Law and Vengeance

by Mike Papantonio

  “I’m Gina Romano.”

  “Are you my new attorney?”

  “That remains to be seen,” she said, and took a seat.

  “No offense,” said Diaz, “but I’m not sure about the idea of a lady attorney.”

  “Offense taken,” said Gina. “And just so you know, I’m not convinced of the idea of having you as a client.”

  Diaz looked surprised. He was a middle-aged man of average height. His hair looked suspiciously dark; she guessed he was dying it to maintain a youthful appearance to keep up with the ladies. Diaz was carrying about fifteen extra pounds, but Gina could understand how some women might find him attractive.

  “What are you talking about?” said Diaz.

  “Mr. Diaz”—

  “Rob,” he said, already sounding conciliatory.

  “Rob, you need to sell me on why this firm should spend another dime working on your case, especially as we have other potentially less problematic candidates waiting in the wings.”

  “But this is my case,” he whined.

  “This is a case against Arbalest,” Gina said. “You came out as a whistle-blower against Arbalest. You did the right thing. But my firm does not have to make this a whistle-blower case. We have the option of handling this as a basic defective product civil case. That would give us plenty of clients besides you.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I’m afraid you’re a bit sketchy, Rob. You have the baggage of ex-wives and ex-girlfriends. It wouldn’t take much to paint you as an opportunistic hustler looking for a big payday.”

  “Angus had no problem with me,” he said. “He knew I did the right thing for the right reasons. I wasn’t looking for a payday when I went to my bosses and said there were problems with Sight-Clops.”

  Gina allowed him a begrudging nod for his good deed.

  “And after I was fired,” he said, “I could have just said to hell with it. But because Sight-Clops was killing people, I dropped a dime. I wasn’t looking to get rich. I didn’t even know that was a possibility until after Angus contacted me.”

  “And is that what motivates you now?” asked Gina.

  “I can’t say the idea of a windfall wouldn’t be nice,” he said. “I’m kind of running on empty these days. Hell, I’ve been doing day labor jobs just to get by. But the money isn’t the only thing. There should be consequences for innocent people getting shot for no reason.”

  “What if I were to tell you that testifying in this case might potentially put you in danger?”

  “What kind of danger?”

  “Angus Moore died under suspicious circumstances.”

  “I thought he had an automobile accident.”

  “It wasn’t an accident,” said Gina. “I was in the car right before it crashed.”

  “Are you saying he was murdered?”

  “Yes, I am. That’s not something the police believe, but I am convinced of it.”

  Diaz shook his head, not liking what he heard. Then he remembered something. “So that’s why Angus wanted me to go there.”

  “Where did he want you to go?”

  “He’s got this hunting cabin in Montana. He was trying to get me to go there before the trial. But I didn’t like the idea of being out in the wilderness all by myself.”

  Angus had recognized the dangers in this case, thought Gina, but he’d kept forging ahead.

  “That’s why I need to know if you’re all-in on this case, Rob. We don’t want your testimony to be timid or reluctant.”

  “You think I’m on someone’s hit list?” he asked.

  “If I had to guess, I doubt it. Any more deaths are sure to raise red flags. But that doesn’t mean those we’re going up against won’t try and intimidate you or turn up the heat in ways I can’t even think of now. That’s why I need to know if you are going to stand firm—or if you’re going to take a powder.”

  “I’m here,” he said, “aren’t I?”

  Up until then, Gina had made a point of not shaking Diaz’s hand, and he had done the same. But now she extended her arm, and the two of them shook hands vigorously.

  Diaz said, “I hope you’re this scary in court.”

  Ten minutes later, Ned, Carol, and Cara joined Gina and Diaz in the conference room. Sitting outside the room, making sure they wouldn’t be disturbed, was Bennie.

  Gina made introductions. Ned had already met with Diaz, and Carol had talked to him over the phone. Diaz was quite happy, though, to be introduced to Cara. He sucked in his gut and was all smiles with the attractive younger associate.

