Justice (Counsel #2)

by Shenda Paul

  By now, Joseph must be aware that we’ve uncovered his deal with La Fata and, knowing that, he must also suspect that we stand a good chance of obtaining more damning information through a combination of threat and incentive. He's practically vibrating with anger at whatever plans he had being thwarted. Before any of us can break the charged silence, however, the door swings open to reveal a flustered looking Owen Bryce.

  "Bryce, you’re late; we're just about finished here, but you might want to advise your client about the penalties for the obstruction of justice," I greet him.

  "What the hell are you talking about?" he demands. "Mr. Cordi?" He turns to Joseph, who pointedly ignores him to glare at me balefully.

  "I should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance," he tells me.

  "I have no idea what you mean, " I reply calmly, even as I feel myself bristle with anger.

  Jon shows no such restraint. He steps right up to Joseph. "Are you threatening a public prosecutor?"

  Bryce glances at me in alarm before turning to his client. "Mr. Cordi, threatening an officer of the court is a criminal offense."

  "What difference will another charge make?" Joseph scoffs.

  "Your plans aren’t going to succeed; this trial will go ahead. I’ll prove your guilt, and you’ll go to jail for a very long time," I say, rising to my feet and motioning to Jon that the interview is over.

  "Say goodbye to your mother, Adam," Joseph calls out as I reach the door.

  I stop dead in my tracks. Memories flood my brain as if a dam wall has burst. I see my young self, sitting forlorn, as I watch Eleanor get ready to go out. She tilts my chin up. "I'll be home before you can miss me," she placates me. "You can play with your truck now, but when Mrs. Doyle comes to tell you, you must go to bed, Adam; be a good boy for Mommy." She kisses me on the forehead, and a faint smell, I only much later identified as alcohol, assaults me.

  Tears run down my cheeks as I follow her into the hallway. The man with the black hair and cold eyes looks down at me. "Hurry up, we’re late," he demands as Eleanor kneels in front of me.

  "Go to your room, Adam; we’ll have ice cream tomorrow," she whispers and hugs me tightly but pulls back with a start when he roughly commands her to get up. I feel afraid, not for myself, but for Eleanor.

  "Say goodbye to your mother, Adam, " he says, grasping her arm firmly. His smile, when he turns to look back at me, is filled with malice.

  I can’t believe I hadn’t made the connection before. My shock must be evident when I turn to face him because he’s displaying that same malevolent smile now. Violent anger surges through me. I stride back to where he's leaning back in his chair, smirking up at me. "Ah, you’ve finally remembered. I thought about getting rid of you then, you know; many times, in fact, but you proved a useful pawn in forcing your mother’s compliance."

  I lean across the narrow table until our noses practically touch. "I'm going to put you away for life, you son of a bitch," I hiss, reaching for his collar.

  Jon lays a restraining hand on my shoulder, and in my peripheral vision, I see a concerned-looking Bryce step forward. I straighten up, shake my head to clear the red mist clouding my vision, and then nod at Jon tersely before turning on my heel.

  "Your mother was weak, but she surprised me by what she was prepared to do to protect you," Joseph taunts.

  I spin around. Fuck being responsible; I'm going to strangle the bastard. I run straight into Jon, who places a hand on my chest and grasps my shoulder firmly with the other. "Don't let him get to you; it's what he wants."

  I stare unflinchingly into Joseph Cordi’s soulless eyes. "I'm going to make sure you pay— for everything. You won't have any thugs to do your bidding in that courtroom, and you won't be facing some helpless woman. It’ll be me, and I’m going to send you away for life."

  Uncertainty flashes across his face for only a second before his expression of arrogant indifference returns.

  Chapter Three

  I’ve been silent since leaving that interview room, but inside my head, a war is raging. I'm grateful that Jon’s giving me the space to get my emotions under control.

  Vision after vision continues to bombard me; the face of my happy and smiling mother turning into one of worry and sadness, the sight of her, tearful and disheveled as she emerges from her bedroom, and the strange man who follows with a satisfied smirk. I see her in the last period of her life, blurry eyed and incoherent for much of the time. Throughout that awful period, the time that I, sadly, recall most clearly, I found myself wishing for the increasingly rare, lucid moments when the mother I once knew returned. During those all-too-brief spells, she'd remember to feed me, bathe me, and care for me.

