Conspiracy of Innocence

by Gene Grossman

  On the day in question Paul was sober, but he was in a terrible mood because some business deal he was working on wasn’t going well. Paul wasn’t an executive of some dot-com company, so it must have been some drug transaction. The door to their rental cottage was open and several of the neighbors heard what was going on. He was bawling her out for some little thing like not having one of his favorite foods that he was expecting for breakfast.

  After about fifteen minutes of loudly berating her he stormed out of the house. She went running after him, but when she grabbed his arm as he got into his car, he turned around and slapped her in the face so hard that it knocked her on her ass. He didn’t even stop to help her up, and instead got into his pick-up truck and burned rubber as he angrily drove away, leaving her on the ground, holding her scratched face.

  One of the neighbors came over to help Kathy up and then brought her over to their cottage, where they cleansed the facial scar and tried to calm her down. Kathy stayed at that neighbor’s house for the rest of the afternoon, finally falling asleep on their couch. They gave her some booze to ease the pain, so it must have knocked her out.

  Her husband didn’t come home that evening and no one had an idea where he was, until a few days had passed and the local sheriff called. They had reports that a truck matching the one Paul drove away in was seen going off the road. By late that evening the cops had recovered it from a nearby lake. His body wasn’t in the truck, but his shirt was found nearby in the bushes. It was bloody and riddled with bullet holes. The cops formed the conclusion that he was shot and then his vehicle was pushed into the lake. They also think that his body was removed so that it could be disposed of somewhere else, probably in small pieces.

  The only other detail Jack learned was that the shirt they found near the truck accident matched the description of what Kathy and the neighbors said Paul was wearing when he left the house that day.

  Kathy hired some local lawyer who no one around here was familiar with. He got a court order that forced the police to compare DNA from the bloody shirt with the DNA sample that her husband Paul was forced to give to the police not too long ago when he was arrested for felony drug possession. Oregon has a statute that requires taking DNA samples from people arrested for any felony, so it was available for the testing. It wasa perfect match with the blood on the shirt.

  Mrs. Potter’s next move was to have her lawyer petition the court to have Paul declared legally dead so that she could put in a claim on his life insurance policy. The benefits were only two hundred thousand dollars, but that was enough for her to buy a car, get a nice new trailer to live in, finish beauticians’ school and start her life over again somewhere else.

  I don’t know what more Jack can do up there, so my only suggestion is that he get her telephone number in the cottage, plus any past phone bills she may have laying around. If her husband was dealing drugs, he probably also used a cell phone, so I tell Jack to also ask the widow for any of those bills too, and then to come back to town first thing tomorrow.

  Stuart calls to request a brainstorming session at our boat, so after he picks Jack B. up at the airport this morning, they’re coming by to talk about the case. If he can find any reason for Uniman to get out of paying the policy benefit to Kathy Potter, his fee will be in the neighborhood of twenty thousand dollars, so he’s very much interested in any advice he can get from me or Jack.

  I can’t help notice that Stuart is wearing a gold Rolex Submariner wristwatch with a twotone gold bracelet and a blue watch face. I’ve seen several like that around the Marina, usually worn by guys with boats almost as big as George Clooney’s. I don’t remember ever seeing him wear that thing before, and I’m sure I would have noticed, because it’s a real eye-opener. I’ve always wanted one of those, but in addition to not being able to justify the ten thousand dollar expense, I’m a little afraid of getting mugged for a flashy piece of jewelry like that. I’ve read about one incident where a guy pretended to be a customer at the local Mercedes Benz dealership. He just sat around in the service area’s waiting room until some unsuspecting customer might come in wearing a beautiful gold Rolex like Stuart’s. The crook didn’t have to wait too long before some well-healed Mercedes owner strolled in wearing the wristwatch of choice. Needless to say, the mugging took place then and there.

  “Stuart, aren’t you afraid to wear a fancy watch like that? I mean, it sort of makes you a target for a mugging.”

  “You really like it, Peter?”

  “Sure, Stu, what’s not to like? It’s a great looking piece of jewelry.”

