“Stay right here,” Jefferson instructed, then disappeared into the bathroom. She could hear water running in the tub.
A few minutes later, he took her hand again and she obediently plodded along behind him like an exhausted puppy on a short leash. He stopped just inside the doorway of the bathroom, bowed and made a sweeping gesture with his hand.
“For you.”
The Jacuzzi tub was filled to the rim with bubbles. Scented candles at the base of the tub provided the perfect mood lighting. The boom box in the corner softly played her favorite Alicia Keys CD. Vernetta squeezed Jefferson’s hand, then kissed him on the cheek.
He helped her into the tub, then sat on the rim and lifted her right foot from the water. His big hands went to work, gently massaging her heel. Vernetta was thoroughly enjoying the pampering.
“So, I guess I must’a shocked you when I stopped you from running in there and quitting today, huh?”
“Yep, I would have to say that was quite a surprise.” Vernetta leaned her head back and settled deeper into the tub. “All this time, I thought you wanted me to quit.”
“I keep telling you that what I want is to see you happy. And if leaving that firm will do the trick, then I’m all for it. But I know how important making partner is to you. I didn’t want you to do something you might regret. I wanted you to make the decision when you’re calm and rational.”
Vernetta closed her eyes. “Thank you. I’m actually glad you stopped me. I gave a lot of thought to what I wanted to do on the drive home.”
She felt Jefferson’s hands stiffen. “And?”
Vernetta was afraid to speak, but finally, she did. “Now that I’ve had some time to think about it, maybe you were right. Perhaps I was being too emotional.”
The fingers that had been expertly stroking her foot slowed to a stop. Vernetta opened her eyes. The dim lighting in the room did not hide the disappointment on her husband’s face.
Jefferson went back to massaging her foot, but the intimacy of his touch had lessened. “So you’re staying?” he finally asked.
Vernetta timidly nodded, afraid to utter more words to disappoint him.
He gently laid her foot at the bottom of the tub, then crouched down on the floor facing her.
Vernetta looked over at him and noticed that his whole demeanor had changed. “I guess you’re mad at me, huh?”
“Nah, I’m cool. But I don’t get it. Some people stay in jobs they hate because they have to. They need the money. But you don’t.”
“I don’t hate my job, Jefferson.”
“As much as you complain about it, you could’ve fooled me.”
Neither one of them said anything as a heavy tension saturated the room.
Jefferson got to his feet. “I stopped by Phillips on the way home and picked up some barbecue. I’ll go heat up the food.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t think the time is right for me to leave.”
“That’s cool,” Jefferson replied with a shrug. “It’s your life.”
Chapter 46
Nichelle spent most of the afternoon at the home of a client whose living trust needed updating. When she arrived back at her office later that evening, the first thing she noticed was a manila envelope with Barry Eagleman’s return address.
She already knew what was inside, having caught his outrageous press conference, and did not bother to take a seat before removing several documents from the envelope.
The first was an ex parte motion, a tool attorneys use to ask a judge to resolve an issue on short notice. Eagleman was seeking a gag order and he wanted the judge to ban cameras from the courtroom. A declaration attached to the motion claimed that the excessive media attention focused on the case was tainting the jury pool and causing Eugene severe and undue hardship.
“What about Maya’s hardship?” Nichelle said out loud.
As expected, Eagleman had filed an answer denying all of the allegations in the complaint. Nichelle scanned the remaining documents, then gasped. “Oh, my God!”
She read a declaration signed by Eugene and couldn’t believe her eyes. Eagleman was filing a counterclaim against Maya’s estate for negligence. Eugene was actually claiming that Maya had given him HIV. His countersuit stated that, to his knowledge, none of his male partners were HIV positive. Thus, Maya must have infected him. He was demanding ten million dollars in damages.
Nichelle did not notice Russell standing in the doorway. “You okay?” He rushed over.
She pressed her hand to her chest and sucked in air in uneven gulps.
Russell gripped her shoulder. “Are you having trouble breathing?”
Nichelle managed to eke out a “no,” as tears began parallel tracks down her cheeks. Russell ran out and dashed back in with a cup of water, along with Sadie, their secretary.
“What’s the matter? Do you need a doctor?” Sadie asked.
“I’m fine,” Nichelle finally squeaked. “I just got these documents from Eugene’s attorney. He’s alleging that Maya infected him.”
“You’re kidding,” Russell said.
Nichelle slumped into the chair behind her desk as Russell read the documents. “Special is really going to flip out when she hears this. In fact, I don’t think I’m even going to tell her.”
Sadie scowled in disgust. “That man is something else.”
“Are you sure you have this case under control?” Russell asked.
“To be honest, no, I’m not. I didn’t want to tell you, but Jamal’s firm has decided that he shouldn’t be involved. I thought I could handle it by myself, but now that Eugene’s hired Barry Eagleman, I’m not so sure.”
“Well, you know where you can find help,” Russell said.
Excited, Nichelle sat up. “So you’re going to help me?”
“Not me. You have another law partner who’s one of the best litigators in this state.”
She fell back into the chair. “Sam won’t help me. He didn’t even want me to take the case, remember?”