  Interspersed with those memories is the recollection of my first meeting with Joseph Cordi. A rough-voiced man had been coming to our door and harassing Eleanor for overdue rent money for quite some time. Fearful of his increasingly angry threats, she finally pretended not to be home. At his first, by then readily recognizable, rap at the door, she’d motion for me to be quiet and carry me to hide behind the sofa, where she’d clutch me to her chest until, having grown tired of cursing and banging, he’d leave. Then, one day, when she again didn’t answer, two men forcefully entered our home.

  A man with black hair, wearing a suit and shiny shoes followed them inside. Eleanor gripped me so tightly; I was barely able to breathe. After a cursory glance around our tiny living room, the man, clearly in charge, dismissed his companions with a flick of his wrist. Terrified and wide-eyed, Eleanor cringed back as he turned his gaze on us. He smiled, but his eyes remained cold. "Mrs. Mannering, I'm here to talk," he said.

  "It's M…Miss Mannering…" she stammered, "and this is my son, Adam." His baleful eyes glanced my way before they returned to her.

  "Well, Miss Mannering, I'm the owner of this building, and you haven’t been paying your rent," he said, his even tone doing little to diminish the sense of threat I felt.

  "I…I… swear I'm not trying to get out of paying. I'm working to get the money, and I’ll pay as soon as I can, Mr. …"

  "My name doesn't matter," he interrupted. "You know, Miss Mannering, I have a reputation to uphold. I can't have people thinking I'm going soft; I can't allow anyone, not even a beautiful woman like you, to get away with not paying their debt to me. Why don't you get rid of your son so you and I can negotiate a settlement?"

  That, essentially, is how I remember that day. It was the first time Eleanor sent me to my room, and when she returned for me some time later, I could tell by her red, puffy eyes that she’d been crying. We stopped pretending not to be home after that because no one ever came demanding money again, and although Eleanor no longer laughed as much, she did, for a short while, appear more hopeful. She talked about us having a better life someday.

  The man with the black hair visited frequently, and even as a five-year-old, I could tell she was nervous in his presence and tried desperately to please or appease him. I was too young to understand what their relationship was; yet I detested him. He seemed to rejoice in my distress when she’d send me to my room or left with him. On those occasions, he’d invariably dismiss me with the same phrase he’d taunted me with today.

  'Say goodbye to your mother’ may sound innocuous, but coming from him it felt like a threat. I was afraid; not only for myself but also for Eleanor because it was evident, even to the child I was then, that he terrified her.

  "Adam?" Jon finally breaks our silence, and I reluctantly tear my unseeing gaze from the passing scenery. I see understanding in his eyes, thankful that there’s no sign of pity. I don't think I could bear anyone’s sympathy right now.

  "I don't mean to pry into your business. I just want to know that you're all right," he says.

  I clear my dry throat. "I'm fine. I'll be fine." I hesitate before deciding to continue. "I'm sure you've gathered by now that he does, in fact, know me. I can't believe I didn't recognize
him right away. I’m still uncertain of the details because I was only a kid at the time, but I'm convinced that Joseph Cordi played a hand in my mother becoming an alcoholic, drug addict, and a prostitute."

  "But she’s okay now, right?"

  "Emma Thorne is my adoptive mother," I correct him.

  "Is Joseph your father?" he asks, his head swiveling to look at me. "Sorry, you don't have to answer that."

  "No. Some other bastard was responsible for that. As much as I despise him, I can thankfully say it's marginally preferable that he, rather than Joseph Cordi, sired me."

  "We've both been personally touched by Joseph’s crimes, Adam, but it’ll just give us more satisfaction when we bring him down. Don't let this put you off; it's what he’s been aiming for, probably since the night of his arrest."

  "I have every intention of seeing him locked away for good. Thanks for stopping me from doing something stupid back there."

  "I'd have liked nothing more than to let you beat the shit out of him; in fact, I would have loved lending a hand, but you have a bigger job to do. You will avenge your mother, Adam; in the same way I worked to avenge Elise."

