Until Proven Innocent

by Gene Grossman

  I’m having difficulty in controlling myself. The commercial ends and the station’s news cameras then cut to show the expression on Hershel’s face. Priceless. Now for the full-screen shot of the car, as April waddles out of the way.

  And there it is, steering column bent out of shape, broken mirror on the floor, driver’s door hanging crooked, hole in the outside of the door where the mirror had been bolted on, and partially damaged fender from which the radio antenna had been torn. The left rear tire also looks like it’s slowly going flat. This poor little sub-compact sports vehicle looks like it just came through a war zone.

  I haven’t seen an expression like the one on Hershel’s face since visiting a friend in Bucks County and encountering a deer caught in our headlights. The news cameras pick up the sound of an entire crowd outside the dealership roaring in laughter. There’s also quite a bit of giggling coming from the forward stateroom. I pick up the phone to continue my conversation with Nick.

  “Nick, you’ve outdone yourself. This has been the greatest commercial I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Would you please send me a DVD of it? I want to play it once in a while whenever I need a little cheering up.”

  “We already sent you one, Mister Sharp. You should be getting it tomorrow. Sorry about the changes we had to make at the beginning of the spot, but there was just no way that April could climb into that little car. After several tries we finally gave up and rolled the car back into the assembly area of the plant, where we used an engine-hoist to lift her up and then gently lower her into the driver’s seat.

  “Several mechanics at the factory said that the car would never make it to Los Angeles with that unbalanced load, so all we shot on the highway was the first few seconds. We trucked the car the rest of the way.”

  “How did you get her in and out of the car while you were trucking it?”

  “Yeah, that was a problem… so we didn’t. We left her sitting in it on back of the stake bed truck we hired. She rode in the little car, on the truck, all the way to Beverly Hills. But that wasn’t the end. When you saw her bending the steering column to get out of the car, she really didn’t make it all the way out. She fell back in, behind the wheel.”

  “A few seconds later she was almost standing outside the car.”

  “Yeah, but we had to bring in a forklift to get her out of it before we cut to the scene where it looked like she just got out of the car.

  “I gotta tell you, Mister Sharp. I know it looked funny, but that girl April is one hell of a person. She knew how it looked and went along with it one hundred percent. She’s a very nice person and by the end of the shoot, no one was laughing at her. In fact the whole crew gave her a round of applause when the last day wrapped and couldn’t stop hugging her when we wrapped the shoot. She’s a real trooper and we all shared the same feeling that it was a pleasure working with her.”

  As our conversation ends, I see the early news shows starting. There are several newscasters with camera trucks at the dealership and you can still hear laughter from the crowd. Hershel, being the showman that he is, regains his composure and saves the day with his clever remark.

  “My wife always suspected me of having affairs with our spokes-models. I hope she trusts me from now on.”

  *****

  The only downside to this whole affair was the demeaning of April, because of her immense size. We talked about it quite a bit when first discussing her doing the commercial, and she told me that people are going to laugh at her anyway, so she might as well make seventy-five hundred for accepting the laughter this time. I call to let her know that the entire production crew thinks the world of her… and so do I.

  At one time she told me that she considered going on some special diet and even thought about having one of those surgeries, where they staple part of your stomach shut, but her boyfriend Joe talked her out of it. I guess as long as she’s happy that’s all that counts, but I keep remembering what a doctor friend of mine told me: you see a lot of old people, and you see a lot of fat people, but you rarely see any old fat people. I’d like to see her lose some weight, because it will mean a longer, healthier life for her.

  Now all I have to do is finish with that apartment manager problem before the jerk tries to evict her.

  *****

  Hershel Belsky wins again. The newspapers and television shows can’t stop talking about Hershel’s ad and even the network late night talk show hosts have made fun of it. Several organizations that represent fat people staged protests that didn’t last too long, because after a while it became clear to most reasonable people that making fun of people who are morbidly obese just isn’t satisfactory behavior. Some people have even suggested that Hershel should be rewarded for hiring a person with a weight problem like that.

  I don’t care what people say about Hershel or the commercial, as long as he doesn’t call Olive any more. And it looks like the whole project worked. It’s been several weeks since the commercial ran and Olive hasn’t heard word one from him. In fact, the ad may have done him a great service. The last time I drove by his dealership, that exact same battered car was on the showroom floor, and they never even bothered to straighten out the steering wheel column or re-attach the damaged parts. From what I hear, the car has turned into a tourist attraction, with everyone wanting their picture taken with it. Hershel’s salesmen are kept busy writing up orders, and the factory can’t deliver the cars fast enough. Go figure.

  *****

  They need my advice at the soundstage, so I’m on the way over there. Joe Caulfield is in his office waiting for me.

  “Hi Peter, thanks for coming by so quickly. We’re going to need your services again for a scene shooting tomorrow that takes place in a judge’s chambers. By the way, how did your voice-over session go?”

  “It went fine, thanks. Renaldo was nice enough to stay in the building to help me out. I paid him for his time, but I sure appreciate his hanging around the extra hour or so.”