“Have you forgotten who we’re talking about? This lawsuit is already making national headlines. Sam would love to be involved. He’s just too cocky to admit it.”
Fifteen minutes later, Nichelle knocked on the door of Sam’s office. “How are you?” She walked in without waiting for his invitation. She hated groveling, but knew that was exactly what she would have to do.
He looked up from his computer. “I’m fine. What do you want?”
“I need your help.”
Sam frowned. “With what?”
“The wrongful death lawsuit. Jamal isn’t going to be able to help me after all.”
“What did I tell you? I knew this would happen! You don’t have enough civil litigation experience to handle a high-profile case like that. You just better be glad you know the family. Otherwise, we’d be looking at a malpractice suit.”
Nichelle quietly inhaled. For Maya’s sake, she would just have to take it. “I need your help, Sam. Eugene has hired Barry Eagleman. He’s seeking a gag order and wants the judge to bar cameras from the courtroom.” She placed the documents in front of him.
Sam started reading the court papers. “This case is assigned to Judge Fuller. He dispises the media. You can bet he’s going to grant this motion.”
Nichelle sat down. “That’s what scares me.”
“I told you taking on this case was going to be a mistake,” Sam growled. “And now it looks like all that media attention you thought you were going to get is—”
He stopped reading and looked up at her. “Is this guy for real? He has the audacity to claim that your friend gave him HIV? He’s actually countersuing her estate?”
Nichelle nodded.
“What a punk!” Sam threw the papers on his desk. “Yeah, I’ll help you with the case. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.”
Chapter 47
Vernetta was thrilled to see a virtual zoo outside the Los Angeles Superior Courthouse when she and Special arrived for the hearing on
Eugene’s motion for a gag order. They couldn’t have paid for this kind of publicity.
Television news vans topped with huge satellite dishes lined the street. Hundreds of people milled about on the courthouse steps while two cops were directing traffic and yelling at people to stay on the sidewalk. A Christian group carrying a huge Homosexuality is a sin bannersquared off against a group of gay rights protestors flaunting rainbow armbands. Vernetta couldn’t believe it when she saw CNN’s legal analyst, Nancy Grace, hop out of a white news truck.
It took them nearly twenty minutes to make it through the metal detectors at the courthouse entrance. When they finally reached the courtroom, J.C. stood waiting. Luckily, the bailiff, a friend of J.C.’s, had saved seats for them. The small courtroom couldn’t accommodate everyone who wanted to attend the hearing, so the three women received quite a few nasty looks as they strolled past a line of spectators who had been turned away.
The judge had yet to take the bench. They sat near the first row, directly behind the plaintiff’s table where Nichelle and Sam were already seated inside the well of the courtroom. Eugene sat at an adjacent table, surrounded by Eagleman and two other men. Eagleman was perched on the edge of the table, his arms locked across his chest, facing the gallery. He was smiling and laughing and looked like the character that he was. He sported a tiny rainbow pin on the lapel of his jacket.
“Eugene is just trying to sweep this case under the rug,” Special moaned. “That judge better not grant no gag order. The whole world needs to know what he did.”
“Just be cool,” Vernetta cautioned. Special was already way too wound up. Nobody had been brave enough to tell her about Eugene’s countersuit. Vernetta just prayed Special didn’t go off in the courtroom if the subject came up.
It was another fifteen minutes before the bailiff announced, “All rise,” and Judge Fuller entered from a side door. Woodrow J. Fuller was a senior judge who looked like he’d been around since the building went up. His bushy grey eyebrows were thicker than the hair on his head and he spoke as if he needed to spit. Once the judge was seated, the bailiff instructed everyone to sit down.
“I’ve taken a look at your papers, counselor,” the judge said in the direction of Eagleman. “You may address the court.”
Eagleman stood. “Your Honor, I only have a brief statement.” He was almost yelling, and talking very, very slowly. “I believe the basis for this motion is clearly set forth in our papers. As you well know, the court has the authority to issue a gag order on three grounds: to protect a defendant’s right to a fair trial, to protect the fair administration of justice, and to preserve the sanctity of jury deliberations. All of those factors are present here.
“That fiasco out front,” he dramatically pointed east, toward Hill Street, “demonstrates that it will be very difficult for my client to get a fair trial. Even in the short timeframe since we filed this motion, Ms. Ayers has continued to conduct more interviews falsely maligning my client. It is my request that she be barred from granting further interviews with the media and that cameras be barred from all phases of the proceeding. My brief contains a long list of supporting case law.” He sat back down.
The judge turned to the plaintiff’s table. “Counselor, tell me why you feel it’s necessary to try this case in the press rather than here in this courtroom?”
Special’s knee started to bounce. “Because women need to know about men like Eugene.”
Sam started to rise, but the judge motioned him back down. “I want to hear from Ms. Ayers. She’s the one doing all the talking outside the courtroom.”
Nichelle stood up and Vernetta could tell that she was nervous by the way she tugged at the sleeve of her blouse three times. They had planned for Sam to argue the motion. “Your Honor, I don’t feel that I’ve been trying this case in the media. I’ve been—”
“What?” The judge took off his bi-focals and pointed them at her. “I can’t hear you. Don’t come in my courtroom mumbling. If you have an argument to make, say it so I can hear you.”