  "You’re right," I agree before returning to my thoughts.

  .

  .

  I call Rita soon after my return to the office to request a meeting with Bristly. Two hours later, she lets me know that he’ll see me in five minutes.

  "Our weekly update isn't until Monday," he greets me, keen eyes scrutinizing my face.

  "I'd like to fill you in on something that just came up, Sir."

  "You look tired, Adam. Do you need more help?" He gestures for me to take a seat.

  "Just a hectic couple of weeks, Sir. I don’t have to tell you how frantic things can get."

  "You don’t, but this case is bigger and more complex than most. Even the most difficult trials I've handled weren’t as challenging. Just ask if you need help."

  I take a deep breath, lowering my eyes to the floor as I gather my thoughts. "Detective Holmes and I paid a visit to Joseph Cordi earlier today and uncovered information, which may impact on your decision for me to head up the prosecution in his trial," I look up to say.

  Surprise, incredulity and then outrage crosses Bristly’s face as I relate the details of our meetings with La Fata and Joseph, but he’s back to his impassive self by the time I finish. "So the note you received is definitely from him?" he asks.

  "We’re convinced of it; the message fits with his earlier comments and certainly with what I’ve learned today."

  "It seems that you and Holmes have nipped any plans he may have had to intimidate witnesses in the bud, but I still want you to be careful, Adam."

  "We’ll take every precaution to ensure their safety, and Jon’s chasing down La Fata’s contacts as well as Perez and O'Flaherty. "

  "I don’t just mean witnesses," he says authoritatively.

  "I understand, Sir. I’ll be careful."

  "Good. Now, do you want to recuse yourself?"

  "No, Sir, but I don’t think, given the circumstances, that it’s my decision to make."

  "Adam, there can be no doubt that Cordi’s done you enormous harm, but do you believe that fact will cloud your legal judgment?"

  "I don’t."

  "Do you intend to subvert the law or the course of justice, in any way, while prosecuting this case?"

  "No, Sir."

  "Do you believe you’ll be able to put your personal feelings aside and concentrate only on the legal aspects of the trial? In short, I'm asking if you believe you're capable of doing your job, Adam?"

  "I do, Sir. I now have a personal reason for wanting to put Joseph Cordi away, but I’ve always wanted to do that. What I’ve learned only makes me more determined."

  Bristly studies me intently, and I return his gaze steadfastly.

  "You’re our finest prosecutor, Adam, but if you repeat what I’ve just said outside this room, I'll deny it." His eyes light with amusement for just a second before turning serious once more. "In Watts' absence, there’s no one else I have enough confidence in to lead this case. I certainly can't afford the time to do it, and I'm loath to call in someone from another district. I want you to see it through; if you feel up to it."

  "I appreciate your confidence in me, Sir, and I assure you that I’ll prosecute Joseph Cordi with the full force of the law. I won’t do anything to bring disgrace on this department or you."

  "You did the right thing in coming to me, Adam, and I have no doubt that you'll conduct yourself professionally. Just be extra careful; the fact that his attorney is aware of what happened means defense will be on the lookout for any impropriety. Don’t give them an opportunity to call for a mistrial; and remember, I'm here if you need help or advice of any kind."

  "Thank you, Sir," I glance at my watch. "If there's nothing more, I have another meeting starting shortly."

  "You’d better get on with it then. I'll see you on Monday," he says, getting up to clap me on the shoulder.

  That evening, Jodi pops into my office. "How did the meeting with Joseph go?" she asks when I invite her to sit.

  "We learned nothing from him, but we struck pay dirt with Ricky La Fata," I say, deliberately not mentioning my confrontation with Joseph. I'm still trying to come to terms with exactly what it all means myself, and had Jon not been present, and if I’d had time to get over my shock and anger, I wouldn’t have discussed it with him either. It's not that I regret having done so; in all honesty, I'm glad I did. Talking to him helped pull me from the dark place my mind had wandered to.

  "Ricky La Fata?" She scrunches her brow and nose simultaneously, looking like a disgruntled toddler. I can't help smiling.

  "Holy cow!" Jodi exclaims at the end of my briefing. "Imagine the damage that could have been done if we hadn't found out."

