Justice in June

by Barbara Levenson

  “Yes, I see your point, Ms. Katz. This case could never be a class action. The class is too diverse. Now what about the dates for the various closings? Mr. Fieldstone, are you aware that the actual date of the earliest closing has not even arrived yet?” the judge asked.

  “The first closings are set for July fifteenth, but it’s easy to see that this building will never be finished by that date,” Frank said.

  “Ms. Katz, when does your client think the first people can move into the building?”

  “Let’s ask him, Judge. He seems eager to talk.” I gave Carlos the nastiest look I could muster. “Go ahead, Mr. Martin, stand up and answer Judge Preston,” I said.

  “Well, Judge, if we don’t have any hurricanes, I can turn over the two penthouses by September. Those two have been sold unfinished with an allowance for the interior design. That’s what those two buyers wanted. They are putting extensive amenities into their units. The next floors will be ready in October and so on.”

  “Okay. Thank you Mr. Martin. First, of all, I will dismiss this lawsuit based on the arbitration clause in the contract. Second, arbitration is not yet ripe because the contracted closing dates have not yet occurred. Ms. Katz, as the prevailing party, you will draft the final order, and I will entertain a motion for attorney’s fees and costs. Mr. Fieldstone, you should have realized that an arbitration clause precluded your filing a lawsuit.”

  “Your Honor, my client wishes to be perfectly fair to the buyers. If any of these litigants can show us that they have been forced to rent housing because their units aren’t ready in a timely manner, Mr. Martin will return their deposits. Of course, they’ll never be able to duplicate the ocean views at One Ocean Avenue. Even lesser views are going for higher prices than their preconstruction price,” I said. Carlos looked shocked.

  “That’s more than fair,” Judge Preston said. “Anyone here who wants to take Mr. Martin up on his offer?”

  No hands shot in the air. A few people shook their heads. Most were headed for the door. Frank hurried after them.

  I packed my papers in my briefcase. Carlos was smiling his heartbreaker smile at me. It made me forget that I was angry with him.

  J.C. leaned across the railing that separates the well of the court from the onlookers. “Good job, Mary. Carlos always tells us how smart you are. This was fun to watch.”

  Carlos shook hands with J.C. “Want to join us for a late lunch, Dad?”

  “No thanks, son. I’m going back to Danforth’s chambers. I happen to know he keeps a bottle of twelve-year-old Scotch in his desk drawer,” J.C. said.

  Now I knew why J.C. was sitting in the front row. I still think I’d have won this one anyway.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  By the time Carlos dropped me back at the office, it was four o’clock. Catherine handed me a message from my mother. “Call me. It’s important, but if your dad answers, just hang up and call back later.”

  “Did she say why the coded phone call?” I asked Catherine.

  “No. I asked her if everything was okay. She said it was, but she sounded distracted.”

  I dialed her at once. She wouldn’t have to go through such mumbo-jumbo, if she’d keep her cell phone on. She and Dad each have separate cell phone accounts. But she insists the cell is only for emergencies on the road. If she could donate her extra monthly minutes to me, I could talk for a year and never run out.

  She answered at once. “Hello, Mary. Thank goodness you called while Dad is out working on the pool.”

  “Why is he working on it? Where’s the pool guy?”

  “He was here yesterday, but you know your dad. He thinks only he can keep everything running smoothly.”

  “What’s with the secret code? Are we going to establish a secret handshake too?”

  “Everything is not a joke, Mary. I am very worried. Dad is not himself. He’s short of breath even after a short walk. Two of his golf partners have called me to say that they are worried about him. I’ve made two appointments with a cardiologist, and he’s broken both of them.”

  “Maybe it’s just his age catching up with him. What do you want me to do?”

  “Can you talk to him? He listens to you. You have to get him to go to the doctor.”

  “Mother, he hasn’t listened to me about anything in years. Jonathan and I tried to get him to redo his will last year. He’s had the same one since I was in high school. He wouldn’t listen at all.”

  “You’re wrong. He went to Manny Goldsmith the next week and revised everything. He just didn’t want to admit that he listened to you. Will you try?”

