He launched into his summation, fixing each member of the jury with his signature smile. He charmed them as he recounted pertinent testimony, reminding them of the mountain of scientific evidence he’d laid out before them. They were smart, reasonable people. His client was being unfairly scapegoated, accused of being responsible for a terrible accident that was not his fault.
Michael glanced back dramatically at his client. “Jean-Luc and I want to thank you for your time and for your thoughtful consideration of all of the facts. We know that you’ll see that the only reasonable verdict is ‘not guilty.’ Thank you.” He grinned at them appreciatively and returned to his seat.
Maggie watched him walk by and sit beside Jean-Luc. He flashed her a knowing look and she saw the challenge in his eyes. She slowly stood and walked to the jury box, standing before them with her hands gently clasped in front of her.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you for your patience. This has been a long trial. Mr. Rannigan has presented an impressive amount of evidence.” She gestured toward the defense table. “We’ve heard testimony about tire tracks, needles of different sizes, weather conditions... I’m surprised we haven’t heard about sunspots and astrological signs.” She smiled, as did some of the jurors.
Aw, shit, Michael thought.
“The facts of this case remain the same. That night, Jean-Luc LeRoi drank copious amounts of alcohol, a fact backed up by eyewitness testimony. He got behind the wheel of an expensive high-performance automobile. He lost control of that vehicle due, in part, to the fact that his blood alcohol level was several times over the legal limit. When that car hit the water, he was concerned only about his own safety, never bothering to assist Julie Baker, who according to expert testimony was alive and well following the crash. Jean-Luc LeRoi made sure he got to safety, even secured a ride to another bar where he callously continued to drink, while Julie Baker drowned.” She shook her head piteously. “All the rest of the evidence...is just smoke and mirrors.” Maggie turned away from the jury and crossed to the table where Malik sat, letting that thought sink in.
Returning to face them a moment later, she continued. “We heard Gail Evers, the ER nurse, tell us that out of concern for Mr. LeRoi’s comfort, she used a small-bore needle to perform the blood draw.” She looked at each juror. “If it had been me, or you, there wouldn’t have been any special consideration. I mean, we’re just regular people, working hard every day to put food on our tables and shoes on our kids. People like Jean-Luc LeRoi are accustomed to receiving special consideration. They come to expect it, feel entitled to it.”
Michael saw the frowns on the jurors’ faces. This was going very badly.
Maggie continued. “And they feel entitled to behave in any manner they see fit, regardless of how their actions impact others. Jean-Luc felt entitled to drink as much as he pleased, to drive that Maserati as fast as he pleased, and when that went south, he felt entitled to leave that accident and to leave Julie Baker to fend for herself. He’s guilty, at the very least, of DUI manslaughter, if not felony first degree murder. That is for you to decide. You have the opportunity to send the message that nobody is entitled to break the law at someone else’s expense.” She softly pounded the rail in front of the jury box to emphasize the last sentence. “Thank you.”
Maggie returned to her seat, her eyes meeting Michael’s with a triumphant gleam. If I didn’t win this thing, I did my absolute damnedest.
The judge gave instructions to the jury and they were sent to deliberate. Jean-Luc was taken back to his cell. Maggie and Malik began to gather up their things.
“Food on our tables and shoes on our kids?” Maggie looked up to find Michael standing beside her.
She grinned. “Did you like that? I just wanted to create camaraderie.”
Michael laughed softly. “Not too shabby, Mags.”
“Good luck, Michael,” she said honestly.
He gave her a look. “I’d say the same but I’m not sure you need it.”
Three days later they were all called back to hear the verdict. Maggie sat anxiously clasping her hands together under the defense table. Michael sat across the aisle chatting confidently with his client but she saw the tightness in his face. The jury passed their verdict to the bailiff who handed it to the judge. He glanced at the slip of paper before handing it back, instructing the defendant to rise. Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie could see Michael, Jean-Luc, and Amy stand.
