John Stone Law

by Dave Derin

  “I guess so,” Susanna nodded once, but her wide, frightened eyes remained fixed on mine. “But someone or something has somehow managed to convince the FBI that I’m involved, and the worst part is I don’t even know what it is.”

  “That’s what we’re going to find out here soon,” I replied soothingly. “Right now, we’re in what’s called the discovery phase of the trial process. The prosecutor’s office will have to submit their response within ten days of receiving it, so we’ll have answers soon.”

  “That’s right,” Skip added and sat up straighter in his chair. “We’re also preparing a motion to dismiss all charges at the preliminary hearing on August first, as well as a motion to suppress the evidence that doesn’t belong to you, should this case go to trial.”

  “Oh, wow,” Susanna’s green eyes glowed and a look of surprise crossed her lovely face. “Y’all have already been very busy, I see.”

  “We’re doing as much as we can,” I replied earnestly as I grabbed a white lined notepad from my desk drawer and picked a blue ink pen from the cup holder on my desk. “I’d like for you to walk us through the flight step-by-step with everything you remember, even if you think it’s silly or irrelevant. You never know how something may connect.”

  “Okay,” Susanna’s bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes as if she attempted to visualize the memory in her mind. “We were in New York that morning. I’d had a layover that night from Boston so I’d just gotten a hotel room to get away from the airport for a while.”

  “Mmhmm,” I nodded and scribbled notes on my legal pad. “Go on.”

  “I arrived at the airport earlier than I had to because I had to check out of the hotel at 11 a.m.,” Susanna continued. “So I just went ahead and got dressed for work at the hotel and went to sit in the flight attendant’s lounge at the airport until I had to report at one o’clock.”

  “And which airport was this in New York?” I asked and looked up at her round emerald eyes. I already knew the answer to my question, but wanted to hear everything from her mouth first-hand.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said as she twisted the ends of her long curly hair. “LaGuardia. We were flying out of LaGuardia.”

  “LaGuardia, okay,” I jotted down the name then looked up at her again. “Alright, so once you reported to work, what happened?”

  “Well,” she continued, then adjusted her kelly green dress before she crossed her legs the other way. “It was honestly an uneventful day. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Well, we did have some drunk guy cause a scene in the lobby as he was trying to board the flight, but security took him out so it wasn’t really a problem for us.”

  “Okay,” I nodded and made a note to request that information from airport security. I wanted to confirm whether he was involved somehow, or there to serve as some sort of distraction.

  “So, Stacy made the flight announcement for that trip,” Susanna looked up and to the right as she remembered the day’s events. “Then we took off a few minutes late. I don’t remember exactly what time, but I remember one of the passengers complaining about it being five minutes past the departure time, and we were still on the ground.”

  “Alright,” I nodded. “Then what?”

  “Then I did my rounds with the food and drinks,” my redheaded client continued. “That’s when Roland started hitting on me non-stop. Like I said that man is persistent.

  “Oh, believe me,” I chuckled. “I’ve known Roland for a long time. I know exactly how he can be.”

  “So, when I finished the refreshment rounds I put my cart back in the storage area at the rear of the plane,” she recalled. “It must have taken less time than it normally does because it wasn’t a very full flight. I remember looking at the clock in the back, and it was a little past 7 p.m. by the time I’d finished.”

  “Did anyone on the flight stand out to you for any reason?” I asked and spun my pen between my fingers. “Anyone looking around places they shouldn’t have been, or lurking around and watching? Not necessarily a passenger, but even airline staff?”

  Susanna frowned and looked down at my desk for a moment, then responded, “I can’t be certain, but--”

  “Yes?” I inquired with curiosity. “What do you remember?”

  “It’s probably nothing,” she shook her head. “And maybe I didn’t recognize him because he’s new or something, but I did see someone wearing the light blue CUSA maintenance coveralls somewhere strange.”

  “Really?” I raised an eyebrow. “Tell me more.”

