Final Exam: A Legal Thriller

by Terry Huebner

  When he reached the counter at the Tax Collector’s office, a middle-aged woman who reminded him of everyone’s Mom greeted him with a smile and provided him with all the information he needed. She even knew Andrew Scott from some estate work he had done for her a while back. Apparently, Andrew had taken over the Scott Law Offices from his uncle, who was semi-retired now. The firm had been a fixture in Ocala for years and the woman gave Ben directions to the office, located in a one-story, red brick building a block or two from the courthouse.

  Ben walked out of the Tax Collector’s Office with a sense of accomplishment. Maybe he should be the detective and not Stan Disko. He turned left on Silver Springs Boulevard and headed back toward downtown Ocala. As he passed through the intersection at Pine Avenue, he looked to his left and saw a large white gazebo on the lawn in front of the City Hall. Following the instructions he received at the Tax Collector’s office, he took a right at the next intersection and a block down drove past the entrance to the Marion County Judicial Center, a nondescript gray stone structure that looked more like a prison than a County Courthouse. Attached to it was an equally unattractive parking garage. Ben was a little disappointed. Ocala was kind of a charming little town with a nice City Hall. He even liked the gazebo. The Courthouse, on the other hand, looked like a Sixties-era mistake.

  Like the woman at the Tax Collector’s office suggested, he kept going a block or two before making a right and heading back toward Pine Avenue. There on the near left corner, he saw a one-story, red brick colonial structure with a white sign in front. “The Scott Law Offices. Established 1927.”

  “There it is,” he said aloud.

  Ben parked up the block, slung his briefcase over his shoulder and headed down the sidewalk. The building appeared much larger on the inside than it had from the outside. The small lobby was nicely appointed with traditional furniture and artwork depicting the American Revolution. The walls were painted a periwinkle blue and the floors were dark wood with several Oriental area rugs scattered throughout. On the wall behind the dark mahogany reception desk the name, “Scott Law Offices” was etched in gold lettering. Beneath it in smaller script were the names of seven lawyers beginning with Henry L. Scott. He must be the uncle, Ben thought. Andrew W. Scott and Nora Fleming Scott came next. A pretty receptionist with long blond hair smiled as he approached her station.

  “Hi, can I help you,” she asked.

  “I hope so,” Ben replied. “I’m looking for Nora Fleming Scott. I need to speak to her regarding a legal matter.”

  “Do you have an appointment with Ms. Scott?” she asked. She looked and sounded like a southern belle. She even batted her eyes.

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Ben said. “I do need to speak to her though.”

  “May I ask your name, sir?”

  “Sure, my name is Benjamin Lohmeier.”

  “Well, I’m sorry Mr. Lohmeier, but Ms. Scott isn’t in right now.”

  “Do you expect her back anytime soon?”

  “She’s in Court this morning. We expect her back before too long.”

  “Maybe I can help you.” A tall, blond-haired man in his early-thirties entered the lobby from the corridor to Ben’s right. “I’m Andrew Scott,” he said in a firm voice extending his hand, which Ben took.

  “I’m Benjamin Lohmeier.”

  Scott’s white dress shirt looked so heavily starched it made Ben feel uncomfortable in his yellow golf shirt and khaki pants.

  “Now what can we help you with?” Scott asked.

  “Well, I’m not sure you can help me. I need to speak to Ms. Scott about a legal matter.”

  “Can I ask what this refers to?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t discuss it. I need to discuss it with Ms. Scott.”

  “Well, Nora is my wife,” he said insisting. “I’m sure you can discuss it with me. I’m a lawyer and the managing partner here.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re more than capable,” Ben said. “It’s just that it’s not up to me whether to discuss it with you.”

  Andrew Scott looked more than perplexed. Finally he said, “Rather than stand out here, why don’t we go back to my office and see?”

  Just as Ben started to respond, a tall slim woman with shoulder length brown hair came through the front door and joined them in the lobby. She wore a tan suit with a satchel over her right shoulder and she carried two brown expandable file folders in her left arm. All eyes turned to her as soon as she entered.

  “Hi, what’s up?” she said, slightly out of breath and looking from one to the other. Ben deferred to her husband.

  “This gentleman says he’s here to speak to you about a legal matter.”

  Ben stepped forward and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Benjamin Lohmeier,” he said sticking out his hand. He caught a glimmer of recognition on her face as she hesitated for an instant before taking it.

  “Nora Scott,” she said not quite looking him in the eye.

  “Now that my wife’s here, perhaps you can tell us what this is all about,” Andrew Scott said.

  “As I told your husband, Ms. Scott, I have a legal matter I would like to discuss with you if you could spare me a few minutes. Unfortunately, it’s not the kind of thing we should discuss out here in the lobby.”

  For just a second, Nora Scott looked Ben’s way and their eyes met. In that second, Ben sensed that she knew what he was talking about and more significantly that she knew that he knew that she knew it. Nora stepped forward.

  “That’s okay, Andrew,” she said putting her hand on his arm. “Mr. Lohmeier is right. Why don’t we just go back to my office where we can talk privately.”