  "Joseph very nearly blew a gasket when he learned of La Fata's about-face." I can’t help grinning at the recollection.

  "I miss out on all the fun," she complains.

  "The real battle will take place in the courtroom, and it will be you and me sitting at the prosecution table, no-one else."

  "I know, and I'm thrilled to be your second."

  "No more pleased than I am to be working with you," I tell her honestly.

  Her cheeks color prettily. "So, what's next?" she asks, and I feel warmed by the knowledge that bossy, feisty Jodi Maddox is also modest.

  "Well, we need to locate O'Flaherty and Perez, determine what Joseph had planned and then, if necessary, put a stop to whatever scheme he may have concocted. In the meantime, we have his trial to prepare for. I know Carmen’s back in for a witness conference on Monday, but what about the two sex workers we decided to interview?"

  "Monday as well," she says, and we chat about inconsequential things before she leaves, announcing that she should be getting home.

  .

  .

  That evening, after dinner at a local bistro, I tell Angelique about my meeting with Joseph. "What he did to you and your mother was evil," she says, her eyes glistening with tears. "I know what you found out makes this case so much harder for you; but Adam, I hope you see how fitting it is that you’re the one to make sure he goes to prison. For both Eleanor and yourself."

  "And for you and his other victims," I add, pulling her into my arms. I relay my conversation with Bristly then.

  "Are you sure you won’t let him get to you?" she asks about Joseph’s potential to taunt me.

  "I’m positive," I reassure her with a gentle kiss. "Let’s forget about Joseph Cordi for now. I don’t intend having him impact my life more than he already has," I add, meaning every word. Over the weekend, I’ll tell my family about what I’ve learned, and after his trial, I’ll consign him to the past where he belongs.

  The next day, Saturday, I finally get to show Angelique the premises for Eleanor’s Place. She loves the old building as m
uch as I do and hangs on my every word as I describe our plans for it. When Dad found out I was visiting today, he asked me to check on some measurements in another area, so I excuse myself and leave Angelique in the space we plan on converting into her studio.

  She’s staring out of the tall, grimy windows when I return. "What are you thinking?" I ask as I embrace her from behind.

  "Just what an extraordinary thing you’re doing here. Eleanor would be so proud of you," she says, and I’m hit by a yet another twinge of guilt. Angelique turns in my arms and, with a loving smile, raises her hand to smooth my frown with her forefinger. "You don’t doubt that, do you?"

  "It sometimes feels like too little, too late," I confess.

  "You were a child, Adam; there was nothing you could do."

  "But I wasn’t a child when I continued to bury her memory. I received Adam Winston’s money when I was seventeen; I could have done something like this before…"

  You weren’t ready," she counters, stifling my protest by placing two fingers over my mouth. "Eleanor would have understood. That’s what mother’s do; they love unconditionally, trust me, I know," she says, her eyes clouding momentarily, and I realize that she knows this to be a fact.

  "Thank you." I lower my head to capture her mouth in a kiss. I meant it to be soft and grateful, but as it always does at the slightest taste of Angelique, passion flames within me. I wind my hands in her long hair and pull her close to deepen our kiss.

  "So, do you approve of the premises?" I ask, my voice sounding husky when we draw apart.

  "I think it’s perfect!"

  "I think so too," I say, looking at her beautiful face. She blushes. "And the premises are fine too," I add, caressing her cheek.

  .

  .

  Most of Monday is spent in witness conferences with Carmen Bonacci and two sex workers, Jasmine Thomas and Linda Hall. Jasmine was seventeen and Linda a month short of her sixteenth birthday when Joseph recruited them, Jodi and I learn.

  Now aged twenty-two and twenty-one, Jasmine, a runaway from a foster home where she'd been ill-treated, and Linda, a runaway because of her mother’s remarriage, met on the streets. Mick O'Flaherty befriended the two starving kids and introduced them to Joseph. Desperate and scared, they accepted Joseph’s offer to work as prostitutes. Linda, who had never been with a man before, was paid one hundred and fifty dollars to give her virginity to a man, who, she says, must have been in in his fifties. Jodi’s ashen-faced as we listen to her tale.