  “Well, the guys that wear the blue uniforms are generally in-house maintenance guys that only work on equipment inside the plane, like in the pilot’s quarters or the meal prep area,” she relayed, and a dark shadow crossed her face. “The engine repair guys wear the navy coveralls.”

  “Can you tell me why you’re so sure about that? What if he was just wearing a different color that day?” I played Devil’s advocate like the prosecution was sure to do in court.

  “Heh, well,” Susanna stretched out the word and ran her fingers through her thick, red curls. “I used to date one of the engine mechanics, the ones in navy. He said they were super strict about it because they have different qualifications, and that someone had gotten either written up or fired for wearing the wrong color once.”

  “Hm,” I sat my pen down and leaned back in my uncomfortable, well-worn orange chair. “That’s interesting. So, where exactly did you see him, and why did it strike you as odd?”

  “It was weird because we weren’t supposed to be having anyone check out the turbines,” the redhead explained. “That had already been done with the other maintenance checks hours before, but when I was cleaning up from the flight before, I saw this white man with short hair, like a military style haircut, through the window.”

  “What was he doing?” I asked, then leaned forward and rested my elbows on my desk.

  “When I first saw him,” she said and crossed her arms over her flat stomach. “He was walking out from beneath the engine, then he turned to look at something. I couldn’t really tell what he was looking at but he had a little black thing in his hand. It was too far away to really tell what it was, but I assumed it was one of those electrical test boxes.”

  “Sure,” I nodded and kept my eyes locked on hers.

  “Then he just walked away from the left side of the plane and went toward the building,” she frowned, then her eyes grew wider, and she placed her hand over her mouth. “Do you think--”

  “I don’t think anything yet,” I said quickly. “But I am interested in researching this guy.”

  “I’m on it,” Skip interjected. “Destinee and I can work on getting the video from that area of the airport too and try to get a good look at him and figure out if he’s legitimate.”

  “Perfect,” I smiled at my new consultant. “Thanks, Skip. Alright, Susanna, let’s go back to the timeline.”

  “Okay,” the leggy redhead responded and furrowed her brow in thought. “So, I’d finished the food, put the cart up, and then--oh yeah. Then when I was walking back toward the front to check on first class, Roland started being even more shameless than before.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I smiled at her.

  “Yeah,” she rolled her eyes and looked away from me. “So, he followed me around and kind of cornered me outside of the bathroom. He told me something was wrong with the sink, so I went in the bathroom to check it out, and then he shut the door behind us. Nothing happened, I swear, but he made me so nervous.”

  “He said the same thing, don’t worry,” I responded and nodded my head understandingly. “That’s not what we’re here to focus on, but I am so sorry he made you feel uncomfortable.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” Susanna huffed and shifted in her seat.

  “You mentioned the elderly lady with green hair that knocked on the bathroom door,” I changed the subject after I saw her obvious discomfort.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “I don’t know anything about he
r, but she was such a cute little old lady.”

  “Oh, we already found her,” Destinee chimed in with a grin. “Her name is Myrtle Jones. Mr. Stone and Skip are going to find her today, actually.”

  “Are you really?” Susanna’s eyes lit up as she looked back and forth between Skip and me.

  “We sure are, little lady,” Skip said and nodded.

  “One of the things they allege is that you weren’t seen for eight minutes before the explosion, so Ms. Jones’ testimony will be vital to this case,” I explained to Susanna.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful,” the redheaded beauty teared up, then exploded into a full-blown bawl.

  “Uh oh,” Destinee whispered, then jumped up, ran to the bathroom, returned with some tissue, and handed them to the upset client.

  “I-I’m s-so sor-ry,” Susanna sobbed between gulps of air as she dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. “I’m just s-so scared. I’m completely freaking out.”

  “That is understandable, Susanna,” I said soothingly, then stooped down beside her and placed my hand on her shoulder as I looked directly into her green eyes. “This is a huge deal. You’re allowed to be emotional about this injustice. Angry, even. Please don’t ever apologize for showing your feelings in this office. It’s a safe space.”

