by Mark Stone
“And you need my help with finding one?” I asked, still confused. “I’m no sure I can help you there.”
“No, sir,” she answered. “You’re not following me. We already found one, and he’s sitting right across from me.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, my eyebrows daring up.
“Season two of our program is about the Edward Turner case,” she said, smiling as though she wasn’t talking about the very thing that completely changed, and almost totally destroyed, my entire life. “And you, Rick Archer, are going to be the star.”
Chapter 3
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head and narrowing my eyes at the chirpy young woman. “I think I might have just hallucinated, because I thought I just heard you say that you wanted me to be the star of your podcast.”
Fallon O’Keefe’s smile only broadened, which I would have thought was impossible, as she answered. “Does that strike you as a bad thing?”
I glared at her, sure that I was being pranked or something and that- at any second- some two-bit former celebrity was going to come rushing out from behind a corner and tell me that I was on television. That didn’t come, of course. All I got was Fallon and her incessant smile.
“Let me see,” I started, shuffling in my seat. “You come here, to my office, from a podcast in New York, which is titled Blunder, for God’s sake, and you ask me to relive what was almost certainly the most regrettable episode of my life. There’s a lot that’s wrong with this, Ms. O’Keefe.”
“With all due respect,” she said, pulling a pamphlet out of a backpack on the floor I hadn’t seen until this point. “I don’t think you’re looking at this correctly. Our podcast is heard by over seven million people weekly. Did I mention that it won a Talktastic award?”
“You did,” I replied. “It means even less to me the second time around. What on earth would make you think that I would want seven million people to hear about the worst days of my life?”
“Seven million weekly,” she corrected. “We think it goes up to near ten with delayed listening.”
“Ma’am, I’m not interested, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” I said, trying to remain as calm and polite as possible as I motioned toward the door at the edge of the room.
“Again, I don’t think you’re understanding me, Mr. Archer,” Fallon said. “I can tell from your demeanor that you’re under the impression that we’re banking on your involvement to be able to run the story. I assure you, that isn’t the case.” Her smile stayed completely intact as she continued giving me the bad news. “What happened with Edward Turner is a matter of public record and, as a matter of public record, it’s up for grabs to anyone who might want to cover it.” She tilted her head at me. “As is your involvement in it.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, my chest tightening. “Are you saying that you’re going to continue with this story whether I give you the go ahead or not?”
See,” she chuckled. “I knew you weren’t stupid. My producer, Nate kept telling me not to approach you. He said that anyone who was capable of ruining his entire career after managing to get an obvious murderer off wasn’t worth our time, but I saw something in you. I know there’s got to be more to you than just some sad sack attorney who had to run south to the minor leagues after he got his ass kicked up in Chicago.”
“I didn’t get my ass kicked,” I growled. “I won that case. I won most of my cases. What happened after Edward Turner was acquitted was-”
“I’m sorry,” she said, holding up a finger and fishing around in her backpack again. “That’s really good. I’m going to need you to start over once I get the recorder out.”
I blinked, standing up and pointing toward the door again. “Get the hell out of my office, lady!” I yelled.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” she asked, looking up at me from her still seated position. “You might not have got your ass kicked in legal court, but the court of public opinion is a different story, and don’t you think you got a bum deal? What happened with Edward Turner wasn’t your fault. You were just doing your job, but somehow, you turned into the villain of the piece.” Now, she stood to meet me, nodding firmly at me like she was one of those motivational speakers you see at 3 AM on television when you can’t sleep. “Don’t you want to take control of the narrative? Hell, don’t you want to take control of your life?”
“I have control of my life, ma’am,” I said sternly.
“Right,” she balked. “In your backwater office with the glass walls.” She sighed. “You went from being one of the most prominent rising stars in Chicago’s fastest growing firm to being second best in a firm that’s two payments behind on its rent.”
“No, it’s not,” I said forcefully.
“I do my research, Mr. Archer,” she answered. “What kind of reporter do you think I am?”
“The kind who isn’t getting anywhere near me,” I answered, stomping toward the door, holding it open, and motioning for Fallon to leave. “Now, if you’re not out of my office in thirty seconds, I’m having you thrown out.”
“By who?” she asked, still smiling at me. “We both know your firm can’t afford a security detail.”
“Opal’s stronger than she looks,” I answered. “Now get the hell out.”
“Look,” she said, pulling a business card from her backpack and placing it on the table. Slinging her backpack across one shoulder, she started toward me. “That’s my card. If you start seeing things my way, which is to say, the correct way, I’ll be in town for a few days. I really think that, if you consider what I’m offering you, you’ll see it as the gift it is.”
“If it’s a gift, I hope you kept the receipt,” I answered. “Because I’m not taking it.”
“That’s fine,” she said, walking through the door. “I guess I’ll just have to make due interviewing your friends and colleagues. I wonder what stories they’ll be able to give me.”
“The kind where you’re missing teeth if you don’t evacuate these premises right now,” Hope yelled from behind me. “And I really hope you get to tell them. I’ve been dying to punch someone lately.”
