by John Foxjohn
“I have an unlimited supply of hard, cold, cash, and that speaks louder than anything with the people I most likely will talk to.”
Kayla didn’t say anything to his logic, but Bank pushed his glasses up and turned to leave. “I’ll get started on this.”
“Marvin,” Kayla stopped him. She smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate all you’re doing, but tomorrow is soon enough. I bet your wife is home waiting. We may need to spend a lot of late hours on this, so don’t waste the time now that you can spend with your family.”
Gratitude shone in Bank’s expression as he hustled out as fast as his short legs would take him. Darren wondered if Kayla Nugent always acted that nice. He’d bet the thought never occurred to her, but she’d just assured that Marvin Bank would work his butt off for her for as long as she wanted him, too.
When Bank left, she turned her attention back to him. “So what’s your story with the Esteses?”
Direct and to the point. He liked that. So far, he liked everything about her and that worried him. “Actually, several years ago, Estes hired me to find the person responsible for some thefts in one of his companies. I don’t know how he found me. I solved it, and ever since, when he needs a private detective, he calls me.”
She leaned back in her chair, twirling the pen again. How did she do that?
“How is it that you know how to get results as a private investigator?”
He smiled and relaxed. This woman not only knew how to ask questions, she asked the right ones at the right times—a gift many investigators would like to have. “I was a Chicago cop for fourteen years. Five of them as a homicide detective.”
“Tell me. What’s your take on the actions of the police here in this investigation?”
“Actually, I believe they acted quickly. Maybe faster than they should have. Most homicide investigators look at family and friends first.”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. “What if I told you that the victim was the wife of an HPD homicide lieutenant?”
He whistled. “This could get sticky. The husband should not be involved in any way in the investigation. He should be a suspect.”
“If he isn’t a suspect, will he have that involvement and access?”
Darren frowned. He’d spent too much time in a police department not to know the answer to that. Chicago and Houston had different departments, different laws, as well as regulations, but cops the world over didn’t change. “You’re dang right he will. He’ll have full access.”
They remained quiet for several moments. “Okay, what do you need me to do first?”
She opened a drawer and pulled out a folder, sliding it across her desk to him. “That’s all the information I have on the victim and her husband. We’ll see if you’re as good as you claim. I need to know everything about the two of them.”
When Duval left her office, she twirled her pen. For some reason, other than his obvious good looks and sex appeal, he drew her to him. Besides the fact that he had a tendency to start sentences with adverbs, he radiated confidence, but something lingered in his eyes. The men she knew—the ones in her office—had an intense brightness to their gaze. Duval didn’t have that. She thought she saw loneliness and hurt, but she didn’t kid herself. They might be there because she wanted them there.
Why would she want them to be there? She could care less about him or his tight butt except on a professional basis.
For the life of her, she didn’t know why she’d acted like that before he left. That dig about seeing if he was as good as he claimed was unnecessary. It wasn’t difficult to see him tense and his face stiffen.
She had to work with him and needed all the help he could give her.
She called Jimmy before leaving and told him about Loren and the case.
He shouted, “Kayla, you can’t represent her.”
Why did everyone kept telling her that? She wished someone would tell her how to get out of it.
FOUR
Kayla had no trouble finding Paddy’s Bar and Grill or John Sutherland. He occupied a table in the rear of the bar with a brunette.
When Kayla approached the table, the woman didn’t appear happy, but John patted her hand. “This is attorney Kayla Nugent. She is business—all business. Would you mind if I talked to her a few?”
The woman stood as she inspected Kayla, but smiled at John. “I’ll be at the bar.”
Kayla sat. “Sorry to invade on your time.”
He waved her off. “I usually don’t strike out till the fourth quarter—this time it occurred in the first. No big deal.”
He smiled and winked. “Unless you’d allow me to buy you a drink and show you my record collection at my place.”
She chuckled and shook her head. “Does that line ever work?”
“Nope, but it’s the best one I have and I keep hoping.”
She’d spoken to John on several occasions and he’d never failed to hit on her. She believed he did it out of obligation—some male thing she didn’t understand, or want to—but the fact that he hit on her, showed how often he scored.
“I wanted to talk you about Detective Cameron Satterwhite. Do you know him?”
“I’ve known him for a number of years. I suspected they’d have him on this one. His type investigation.”
“He’s the lead investigator. Rumor has it that he’s the best in the HPD.”
John glanced at her for several moments. “This conversation’s between you and me, right?”
When Kayla nodded, he continued, “Satterwhite isn’t the best or even close to the best. He’s the one that is the most politically astute, if that’s the best word. The department assigns him to this type of case because he’s the best at juggling the politics, investigation, and the media.”
They stopped talking when a waitress came and asked Kayla if she wanted to order. She asked for a white wine and John ordered another beer. They remained quiet until the waitress brought the drinks and left them alone. Kayla asked John what he’d meant.
“Most detectives won’t play the political game and definitely won’t let the DA or anyone influence the direction the investigation should go. Satterwhite will.”
