Justice in June

by Barbara Levenson

  “Well, when Joe tried the case in my court, we weren’t seeing each other. That only began after he got an acquittal. Now Marconi says I cut him a bunch of breaks.” Liz began to cry.

  I grabbed the handy box of tissues on the table and put some in her lap. “Do you think you cut him any breaks? He is a cute guy.”

  “Of course not. He’s a good lawyer. He probably wins a lot of cases, but if it gets out that we’re having an affair, it’ll be extra nails in my coffin. Besides, he’s got a wife. I don’t want to be a home wrecker.” Liz was fighting to control the sobs that were escaping.

  “Don’t worry about Janey. No one knows why they’re still together. She’s a complete JAP, you know, Jewish American Princess. She spends his money, but I’ve never seen them out together at one event.”

  “What can I do? I’m putting my career in your hands,” Liz said.

  “Let me start to work on this,” I said. “I need to start making some phone calls, so we can find out just how far this has gone. But I need your help. Can you put together a list of all the defendants you’ve sentenced in the last six months, what crime they were sentenced for, and what your sentence was? I also need a list of your office staff, how long they’ve been with you, and what you know about them.”

  “I’ll get my staff working on it as soon as we finish our move to family court,” Liz said.

  “No. Do it all yourself. The fewer people who know about this the better,” I said. “I also need a complete transcript of the trial that Joe tried, and I need it fast. Who’s your court reporter?”

  “It’s Glenda Goodwin. But it’ll take time to get that. The defendant was acquitted so there’s no appeal, so no transcript has been ordered.”

  “Believe me, there’s a transcript, or Marconi wouldn’t have brought it up. He and the state are probably pouring over it now. I’ll call Glenda. She’ll get me a copy. As long as she gets paid by the page, she doesn’t care who gets the transcript.” I paused and looked at Liz. “There will be some costs associated with this case.”

  “I know that, Mary. I’ll pay you whatever your standard fee is. Don’t worry, and don’t cut me any breaks because I’m a judge. Someone would investigate that too. Judges live in fish bowls.”

  “By the way, Liz, this is confidential from me to you. Most of us think Marconi is a worm,” I said.

  For the first time, Liz smiled.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I walked Liz to the door and glanced at the clock. It was 7:20. I hadn’t realized how long the interview with Liz took.

  I returned to my desk and reviewed my notes. Catherine had placed a reminder tag on a big file in the center of the desk. “Ramon Molina’s hearing Weds. A.M., Federal Courthouse, Judge Baum.” Thank God for Catherine. I had forgotten. I opened the file and began to prepare for the hearing.

  Ramon Molina was an important client. He was accused of money laundering, bank fraud, and violations of interstate commerce. He also was vice president of Granada National Trust Bank, located on Brickell Avenue in the heart of Miami’s financial district. The feds were jumping with joy over this prosecution of a well-known banker. They were eager to file as many charges as possible against him. I was fearful that they would invent some special new laws that he had violated, like maybe wearing dirty underwear or picking his nose in public.

  Ramon was not used to taking orders. Since his arrest, he had been ordered to go to sleep at nine p.m. and arise at five-thirty a.m.; to wear an orange jumpsuit and to work in the laundry. In short, he was being held at the federal detention facility under a no-bond status, due to the fact that he was born in South America and had only been an upright citizen of the U.S. for twenty years.

  He was not a happy camper, but his wife hired me and was now in control of the purse strings. She paid all of my bills promptly, and didn’t seem all that upset to have Ramon out of the house in a place where he couldn’t cause trouble.

  I threw what was left of my mind into preparing for Ramon’s hearing. The next time I looked at the clock, it was after nine. Sam had begun to pace. It was time to get out of here and head home. Then I remembered the message from Carlos about dinner. He might still be waiting for me at my house. I was in no mood to argue with him. All I wanted was a glass of wine and a dumb TV program to push every thought out of my head.