The jury foreperson read aloud. “As to count one, felony first degree murder, we the jury find the defendant, Jean-Luc LeRoi, not guilty.” Maggie breathed out forcefully and out of the corner of her eye she saw everyone at the defense table relax a bit.
“As to count two, DUI manslaughter, we the jury find the defendent, Jean-Luc LeRoi, guilty.” Maggie closed her eyes. We did it. He’s going away for a long time.
The judge addressed Jean-Luc. “You’ve been found guilty of DUI manslaughter by a jury of your peers. I hereby sentence you to sixteen years in prison.” As the judge banged his gavel, there was a buzz of voices throughout the courtroom.
As two deputies approached Jean-Luc to handcuff him for the return to jail, Michael was speaking into his ear, but Jean-Luc’s eyes were on Maggie. He suddenly scrambled over the table and leaped on Maggie, knocking her to the floor. “You useless cunt!” he growled, gripping her around the neck.
The deputies were quick to grab Jean-Luc by his arms, pulling him off Maggie and dragging backwards. Malik knelt down beside Maggie, who lay gasping for air.
As they dragged his client away, Michael leaned over her. “Are you okay, Mags?” he asked, his deep brown eyes wide with concern. He and Malik helped her sit up.
“I’m fine,” she croaked as she moved to stand.
“Ms. Flynn, do you require medical attention?” the judge asked.
Maggie stood shakily. “No, your honor, I’m alright.”
* * *
Late that afternoon Maggie and Malik joined the rest of the office at Pete’s Tavern for celebratory drinks. Unlike Murphy, Rannigan, Rance’s office rarely had official gatherings after work, but this was an exception. Maggie wasn’t sure she was in the mood to celebrate, but she was pleased that Jean-Luc would be separated from the rest of the world for a long time. Truthfully, she was still a bit shaken from his attack, but she’d have chewed off her own arm rather than admit it to anyone.
Rance was pleased with Maggie’s work and told her more than once that he should have trusted her instincts from the beginning. “I’ll remind you of that next time,” she promised as she sipped her Guinness.
A server approached their table with a single drink on a tray. She set the glass of bourbon in front of Maggie. “From the gentleman at the bar,” she told her. Maggie glanced over. Michael smiled and raised his glass.
She shook her head and suppressed a smile. “Excuse me a moment,” she said, picking up the glass and pushing back from the table.
She crossed the room and took the stool beside Michael. “Thanks for the bourbon.”
“You’re welcome. How’s your neck?”
Maggie shook her head dismissively. “No worries.”
Michael squinted his eyes and watched her skeptically for a moment. “Well, congratulations,” he smiled. “You soundly kicked my ass today.”
Maggie grinned into her glass, sipping slowly. “Your client was guilty. I just pointed out the fact.”
“I’m filing an appeal,” he said softly.
She shrugged. “I expected nothing less.” They sipped companionably.
Michael nodded thoughtfully. “You built your case and you kept it simple. You appealed to the jurors as people.”
He stood. “I don’t want to keep you from your party. I just wanted to say...” He looked down uncomfortably. “I wanted to say that you did a good job. You’re a great lawyer.”
“I learned from the best,” she said quietly.
Michael smiled, eyes crinkling. Then he reached up and squeezed her
shoulder gently before he turned and left the bar.
Chapter 8
In the months that followed the LeRoi trial, Michael was busy with various cases, mostly smaller ones, a couple of larger ones, and of course, Jean-Luc’s appeal. He found himself lacking the motivation to do even the smallest amount of research or preparation and was appreciative of Amy’s practically OCD nature when it came to the details. The thought occurred to him that it might be time to find something else to do, but what that might be he couldn’t imagine.
He hadn’t seen Maggie since that night at Pete’s Tavern after the LeRoi verdict. She had expected an appeal but Rance had handed the case to someone else, probably, Michael surmised, at her request. He didn’t blame her; she’d never liked LeRoi and to top it off he’d attacked her in court that day.
One night in late January, Michael attended a black-tie gala at the Met. His date Kimberley had cancelled at the last minute, suddenly called out of town for an emergency photo shoot. She was replacing someone who’d dropped out sick.