  Carol tried to get him to focus on something other than Cara’s backside. “Before we get down to the nuts and bolts of the meeting,” she said, “I am wondering if Mr. Diaz will play a little game of word association with me?”

  Diaz shrugged and nodded.

  “While working at Arbalest,” she said, “did you ever hear anyone reference ‘blue sky’?”

  Diaz thought about it, but then shook his head.

  “What about ‘bull’s lie’?” she said.

  “Never heard that one,” he said.

  “And finally,” she said, “how about ‘bull’s-eye’?”

  “Bull’s-eye,” he repeated. “That sort of sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. Of course, testing with targets did occur at Arbalest. And I’m sure there was talk of hitting the bull’s-eye. Maybe that’s why it sounds familiar.”

  “Thank you,” said Carol. She nodded to Gina signaling the floor was hers.

  “Where are we with Madsen-Zimmer?” Gina asked Ned.

  “They actually sounded pleased that we wanted to proceed with depositions ASAP,” said Ned, “and they say they’re good to go next week if we’re serious. They agreed to move faster than the judge’s standard scheduling order and waive any time limitations in us setting depos.”

  “In other words,” said Gina, “they believe they are going to get a quick dismissal, and the less time we have to dig around, the better off they will be.”

  Ned nodded. “That’s the way I see it, even if that’s not how a defense counsel usually plays it. My suspicion is that these orders are coming directly from Arbalest’s in-house counsel.”

  Everyone in the room recognized that the typical defense strategy was to drag by way of motion wars and to take every advantage of procedural delays during the discovery portion of the litigation. A long-drawn-out discovery period was like a private ATM for a team of defense lawyers all billing at a thousand dollars an hour.

  “We have a new investigative lead on someone we need to talk to,” said Cara. “Private Cary Jones was stationed in Afghanistan and claims Sight-Clops was responsible for his shooting and killing an Afghani civilian. Private Jones is scheduled to be discharged from the army next week.”

  “Where is he stationed now?”

  Cara looked at her notes. “He’s at Fort Bragg in North Carolina.”

  “You need to talk to him as soon as possible,” said Gina. “Tomorrow isn’t too soon. If you can avoid going through a judge advocate, that would streamline the process. Consider this a fact-finding expedition. Right after he’s discharged, we’ll make it a formal deposition.”

  “Will do,” said Cara.

  “Let’s make this a blitzkrieg and benefit from their quick discovery strategy,” said Gina. “Madsen-Zimmer won’t expect that. They think that with all their lawyers they’ll have an advantage in numbers. What they’re going to find out is their having those numbers is only going to make them a lot less nimble than us.”

  She turned her attention to Diaz. “While we have you here, Rob, I think we should go over with you the names of those we have on our preliminary deposition list. Now is the time for you to provide us with the names of any other individuals that might corroborate your testimony, or help us with the case.

  “Then I’d like you to tell us again in minute detail what happened when you reported the problems with Sight-Clops to upper management. I know you already did this
with Angus, but we need to be specific with your timeline of events. We’ll be comparing what you say to us with what you said to Angus. You’re probably thinking that’s a waste of time, as we’ve already taken down your account, but you’re going to have to be very specific. If the lawyers at Madsen-Zimmer find any inconsistency in your account, they’ll try and discredit you as being an unreliable witness. From our end, the more specific you are the better it is for us. Your testimony should help us identify memorandums and reports that Arbalest should have written up as a matter of course.”

  Diaz looked confused. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “It has been our experience,” said Gina, “that the electronic and paper trails that should be there all too often magically disappear.”

  “You mean like that meeting where I spoke to the suits and to Knapp about Sight-Clops malfunctioning?”

  “That’s it exactly. There should certainly have been a written account of that meeting. From our end, we’re going to demand they produce that file or paperwork.”