  I put Sam on his leash, gathered up my overnight bag and briefcase, and locked the door. The parking lot was completely dark. The security light was out. I would have to complain about it tomorrow. The building caretaker was careless about a lot of stuff.

  As soon as we walked toward my car, Sam stiffened. The hair on his back stood up and a low growl formed in his throat. Mine was the only car left on the lot. It was parked near the hedge that separated the parking area from the next door building. That building was dark too. I wished I had a flashlight. I approached the car. Dammit, I should have gotten my keys out before I left the office. My hands were full, so I laid the bags down and fumbled in my pockets for my keys.

  Sam pulled hard on his leash. Then I was on the ground. Sam turned behind me and jumped on someone. His sharp barks pierced the darkness. I felt a sudden dizziness and an awful pain. I touched the back of my head. There was something wet. I got up slowly, got my key out, and opened the car door. In the light from the car, I saw the blood on my hand. Sam jumped in the car and I fell across the front seat. Then I blacked out.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The next thing I remember was a light shining in my eyes and male voices shouting. I tried to sit up, but Sam was lying across my chest.

  “Mary, what happened? Over here, Carlos. She’s in the car.”

  I recognized Carlos’s cousin, Marco, the head of Pit Bulls Security. He was checking my pulse. Then I saw the worried face of Carlos looking down at me. He propped up my head and saw the blood beneath it.

  “Marco, call the police and fire rescue,” he yelled.

  “No, Carlos, please, I just want to go home,” I said.

  “You need medical attention, Mary. Let me drive you to the emergency room. I can have my family’s doctor meet us there. You may need stitches or something,” Carlos said. He kissed me several times and I felt dizzy again.

  I nodded agreement. Carlos moved into the driver’s seat. Marco followed us out of the parking lot, and we headed to Mercy Hospital with Sam in the back seat licking Carlos’s head.

  “How did you and Marco get here?” I mumbled.

  “You mean how did we find you?” Carlos asked. “I got worried when you didn’t come home. I called the office and your cell. Then I called Catherine’s house. She said she left you at the office, so I called Marco and we came directly to the office. I knew you wouldn’t just not show up for dinner without even calling me, even if you are mad at me. And I knew you wouldn’t be hitting the bars with Sam still waiting to get home. Thank God I got here right away.” Carlos put an arm around me as we pulled into the emergency room parking lot at the hospital.

  Marco must have phoned ahead because an orderly was waiting outside with a wheelchair. An elegantly dressed white-haired doctor appeared as we entered the emergency area. Carlos shook his hand as our little army proceeded to a curtained-off examining room. I was startled to see Angelina Martin, Carlos’s mother, waiting inside.

  “Mary, this is Doctor Andreas. He’s treated our whole family for years. He called me after he got the call from Marco. Of course, I came right over,” Angelina said.

  I looked at Carlos with as threatening an expression as I could muster. “All this fuss really isn’t necessary. I’m feeling better,” I said as I tried to sit up with little result.

  “Mi amor, this is necessary. You’ve been attacked and injured. This is what Hispanic families do. If someone goes to the hospital, the family goes too. You understand?” Carlos said.

  It was then that I realized that this was Angie’s way of accepting that Carlos and I are a couple. Even in my muddled state, I realized that this was some kind of a breakthrough.
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  “Angie, thank you for coming, and thank you too, Doctor Andreas.”

  “Darling, I knew you wouldn’t want to scare your parents. Of course, I came right over. J.C. would be here, too, but he’s away on a business trip.” Angie patted my hand.

  Carlos’s parents had been cordial to me each time we met, but it was clear that they were hesitant about his having a girlfriend who wasn’t Hispanic. Seeing Angie waiting for us at the hospital must mean that she liked me a little. Or maybe she was hoping my injury was fatal.

  “Okay, enough of the talk. Everyone clear out while I examine the young lady,” Doctor Andreas said.

  A nurse cleaned the wound, and a little later the doctor announced his diagnosis to the waiting group. They hung on his words, delivered in stentorian tones. “No stitches are necessary. She must have been hit with a heavy object with a sharp edge, but the cut is small. The more important problem is that a blow to that part of the skull often leads to concussion.”