  This gets a smile out of Joe.

  “Well, it really wasn’t too much of an inconvenience for him.”

  “Why not? It meant another two hours before he could get home and relax.”

  “Peter, Ren has an apartment upstairs of the soundstage. He’s the resident manager of this place and runs it for the owners, who are also the investors in this picture we’re shooting, the next two we have planned, and the new film courier service we’re starting up. Thanks to Ren, we have exclusive use of this soundstage building, even when we’re not shooting. He made that deal for us with the owners. And it was partly Ren’s idea for the courier service too. He’s a valuable employee around here, and a good worker too.”

  I’m glad to hear that Joe’s business plans for the next couple of years are all in place and also happy to see that Ren is part of it all.

  We go over some of the legal issues of tomorrow’s scene until Joe is satisfied that the shot will work and also be fairly accurate with respect to actual legal procedures.

  *****

  Back at the boat while doing the only kind of surfing I enjoy, which is completely out of the water and on the internet, I come across a website that is offering a DVD of a big budget movie that was recently released. This seems odd because I was under the impression that there was some ‘window’ of time that theater exhibitors demanded before a film was released on DVD. I don’t blame them for that, because who wants to drive to an overpriced crowded theater with popcorn and spilled beverages on the floor, when you can sit at home and watch the same thing in the comfort of your own home?

  I guess the window of time has expired because this particular movie is now available, and it’s only twenty-five dollars, which includes shipping to me. I get my credit card out and click on the website’s ‘order’ button. To my surprise, they don’t accept credit cards. Instead they ask for the numbers off of my checking account, so that they can have a direct bank transfer of the funds from my bank to theirs.

  This is okay with me, so I send
a message to our office manager that I’m authorizing the charge, and provide the DVD sellers with the information they require to process the order. I’ve been an internet shopper for many years now, buying just about everything but shoes online, but this is the first time I’ve come across an e-merchant that doesn’t accept credit cards. There must be a good reason for it, but as long as I get the merchandise that was ordered, whatever their reason is, it’s okay with me.

  *****

  The next day, I’m handed a U.S. Priority Mail package containing the DVD that I ordered. Suzi and Bernie made their morning run to our private mailbox place, and the movie was there, waiting to be picked up. Now that’s what I call good service. There’s no return address on the box, but it has a postmark indicating that it was mailed last night from a post office in San Pedro, California, which is about thirty miles down the coast, near the Port of Los Angeles.

  There’s no time like the present to see a good movie, so I put the DVD into my player and sit back to watch it on our fifty-two-inch flat-panel screen. The quality is excellent and I’m totally satisfied with the product, but I’m not one to fool around much with the ‘menu’ button or watch those other options that they put on DVD’s. Just out of curiosity, I press the ‘menu’ button to see what I’m missing. Quite often when they release a movie on DVD they add comments from the director and stars, some out-takes, maybe an optional ending they shot, and some other bells and whistles. Not this time. This DVD was the movie, period. No extra bells and whistles. That works for me. I now have the movie in my collection, and that’s all I was really expecting.

  Strolling down the dock, I bump into Tony, who tells me that some assistant from the soundstage called and said that Joe wants to meet with him tonight. This probably means I’ll be going over there tomorrow to try and get Tony’s job back for him. Amazingly, he hasn’t been fired in a while, and he’s certainly due. I just hope there’s no gunfire during their meeting tonight.

  And speaking of shots on the soundstage, I recently got shot down there by a pretty young starlet who told me that I reminded her of ‘her dad,’ because he has a boat too. Not willing to let it go at that, I’ve had further conversations with her, and surprise of surprises, I have a dinner date tonight. Not with the pretty young starlet, but with her divorced mother, who hopefully still has an affinity for boats. I haven’t the slightest idea of what she looks like, but her daughter says that she’s attractive, and seeing what type of genes are in that family, I’ve got to take a shot at this.

  We’re supposed to meet at Pollo Meshuga. I picked the place because it worked so well for my recent dinner with Myra, I want to see if the restaurant can work its charms again.

  One interesting thing about the place is the numerous television sets hung from the ceiling throughout the dining room. Tonight I’m not going to be watching them, because a woman just walked in the front door who I am now praying is my date. I prefer redheads, but I’ll make an exception for her, because she’s a grown-up version of the blonde starlet who set us up. She stops at the reservation desk and is directed towards my table. I can tell that her body is in pretty good shape because she’s wearing a pair of tight jeans, and she’s walking in my direction. She smiles when she sees me, sticks out her hand as a greeting, and says “Hello Peter, I’m Evelyn, your date.” Yes! There is a God.

  I walked over to the restaurant, so there’s no hesitation in ordering another round of Patrón margaritas when she sits down. I’m already one up on her. After about half a drink and fifteen minutes, the conversation is going on like we’ve known each other for years. We talk about everything from movies, to the law, to boats, and anything else that comes up.

  She already knows that I’m a lawyer who lives on a boat, and must have done some checking up, because she also is aware of the fact that I had been married to the current District Attorney of our County.