  “Okay, I will, just as soon as I get through the next couple of weeks with these two cases. I’m up to my eyeballs in work right now.”

  “Don’t wait too long. I’m very worried.” She clicked off.

  Before I could add my dad’s health to my worry list, Catherine was buzzing me. “Liz is on the private line. She says she needs you right away.”

  “Yes, Liz, what’s happening?”

  Her voice was edgy. “Gladys asked to leave early. She said she had a dental appointment. She walked out with a big paper bag tucked under her arm. I waited a few minutes. Then I went out to her desk. I asked Patricia whether she knew where the case files were for tomorrow that Gladys had put in her desk. Patricia said she didn’t know what I was talking about. She said the clerk was pulling the files for tomorrow. She asked why Gladys would have them. I told her that I wondered too.”

  Liz took a breath and went on. “Then Patricia said that she thought Gladys was acting very jumpy lately. Well, I went all through her desk. There weren’t any files there. I’m sure that she took the fake file home with her. This is all really happening, just like you said. What do we do now?’

  “Now I have to call Jason and get over to see him first thing tomorrow,” I said.

  “I think I should come with you, Mary. He wants to talk to me, and it’s time I confront him. Besides if I’m there with you, he won’t lose his cool and chew you out. I still am a judge, and his attorneys will still have to get along with me in court.”

  “I appreciate the offer. Okay, I’ll call and ask to see him as early as possible.”

  When I left the office at six p.m., I had updated Mark about the file. I had also made the appointment with Jason for eight a.m. He was only too happy to accommodate me when he heard Liz would be with me. He was probably lining up a battery of questions that would cover Liz’s life from kindergarten on. When he learned what we were up to, it might be doomsday instead of Tuesday.

  I really wanted to go home to my own house, but I knew that I could be in danger there now that things were coming to a head in Liz’s case. What if Billy Martinez detected that the file Gladys was carrying to him was actually a fake? What if he felt that the cops were closing in on him? Detective Avery said he was under surveillance. I didn’t want my house torched like Carillo’s.

  I reluctantly headed for Pinecrest and Carlos’s “starter castle.” I was more eager to see Sam than to tangle with Carlos tonight.

  Carlos must have sensed my mood because I gave Sam a hug and Carlos a “hi, how ya doin’.”

  “Thanks for the sizzling greeting. I know you’re pissed with me about Margarita and the condo. I’m pissed with her showing up as if she were going to sue me, after Marielena’s daughter gave her a great deal on that condo,” he said.

  “Listen, Carlos, I’m not an innocent rookie. Your cousin, who you fired, couldn’t have given anyone a sweetheart deal without your approval. You can keep giving Margarita whatever you want. It’s your money. You don’t seem to see that she’s trying to reopen your relationship. If that’s what you want, you need to let me know. I’m not in the market for a threesome.”

  I put Sam’s leash on him and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Carlos shouted over the excited whines and barks of Sam. It sounded like Sam and Carlos were both barking.

  “I’m going to walk my dog. If I could, I�
��d go back to my house right now, but I’m pretty sure the house is still in the danger zone, so for now, we’re stuck in the same house for another night. That doesn’t mean we have to hang out. You can go do whatever you want,” I said.

  Carlos sprinted out the door right behind me. “I’ll go with you,” he said.

  We started up the street past the row of immaculate mega-mansions, looming behind wrought-iron gates. Each one was illuminated by dozens of outdoor lights, which if turned off, could probably solve the energy crisis.

  “Listen to me. I divorced Margarita years ago. She’s like an out-of-control child. My life was a mess while we were married. Why would I want to go back to such punishment?” Carlos asked. “I’m sorry you have to put up with my home for another night. I’ve been trying to be supportive of your schedule, your stress, and your sarcasm. It’s wearing thin. Why can’t you tell me what’s going on with the break-in at your house? Why can’t you trust me a little?”

  “It’s not a matter of trust. It’s a matter of client confidentiality. It’s not even about trust when it comes to your ex-wife. I just think you don’t see the stuff she’s trying to pull on you.” I turned Sam around and headed back toward Carlos’s house.