  The doctor suggested that I stay awake for a while, and in bed resting for the next day. Carlos, Marco, and Angie took turns shaking hands with the doctor. Then the curtains parted again. Two Miami cops walked in.

  “Is this the woman who was attacked?” the one in uniform asked.

  Marco nodded. “Mary, I’m sorry. I know you want to get out of here, but it’s hospital procedure. They have to report any acts of violence.”

  “Okay, let’s get this over with. Get out your notepad. The doctor just said I had to stay awake for a few hours anyway,” I said.

  “I’m Detective Avery, robbery division,” the one in a sport coat and tie said. “Marco filled us in on your name and occupation and how they found you. It was reported as a robbery attempt, but Marco said he found your bag and briefcase intact right outside your car.”

  I explained what I could remember about leaving the office and Sam’s intervention. Then I remembered, “Where is Sam?”

  “One of Marco’s investigators came over and got him. He’s in my backyard by now waiting to see you,” Carlos said. You’re going to be staying at my house for the next few days.”

  “No, I’m okay now. I need to go home.”

  “Mary, please, you took care of me a few months ago when I broke my arm. Let me do the same for you.”

  Angie interrupted. “Or you can come home with me, if you’d rather.”

  I gave up the fight, and let them wheel me out to my blood-stained car. The cops left their cards and said they’d talk to me again when I was more coherent.

  Carlos drove to his house in Pinecrest, and for once, he didn’t speed. “I should have told those cops that’s as coherent as you ever are, and it’s a good thing the bad guy hit you in your hard head or you might really have been hurt.”

  I had to laugh and Carlos smiled his heartbreaker smile.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The next morning I awoke to the sun slanting through the wooden shutters in Carlos’s enormous bed in his enormous house. We call these new monsters “starter castles.” The clock radio music player with its twenty buttons and switches rested on the night table. It read nine fifteen. I tried to jump out of bed, but fell back against the pillows. My head felt like men in spiked shoes were walking around in there.

  I sat up slowly this time and made it into the bathroom. I threw cold water on my face. A glance in the mirror scared me. I couldn’t go to work looking like this.

  “So, Sleeping Beauty, you are awake already.” Carlos stood in the doorway. He had a large mug of steaming coffee, the morning papers, and Sam at his side. “Now get back in bed like a good girl.”

  “I’m already late getting to work.” I felt disoriented and put up no fight as Carlos led me back to bed. He put the mug of coffee in my hands and sat down next to me.

  “I’ve already called Catherine. She’s canceling your schedule. She said to remind you Molina’s hearing is not until tomorrow and she can take care of everything today. You need a day of rest.”

  “I think you’re right, but I need to go home. I haven’t been there since Friday.”

  “No, you’re staying right here. We don’t know who gave you that wallop last night, but it wasn’t a garden-variety robbery. All your stuff was right next to your car, untouched. Marco’s guys are going by your place. They’ll check it out. And Franco already picked up your car to clean it up. He’ll bring it back this afternoon. I’ll drive you home later this evening and you can pick up what you need for court tomorrow. But you’re staying put right here.”

  Franco is Marco’s brother. He owns some kind of car repair garage and seems to stay in business by servicing the cars and trucks of Carlos and his family, including a cast of dozens of cousins or adopted cousins. He automatically turns up whenever a car needs work. Sometimes he turns up to work on a car even when it doesn’t need work. He always finds something wrong with them.

  “I didn’t want to leave for work until I saw that you were awake,” Carlos said. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge so, please, eat something. Before I leave, I think we better discuss something. I don’t want to upset you, but that was some kind of angry rant I got on both my cell phones yesterday. Why are you so ticked off about Luis?”

  “I’m upset because you didn’t tell me that Luis was being detained as an enemy combatant. You know I’m trying to build my law practice. You should have seen the hate e-mails and phone calls that poured into the office. People don’t much like terrorists. Even other criminals don’t like them.”