  This restaurant was a favorite place for my ex-wife and I to frequent and I was really hoping to not have her name come up here, because it makes me feel like Myra is haunting the place while I’m here with someone else. I change the subject as quickly as possible, so that no thought of Myra will cloud my already foggy brain, when my date points out to me that my ex-wife is now in the room.

  If you went to Las Vegas, I’m sure you could get odds of at least ten thousand to one that Myra wouldn’t show up here, in this restaurant, tonight, while I’m here on a date with another woman. I carefully look around the room, when my date points something out to me. “No, silly, I don’t mean she’s here in the restaurant… she’s up there, on the television screen.”

  I look up and sure enough, there she is, looking as good as ever. I signal the bartender to turn the volume up, and we hear the newscaster standing next to her make the introduction: “I’m standing here in front of the Criminal Courts Building in downtown Los Angeles, with Myra Scot, the District Attorney. Miss Scot, would you please tell our viewers about the arrest?” Myra takes the microphone from the newscaster’s hand, and as usual, takes over the newscast.

  “Our office has made an arrest this evening. We are charging a man with the murder of a film executive. Later this week, we will be going to the grand jury to get an indictment on this case.”

  The newscaster has a question. “Miss Scot, if you’ve already made the arrest, why are you going for an indictment? Isn’t the regular procedure for you to just charge the defendant and set the matter for a preliminary hearing?”

  Myra has an answer, but it’s definitely not the one that I want to hear.

  “Yes, that would be the ordinary procedure, but in this case the suspect is a twenty-year veteran of the police department, and is also a detective, so we’re treating this matter in a way consistent with the reasons that the grand jury was formed… to investigate allegations of misconduct and crime of persons in official positions.”

  “Miss District Attorney, if you won’t reveal the name of the defendant, can you at least tell us something about the victim, and the crime?”

  “Yes, I can. I’ve been informed there have already been notifications made to the family, so I can tell you that the victim was a film producer named Joseph Caulfield, who was in the process of shooting a motion picture at a studio in Venice, California.”

  * * * * * *

  Chapter 8

  I knew it. Everyone knew it. It was just a matter of time before Tony shot Joe Caulfield. Not only was Tony a loose cannon, he was a loose cannon who carried a cannon, and didn’t care for people of color. I don’t know if he’s retained a lawyer yet, but I sure hope he does, because this is not a case I feel like getting involved with. I know too much about the relationship between the suspect and the victim, and somewhere in the pit of my stomach I think that Tony actually did it. He may not be guilty of murder in the first degree, but unless it was self-defense, he’s surely looking at some degree of manslaughter – but that’s only if the D.A.’s office is willing to deal.

  Knowing Myra, she’ll probably not want to plead this case out for anything less than murder one if I’m the defense attorney, for fear of making it look like she’s doing a favor for her ex-husband. Boy, if the public only knew how much that’s not possible.

  Needless to say, this has put a slight damper on my first date experience. Evelyn obviously had heard the news about conflicts between Tony and Joe from her daughter. “Well, at least he hasn’t called you to represent him.”

  “To be quite honest, I’ve had my telephone turned off since you walked into this place, and I’m afraid to turn it back on, because it might mean our evening will end before it should.”

  I don’t know how such a nice statement ever came out of my mouth. As I hear it, I’m saying to myself ‘what wimp is saying this?’ It seems to have worked, because there’s a slight blush on her cheeks as she reaches forward and takes my hand.

  “You’d better turn your phone on. We can always get together again, but your friend Tony may have only one phone call coming to him.”

/>   She’s right. Grudgingly, I turn on the phone, and as soon as the signal strength comes up to par, I see that there are several voice messages waiting for me. When checking them out, there are no surprises. The first one is from Tony, and subsequent ones are from Suzi and Myra. They all give me the same information: like it or not, I have a new client.

  *****

  Having a cop for a client has its advantages. First, you get treated with respect by other cops, because now you’re on their side, representing one of them. Second, you don’t have to worry about your client blabbing anything that can be used against him.

  After Evelyn leaves the restaurant I call Myra at home.

  “You got my call, huh?”

  “Yeah, but you could have saved me the dime by adding another sentence to your on-camera interview. All you had to do was say ‘Peter, get your ass down to central booking, someone wants to see you.’ That would have saved some time, too.”

  “I actually considered doing that, but I know that you don’t take orders from me anymore, so I called Suzi instead. Let her tell you what to do, because God knows you need direction.”

  “If he’s at County Jail, I’m on the way down there. Would you please do me a favor and call the kid to let her know I’ll be late tonight?”

  “No need, she already knows. And your client is not at County Jail, he’s in the Venice Police Station.”

  “Aha, that must mean you haven’t got as good a case as you thought you did.”

  “Wrong again, Peter. I had other reasons to put him there tonight. I suppose you’ll be in court tomorrow with a bail motion?”

  “I will be if you intend to charge him.”

  “See you in court tomorrow Peter.”