  “So you think I’m stupid. Just a dumb construction guy, and you are the smart lawyer. I know all about Margarita. She’s unstable and I don’t want to be blamed for sending her over the edge. Maybe I am stupid because I just don’t understand why you can’t realize how hard I’ve fallen in love with you, so much that I’m putting up with your constant pushing me away from you.” Carlos turned and walked away, leaving Sam and me watching his fading figure as twilight turned to the darkness of a cloud-filled night.

  Some time later I heard the Corvette revving up in the driveway. I had begun to fix a sandwich for dinner, but I left it on the counter, opened a beer, and stretched out on the sofa in the den.

  At least Carlos could have thanked me for winning his case.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Sam woke me at six. He was licking my face, which must have caused the dream I was having of being kissed by Carlos.

  I fed Sam, put him in the backyard, and went to take a shower. Carlos was in bed, a half-filled glass of Scotch on the bedside table. He looked like he was out for the better part of the day. I hurried to get ready to meet Liz and go to Jason’s office where I would become a hero for fingering a drug cartel or a goat for faking a drug case.

  For once the state attorney’s office was fairly quiet when we arrived fifteen minutes early for our meeting with Jason. A few secretaries were busy booting up their computers, and a few attorneys were drinking coffee and trading war stories. No receptionist was in sight manning the entrance to the executive offices so we took seats in the waiting room.

  We stared at the elevator waiting for someone to emerge to announce us to Jason. Instead, I was shocked to see Mark Epstein approaching us.

  “Mark, what are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I got your message that you were meeting Jason to tell him about our concocted case,” he said. “Good morning, Judge Maxwell. I didn’t know that you’d be here.”

  “I thought you said there was no way you’d go with me to see Jason,” I said.

  “I thought about it and I couldn’t let you take his anger all alone. He can be a horse’s ass. Anyway, we’re in this together, so here I am,” Mark said.

  We all looked up as Jason stepped out of the elevator, coffee in hand, newspaper under one arm, and bulging file under the other; probably his inquisition file for questioning Liz.

  “Good morning Judge Maxwell and Counsel. You are a bit early. I’ll be ready for you as soon as I round up my court reporter and Fred Mercer, our public corruption unit head. Mark, did you want to see me before I go into this meeting?” Jason said

  “I am part of this meeting.” Mark stood and shook hands with Jason.

  “Jason, hold on before you call your troops together. The three of us need to talk to you. It’s important,” I said.

  Jason frowned. “I still need to have Fred present. Follow me back to the conference room. You can be comfortable there. Fred and I will join you in a moment.”

  We entered the room, which was sparsely furnished. A large scarred wood table that had seen better days filled the room. Surrounding it were plain unpadded wooden chairs. A bookcase containing the Southern Reporter case law volumes covered the back wall. Other than the telephone on the end of the table, there was nothing else in the room. It looked like a larger version of an interrogation room at a police station. Jason certainly kept his pledge to be frugal with the state’s money.

  “He needs Fred to be a witness,” I said.

  “Maybe he thinks we’re going to attack him,” Liz said.

  You could smell the adrenaline pumping through the three of us.

  Jason returned with Fred Mercer in tow. Fred looked around the table and without even saying hello, he leaned his hands on the table and shook his head. “I’d prefer not to proceed without a reporter here, and I’ll have to have each of you sworn in. I think I should warn you that you could be charged with perjury, if we later find that you have lied under oath,” Fred said.

  “Jason, I’ve come here with Liz and Mark to tell you what we have done to resolve these accusations you’ve made against Liz. You need to hear this now. We aren’t here as adversaries. We are trying to help you find the perpetrators in a courthouse drug scheme. If you don’t want to listen, we’ll leave. The rest of the community may be more interested in hearing us out.” I stood up and moved toward the door.

  “Sure, Ms. Katz, we’re all aware of how much you enjoy press conferences,” Fred said.

  “Thank you, Fred. Have a seat,” Jason said. “I will handle this. There’s no need to address Ms. Katz in that tone.”

  “Thanks Jason.” I drew a deep breath.

