fed me a lie to try to shake me. I think she’s tired of being on the run, especially if she hasn’t done anything. On top of that, her story is very hinky. There’s something wrong with the Mexico end of this and there’s something wrong with the bust. I know there’s something wrong with the guy who came to see me.”

  “What do you want me to do, Leo?”

  “Talk to her, listen to her. The only reason she has for being on the run is the bust. If it is a setup, let’s get her out from under it. Find out who did it and why. I think that’s the first order of business. Then maybe we’ll know something more about the rest of the puzzle.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to her. See what we can do about the bust. Do me a favor, Leo, don’t try to top this one. We’re sticking our hands into a big, dark hole here. I’ve no doubt there will be something in there with very sharp teeth and a bad attitude.”

  “True, but we’ll wear gloves. When can we come see you, Walt?”

  “I have an opening today at ten. Can you make that?”

  “Yeah. We’ll be there.”

  “Fine. By the way, what’s your client’s name?”

  “Darla Jean Sorenson.”

  I called Darla Jean and told her to be ready when I got there. I pulled up to the motel lot and got a space right in front of her room. I saw her release the curtains, and a moment later she pulled the door behind her and trotted to the car. I unlocked the door and backed up as she was pulling it closed. She’d picked up the box from Jack when she sat down.

  She was wearing over-the-ankle athletic shoes, Spandex leggings, and a halter top that prominently featured her nipples. Polished metal sunglasses, a long dark wig, and no makeup made her simultaneously mysterious and plain.

  “What’s this?” she asked, shaking the box.

  “I don’t know. A friend of mine sent it to me.”

  “It’s obviously a video. Look at the box size and the address. PWV doesn’t make anything but videos.”

  “I know it’s a video. I just don’t know what it is.”

  “Is it one of mine? You were investigating me. So it would make sense. It would be just research, right?” She laughed and tossed the box in the back. “Don’t you get laid either?”

  I didn’t bother to protest my innocence. Simple sloth had prevented me from asking Jack for one of her tapes.

  We rode in silence for quite a while.

  “Let me ask you something. What do you want me to call you? So far you’ve been Sindi, Sarabeth, Fantasia, Darla Jean. What do you prefer?”

  “Since you know about Darla Jean, you might as well use it. It’s as real as anything.” She yawned into the back of her hand. “You talk to your friend?”

  “Yeah. He wants to talk to you. He agrees with me that there’s something very wrong here and that we have no idea what it is. He also agrees that getting you out from under the bust is the first thing to do, and it may also help clarify what else is going on.”

  “Do you think he can help me?”

  “If anyone can, he can. Walt’s a terrific criminal lawyer. It would help a great deal if you’re innocent. That’s not essential, of course, but it sure helps.”

  She laughed. “I haven’t been called innocent in a long time, but I didn’t do this. I’ve done a lot of other things, but not this.”

  “That’s the only one that counts.”

  At ten we walked into Walt’s office. Walt stood up, introduced himself, and motioned us to sit.

  “Miss Sorenson, would you please take your sunglasses off.”

  Darla reached up and slowly removed them.

  “Thank you. Now, let’s start at the beginning. I want to know everything that happened during and after the bust. In detail, so take your time.”

  Walt’s voice was strong but not strident. He gave each word equal weight and its own space.

  “Let’s see. The beginning. It was July 5th. I was upstairs with Annie. She was one of my roommates. She was the newest one. Rachel had just moved up to San Francisco. Annie had been working in the business for a month maybe. My other roommate, Robin, wasn’t home. We were in my room sexing. I heard a noise downstairs, and I didn’t know what it was, so I stopped to listen. The next minute there’s this huge crash. I hear all these voices and feet pounding everywhere. I jumped up and told Annie to call the cops. Isn’t that ripe? I had a houseful of boys in blue.”

  Walt was watching her intently, not wanting her to censor anything. He projected attentiveness without judgment. Like most good trial attorneys, he had forgiving eyes and an accusing mouth.

  “So I jumped off the bed and went down the stairs to see what was going on. The front door was wide open. There was a guy there, in a suit, in the middle of the dining room. There were three guys in uniforms. One of them was tossing pillows off the sofa. The other ones were coming up the stairs.

  “I was pissed. I figured this was some bullshit harassment. I started yelling ‘What the fuck are you guys doing in here? You have no right.’ All of a sudden this guy comes up with a bag and he says to the guy in the suit ‘Here it is.’

  “I went batshit. I don’t use drugs. None of my roommates do. They all know the rules. I don’t need to give the cops any other reason to hassle me. I started screaming ‘You planted that shit, you fuckers.’ So I started down the stairs. Boy, was that the wrong thing to do.

  “Those bastards had a field day. I think they grew extra hands for the occasion. Took all four of them about ten minutes to get me under control. Shit, that fucker in the suit had me cuffed first thing. Then they all searched me. Said they were checking for concealed weapons. They got a big charge out of that.