  “You are just too sweet,” she said, then blew her nose with a loud honk into the tissue. “I’m so blessed to have this amazing team on my side.”

  “Please don’t cry,” my mocha-skinned paralegal said softly, then wrapped her arms around Susanna’s neck. “‘Cause then I’m gonna start crying, then Athena will cry, and it’ll all be over then.”

  Susanna let out a cackling laugh as she wiped her eyes and nose again, “We can’t have that, now can we.”

  “No, we sure can’t,” Destinee released her embrace and smiled at Susanna from a few inches away from her face. “Mr. Stone is going to take care of you, so no more tears okay?”

  “Okay,” Susanna nodded and gave her a weak smile. “The power of positive thinking, right?”

  “Right,” Destinee smiled back and said decisively, then nodded her head once so that her springy hair bounced.

  “Alrighty then,” Skip said uncomfortably, then stood to his feet and placed his black cowboy hat on his head. “John, how about you and I go track down this Myrtle lady, and Destinee can wrap up the paperwork here with Susanna?”

  We still needed her to sign a contract, even though I wasn’t charging her a retainer fee.

  “Is that alright with you two?” I looked over at Destinee and Susanna, and they both smiled back at me.

  “Fine by me,” Destinee replied, then jumped up from her orange chair and slid it back toward the storage room.

  “Yes, y’all go ahead,” my new client answered with a half-smile. “I’ll be alright, just had to get a little cry out.”

  I stood up and walked around my desk to shake Susanna’s small hand one last time. When she reached up to take my hand, I gently held it for a moment and said, “Please let me do the worrying for you. I know it’s going to be difficult, but right now all you can do is let me do my research and answer the phone whenever I call.”

  “I think I can manage that,” she smiled up at me from the black office chair as I released her soft hand.

  “Excellent,” I replied. “Alright, Skip, let’s hit the road.”

  “Sounds good, kid,” he replied and tipped his hat at Destinee and Susanna. “Nice to meet both of you young ladies.”

  “Likewise,” my paralegal smiled at him, while Susanna simply smiled and nodded.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, Destinee,” I nodded at my brunette assistant. “Will you also please schedule an appointment for all of us to meet early next week, maybe Monday or Tuesday? We’ll need to meet again to review any new evidence that comes in.”

  “You got it,” my whip smart paralegal replied, then handed me a small manila file folder. “Ms. Jones’ address and phone number are in the file, but I’ve tried calling it a hundred times and no one answers. I think it’s a house phone.”

  “That’s okay,” I responded with a sigh. “We’ll find her.”

  Skip and I climbed into my black BMW and hit the road toward Cape Royale, Texas, a tiny town with a population of less than seven hundred. I put Myrtle Jones’ home address into my car’s GPS, rolled down the window, and cranked the classic rock station on the radio as we cruised down the highway. The weather in Dallas was perfect that day. It was barely 80 degrees with a cool breeze in the air, and white, puffy clouds drifted across the light blue sky. Stairway to Heaven came on the radio, and Skip leaned his hat-less head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes.

  “At least you have decent taste in music,” he teased.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said dismissively and smiled. “What, you didn’t like the heavy metal I played for you last time?”

  “What heavy metal?” He asked and gave me a sideways glance.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I laughed and shook my head as I drove along the highway toward Cape Royale.

  Chapter 14

  We drove for almost three hours and enjoyed the music and warm air that flowed through the windows before we finally reached our destination. We pulled into a neighborhood with rows of cute, multi-colored townhomes that lined the street and vaguely resembled Rainbow Row, the famous line of colorful houses in Charleston, South Carolina. I pulled into the parking spot for townhome number 5, the address listed in Ms. Jones’ file, and parked in front of her mint green, two-story townhouse.

  Bright yellow daffodils were planted in a small bed in front of the covered front porch, and a rose bush with bright pink blooms was stationed beside the front door. We got out of the car and made our way to the front door.

  “I’ll let you take the lead on this one,” Skip said as he motioned toward the doorbell.