Sam lowered his head. Nichelle had apparently forgotten that the judge was nearly deaf.
She cleared her throat and spoke in a louder, slower voice. “Our opposition brief cites numerous cases which support our position that media coverage of this case would in no way prejudice the defendant, impede the fair administration of justice or influence the jury. Mr. Eagleman has cited a long list of cases, but none of them are directly on point. I also would like the court to note that Mr. Eagleman has made quite a few media appearances himself.”
“Only in response to yours,” Eagleman interrupted.
Nichelle inhaled and rolled her eyes at him. “This motion for a gag order is nothing but a publicity stunt on Mr. Eagleman’s part. Just like his ten-million-dollar counterclaim alleging that Ms. Washington was actually the one who infected Mr. Nelson.”
Special whipped her head in Vernetta’s direction.
“Yes,” Vernetta whispered, “he’s claiming Maya infected him. Just don’t wig out in here. If you do, you’re going to jail.”
Special closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around her upper body and started rocking back and forth. Vernetta leaned forward and silently signaled J.C. to be on the look out for any sudden moves from Special. The likelihood of her diving across the railing and strangling Eugene was a very real possibility.
“Your Honor,” Nichelle went on, “the rules governing the fair administration of justice apply to both the plaintiff and the defendant. The real plaintiff in this case, Maya Washington, is not here to speak for herself. The heart of this lawsuit is about deceit. Barring the media from covering this case would be as big a travesty as Ms. Washington’s death.”
“Oh, come on,” Eagleman muttered, then dramatically threw his pen on the table. The judge wasn’t only deaf, he must have been blind, too. Any other judge would have warned Eagleman to cut the theatrics.
When Nichelle finished, the judge turned back to Eagleman, who did some more grandstanding. Judge Fuller finally cut him off and asked a few questions of both attorneys that gave no inkling as to how he might rule. He then announced that he was taking the case under submission and would issue a ruling within a week.
Vernetta and J.C. ushered Special out of the courtroom as soon as the judge banged his gavel. Special didn’t utter a word until they arrived at the parking lot.
“Eugene is such a dog!” Special snarled as she hopped into the front seat of Vernetta’s Land Cruiser. “How dare he claim Maya infected him!”
“Let’s just have faith that the legal system is going to work,” Vernetta said.
“Screw the legal system. We should just kill his ass ourselves. You’re a cop, J.C. Don’t you know any criminals who can do the job for us?”
“Just get in the car,” J.C. ordered. She looked across the passenger seat at Vernetta. “Please take her home. Tie her up if you have to.”
“Did you know he has another girlfriend?” Special said to J.C. “Can you believe that?”
“How would you know?”
“Because I followed—” Special stopped, realizing that she was about to confess to stalking in the presence of a cop. A cop who was a close friend, but a cop just the same.
“Please tell me you’re not still harassing that man,” J.C. said. “If he files a complaint against you, you’re going to jail and there won’t be a thing anybody can do about it.”
“It’s not right,” Special said, settling into the car and snapping on her seatbelt. “Everybody’s treating Eugene like he’s the victim.”
Chapter 48
Eugene awoke before five the next morning to the loud shrill of an alarm. In his drowsy state it took several seconds for him to realize that the sound was his car alarm and was coming from his driveway.
He snatched his robe from the foot of the bed and ran barefoot down the stairs and out of the house. When he saw his BMW—his precious ninety-thousand-dollar BMW—he wanted to cry. The shiny black exterior had been
splashed with red paint. The front windshield looked as if it had been bashed in with a tire iron.
He didn’t understand how he could have slept through this.
“Ow!” He lifted his foot and removed a thick shard of glass. Blood slowly dripped from the wound, but Eugene was so enraged he barely felt the pain.
Eugene knew who was responsible for the vandalism and this time he was pressing charges. Somebody had to do something about the crazy bitch even if she was Maya’s cousin. He was about to head back into the house when he saw the word fag spray painted across his garage door. He walked around to the side of his house, careful to avoid stepping on another piece of glass. He stared up at more homophobic epithets.
He hurried back inside, bandaged his foot, then snatched the telephone from the kitchen counter. First he called the police, then the L.A. Times City Desk. He told the woman who answered that he was the victim of a hate crime and that the vandalism would make good pictures for the evening paper. Then he made similar calls to all five of the local TV stations and at least four radio stations.
After calling his lawyer, he jumped in and out of the shower, dressed, and prepared to be the center of another news story. If Special wanted a war, he was more than ready to do battle.
As he waited for the onslaught, he decided to call J.C. It wasn’t even six yet, but he didn’t care. She picked up on the second ring.
“This is Eugene,” he said, not waiting for a hello. “Special vandalized my car and spray painted my house. I’m tired of her harassing me. This time she’s going to pay.”
“So when was this?” J.C. asked.
“Earlier this morning.”
“Did you see her do it?”
Eugene chuckled. “I didn’t have to see her do it. I know she’s behind it. She even had the nerve to follow me on a date and confront my friend after I left.”
Murder on the Down Low Page 16
