Advice of Counsel (The Samuel Collins Series Book 1)

by Trueman, Debra

  She was quiet for a minute then she asked, “Was there anything else on the tape?” and I knew what she was referring to.

  “To tell you the truth, I only watched the first couple of minutes, so I don’t know what’s on the rest of it. I didn’t think you’d want Niki and me to see any more than we did.” Maddie looked at me and smiled. “Doesn’t that thing . . . you know . . . that pump thing . . . hurt like hell?”

  She laughed. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” She shook her head and looked down at Oliver playing. “How embarrassing.” She said it so quietly, it could almost have been to herself.

  I probably felt as embarrassed as she did, having watched just those couple of minutes of the tape. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got sisters. If you’ve seen one pair . . .”

  She looked at me and smiled. “We’re going to get even, aren’t we?” she asked.

  “We’re going to get even,” I assured her, and we high-fived on it.

  “I’ll give you the tape and you watch it and let me know what else is on it.”

  “Okay,” she nodded. “Thanks, Samuel.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.”

  * * * *

  We stopped and picked up the baby on the way home and I dropped the three of them off at their house, then went back to my house. I went out to the street to check my mail and Maddie and the kids were checking theirs at the same time. Oliver waved to me like he hadn’t seen me all day. I waved back at him and started up towards my front door, when Maddie called out my name. She was waving a letter in the air and started walking across my yard.

  “It’s a letter from the EEOC.” She opened it and handed it straight to me without looking at it.

  I read it over then told her, “They’re ready to make a determination and want to know if there’s anything else we want to add before they do.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s awfully fast.”

  “Is there anything else we want to add?” she asked.

  “Can you think of anyone who might provide a statement to corroborate your allegations? Anyone who might have been subjected to the same kind of treatment you were?”

  She thought about it for a second. “Kathleen Zapata, but I don’t know if she’d give a statement or not. She likes her job. I don’t know if she’d risk it. But we’ve had numerous conversations about what’s gone on with Larry and female employees.”

  “Could you approach her discreetly?”

  “Sure. I’ll see if she can get together for lunch tomorrow.”

  We left it at that and I went inside. The damn Siamese was in my house, which meant he’d been locked inside all day, which meant he’d probably pissed all over something valuable and impossible to clean. He got up when I came in and went to the back door and meowed impatiently for me to let him out. I watched him go straight to one of the flower beds, dig a nice sized hole, and turn around and squat, then he returned to the door and looked up at me expectantly, like he belonged inside. I opened the door.

  “Don’t think you’re going be an inside cat,” I told him, as he sauntered in without even looking up at me.

  I opened the fridge to get a beer and the cat came racing into the kitchen. He was going so fast that he fishtailed when he tried to stop, his hind legs sliding around in front of his body; but instead of looking embarrassed, the pompous bastard acted like he’d done it on purpose. The cat was a snob, but I caught myself growing more fond of him every time he pulled off a stunt like that. I took out some leftover chicken and was putting some in a bowl for him when the phone rang. It was Landra and I forgot all about the Siamese.

  “I’m over at Sara’s house. Do you want some company?”

  “Hell yes. Come over.” Landra laughed. I hadn’t seen her in way too long, and just hearing her voice made my heart beat faster.

  “We’re getting ready to eat dinner, but there’s plenty for you if you haven’t eaten. You want to come over here?” The Siamese meowed loudly. “Is that Siam I hear?” she asked, and I could hear amusement in her voice.

  “Yeah. The prick has taken over my house.” I put the bowl of chicken on the ground and I could hear him purring as he gobbled it down. “I’ll be right over.”

  “Okay.” I could tell she was smiling and I caught her just before she hung up.

  “Landra . . .”

  “Yeah?”

  “Meet me on the front porch.”