  I glanced at the smiling mustached man as he put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on the heels of his black cowboy boots, then stepped forward and pressed the doorbell. Three chimes rang out in the dwelling, but we didn’t hear any other sounds. We waited for a minute, then Skip stepped forward and knocked loudly on the front door.

  “Ms. Jones? Hello? Are you home?” the white-haired troublemaker shouted at the closed door.

  “Stop it,” I shout whispered under my breath. “You’re going to scare her.”

  “Oh, I ain’t gonna scare her,” he sucked his teeth at me. “She’s probably just old and hard of hearing like me.”

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” a frail woman’s voice called out from our right side. “Can I ask what y’all are doin’ out here yellin’ and such?”

  We turned to see a frail, dark skinned elderly woman who wore a long bathrobe with pink and blue flowers on it and white bedroom slippers. Her dark hair was rolled up in curlers, and she frowned at us from behind large, round clear plastic-rimmed glasses.

  “I am so sorry, ma’am,” I walked toward her and held out my hand. “My name is John Stone. I’m an attorney in Dallas, and we’re just here to speak with Myrtle Jones about an incident she may have witnessed.”

  “Oh, you mean the plane explosion?” The elderly woman asked as she shook my hand gently with her wrinkled, dry one and nodded knowingly.

  “Actually, yes,” I replied, shocked that she already knew why we were there. “News travels fast. Yes, that’s exactly why we’re here.”

  “Mmhmm,” the woman replied and sassily bobbed her head. “We knew y’all’d be comin’ eventually.”

  “Do you know where we can find her, ma’am?” Skip interjected as he stepped forward and tipped his black hat at her politely. “All we need to do is ask her a few questions, then we’ll be out of y’all’s hair.”

  “Ooo, and that green hair of hers, too, Lawd have mercy,” the petite woman replied and clutched at invisible pearls and looked up to heaven. “Myrtle is a bit of a looney toon, but she’s also very predictable. She’s always up at the Bingo place on Bernard Street ‘roun
d the corner at this time of day.”

  “Thank you so much,” I let out a sigh of relief and smiled at Myrtle’s sweet nextdoor neighbor. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Oh, you welcome, honey,” she replied with a small wave. “Y’all have a good night, now, ya’ hear?

  “Yes, ma’am,” I nodded. “You do the same.”

  The ebony skinned woman turned back to face me, then shook a bony finger in our direction and stated surprisingly sternly, “And you tell Miss Myrtle she ‘betta not come back home broke again neither, and come knockin’ on my door talkin’ ‘bout she don’t have her rent--”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I interjected and glanced over at Skip who took small, deliberate steps backward to the car. “I sure will pass that message along.”

  “But she got that cigarette hangin’ out her foul mouth at all times,” the suddenly furious woman’s voice got louder as she ranted. “So she’s gettin’ money from somewhere, you see? I ain't helpin’ her out with her rent no more just ‘cause she likes to throw her money away on gamblin’. Shoo whee, I’d sure love to spend all my time--”

  The not-so-fragile fuming woman shuffled at a snail’s pace back to her front door in her flat bedroom slippers, and fussed the whole way about Myrtle so loudly I’m sure their other concerned, or just plain nosy, neighbors heard her every word. Every few steps she turned and shook a crooked finger at us and reminded us to pass along her dire message to her neighbor. Skip and I both stood frozen in place until she’d grumbled her last complaint and closed the door behind her, then we got back in the car and shut the doors simultaneously. I looked over at Skip who stared back at me with wide eyes and a tomato-red face before we both erupted into hysterical laughter.

  “Well, she sure was a special treat,” my white-haired companion wheezed after we’d quieted our laughter, then wiped a tear from his weathered face and tossed his black cowboy hat in the back seat. “Hey, at least we might have gotten lucky and hit a pretty solid lead. You gotta love a nosy, retired neighbor.”

  “You’re right about that,” I nodded and controlled the chuckle that threatened to burst out of me as I remembered that kooky old lady. “Do you mind pulling up the directions to that Bingo place?”