He rolled his eyes. Because God knows we need more swimsuit photos, he thought irritably. On the other hand, flying solo tonight might not be the worst thing in the world. He glanced around at scores of beautiful women draped in designer gowns. I’m always up for something new.
He made his way to the bar where he ordered a bourbon. “Make mine a dirty martini,” said a smoky female voice to his right. He glanced over to see a stunning blonde in a sparkling strapless black gown with a deep plunging neckline showcasing stellar tits and a slit up the left side revealing an exquisite leg.
Michael smiled slyly and said, “You know what they say about women who order dirty martinis.”
The woman glanced at him sideways. “No. What do they say?” she challenged.
“They say that women who order dirty martinis are enchanting, gorgeous, and intelligent.” He grinned playfully. “I’m Michael Rannigan.”
The woman laughed. “Well, Michael Rannigan, I see that you’re blessed with the gift of gab. I’m Alexis Bennett.”
“Nice to meet you, Alexis Bennett. Tell me, are you here with your husband? Boyfriend? Lesbian lover?” He gave his best mischievous smirk.
She laughed again. “You are shameless,” she said shaking her head. “No, sadly, they all stayed home. I’m here by myself tonight.”
“We can’t have that, can we?” he grinned. “Where is your table?”
Alexis pointed to the far side of the room. “I’m at 17.”
Michael shook his head. “That will never do. You’re at the wrong table.”
She frowned. “Which is the right table?”
“Mine, of course, number 5. I’ll have the situation remedied immediately,” he said. “Believe you me, heads will roll.”
Throughout dinner Michael kept up the charm and Alexis seemed to enjoy his company. As they chatted, she revealed that she was a talent agent representing many prominent news personalities and she seemed interested in the fact that Michael was an attorney.
After dinner, they skipped out on the rest of the festivities in favor of heading to Michael’s place for drinks. Behind his bar mixing a martini for her and pouring a bourbon for himself, Michael regaled Alexis with stories from his years in court, embellishing here and there for effect. She laughed in the appropriate places as she perched on a bar stool across from him. His eyes were drawn to her mesmerizing cleavage and to the shapely left leg obligingly revealed by the slit in her gown.
“Are you going to keep undressing me with your eyes all night, or are you going to man up?” she asked as she drained her glass
Michael grinned mischievously. “I’m something of a voyeur,” he said. “How about you undress while I watch?” He sauntered over to the couch and took a seat, crossing his ankle over his knee and resting his arms on the back.
Alexis slid off the stool and stood in the middle of the living room. Giving him a sly look, she reached under her left arm and unzipped the Elie Saab gown and let it slide down and pool around her black Christian Louboutins.
She reminds me of Veronica, Michael thought. They could almost be sisters. His cock responded instantly to that thought.
He smiled appreciatively at her black lace bustier with garters holding up sheer black stockings. A tiny black thong completed the ensemble. His eyes traveled back up to the creamy mounds bursting from the top of the overextended lace. He hooked a finger toward her in a ‘come hither’ motion.
She walked over and straddled him, pressing her lips to his. He’d waited as long as he could to get his hands on her glorious tits. A sharp tug allowed them to spill out over the top of the bustier and he gathered them up in his hands, hefting their weight and brushing across the sharp pink nubs with his thumbs.
Alexis, for her part, began to grind his erection with her sex, moaning lightly as his member responded favorably to her movements. As he took her left tit into his mouth, she moved her hands down to undo his pants and release his rock-hard cock. Shifting slightly, she pulled aside the thong and slid him into her, tossing back her head as he filled her wet and needy core. Her movements began in earnest as she rode him feverishly. Michael moved his hips in harmony with hers and felt his release begin to build.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and gripped her tightly as he stood, laying her on the coffee table and beginning to fuck her in earnest. “Oh, baby, you feel so good,” he cooed into her ear. Her heightened cries announced her imminent climax and he felt his own release pulsing in conjunction with the clenching of her sex. The sensation of ecstasy washed over him as his essence poured out.