  “I’m not sure …” Andrew Scott said before his wife cut him off.

  “No, that’s fine. Mr. Lohmeier, follow me.” Nora led Ben out of the lobby and into an open area dotted with secretarial stations. They passed several offices on the right, each of which had a window outside to the street. A couple of them appeared to be vacant. The hallway appeared to end at the corner of the building then turn left and continue down the far perimeter, where more offices were undoubtedly located. Nora’s office was the second to last one before the end of the hall. Across from it sat a large conference room enclosed in a glass wall. Its blinds opened to reveal a large mahogany conference table surrounded by ten cushioned chairs. As he entered Nora’s office, Ben turned and looked back toward the lobby to find Andrew Scott standing there in the distance glaring at him.

  Nora’s office seemed surprisingly stark for a woman, particularly one whose husband ran the place. It gave Ben the impression of someone who hadn’t fully moved in yet and had yet to make up her mind whether she was ever going to. The furniture consisted of standard office issue, plain and not very expensive. Generic landscape artwork hung on the walls, but no diplomas. Six or eight files sat haphazardly in the near corner. A small vase of freshly cut flowers, one or two days old, stood on the credenza behind the desk next to a lone wedding photograph depicting the happy couple cutting their wedding cake. Ben glanced down and noticed a sizeable diamond on her ring finger.

  Nora placed her things on one of the two cloth guest chairs, while Ben took a seat in the other. She moved around the desk and sat down. “So, Mr. Lohmeier,” she said not quite looking up, “tell me, where are you from?”

  “I’m from Chicago, but I have a feeling you know that already, don’t you?”

  “I am familiar with you, yes. I take it you came to see me about Daniel Greenfield?”

  “That’s right. I understand you had a relationship with Professor Greenfield?”

  She steepled her fingers and looked out the window toward the street. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Lohmeier, but that’s not an area open for discussion.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t accept that.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to.”

  “If you know who I am, Ms. Scott, then you know that I represent Megan Rand, who is currently being charged with the murder of Daniel Greenfi
eld. You should then understand why I need to speak to you.”

  “Actually, I wasn’t aware of that at all, Mr. Lohmeier. I’m aware of Professor Greenfield’s passing, but I didn’t know the circumstances of your involvement in the matter.”

  Now Ben was confused. She looked back and saw it on his face.

  “Mr. Lohmeier,” she said with the slightest of smiles, “is it true that you once caused a witness to flip on cross-examination in a trial competition just by staring at her?”

  Ben shrugged. “More or less, but it was a he, not a she.”

  “Ah, I stand corrected. You see, Mr. Lohmeier, I was a member of the trial team several years after you. Your reputation and exploits precede you.”

  “Good, I hope.”

  “Mostly. Now, if you only went to the trial team reunions, we would probably already know each other and perhaps you wouldn’t have felt the need to fly down here for nothing.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “I didn’t know you were on the trial team. But I don’t know that I came down here for nothing.”

  “I don’t have anything to talk to you about.”

  “Sure you do, you’re just refusing to do it.”

  “Nevertheless, I’m not going to speak to you about my relationship with Daniel Greenfield and staring at me won’t help.”

  “It might if you actually made eye contact,” Ben said. Now he was smiling.

  She forced herself to look at him. “Mr. Lohmeier,” she said, “if you know enough about me to know that I had a relationship with Professor Greenfield and you know that I was recently in Chicago, then you should know that I was back in Ocala before he was killed.”

  Ben cocked his head. He didn’t know any of that, but didn’t let on. “When exactly did you fly back to Ocala, or better said, fly back to Orlando and drive to Ocala, as I have discovered this week?”

  “I flew back on the afternoon of the 31st and was home in time for New Year’s Eve.”

  “That’s all very well and good, but Daniel Greenfield was murdered in his office on the 28th of December, maybe the 29th.”

  Ben hadn’t really thought in terms of Nora Fleming being a potential murderer, but the news that she was in Chicago at the time of Greenfield’s death and seemed strangely unwilling to discuss her relationship with him forced Ben to put her name into the mix. In any event, there was more information to be had here, whether or not he could obtain it directly from her. She took a moment to process things and gather her thoughts. Ben studied her and then followed her eyes to the doorway to find her husband standing there.

  “I think it’s time we end this conversation right here, Mr. Lohmeier,” Andrew Scott said.

  Ben put his right forefinger to his lips. “Why would that be?” he asked.

  “Because I don’t believe my wife needs to be harassed by you, that’s why. Not that my reasoning is any of your business.”

  Ben shook his head. “I don’t understand why everyone has so much to hide around here. I’ve barely asked any questions at all. You folks seem awfully defensive about something.”

  Andrew Scott took a step into the room. “What are you suggesting? Are you saying that you think my wife had something to do with his death?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything. I just think you’re acting strangely, that’s all. For all I know, you killed him,” he said gesturing at Andrew Scott. “I mean, did you come back from Chicago with your wife? Maybe you still resent the old boyfriend.”

  “That’s it. We’re done,” Scott said moving another step toward Ben. His fists were clenched.