  I hung up and raced out of my house, across my yard, and bounded up Mrs. Howard’s steps and was waiting at the door when Landra opened it. I pulled her out onto the porch and around the corner to where a nosy Mrs. Howard couldn’t see us if she came to the door. Landra gave me that beautiful smile and I took her face in my hands and kissed her on the lips first lightly, then heavy-duty. Damn I’d missed her. I picked her up and squeezed her and she wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. We were in the midst of a heated kiss, when I realized that we weren’t alone. Mrs. Howard was standing there blatantly staring at us with her toothy grin plastered to her face. I decided to ignore her and see what she’d do, thinking she would probably feel self-conscious and go away. No such luck. I cut the kiss short and put Landra down.

  “Hello, Mrs. Howard. How are you doing today?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m fine, Sam. I can see you’re doing well,” she said still smiling.

  “I was before you interrupted me,” I told her.

  Mrs. Howard laughed. “Oh, you kids!” she said, waving her hand in the air like I was kidding.

  I hooked my arm around Landra’s neck and pulled her to me again and gave her one more quick kiss, then I directed her towards the door. Mrs. Howard held the door open and she patted me on the arm as I walked past her. It was something my grandmother used to always do and I had a notion to hug the old woman, but I decided not to act on the impulse.

  We went in the kitchen and I systematically opened the lids on each pot to see what was cooking. Of course this irked Mrs. Howard. Apparently her cooking rules applied not only to baked goods, but to anything that reposed in a skillet or pot, as well. And for some reason that really irked me.

  “Why are you so possessive about your cooking?”

  “Why don’t you set the table?” she responded.

  Busywork. She’d retaliated by giving me busywork. She took out three knives, forks and spoons and handed them to me, then pointed vaguely across the kitchen and mumbled something about place mats and napkins, then she actually bodily moved me away from the stove. Landra turned her back to me, but not before I caught the smirk of satisfaction on her face. I found the place mats and set the damn table, then I cornered Landra at the refrigerator when Mrs. Howard had her back turned. There was something about Landra’s being unattainable at that moment that made her totally irresistible to me. I wanted to hold her and squeeze her and do things to her that would shock Mrs. Howard.

  “Eat fast so we can go to my house,” I whispered.

  Landra laughed and Mrs. Howard turned around to see what she was missing. Landra pulled out a bottle of wine and closed the door with her hip. It was cool little movement that left me wanting her even more. When I looked up, Mrs. Howard was watching me and by the look on her face, I was pretty sure she could read my mind. I smiled, trying not to look guilty and I got another toothy grin in return.

  After what seemed like an eternity, we finally finished dinner. I’m a firm believer in the eat-and-run concept, but as I inched my way to the front door, Landra headed off toward the couch instead. Apparently she didn’t subscribe to the same philosophy.

  I ended up falling asleep on Mrs. Howard’s couch and it was after 10:00 o’clock when Landra woke me up.

  “Why did you let me sleep so long? The whole night’s been wasted,” I said irritably.

  “Not the whole night,” she said. “I don’t have to be in bed until midnight. We still have two hours.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?”


  We went to my house and spent the next two hours getting reacquainted, and by the time midnight rolled around, Landra was tucked safely into my bed, curled up next to me. I silently cursed Mrs. Howard for monopolizing Landra for the evening. Two hours alone with her was definitely not enough.

  Chapter 11

  As matters turned out, Maddie’s co-worker, Kathleen, wouldn’t even have lunch with Maddie, much less give her a statement. I wasn’t surprised. In my experience, many employees are afraid to speak up against their supervisors in the workplace because they fear retaliation. And I don’t necessarily blame them. After all, I’m sure they need their job as much as I do.

  I wasn’t going to tell the EEOC Investigator about the tape I’d taken possession of from the CEO’s office, so I notified him that we had nothing further to add before he made his findings in Maddie’s discrimination charge. Several days later, I received a two-page Determination letter in the mail. Maddie brought the letter back to my office, clutching it to her humongous chest.

  “You open it,” she said, handing me the envelope.