He held himself over her for a moment, panting to catch his breath, before he kissed her lightly on the forehead and removed himself from her.
* * *
On Monday morning, Michael went to work with a smile on his face. He’d very much enjoyed his night with Alexis. I think I’ve finally found someone to replace Veronica. She’s classy and smart, and she’s not clingy. He sailed through his day, joking and laughing with the others on the 50th floor.
At about 4:30 his phone blipped to indicate a message. Michael looked at it and frowned. It was Alexis. “Meet me for drinks at Bemelman’s after work today. I want to run something by you.”
He grimaced. Just when I thought this was a good thing, he thought to himself. Quickly he texted back. I’m not sure I’ll have time today. I’m pretty swamped, and not positive when I’ll be free.
Minutes later, Alexis responded. “Make time. I have some business to discuss with you.”
Business, he puzzled. He wondered what it could be. He knew that Alexis was very influential in her circle. I’ll meet you about 6:30, he returned.
It was exactly 6:37 when Michael strolled into Bemelman’s. Alexis was waiting for him at a tiny secluded table beneath a ridiculous mural from some children’s book. He slid into his seat, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hello, gorgeous,” he charmed. “I’m glad I was able to get away. It was some kind of day.”
She fixed him with a piercing gaze, sipping on her martini. “I’m working on an idea that would eliminate those kinds of days for you,” she said. “I have a network who’s looking for their next big on-air legal analyst.” She let that thought soak in for a moment.
Michael’s curiosity was piqued. “Really?” he replied thoughtfully.
“Really. So I began thinking, where could I find a brilliant legal mind who is also charming, handsome, and camera-ready? Someone with the gift of gab. Naturally, I thought of you.”
He suppressed a flattered smile. “Well, naturally.” He hailed a server and ordered a bourbon.
Over the next two hours, Alexis laid out her ideas for Michael. He would be on retainer with a major national news network, available to comment on cases as they came along. He would also be in demand for speaking engagements, traveling many weeks out of the year.
Michael frowned slightly. “How would that work with my caseload and everything?”
“You wouldn�
��t have a caseload. That’s what I’m saying. You can give up the day in, day out grind. You make comments for the evening news, you give talks to Rotarians and commencement speeches and shit. And you make a lot of money.”
He leaned back and let that thought roll around in his mind. A new challenge was just what I was thinking I need. Making more money for less stress and hassle? Nothing in the world wrong with that. I could have Murph and Jimbo buy me out of the firm. I’m liking this idea more and more.
Chapter 9
Following the LeRoi verdict, Maggie picked up a handful of new cases, mostly involving non-violent crimes. Rance relented, passing the LeRoi appeal to someone else, a fact for which Maggie was grateful. She’d hated having to deal with Jean-Luc again, and she’d hated going up against Michael.
Occasionally her work took her to various police precincts to search files or interview arresting officers regarding her cases. On one afternoon, she had to visit the 19th precinct. A personal assistant to a psychologist had embezzled funds to the tune of $100,000 over the course of about four years. Maggie had a meeting with the detectives who’d cracked the case.
“So Detective Sanchez,” she said, perusing the file he’d handed her, “you have receipts that prove Diane Jacobs was using her boss’s identity to make these purchases?”
“Yeah, the receipts are included in the box. All the paperwork’s in there. Lucky for us, Jacobs was meticulous with her accounting.” The detective chuckled, as did his partner.
“We also have security video of her making some of the purchases,” his partner, Detective Allegretti said.
Maggie glanced up. “Do you? Nice,” she said, considering how she’d proceed with her case.
Half an hour later Maggie was sure she had what she needed. “Alright, gentlemen, thank you very much for all your help. We’ll let you know more when the trial makes it onto the schedule. Truthfully,” she hefted the box of files, “I may try to push for a plea. I don’t think she has a snowball’s chance in front of a jury thanks to you.”
Rannigan's Redemption: Complete Collection Page 24