  His next move almost knocks me cold. He unfastens the wristwatch clasp, removes the watch from his wrist, and hands it to me. “Here, Peter, this is a gift from me to you.”

  I’m stunned. Is he kidding? While I’m still sitting there speechless with my mouth open, he surprises me again. “Don’t worry about it Pete, I’ve got a whole case of ‘em back at the warehouse. Looks real, doesn’t it? I’ll be distributing them soon.”

  He really catches me with this one. I’ve heard of some counterfeit merchandise before, because there’s a news item every once in a while about people getting busted at some flea market for selling fake fashion purses. I never thought that a phony watch could look this good. Stuart explains that there are several types of phony Rolex watches being sold on the ‘street.’ Other than the quality of workmanship in the case and band, the main thing about keeping customers happy with their purchases is how the watches keep time. The cheapest ones and easiest to spot as phonies have quartz movements. You can tell they’re fake because the sweep second hand jumps from second-to-second, instead of moving in a slow, smooth path around the dial. Rolex doesn’t put quartz movements in their watches, so when you see that second-hand jump, you know it ain’t real.

  When you go up a step up from a quartz movement to the self-winding models, there are two main types of ‘insides,’ or ‘movements:’ cheap ones from India and the better ones from Japan. Stuart says that the Japanese move-ments are the best. Why am I not surprised?

  “Stuart, before we get into the legality of what you’re planning, please tell me that you haven’t advertised these things to anyone yet. I don’t want to hear that you’ve already built internet websites telling everyone that you’ve got phony Rolex watches for sale.”

  “Not to worry counselor, being a student of the law myself, I know better than to do that. And as for your concerns about me getting into trouble for selling these things, that will never happen.”

  “Gee, Stu, I’m glad to see you’re so confident that you’ll be staying out of trouble with your counterfeit merchandise. Would you please be so kind as to tell this poor ignorant officer of the court exactly how you intend to sell this stuff legally?”

  “No problemo, senor obligato, I won’t be selling them… I’ll be giving them away as premiums.”

  On paper, he might be right. If all you do is give them away, then logic dictates that you can’t be accused of ‘selling’ them, but he’s only partly correct.

  “I don’t know about that, Stu. There’s no such thing as ‘free.’ I’m sure you’re not going to be standing on some street corner passing them out to strangers who walk by. If you give the watch away as a premium, it’s because someone has bought something else from you, so when you lead them to believe you’re giving it to them as a free gift, it only that means you’ve already factored its cost into the price of whatever they bought from you… and that means technically, you are selling it to them.”

  “So what’s the big deal? I can buy these things by the case in Thailand for less than ten bucks each. I never give one away unless I’ve tested it out and made sure that it runs for at least a week without stopping. To be certain that the buying public isn’t being deceived at all, whoever gets one of these replicas from me signs a receipt for it acknowledging that they know it’s not real, and its value may be as little as one tenth of a percent of the genuine article. Do you think that Rolex is worried I’m
taking business away from them? That someone who really wants to spend ten thousand for a genuine Rolex will change his mind and instead decide to accept one of my ten dollar fakes? I think not. In fact, I’ve heard people tell me that they would rather keep the genuine one in their drawer at home and only wear it on special occasions, wearing one of my phonies for everyday use.”

  “Okay, Stuart, I concede the fact that you’ve solved the problem of not causing any confusion in the public’s mind as to authenticity, and that you won’t be taking any money out of the Rolex factory’s pocket, but you still seem to be missing the real issue here, and as a student of the law, I expect more from you. Every one of these phonies has a trademarked name and logo attached to it. This isn’t like making a copy of a dollar bill, because the watch isn’t legal tender that can be spent, but you’re still participating in a conspiracy to unlawfully use someone else’s stolen trademarked logos on counterfeit merchandise.

  “Secondly, because the United States has a high respect for trademarks and our Customs Department does not legally allow counterfeit merchandise like this to enter this country. If they knew about it coming in they would seize it on the spot, at its point of entry.