  I opened the letter and skimmed through the paragraphs until I came to what I was looking for, then I read it out loud.

  Based on the evidence obtained throughout the investigation, I find there is reasonable cause to believe the Charging Party was subjected to sexual harassment, in violation of Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, as amended. Upon finding that there is reason to believe that violations have occurred, the Commission attempts to eliminate the alleged unlawful practices by informal methods of conciliation. Therefore, the Commission now invites the parties to join with it in reaching a just resolution of this matter. If the Respondent declines to discuss settlement or when, for any other reason, a settlement acceptable to the office Director is not obtained, the Director will inform the parties and advise them of the court enforcement alternatives available to aggrieved persons and the Commission. A Commission representative will contact each party in the near future to begin conciliation.

  “We did it!” I exclaimed, waving the letter in the air. I picked up Maddie and swung her around, then I set her down and looked at the letter again. “This is so good,” I told her. “If the EEOC had ruled against us and we went to court, if Datacare prevailed in the suit, we could have been forced to pay their attorney’s fees.”

  “So what do we do now?” she asked.

  “We see what Datacare has to offer through the EEOC settlement process, and if we’re not satisfied, then we sue them.”

  She turned serious. “Thank you so much, Samuel.”

  “Don’t thank me yet.”

  “I am thanking you. You’ve been my knight-in-shining-armor in this thing. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be working there, putting up with all of Larry’s disgusting comments and everything else. I just don’t know how to thank you.”

  I could see her lip quivering and I pointed my finger at her. “Maddie, don’t you dare cry on me!”

  “Oh shut up, Samuel! I’ll cry if I damn well want to! It’s not every day that someone takes a personal interest in another person’s welfare. At least it’s not something that happens to me. Nobody . . . except for my husband . . . has ever helped me the way that you have.”

  “Well, it’s not like I’m doing it out of the kindness of my heart, Maddie. It’s my job. I’m planning on making a lot of money off of helping you.”

  “That may be true, but you’d do it even if you weren’t going to get a dime,” she accused.

  She was right, but I denied it anyway. “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Liar. I know that you would,” she said smugly. She spun around and headed out of the office but then she turned around and yelled back at me, “And don’t you ever tell me not to cry again!” She was sexy when she got worked up.

  “I’ll say it whenever I see that pouting lip of yours start to quiver!” I shot back. I wasn’t sure if she was really pissed off, so I was trying not to laugh out loud, but she turned back around and caught me with a huge smile on my face.

  She stuck out her tongue at me. “How did your mother ever put up with you?”

  “Leave my mother out of this!” I folded up the letter and stuck in inside my coat pocket then I put my arm around Maddie’s shoulder and escorted her out of my office. “Let’s go celebrate.”

  We left Maddie’s car at the office and went out to a restaurant to celebrate with a margarita, then rather than go all the way back downtown, I took Maddie home, the idea being that we’d ride together in the morning back to the office. Totally innocent; no ulterior motive; end of story. Wrong.

  When I mentioned to Landra on the phone that night that I’d had a drink with Maddie, her reaction took me completely by surprise. While she never came right out and accused me of anything, I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was jealous, and I caught myself enjoying the moment. Having a beautiful woman being jealous over you is great for the ego.

  “You have nothing to be jealous about,” I assured her. “Maddie is my neighbor and my client, and that’s all. Oh . . . and my secretary. Neighbor, client, secretary. Yeah, I guess you should be jealous. After all, you’re just my girlfriend.”

  “Oh, shut up Sam,” Landra said pouting.

  I’m generally not prone to lengthy phone conversations, but ever since Landra’s arrest, we had had marathon phone calls almost every night, and we ended up talking for over an hour that night. In trying to separate my role as her attorney from my role as her boyfriend, which at some point I’d come to think of myself as, I tried to discuss her case over the phone as much as possible so that we wouldn’t have to get into it when we were together. But when I told her that I was meeting with the Assistant District Attorney on her case the next morning, I wished that I’d told her in person. I had that overwhelming urge to protect her again.