“Think about it,” Fallon said, not registering what Hope had said. ‘Give me a call if you come to your senses. Or come visit me. I’ll be at the Manderlay.”
And, with that, she walked away.
Hope strode toward me as Fallon left the building.
“Justin isn’t going to be happy about this, is he?” she asked.
“Not even a little,” I answered, shuffling uncomfortably. “Not even a little.”
Chapter 4
“So, she’s just going to buzz around town and asked invasive, inappropriate questions about you?” Justin asked, looking at me from across the island in his kitchen as he pulled a bag of ice out of his fridge with his good arm. He had broken his forearm a few weeks ago in what had to be the world’s lamest basketball injury, and he had the thing in a sling. He picked his sister up from the airport a few hours ago and, because he was the kind of person who wanted to make her feel welcome, decided to throw together an impromptu welcome party for the lady. Though the guests weren’t really scheduled to arrive for another hour or so, Justin had enlisted me to help him get things set up. It seemed the work of a business partner (if not an actual partner) was never done.
“That’s what she led me to believe,” I answered, taking the bag of ice as he passed it to me and pouring its contents into a cooler. “I tried to stop her, but she let me know that she didn’t have any legal obligation to acquire my consent before she went ahead with the show.”
“She’s right about that,” Justin said. “Trials are public record. So are the events surrounding them to a point.”
“I know she’s right,” I answered. “That’s what pisses me off about it so much. I travelled a lot of miles to get away from my past. I don’t want it rearing its ugly head now just because some lady with a microphone and an over inflated sense of self-worth wants to top her seas
on one ratings. Especially if that means it hurts the firm as a whole.”
“Let me worry about my firm, Rick,” Justin said, closing the fridge and pulling a few cases of beers and colas from the cabinets. “I could threaten a defamation suit.”
“It’s not defamation if the things they’re talking about are the truth,” I reminded my friend.
“I know that,” Justin said. “You’re not the only one in the room whose passed the bar exam. I also know that, sometimes, just the threat of a suit is enough to make big companies who care about their public image pull the plug. What is this podcast called?”
“Blunder,” I answered, sighing.
“That’s charming, isn’t it?” Justin said sarcastically. “In any event, this world is full of blunders. Hell, it’s half the reason we’re able to keep a roof over our heads. I’m sure there’s plenty of subject matter for this lady’s second season without her fishing in our pond. Let me draw something up.”
“I appreciate that,” I answered. “And, by all means, if you think giving her a little legal shakedown is what it’ll take to get her out of my life, then I’m more than happy to let you do it.” I fidgeted uncomfortably as I continued. “Speaking of keeping a roof over our heads, though, Fallon did say something when she was at the firm earlier.” I cleared my throat. “Are we two payments behind on the rent?”
Justin stopped tossing the beers and colas into the cooler and looked at me. “She’s digging deeply, isn’t she?”
“Justin, I’m being serious,” I said, nodding at the man and cementing my stance.
“Fine then,” Justin said. “To answer your question, we are not behind on anything, because you don’t own a law firm, Rick.”
I glared at Justin, my hands curling up against the surface of the island. “You know what I meant,” I answered.
“Of course, I do,” Justin said. “And you know that I’m not the type of person who talks about his financial business with other people. It’s just tacky.”
“God, it’s true,” I murmured, sighing and shaking my head.
“I didn’t say that,” Justin responded.
“You didn’t have to,” I replied. “Look, I got a severance package from my old law firm.”
“No,” Justin said quickly, shaking his head.
“It’s just money. It’s not important,” I replied.
“Of course, it’s important,” Justin told me with narrowing eyes. “The whole damn world works for the stuff, Rick. People kill for it. We see it everyday. Trust me, it’s important. That being said, until the contents of my bank account affects the contents of yours, it’s none of your business. I haven’t neglected to pay you, have I?”
“You know you haven’t,” I said.
“Then you and I don’t have a problem,” he said flatly.
“Except that you’re my friend,” I replied, blinking at him.
“Then, as my friend, I’m asking you to respect my privacy,” Justin said. “If and when I want to share my private information with you, I’ll do that. Until that moment, a good friend would say ‘understood’, get his ass back to helping me set things up, and let it go.”
I looked at Justin for a long moment. When I was finished letting what he’d said ruminate in my brain, I picked the cooler up and nodded at him. “Understood,” I said, and I got my ass back to helping set things up.
“Where’s your sister?” I asked after a couple of minutes of silently setting things up in the living room. Justin’s house wasn’t huge, certainly not as big as some of the mansions that dotted the streets and sands of Naples. It was nice enough though, and it had a cozy, homey feel that reminded me a lot of The Good Storm, the houseboat Justin’s friend Dillon lived on which was now occupied by his grandfather. I guess they had similar tastes.
“If you can believe it, she’s actually gardening outside,” Justin said, smiling.
“Seriously?” I asked with a wrinkled forehead. “She just got off a seven hour flight and it’s a hundred degrees outside.”