  “The guy in the suit tells me I’m under arrest for possession with intent to distribute. That there’s too much there for personal use. I’m cursing these bastards out and he tells me if I say another word he’s going to gag me. So I shut up. I figure I give these clowns half a reason they’ll shove their nightsticks up my ass and say I resisted arrest.

  “I got Miranda’d and one of the guys in uniform took me upstairs to put some clothes on. I didn’t know where Annie had gone. When I talked to her later she said she climbed out the window and hid on the porch roof outside the bedrooms.

  “They took me down to the station and I was booked and they took my prints and those stupid photos with the numbers around your neck. That’s when I got the suit’s name. Detective Pilcher. He was all asshole. He’s interviewing me and he’s got me cuffed to the chair. So when he’s done I ask him to let me go, put me in a cell or something. He says no, lots of the guys are fans of mine. Maybe I could autograph some pictures while I’m there. Bastard. Anyway, he made me sit there for about an hour before he says I’ve been released on my own recognizance. That was it. I caught a cab and went home.”

  Throughout this Walt had been jotting notes. He set his pen down and ran a hand through his pale thinning hair.

  “Let me ask you a couple of ques
tions. The house you lived in. Who owned it?”

  “I did.”

  “Entirely, or did you share it with anyone?”

  “I owned it, but I’ve always had roommates live with me.”

  “These roommates, did they have their own keys?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come and go as they please?”

  “Sure.”

  “Get mail there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Pay for the utilities?”

  “A piece of it, yeah.”

  “Have their own phones?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Second point. I want you to think carefully before you answer it. Close your eyes and try to visualize the scene. The police officer finds the bag. What does he do with it?”

  Darla said nothing. She closed her eyes. Then she spoke with her eyes still closed.

  “The guy reaches into the sofa. He’s got the bag in his hand. He says ‘Here it is.’ I’m yelling that they’ve planted that shit. He looks up at me. I’m pointing my finger right at him and I’m coming down the stairs. He’s just staring at me. Then he grabs the bag with his other hand and puts it on the table behind him. That’s about the last thing I remember. The next thing I know, the Beast with a Thousand Hands is taking inventory on me.”

  Walt leaned back, sighed, and began to speak. I watched his hands. Repose meant he had little interest in what he was saying. That it was a fait accompli, and he and we should get used to it. The more impassioned he was, the more he felt there was a cause to battle for, even that legal specialty of the house, the Soufflé of the Reasonable Doubt, the more animated his hands became.

  “One.” He ticked off on his long pianist’s fingers. “They’re going to have trouble with constructive possession and control. Too many people with unsupervised access to the property. The drugs were found in a common area. Just because it was found in the house doesn’t necessarily tie it to you.

  “Second. They may have fucked up the procedure on fingerprinting the dope. Once that officer found it, he should have put it in a sealed evidence bag for fingerprinting. Doesn’t sound like he did that. In fact, it sounds like he put his prints all over it. If you’re innocent, your prints shouldn’t be on that bag. If not, he may have smeared everything anyway.

  “The bottom line is that this is a weak case. Not so weak that they’re going to slap their foreheads and say Golly gee, we sure fucked up, and dismiss it. Not without some help.

  “If your prints aren’t on the bag, I think I can convince them that this is a loser and they should rethink their position. But that means I have to go out to Los Angeles to represent you. That’s not a problem, we have an office there, but it will cost money.”

  “How much?”

  “Let me try to keep this reasonable. I’ll have an associate out there check on the evidence at the drug lab. Let’s see if they’ve got prints first. Also, I’ll have them get the initial affidavit they used to execute the search warrant. If you were set up, that should tell us who did it. Whoever signed the affidavit had to be the one who said you had drugs there and where to find them. After we know those things we’ll discuss my retainer and your defense. Okay?”

  “Sounds great. Jesus. I’m so glad you’re behind me.” She rocked forward and pounded her fists on her thighs. “Thank you, Mr. O’Neil, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss Sorenson. But don’t confuse what we’ve done here. There’s still a lot of work left to do.”

  “How about having your associate get a line on this Bellicosi?” I said, “I don’t believe for a minute that he was telling the truth, but the fact of the matter is that when her name went into NCIC it came back blank. No arrest. No warrant.”

  “Good point. Once she fled with a payment she’d go up on the big board. No point in protecting her.”

  “How long until you know something?” I asked.

  “Not too long. We’ll get on record as counsel. Ask to see the evidence. This bust is almost nine months old. They’ve had the dope long enough to process it. I may hear back from them by close of business today. Their time, that is.”

  “You’ve got my beeper number. Let me know as soon as you can,” I said.

  CHAPTER 21

  “You want some lunch? There are some pretty good places around here.”

  “Thanks,” she said absently, looking out the car window.

  “What do you like to eat?”

  “Anything. Everything.”

  We drove over to the Cottonwood Café. I’ve been crazy about southwestern cuisine ever since I ate at Arizona 206 in New York. The Cottonwood does it better than anyone else in Bethesda and I’m a regular there.