  We made a firm date to get together the next evening but I hung up feeling down. I actually went looking for the Siamese, thinking that his company might lift my spirits, but he was nowhere to be seen. Typical.

  * * * *

  I pulled into Maddie’s driveway the next morning and honked the horn and Oliver came out to greet me. He came over to my side of the Suburban and I rolled down my window.

  “Hi, Oliver.”

  “Hi, Samuel. Look what I have.” He always had something. This time it was a little boat that looked like a replica of a pirate’s boat with sails and ropes and a flag flying from the mast. It was just a tiny thing, but other than the size, it was almost identical to the one that had sunk that Christmas morning when I was a kid.

  “Can I see that?” I asked.

  He handed it over, and memories came flooding back. Too bad so much time had passed since the incident; I could have sued the manufacturer for emotional distress.

  * * * *

  My meeting with the Assistant District Attorney didn’t go well and I was reminded again what a bad idea it was for me to be representing Landra. It was impossible to be objective and I caught myself taking every allegation lodged against Landra as a personal assault. I finally got to a point in the meeting where I had to excuse myself from the room to try to compose myself. It didn’t work. As soon as we resumed I exploded at the ADA. I called him incredibly unprofessional, and I asked him if he got his law degree from Idiots R Us. It may not have been the smartest thing I’d done in my relatively short career, but it made me feel a lot better. Besides, I liked to maintain an adversarial relationship with my opposing counsel. It made the job a lot more fun.

  I left the meeting and called Landra and asked if she could meet me at my office. This was not a conversation that should be carried out over the phone lines. She came straight over and Maddie buzzed me to let me know that Landra was there.

  “The D.A.’s office is going to contend that Drake never assaulted you – that you had the whole thing planned out before you even got to the party.”

  “That’s crazy,” Landra said. “How can they say that? Didn’t
they see the pictures that the police took that night?”

  “They contend the bruises were self-inflicted,” I told her.

  “They think I did that to myself? How can they think that?”

  “They’re bent on putting together a case that isn’t there. They say that you lured him up to the room, you shoved him out the window, then you ripped your own dress and inflicted the bruises on yourself.”

  She looked on the verge of panic and I felt sick at the thought of Landra sitting through a trial on a trumped up murder charge.

  “That’s insane. I didn’t even know that Drake would be at the party,” she said. “How could I have planned it if I didn’t know he’d be there?”

  “We’ll certainly argue that,” I said. I took a deep breath before I went into the next subject. “We’re going to have to hire a criminal lawyer to represent you Landra.” She started to butt in, but I raised my hand to shut her up. “You may need to call me as a witness and I can’t testify as a witness if I’m your lawyer.” It came out harsher than I’d planned but frankly, I was fed up with her obstinacy. “It’s something we should have done from the very start, so quit arguing with me on this, Landra.”

  She was quiet while she thought about it. “Only if the grand jury indicts me. If that happens, then I’ll hire someone else.”

  I felt somewhat appeased, but it wasn’t enough. Back in law school, I’d considered going into criminal law for a while. I figured it would be right up my alley. After all, the general public has a special abhorrence for murderers, child molesters, arsonists, and the like. Imagine the loathing they carry for the attorney who represents them and who is arrogant enough to stand up in court and argue their innocence when everyone knows they’re guilty as hell. It was precisely that loathing that almost moved me to criminal law rather than civil, but in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to do it, no matter how attractive the image. I didn’t want to spend the bulk of my days with creeps, with the off chance that every once in a while I’d get to represent someone like Landra who was actually innocent.

  I was strategizing in my head how best to deal with my stubborn client. I knew Landra well enough to know that she liked to make her own decisions and that if I was going to get her to hire another attorney I’d have to make it seem like it was her idea. If I could somehow get her to lose confidence in me as her attorney . . .