  “It may not be a crime, like smuggling, to bring it in to the U.S., but don’t ever try to get this stuff into France, because they have criminalized it there. Here, all they do is seize it. You might not be subject to any criminal prosecution, but companies like Rolex maintain an aggressive policy of civil prosecution, so don’t be surprised if you get served with a lawsuit from them. They guard their name and logo as strongly as Disney does, so my suggestion to you, my friend, is don’t fool with Mickey Mouse and don’t give away Rolex watches.

  “And here’s the clincher… If the lawyer that represents Rolex is as sharp as I think he would probably is, he’ll argue that you’ve actually sold the phony Rolex as a real one, charged eleven thousand for it, and threw in a free Camry as the premium!”

  There’s a lot of silence in the room. My last salvo really shot Stuart down, but his ability to bounce back amazes me. If he ever gets to be a lawyer, I think he’ll be a force to reckon with in any courtroom, because he can really think on his feet.

  “Okay Peter, for the sake of conversation, let’s assume that everything you say is one hundred percent true. Here’s my ‘plan B:’ I’ll get in touch with my distributor in Thailand and have them make a slight change when they silkscreen the watch faces on these things. Instead of it saying ‘Rolex,’ it’ll say ‘Phony.’ This way, I won’t be violating anyone’s trademark. I’ll even prepare a brochure for prospective customers, letting them know that if anyone asks them if their watch is real or a phony, they should hold up their arm and proudly declare that they’re wearing a genuine Phony. How’s that for marketing? I’ll bet that in no time at all my genuine Phony watches are the craze. In fact, I’ll bet they’ll be a big hit with wealthy people who can actually afford or may even own the real thing, and would rather wear one of my genuine Phonies instead.”

  I like it. Not only is his new idea a clever one, I think it’ll be successful. In fact, I’d like to be his first customer for one of those ten-dollar genuine phonies.

  Having settled the counterfeit wristwatch problem, our thoughts are now back to the case at hand. I tell them Special Agent Snell called and warned me to stay away from this matter, and that’s the only reason I’m so interested in it. If the FBI is involved, then for sure there’s something fishy going on.

  I don’t know anything about the alleged murder, but I do see a pattern emerging. First of all, Potter’s body hasn’t been found. Second, the local police no longer seem to have an active investigation going on this case. Third, no one will talk to us. I’m starting to get the strange feeling that this entire matter may be as phony as the watch that Stuart just gave me, and if it is, I want to know why, because I don't like getting my chain pulled by Snell and his gang.

  Jack B. brought back Kathy Potter’s home telephone bills for the past couple of months, so I tell him to start calling every one of them to see who she and her husband Paul were talking to.

  “What about cell phones Jack? Did Kathy or Paul have one? And if so, are there any bills to be had?”

  “She couldn’t find them while I was there. When I landed here at LAX there was a voice-mail waiting for me. She found them.”

  “Bad move Jack. You should’ve gotten right back on a plane and gone to get them. Why was staying here in town more important than going back there for those cell phone bills?”

  Stuart intercedes for Jack. “Peter, Jack’s girlfriend Phyllis is in town from Chicago. Remember? He met her when he was back there investigating the Joe Morgan case a couple of months ago.”

  “Okay Jack, your girlfriend’s in town and I’m happy for you. I’m sure that Stuart will drive you to the airport now so that you can fly back up to wherever Kathy Potter is and pick up those cell phone records of hers.”

  “Mister Sharp, are you kidding? I just got back from there this morning. What’s the big hurry?”

  “The big hurry, my good friend, is that there’s a murderer on the loose and we don’t want to wait until something happens to Kathy Potter.” Jack looks disappointed. I realize he wants to spend some time with Phyllis, so I cut him some slack.

  “Okay Jack, go see your girlfriend… but I want you on the first flight out tomorrow morning. I really want those cell phone bills the widow Potter has for you.

  An appreciative Jack calls Phyllis and then leaves with Stuart.

  They’ve been gone about five minutes and my phone rings. The caller ID display shows a La Verne area prefix. It’s Beverly Luskin calling from her cell phone.