Kayla sipped her wine and put the glass down. “Will he manufacture evidence?”
“Definitely not. If Proctor sends him in a direction, he’ll investigate it well. If there’s anything on that particular suspect, rest assured Satterwhite will find it. The problem with this type of investigation is if there isn’t enough to prosecute, or anything to find.”
Kayla thought for a long moment. “That’s what they call investigative tunnel vision, isn’t it?”
He smiled. “I need to watch you. You know more than you let on. I bet you have suckered more than one poor old man in with that innocent, eyelash-blinking trap.”
She chuckled. Anyone but John and she’d take that comment as insult. She took another drink and set the glass down before she asked her next question. “You hear all the rumors in the department. Have you heard anything on this one?”
He drained his mug and signaled the waitress for another. When she showed up with one, she indicated Kayla’s half-empty glass, but Kayla shook her head. John took a drink of his beer, and it appeared as if he stalled in answering. Maybe trying to decide how much information he could trust Kayla with.
“Lots of stuff floating around about this one. I can’t have it known that I told you anything or I’ll never get anything else from them.”
“John, I’d never compromise you like that. Besides, I’m not recording this conversation. You have deniability.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “Never thought you’d do something like that. Just wanted my position clear.”
He took a deep breath. “Here’s the scoop. Proctor is pushing Satterwhite to come up with evidence to nail your client to the wall. Everyone knows why. He wants and needs this trial to show voters he’ll go after the big fish as well as the small ones. If he can convict your client,
it almost assures he’ll win the Democratic nomination for attorney general. In Texas, that is almost as good as winning the election.”
John crossed his leg. Kayla knew when to talk, ask questions, and when to shut up. She took another sip of the wine to wait him out.
“Kayla, here is the problem as I see it. Proctor, under normal circumstances, would never take this one with the investigation coming together this fast. If they have the right person, have everything they need to convict, there’s no problem. What happens in these situations is the investigator overlooks problems in the case. The prosecutor doesn’t see them, either.
“That’s why Proctor doesn’t take these when he pushes. In most instances, he can get as much out of it if his assistants win and he can blame them if they lose. But this one involves too big a fish for him to pass up.”
John uncrossed his leg and leaned forward. “I know you’re smart enough to look at what I’m about to tell you on your own. I know you will, but if I was in your shoes, I’d take a long, hard look at the cases Satterwhite has investigated—especially some he has won.”
Kayla rose. “I appreciate your time and I’ll let you go back to your friend, but I owe you one.”
A devilish glint sparked in his eye. “If you want to repay me, introduce me to one of your friends. Preferably, one who doesn’t know the meaning of no. I hate that word.”
Kayla tilted her head and held up one finger. “I just happen to know the perfect person for you. I have it on great authority that she doles out her favors often and doesn’t say no to anyone. Come by my office tomorrow and I’ll gladly introduce you to Loren Estes.”
“Kayla, I have one hard and fast rule about my women. I prefer that no one has accused them of murder.”
When Kayla left the bar, she drove home. She retrieved her mail, and trudged inside her condo. Every bone in her body protested. Her head hadn’t stopped hurting since that morning, and the wine hadn’t helped. God, had all this really happened in just one day?
She fed Princess, a white Persian with blue eyes, then made herself a tuna sandwich and poured a glass of milk. Sitting in a Lazy Boy, she took a sip and let her head fall back, eyes closed.
Several minutes passed before she rose, opened her briefcase and brought out the transcript of the trial she’d lost. She knew every detail in it, but needed to look it over again.
Had she made any mistakes? She’d known from the beginning that she had a guilty client. He’d made no bones about it. She had defended people for eight years and had won every case until the last one. But, for the first time, she’d known about her client’s guilt. In others, she’d suspected, but had never known for sure.
Could this knowledge have tainted her judgment? She flipped to her opening statement, read it. She’d done okay on it. Not great, but got her points across.
Her problem in the trial came with the expert witnesses and evidence. She couldn’t discredit them or the evidence. As she read over the testimony, she saw some things she did well, and some she couldn’t do anything with. Even in hindsight, she still couldn’t come up with anything. They were right. She had a guilty client.
But did that influence her? She threw the transcript down. She wouldn’t find the answer in it. It had to come from within her.
The phone’s beep startled her, and she shook her head and glanced at her answering machine. Three messages blinked, and she reached and pressed play. All three hung up and this didn’t surprise her. She got them all the time from telemarketers. She needed to get on the no call list.
Before she could hit delete, the phone rang. Her caller ID didn’t list the number. She probably should let it go, but answered.
Breathing hissed from the other end. She frowned. “Hello, this is Kayla.”
More breathing, then a deep baritone voice asked, “Is this Kayla Nugent, the lawyer?”
“Yes, it is. Who is this?” Icy fingers inched up her back as the breathing continued. “Who—is—this?”
“You don’t need to know who I am. Just what I’m prepared to do. If you represent that Estes woman I’m going to kill you.”
Shaking, she slammed the phone down. Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes. She tried to stand, but slumped to the floor. Princess took that moment to crawl into her lap. Her entire body trembled as she petted the cat.