  I gripped the table and began. “I have made a complete study of Liz’s cases in her criminal division and of all of her staff. I came upon a troubling fact. Liz has a signature stamp that her bailiff uses when working on her correspondence. Liz tells me that the stamp was suggested by Judge Anne Ackley, the chief of the criminal division. The bailiff, Gladys Martinez, is supposed to use the stamp only to quickly process agreed orders sent in the mail by defense attorneys and the state. I pulled every file that has closed in the last six months in Liz’s division. I found a number of orders dismissing drug cases. Liz had never seen those orders or those cases. The signature stamp was used on all of those orders.”

  “That’s just Judge Maxwell’s excuse,” Fred interrupted.

  “Please, Jason, let me continue. You can see the orders for yourself and see that they are stamped and not signed. Gladys married Billy Martinez a short while ago. Billy runs an import-export business. He’s under investigation and surveillance by the Miami Police narcotics unit. Not only is he suspected of importing cocaine, he also sells electronics in his shop. Some of them, or all of them, may be stolen.”

  “And how would you know that?” Fred interrupted again.

  “Am I on trial here?” I asked.

  “Of course not,” Jason said. He had begun to take notes as I spoke. “I want to hear all of this, Fred. You can excuse yourself if you’re in a hurry.”

  Fred grimaced but kept his seat. Jason nodded at me.

  “My brother happened to go into Billy’s shop where he purchased a BlackBerry as a gift for me. Unfortunately, he gave Billy my address, home and office, and other information about me. After that, I received a threatening phone call on the BlackBerry. The number of the caller came back to a cell phone stolen at the airport.

  “Then my house was broken into, and a threatening message was left on my bathroom mirror. The police matched a fingerprint to Billy Martinez. Of course, Gladys knew that Judge Maxwell had made phone calls to me. Martinez wanted me to keep my nose out of his plan to go on fixing the cases of his foot soldiers. He had the perfect setup. If anyone became suspicious, everything wou
ld point to Judge Maxwell. That’s exactly what happened. Liz was the one being investigated. Billy wanted me to be scared away from helping Liz.”

  “I understand your suspicions, Mary, but this doesn’t prove to me that your client isn’t also involved,” Jason said.

  “Exactly. That’s why I took further action. I asked Mark Epstein for help. We fashioned a case file that would trigger Gladys to act. Mark and I designed a fake drug file. We wrote up an information and police report that mentioned the confidential informant who was murdered and also referred to Jimmy Carillo. The clerk’s messenger delivered the file to Liz’s chambers, and gave it to Gladys. She was told the file was to be maintained in their chambers, that it was highly sensitive and, if it needed to be sent back to the clerk, it was to be hand delivered to Mark Epstein’s attention.

  “The messenger went to Liz’s chambers yesterday and placed the file in the hands of Gladys. He had Gladys sign for it. As we expected, Gladys never told Liz about the file. Liz saw Gladys place a file in her desk drawer. When Liz asked her what file she was putting in her drawer, Gladys told her they were files for Liz’s next calendar. Liz looked all through Gladys’s desk later that day and found, surprise, no files, but Gladys left the office early with a big paper bag in her hand.”

  “Wait a minute. You and Mark cooked up a file? Did you use the office of the state attorney as the charging body? Don’t you know how much trouble you two are in? You can be charged with forgery. Mary, you can be looking at discipline by the bar, and Mark, you could lose your job,” Jason said.

  “Shall I call our police liaison to come in?” Fred asked. He was pulling his cell phone out of his pocket

  “Mr. Jones, I’ve had enough of this.” Liz was standing. She struggled to remain composed. “I have come here with my counsel in good faith. I have done nothing. This young man, Mr. Mercer, is trigger happy, and I won’t forget his attitude. Mr. Mercer, you have the opportunity to be a hero and take credit for ridding the courthouse of some disgusting influences. But I will call a halt to this interview right now if we aren’t shown some respect. Secondly, I want a pledge that my name stays out of this in the press and in the courthouse rumor mills. I have no doubts about you, Mr. Jones, but I want a pledge right now from Mr. Mercer.”