  “And from their end,” said Ned, “they’ll say that file was accidentally deleted or the paper account was inadvertently shredded.”

  “They do those kinds of things?” asked Diaz.

  “That’s just the leading edge of what they’ll do,” said Gina.

  “I think I can refer you to one of those reports you’re looking for,” said Diaz.

  Gina motioned for him to continue speaking.

  “When I got fired,” he said, “they marched me out of the building like I was some kind of criminal, and that upset some of my coworkers. I mean, it wasn’t like I was the only one who knew about the problems with Sight-Clops. That first night I was fired I started hearing from my colleagues. They knew better than to call or email from work. Everyone said what a raw deal I got. They thought it was typical that management was blaming the messenger and not their product. And one of my friends even emailed to say that management was already aware that Sight-Clops was prone to malfunctioning when it was extremely hot and humid. He said a confidential report had been circulated which stated that.”

  “Who told you this?”

  “I don’t want to get him in trouble,” said Diaz. “In fact he told me all of this on the QT.”

  “We need his name, Rob.”

  “The only reason he called was to make me feel better. But he also told me he couldn’t get involved, especially with his being only six months away from retirement. He couldn’t jeopardize that, he said.”

  “Now he’s less than three months from retirement,” said Gina, “and I promise if Arbalest tries to screw him out of his pension or benefits, we’ll sue them big time.”

  “There has got to be some other way.”

  “I am beginning to see why Angus believed so much in you, Rob,” said Gina. “In front of a room of skeptics, me among them, he insisted that you were a stand-up guy. I can appreciate how you’re trying to protect a friend. But you’re going to need to let us question your coworker. He can refuse to talk to us, but that will have to be his choice.”

  Diaz sighed. When he’d first caught sight of this lady lawyer walking into the room and giving him the stink eye, he’d wondered with all her bruises and scabs if she had been in a bar fight. Now he’d spent enough time with her to know she was a pit bull. Once she had her teeth on something, she wasn’t going to let loose. There was no question about it. This Gina Romano scared him more than his ex-wives.

  He gave up the name: “Merle Marcus.”

  18

  THE RELUCTANT LEPRECHAUN

  Before flying into Chicago, Gina had Carol and her team research Merle Markus and a potential witness named Kim Knudsen. The lead on Knudsen had been uncovered before Angus’s death in a random interview with two ex-police officers wanting to be hired as local investigators in Angus’s case. Gina suspected that the lead was a long shot but worth pursuing.

  Gina’s plan was to introduce herself to both witnesses and give them the news that she would be deposing them in the near future. There were pros and cons to Gina making herself known this way. “Ambush interviews” sometimes created hostile witnesses. No one liked being told they had a future date on the hot seat. Still, it had been Gina’s experience that sometimes you learned more in that initial meeting than you did from a long deposition.

  Merle Marcus’s background check had already revealed one surprising thing: he was an entertainer, the so-called “Marquis of Skokie.” His site offered links to two YouTube video clips, one which showed him dressed up and speaking as Mark Twain—“The political and commercial morals of the United States are not merely food for laughter, they are an entire banquet.” And in the other he was Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof—“You might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn’t easy.”

  “No, it’s not,” said Gina, clicking off before Merle could sing “If I Were a Rich Man.” The Marquis of Skokie’s website had already revealed to Gina what she needed to know. Tomorrow, Marcus had a six o’clock performance scheduled at the Sunrise Chateau. A quick Google search revealed that the Marquis was going to be performing at a nursing home.

  It was a show, Gina decided, that she couldn’t miss.

  Gina and Bennie’s flight was due to land at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport at four o’clock. Frequent travelers in and out of that airport liked to say they had gone from “full hair to no hair because of O’Hare.” The weather conditions at and around there were often challenging. The “lake effect” of Lake Michigan resulted in many of O’Hare’s annual 160,000 weather-related flight delays. The weather culprits included snow, wind, rain, fog, and thunderstorms. Luckily for Gina and Bennie, none of those were in the forecast. When the two of them had flown out of Spanish Trace it had been sunny and seventy-five. The forecast for when they were due to land in Chicago was for gray skies and a temperature of forty-five.