Something flickered in the back of her mind. She recognized that voice. The man had tried to disguise it—not the words, but the way he said them struck a cord. Where did she know that voice?
She sat on the floor stroking the cat when the doorbell rang. She jumped, startling Princess, who decided she’d be better off away from everything.
On rubbery legs, she shuffled to the door and looked through her peephole. She almost collapsed from relief when Jimmy looked back at her. With her heart thudding, she took a deep breath and let it out.
Jimmy, her oldest friend, grew up in the same neighborhood as Kayla and as teenagers, he had entertained some romantic notions. They never developed, and the two remained best friends, telling each other everything. She didn’t know if she’d have made it after the deaths of her parents, her divorce, and Frank’s suicide without Jimmy.
He frowned when she opened the door. He stood in the threshold for a moment, head cocked. “What’s the matter?”
She didn’t think she could fool him. They’d known each other too long. Jimmy was the brother she never had. She exhaled. “I had a threatening phone call. Think it was a wrong number.” She lied because she didn’t want Jimmy to worry.
He stepped in and shook his head. “Kayla you never lied worth a darn. It wasn’t a wrong number.”
She turned and slumped in her chair and he dropped on the love seat close by. “It was about Loren but it’ll be okay. Just a prank.” It didn’t feel like a prank, though. What troubled her besides the threat, why would anyone not want her to defend Loren?
“Why are you planning to defend her after what she did to you?”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “I didn’t plan it. I have no choice.”
She explained about the partners calling her to the sixth floor and the outcome of the meeting, and later the meeting with the Esteses.
Jimmy leaned back and crossed his arms. “You can’t defend Loren Estes.”
She wished everyone would stop telling her that. She’d tried everything she could to think of a way out. She took a deep breath. “It’s a conflict of interest. I have tried every way I know how, but they have ordered me to do it. I can’t get out of it.”
“You could quit.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Kayla, you need to quit before you take this on. Being around Loren Estes isn’t good for you.”
She jerked up. “I can’t quit. I won’t quit. People have to do things in their lives sometimes they don’t want to. I don’t want to defend her, and if there was a way out besides quitting, I’d jump at it.”
He blew out a breath. “This is all about your father, isn’t it? You’re going to put yourself through this simply because Jared Nugent wouldn’t quit.”
“You don’t understand. If I—”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t understand. This could become dangerous for you, and for what?”
She stamped her foot. “If I quit, it would demean everything my father tried to teach me. That may not mean much to you, but it does to me.”
Jimmy leaned over and caught her hand. “Okay, I’ll leave it alone, but you need to call the police and report this. This doesn’t sound like a prank to me. If your life is threatened, your bosses will have to take you off this.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do that. It would bring publicity to this that it doesn’t need.” Besides, she wasn’t all that sure that the call didn’t come from a cop. Someone had tried to scare her away from defending Loren Estes. They had accomplished one goal. They almost scared the pee out of her. She still trembled on the inside, but if they thought they’d scare her of
f this defense, they didn’t know her too well.
When Princess jumped into Jimmy’s lap, he stroked her fur and asked, “Are you sure you aren’t doing this because you want to?” He held up a hand to stop her. “I know you better than anyone. Loren was your friend for years. You’re loyal to a fault, and would never turn on a friend.”
“She isn’t my friend and hasn’t been in five years. My loyalty to Loren Estes ended the day she decided to screw my husband. She ruined my marriage and because of that, Frank killed himself.”
She wished she believed that, and tried to convince herself of it, but she was the one to blame for her husband’s affair, the divorce, and him killing himself. As his wife, she hadn’t given him what he needed or he wouldn’t have sought out another woman. She tried to control her emotions, but the shivers inside spread and tears trickled from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself, aware of Jimmy’s warm embrace. She lay her head on his shoulder and cried as she’d done many times.
At last, she composed herself and straightened, wiping her eyes with her sleeve and forcing a smile when Jimmy moved back to his own seat. “How are things going with you?”
He beamed with pride. “I had an agent today ask for a full of my manuscript. I think I’ll get in the door with this one. This is my best manuscript and there’s no way they can reject it.”
She smiled at his enthusiasm, but had heard this same line for years. Jimmy was determined to publish his manuscripts, but on his own terms. Over the years, he had sought advice on writing, taken classes, but always thought he knew more, was better than the ones teaching or telling him things. “Are you going to let me read the manuscript?”
“I sent it to you by e-mail. You’re going to love this one.”
She smiled and patted his hand. “I know I will. You are a great writer, but I need to ask you if you know what happened with Loren and Michelle McCrery?”
“Of course, everyone in the writing world knows this story. Loren plagiarized Michelle’s work. You know Loren. She didn’t even bother to change it around. She stole it, and put it in a manuscript—same words, characters, everything. When Loren’s publisher received the manuscript from her, they had no idea Loren had stolen Michelle’s work. They published it, then Michelle’s publisher found out. Needless to say, they weren’t happy and filed a civil law suit against Loren.”