  We were seated and looked at the menus and wine lists. The waiter came by and we ordered.

  “Wine, madame?”

  “Sure. White, if you don’t mind,” she said to me. “I’m allergic to reds. They make me break out in a rash. All over.”

  When it came, I sampled and approved it. Darla Jean tasted hers slowly, savoring the bouquet.

  “Ooh, that’s nice. I’m tempted to put some behind my ears.”

  We ordered and ate methodically.

  I looked at her. “You know, if Bellicosi hasn’t looked at the file on you, this is a perfect time to clean out your bank account and safe deposit box.”

  “Jesus,” she said, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “Is there anything about me you don’t know?”

  “Plenty. But we had you under surveillance the whole time and we saw you preparing to run.”

  “I’m glad you brought that up. Maybe I don’t have to close the account down. I’ve already taken almost all of the money out. But if this gets resolved pretty soon I won’t have to keep hiding.”

  “What will you do? Go back to California?”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not getting my hopes up. I remember what your friend said.”

  I mopped up the last of my sauce. “Speaking of knowing all about you. That story you told when Joe Anthony deposed you, was any of that true?”

  “Not much. I pulled it together from stories I’d heard from other girls.” She sipped at her wine. “Tell me something. Did you believe it?”

  “Not a word.”

  “Oh.” She looked disappointed.

  “Hey, it wasn’t a bad story. Just some other things you did, like not leaving your fingerprints anywhere, that said there were other explanations for your mysterious past.”

  We finished eating and stopped at a Giant to get a box for her belongings. On the way to the safe deposit box I called the office to see if Bellicosi had come by.

  “Nothing, Leo,” Kelly said. “Anything else you want me to do about this?”

  “Call the commonwealth attorney’s office and see if he came by and requested a court order.”

  “Okay. Where will you be?”

  “On the move. Use my beeper if you need me.”

  I drove Darla Jean to her self-storage box. She came back to the car with the box full of videos, magazines, loose pictures, and plaques. She tossed it in the backseat.

  I drove her back to her motel. “Does the club have this address for you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then it’s time to move. I’ll put you up in a place in Virginia. Another thing: If Ellen Piersall calls me, what do you want me to say?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. She was probably in love with me. I just needed a place to hide out. I mean, I told her what I was like and what to expect. I don’t think she heard me. I’m sure my leaving hurt her. I don’t want to see her and put her through that again. She was real good to me. Don’t say anything. Just let it be.”

  At her motel she hopped out of the car and bounded over to the door to her room. Five minutes later she was back with a duffel bag and another piece of luggage. She pulled the seat back up and tossed them into the rear.

  By six I had her registered in a motel on Maple Avenue in Vienna. She was leaning in through the car window as I got ready to pull away.
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  “Hey,” she said, and pointed to the backseat. “If you decide to watch it, let me know what you think.” She slapped the car like it was a horse and waved goodbye.

  I whinnied to myself and moseyed out of the lot.

  On my way home, Walter’s direct number came up on my beeper. I dialed him back on the car phone.

  “So, Walt, what’s up?”

  “Strangeness abounds, friend. I’ve just spoken to our associates in Los Angeles. They went down to the courthouse to see those things we talked about.”

  “And?”

  “And either you or these people are from the planet Zorgo. First, they saw the affidavit that led to the warrant. That was pretty straightforward. The woman who filed the complaint was named Stephanie Mitchell. That’s all we know about her right now.

  “Then they asked to see the lab report on the drugs. They hadn’t even been processed yet! They hadn’t had to. When she didn’t show up for the preliminary hearing, they weren’t obligated to put on their evidence. The judge issued a bench warrant for her as a fugitive. That’s really the charge she’s facing right now.

  “This is all pretty ordinary, but then they go up to see this guy Bellicosi. He’s there, all right. He even admits to talking to you. That’s his last moment on planet Earth. He says that he told you there was a warrant out for her for missing her hearing, that you were uncooperative, and denies ever saying that she was an informant or any of the rest of that story. He said he was out in Virginia visiting friends and did it as a favor to his boss. Now they’re sending out a formal request to the commonwealth attorney in Fairfax for her to be picked up.

  “Our people told them that a request for information on NCIC didn’t show anything for her. Bellicosi shrugs and says ‘computer error.’ Maybe you got her name spelled wrong or the wrong social security number. He calls it up on the screen and there she is, big as life.”

  “That’s it. My money’s down on Darla Jean whoever. I know what he said to me. This fucker is lying through his teeth. I don’t know why. Not yet at least, but I will.”

  “Ask Miss Whoever if she knows this Stephanie Mitchell. That’s our first order of business. I’ll be much happier if we can find a reason for her to falsify a complaint. Our client may not be innocent, but I’ve never known you to lie to me. That makes their behavior very interesting. I want to shine a big bright light into that dark hole. See what scurries.