  “Peter, I hope you don’t mind such short notice, but I’ll be in Los Angeles this evening to look at a commercial property that we were planning on putting an offer in on. Would you like to meet me? Maybe we can get an early dinner or have a drink, or something.”

  This is music to my ears. It was getting to a point where I was hoping that Laverne would return from her vacation already. “That sounds good to me. Where’s the property you’re looking at? Maybe I can meet you there.”

  She gives me an address in North Hollywood and we make plans to meet there in at six, a perfect time for me to show off my new wristwatch.

  The property is a motel that is now ‘closed for remodeling.’ I’ve seen these on many businesses. It really means ‘we’re gone and not coming back, but don’t want you to know about it.’ Beverly’s car parked in front of what was the office, and as she turns and sees me, she runs over, throws her arms around me and plants a warm wet one on my lips.

  “Peter, it’s so nice to see you.”

  “Same to you, kid.” I guess the period of mourning must have ended.

  I reluctantly release her and we start to walk hand-in-hand around the parking lot, which is surrounded by a U-shaped one-story building with about ten rental units, and an office in the middle. The place reminds me of one of those forts you might see in an old western movie. It looks like it’s been closed for a couple of months, but the utilities are still on, so the neon sign works and the small surrounding lawn gets automatically watered. There’s no pool, so the place was obviously a low-budget motel similar to the ones you see all along out-of-the-way interstate routes. Like so many other old commercial buildings in the San Fernando Valley, it has a Mexican feel to it, complete with the faded orange semi-circular tiles on the overhanging roof eaves and large walkway arches in front of each door.

  She has a set of keys to the place with her, so we decide to check out a room. Once inside, Beverly asks me if I’m a Lakers fan.

  “Are you kidding? Who in this town isn’t?” She looks at her watch, which I’m sure isn’t counterfeit.

  “Well mister lawyer, then you should be pleased to learn that your team’s next game starts in about five minutes.”

  “If you’d like to watch it, I’m sure we can find some nearby watering hole with few television set
s.”

  She surprises me even further with her next suggestion, which sounds much better than mine. “Wait a minute, these rooms are all equipped with television sets fed by cable. The utilities are still on, so let’s see if we can get the game right here in the room.”

  She walks over, turns on the TV set, and in less than ten seconds I see the team in their warm-up suits getting ready to start playing. Fortunately, other than the bed, these rooms aren’t furnished with anything but a small writing desk and chair set, so there’s only one place to get comfortable watch television from. She sits down on the bed and then pats the mattress next to her.

  “C’mon, mister lawyer, make yourself comfortable. I don’t bite.”

  I don’t know if she planned this or not, but it couldn’t be going better. She kicks off her shoes, so I do the same, and then get comfortable on the bed next to her. For some strange reason, I’m not that interested in the game. The sound is on very low, so we start a long conversation, during which she tells me her life story and I pretend to be interested.

  When the conversation turns to me, I explain to her that I’m just an ordinary run-ofthe-mill lawyer who drives a yellow Hummer and lives on a fifty-foot yacht, with a young Chinese female computer genius, and a Saint Bernard that delivers the mail. She’s amused by my description of my old law school classmate, Suzi’s late stepfather Melvin Braunstein. She also now understands why our boat is named the ‘Suzi B.’

  “Peter, it looks like we enjoy each other’s company. If I stay over here tonight, can we spend some more time together tomorrow?”

  “Oh, gee, I’d love to, but tomorrow I have to go to a Gun Show out in Lancaster. It’s only going to be there one day and I have to get something one of the vendors is offering.”

  “Really? I don’t see you as a person with that military mindset.”

  “You’re right. I don’t even have one ‘camouflage-style’ outfit my wardrobe. The reason I’m going there is to meet with a leather holster maker, because I want to surprise Suzi with a special dog harness that Bernie can wear while we’re out boating. If that Saint Bernard ever went overboard while we were out at sea I don’t think it would be possible to haul him back onto the boat. The harness will tether him to within ten feet of the main cabin. Maybe after it’s over, if you’re still in town, we can get together for some frozen yogurt or something.”