“The heat doesn’t bother Daphne,” he said. “Never has. Besides, that’s kind of her thing. She took one look at the flowers in my yard and demanded I get the hoe and clippers out for her.” He shrugged at me. “I can’t wait for you to meet her, actually. I think you’d like her. She’s a really calm and laid back person.”
Just then, a woman’s scream filled the air, coming from outside and piercing the closed door.
“Daphne?” Justin asked, his entire body tensing as he recognized the voice. “What the hell is going on?”
“Off the top of my head,” I muttered, following Justin as he ran toward his front door. “I’m going to say she’s not quite as laidback as you thought she was.”
Chapter 5
Following Justin out the front door of his house, I wasn’t sure what I was going to find. Gardening had never been the sort of high risk activity you think of when considering that someone might have hurt themselves. Still, that was the thought that came to mind as I took in the scope of Justin’s front yard. What I was actually met with was something else entirely.
A woman who I assumed was Daphne, because I had still yet to lay eyes on Justin’s sister, stood at the edge of the road. She had a glove on her right hand and the other had fallen on the grass behind her. In her bare hand, sat a small hoe, which she had held in front of her as a sort of defense.
Following the point of the hoe, I saw a huge man of about fifty years old. He had a thick neck, a thick but graying head full of hair, and a baseball bat in his hands, which he had pointed menacingly at Justin’s sister.
“My God!” Justin said. Without another word, he darted off toward the edge of the yard toward his sister. Because I had been in enough bar fights to know that you never let your friend with a broken arm stand against an armed man by himself, especially one who happens to be threatening a woman, I rushed to follow him.
“You listen to me!” the man said. As I neared him, I saw more details. His face was red, his body was shaking, and the veins in his forehead were throbbing. Whatever he was talking about, it had pissed him off royally. “Do you hear me? You stay the hell away from my family!”
I looked from the man to Daphne and back again. If Justin’s sister was afraid, she was doing a good job of hiding it. The hoe in her hand, while it would do no good against a man the size of the one threatening her right now, even if he didn’t have a bat raised at her, was expertly trained at him. One look at her let me know she was no novice when it came to protecting herself. Still, like any good brother, Justin was going to make sure she didn’t have to protect herself when he was around.
‘Get the hell off my property!” Justin screamed. He didn’t bother grabbing the hoe from his sister’s hand. He didn’t think he needed it. Instead, he threw himself in front of his sister, staring the guy down in an attempt to let him know he meant business.
“Boy, I will break your other arm if you don’t get the hell away from me. I’m not playing around here! If that lady thinks she can screw around with my family, then she has another thing coming.”
“You’ll have to break three more arms if you want to get to her, pal,” I said, stepping up myself and letting him know that Justin wasn’t alone in this. “Now, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I do know that you’re on private property. You’re looking at two very good lawyers, two lawyers who will make sure your bank account is drained if you so much as lay a finger, not to mention that damn bat, on anybody here.”
“You think I care about money?” the man balked. “I don’t give a damn about money! This is about family, you idiots. This is about all I have!”
“Are you insane?” Justin balked. “My sister has absolutely nothing to do with your family. But, since you’re bringing it up, that woman back there is my family, and if you think a baseball bat or a broken arm is going to stop me from protecting her, then you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Justin, this isn’t worth it,” Daphne said, gra
bbing her brother’s shoulder and trying to pull him backward.
“He came on my property, Daphne!” Justin spit back, still looking at the man. “He came on my property and threatened my family, and that is not okay, not even a little.”
“Justin, stand back,” I said, meeting my friend’s eyes and nodding at him. Now, I wasn’t exactly a gladiator. I had gotten my ass kicked more than once since I moved to Naples. Hell, it was Justin who saved me right there in our offices the last time my ass was about to be kicked. I wasn’t about to let this stand, though, and I wasn’t going to let Justin fight this guy, not in the condition he was in. “
I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, turning to the burly man and taking him in. I had questioned enough witnesses during my career to know how insanely important it was to remember details about an incident. This man wore a wedding ring, meaning he was married. He had a scar running up and out of the line of his shirt toward his neck, probably from open heart surgery. The watch on his left wrist was worth at least five thousand dollars. He was loaded.
“Don’t worry, kid,” he growled. “You won’t. I was in the Navy, son. If I wanted to, I’d have cracked all of your skulls by now, but that’s not what I’m here for.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked, anger rise up in me like a tide off the Gulf. “Because, as you know, you’re trespassing, and I’m not above calling the police.”
“The police would never get to you in time,” the man said in a deep, serious voice that caused my skin to crawl.
“Maybe they wouldn’t get to you in time,” I said, throwing caution to the wind and stepping toward the man. I grabbed the end of his baseball bat and threw it aside. “You come here, making all these threats and screaming at a damn woman. Now, I’ve never been in the Navy, but I know enough men and women in the Armed Forces to know that they teach you better than that.” I shook my head. “Like I said, I don’t know what’s going on here, but this isn’t right. Whatever beef you’ve got with Daphne, it needs to stop here and now. Otherwise, it becomes my friend’s problem, and if it’s my friend’s problem, it’s my problem.”