  The three-hour flight was a chance for Gina to work. She had time to read the background report on Officer Kim Knudsen. Afterward, she compiled a list of questions that she hoped Knudsen would answer. Twenty months ago, in the line of duty, Knudsen had accidentally shot and killed her rookie partner, Vinnie Velez, while she herself had been shot by an assailant. Her abdominal injuries had kept her off the force for more than a year. Since her return though, she had been assigned only a part-time desk job. Gina wondered what Knudsen thought about being relegated to what was essentially office work. She probably didn’t like it, but Gina was betting her husband and two children did.

  The plan was to do the Knudsen “ambush” tomorrow morning right after she dropped her two kids off at school. Her youngest was in kindergarten; her oldest in third grade. According to their investigators, Knudsen wasn’t scheduled to work. Afterward, Gina had a ten o’clock meeting with Robert Diaz. He had returned home to Chicago the day before and was supposed to be gathering up some old paperwork that might have some bearing on their case.

  “Hey, counselor.” The loud voice was right in her ear. “Earth to Gina.”

  Gina looked up from her work to see Bennie smiling at her. Even though they were both in first-class accommodations, his seat was barely big enough for him.

  “Because of you,” said Bennie, “our flight attendant looks like she’s about to take no prisoners. You don’t want to get us on the No Fly List, do you? Turn off your laptop and put it away. And like the lady said, ‘Fasten your seatbelt and make sure your seat back and folding trays are in their upright positions.’”

  Gina realized the plane was making its final approach to the airport. She quickly did as Bennie had advised.

  “You’d make a great flight attendant,” she said.

  “Please be careful when opening the overhead bins,” he said, “because shift happens.”

  “It surely does.”

  Gina tried to send Bennie ahead to get their rental car, but he refused to leave her. The lawyer in Gina hated that her arguments were
falling on deaf ears, but on a personal level she tried to hide the comfort she really felt.

  The rental car, an Expedition big enough for Bennie, didn’t take long to secure. Still, Gina was worried about their timing. If at all possible, she wanted to catch the Marquis of Skokie before his scheduled performance. Luckily for them, Marcus was performing in his hometown of Skokie which was only about fifteen miles from the airport. There was still the obstacle of rush hour traffic though.

  “Don’t worry,” said Bennie, “we’ll make it on time. You need to learn how to have Indian patience.”

  “And what is Indian patience?”

  “Look at me. You see my ‘no worries’ attitude? When I say we’ll make it to the Sunrise Chateau on time, all you need to do is have Indian patience and a little faith.”

  “Sunrise Chateau,” Gina repeated, wrinkling her nose as if she sniffed something terrible. “How do these nursing homes come up with such awful names?”

  “You’d rather go to a place called Wrinkled Wasteland?”

  “That, or maybe Demented Cove.”

  Gina had to laugh. She loved that Bennie was becoming comfortable enough around her to relax.

  They arrived at Sunrise Chateau at half past five. Bennie pulled into the parking lot and picked a spot across from a van in the loading zone. The back doors of the van were open and a man wearing a green hat, green outfit, and pointy shoes, was piling speakers onto a moving cart.

  “It’s probably better if you stay in the car,” said Gina. “I don’t want to scare him.”

  “Don’t you be going after his lucky charms,” said Bennie in a brogue.

  “How is it that I managed to get assigned the Seminole version of Jerry Seinfeld?” Gina asked.

  “Lucky, I guess.”

  Gina opened the door, carefully got down from the Expedition, and then limped over to the van. At her approach, Marcus turned around. He was wearing a fake, red beard. On the front of his emerald green leprechaun outfit was a flashing shamrock; there was also a button that read, Kiss Me, I’m Irish!