  “First of all, I had no idea why Luis was arrested. His parents are old friends of my father’s family in Argentina. His family was worried sick because Luis never reached his hotel in Miami. They didn’t hear from him for two days. I don’t even know how they found out he was in jail. Someone in his family called my dad. When I got a call, I called you. I figured you know how to handle such a situation and, as a plus, you’d have a new, paying client. He’s such a nice kid. I thought maybe he got picked up on a D.U.I. or something.”

  “Well, you should have found out more.” I felt my anger from yesterday returning, but Carlos interrupted me.

  “Listen, Mary, if you are the defender of people accused of crimes, and you really believe in what you do, it shouldn’t matter to you what a person is accused of. How many times have you scolded me, and told me just because someone is charged with a crime doesn’t mean they did it. Innocent ’til proven guilty. Aren’t those your words? Oh, and also, even if someone is guilty, they still deserve the best defense you can give them. Isn’t that what you’ve told me over and over?”

  “Yes, that’s true,” I said.

  “Well, either you believe what you say or you don’t. Think about that while you’re resting today. I’ll try to call you later, but I’m going to be in meetings most of the day. I’m trying to negotiate for that land in Palm Beach for the shopping arcade. And the cops who came to the hospital last night may call you here today. They need to get a complete statement from you. Now that you tell me about the hate e-mails and calls, maybe that’s what led to your being attacked. I hope not.”

  I sat up and pulled Carlos down next to me. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you late for your meeting, and — well, I guess I’m just sorry about everything.”

  Carlos looked at me for a minute. Then he kissed me and held me for a few seconds. He left the room quickly, and I heard his Escalade drive out of the garage.

  I must have slept again. This time when I awoke, the pounding in my head had stopped. I felt totally grungy. I took a long shower in the bathroom with the three pulsating showerheads. I put on some of Carlos’s cologne, which made me feel hot. I found an old shirt of his. With the sleeves rolled up, it covered me like a bathrobe.

  I actually felt hungry, so I descended to the kitchen where Sam was sprawled out on the cool tile floor. I opened the refrigerator and found more food than I keep in mine in a month. I grabbed eggs, cheese, and peppers and fixed an omelet. I nuked some bacon in the microwave, one slice for me and o
ne for Sam. We took our food out to the pool. The screened enclosure around it keeps the sun away. I watched the wild parrots swoop in and out of the bottle brush trees. Their green bodies and the red flowers of the trees looked like a Christmas display. The rain had finally stopped. Everything looked fresh and green.

  I was beginning to relax when the doorbell rang. You can’t miss it even from a block away. It sounds like church bells calling the faithful. Sam bounded in and galloped to the front door. He loves company. I do not, especially when dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt. I peeked through the stained glass in the mahogany double doors and saw Detective Avery. He was dressed in the same sport coat and tie as last night. He was carrying a tape recorder and a camera.

  I opened the door a crack, trying to stand behind it. Detective Avery stepped through it with little or no effort. I guess cops are used to reluctant door openers.

  “Good morning, Mary. Do you remember me? I’m Detective Jim Avery, Miami Police.” He flashed his badge. Sam put his paw on Avery’s leg and the detective instinctively rubbed his ears and chest. “I’m sorry to barge in, but I need to complete this report. You didn’t seem to be able to tell us much last night.”

  “I can’t tell you much today either, because I don’t really know much.”

  “Okay. Can I sit down? I’d like to tape whatever you can tell me. Is that all right?”

  “Sure, come with me. I was just having a late breakfast on the patio. May I get you something?”

  “No, I’ll just get your statement and be out of your way.” He followed me out to the patio, and turned on the recorder as we settled on opposite sides of the glass-topped table.

  “I was leaving my office after working late. I had Sam on his leash and bags in my hand. It was very dark out there. The safety light was out. I was trying to get my key out. The next thing I knew Sam pulled me and ran behind me. I think he jumped on someone. He was barking and growling. Then I was on the ground with a terrible pain in my head.”