  Ben held up his hands. “Fine, I’ll leave voluntarily. I certainly don’t want to be the next victim in this case.” Ben took a business card from his pocket and a pen off of Nora’s desk and wrote on the back of it. “I’ll tell you one thing before I leave,” he said. “I haven’t done anything to you folks to cause this reaction. Could I have called first? Sure. But I had trouble finding you and it’s a lot easier to say no and hang up the phone than it is to turn someone away at your door.

  “But keep this in mind. As far as I know, no one else has been down here to see you except me. That means nobody really knows about you except me. I haven’t sicced the authorities on you and I haven’t sicced the media on you either. Do you know how many calls I get from media people every day? More than you can imagine. If I really wanted to ruin your lives, all I would have to do is pick up the phone and say, ‘Geraldo, here they are. This is the relationship. Start digging,’ and you’d have a swarm of people down here doing proctological exams faster than you can say ‘rental property’.

  “I could do any number of things to make your lives miserable. I could haul you into Court and make you out to be material witnesses. I could leak you as possible suspects. But rest assured, it won’t take much before you won’t be able to go out of your house at night to walk the dog without an escort consisting of three microphones and two cameras.

  “All I’m asking is an opportunity to talk to you and ask some questions. I’ve got a woman back in Chicago, a good friend of mine as a matter of fact, who’s being accused of murdering someone when I know she didn’t do it. If you think I’m going to stop following up on your relationship with Daniel Greenfield to avoid hurting your feelings, you can forget it.

  “Here’s my business card.” He tossed it on the desk. “My cell phone number is on the back. I drive back to Orlando this afternoon and have a flight out at about six. Call me if you change your mind. If I don’t hear from you, I can’t promise how long I’ll wait. But rest assured, if you have information, I’m going to find out what it is.”

  Ben rose from his chair and stood face to face with Andrew Scott, who was several inches taller and probably forty or fifty pounds heavier. Ben moved carefully around him to the door and turned back to face his wife. “It was nice meeting you, Ms. Scott. I hope to hear from you soon. I think I can find my own way out.”

  Ben eased out of the door and back down the hallway toward the lobby. As he reached the doorway to the next office, he heard the sound of Nora Scott’s office door closing behind him.

  Southern Belle gave him a sheepish smile as he whisked through the lobby and straight out the door. He stood on the front steps for a second pondering his next move. Nothing came readily to mind. A lavender Mustang convertible drove by and was gone. Birds chirped up on the eaves. He looked over at a clump of bushes in the bed to his left. He smelled the strong scent of lilacs, r at least he thought they were lilacs. Still nothing. He took out his cell phone and pretended to make a call. Still nothing. Finally, he moved slowly down the walk and then up the street to the car.

  He took Pine Avenue to College Road and drove back to the hotel. As he drove, he contemplated what he could have done differently and concluded that not much else could have been done to salvage a hostile situation. Although he hadn’t learned a lot, it hadn’t been totally fruitless either. He learned that the Scotts had been in Chicago at the time of the murder and that something about that or Nora’s relationship with Greenfield made them jittery, defensive and unwilling to talk. It may not have been much, but it was something, more than he had before he arrived.

  With nothing but time to kill, Ben went back to the hotel and checked out before heading across the street to Steak ‘n Shake for lunch. As he finished off his chocolate milkshake, he turned the case over in his mind. Still too many holes to fill and not enough pieces with which to fill them. He needed the records from the school and the physical evidence from the prosecution in order to really get going. He decided to put Disko to work on the Nora Fleming connection to see what he could turn up. Ben looked at his watch. It was after one o’clock local time, and he figured if he got back to Orlando early enough he could stop somewhere and pick up the required trinkets for his kids.

  Ben paid the tab and went out to the parking lot and put the top back down on the Sebring. A couple of minutes later, he punched the gas and merged onto I-75 going about seventy miles per hour.
He found I Saw Her Standing There by the Beatles on the radio and turned it way up letting the engine out. Just after he veered off onto the southbound Ronald Reagan Turnpike, he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pants pocket. He struggled to get it out and looked at the display. He didn’t recognize the number. He flipped it open and said, “Hello, this is Benjamin Lohmeier.”

  “Mr. Lohmeier, this is Nora Scott.”

  26

  The phone call was brief. Nora had thought about it and changed her mind. Now she wanted to talk. They agreed on an early dinner at the Lone Star Steak House, since it was a place that Ben knew. Ben turned the Sebring around and headed back up the expressway to the hotel. He even got the same room, now freshly cleaned. He changed his airline reservations to the following morning and got Libby on her cell phone to tell her that he’d be staying an extra night.

  “Your daughter is going to be pissed,” she warned. “You better call her later and beg for forgiveness.”

  Then he called Mark to see what was going on. Mark wasn’t there so he talked to Dan Conlon instead. Dan told him that Mark had received a call from Bridget Fahey telling him to look out for a stack of documents, the first batch of evidence received from the State. He also said that they were scheduled to go downtown on Thursday to look at some of the files assembled at the law school.