“It’s gone. I had a lot of bills.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe a family member can give you a loan.”
“My family ain’t got no money. You gotta make Lamarr pay me!”
Girlie bit her lip. “Tonisha, I want you to listen to me. There’s nothing I can do to make that happen right away.”
“Okay then, how about loaning me some money until we get paid?”
Girlie had advanced money to clients on a couple of occasions. She was fairly certain Tonisha would eventually receive the jury’s award. Even if Lamarr appealed, it was unlikely that the court would overturn the verdict. But Girlie didn’t want to be tied up with Tonisha anymore than she already was.
“My law firm doesn’t allow us to advance money to clients,” Girlie lied. “But maybe I could approach Lamarr’s attorney and offer to accept a reduced award in exchange for their agreement not to file an appeal. I’ve done that in other cases.”
“A reduced award?” Tonisha hissed. “That jury gave me two-million dollars and I want every penny of it.”
Explaining to Tonisha that she wouldn’t actually receive the whole two million was a battle Girlie would fight another day. After attorneys’ fees, costs and taxes, Tonisha would be lucky to clear five hundred thousand.
Girlie looked at the clock. Time for a Tonisha break.
“I’m late for a meeting,” she said. “I’ll figure something out and call you later.”
She ended the call with Tonisha still yapping about her money.
“Hey, how’s the sexiest attorney in L.A.?” Christopher Biltmore stepped into Girlie’s office and closed the door behind him.
Girlie grimaced. From an annoying client to an even more annoying colleague. Not a good omen for the remainder of her day.
“Hello, Christopher,” Girlie droned.
He plopped into a chair in front of Girlie’s desk. There was nothing attractive about her colleague. He was shaped like a potato with toothpicks for arms and legs. But everyone envied his brilliant legal mind.
“You know,” Christopher began, “I thought it was really strange that you lobbied so hard to take on Big Buy as a client after Harrison retired. Everybody knows the CEO is a control freak and a first-class witch. So I’ve been scratching my head trying to figure out what you knew that I didn’t.”
The competitiveness between law firm associates paled next to the backstabbing rivalries that could erupt between partners battling over a new client. Like Girlie, Christopher was a junior partner at Donaldson, Watson and Barkley.
“You really have to stop it with all the conspiracy stuff, Christopher. I just saw an opportunity for a great new client.”
Christopher leaned back in the chair. “No way. There’s more to the story, so spill it.”
There was indeed more to the story, but Girlie wasn’t about to share the real deal with a loudmouth like Christopher.
“I was looking for a change of pace,” she said. “Something a little more low profile.”
Christopher laughed like he was being tickled.
“That’s bull. I still can’t turn on the TV without hearing a sound bite from you about that Legends player. How many talk shows did you do? Fifty? And by the way, if you ask me, your client was just as shady as that football player. How in the hell did you pull that off?”
“They call it legal talent, sweetie pie.”
He chuckled. “So, are you going to tell me why you went after Big Buy? Or am I going to have to tell you what I know?”
That was more like it. Christopher was here because he had information he wanted to confirm. “I’m listening,” she said. “Tell me what you know.”
“I just heard that the Welson Corporation is planning a buyout of Big Buy. Nice move. You handle Big Buy’s employment work now and once the buyout is complete, Welson is likely to consider you for their legal work as well. And voilà, you’ve got a new mega client.”
“Welson is buying Big Buy?” Girlie widened her eyes in exaggerated shock.
Despite the strict secrecy surrounding the merger, Girlie had learned about it months ago from an investment banker she was screwing. The kind of blow jobs she gave could make a man give up his mother. The forthcoming buyout was indeed one of the reasons Girlie had lobbied so hard to win Big Buy as a client. But she would have to come up with a better cover story to appease Christopher.
“I knew nothing about it. I swear. You know how I like to win, right? Well, don’t tell anybody, but I really thought I was going to lose my case against Lamarr Harris.”
“No way. You walked around here acting like you’d already won even before you picked a jury.”
That was part of Girlie’s allure. She acted like a diva, thus she was a diva.
“Anyway, what does that have to do with Big Buy?”
“I found out that Vernetta Henderson was planning to sue Big Buy for gender discrimination.”
Of course, Girlie only found out about Vernetta’s case after she’d snagged Big Buy as a client.
Christopher spread his hands. “And?”
“Since I thought I might lose Tonisha’s case, I saw another opportunity to go up against Vernetta and redeem myself.”
Christopher took a few seconds to mull that over.
“Now, that’s the Girlie I know. I could easily see you lowering yourself to work with a demanding client like Big Buy if it offered a chance for revenge.”
Girlie smiled. “You know me too well, Christopher.”
He stood up. “Not as well as I’d like to.” His fuzzy eyebrows twitched.
Girlie had never had a conversation with Christopher that hadn’t included some form of sexual innuendo. But Christopher didn’t have enough juice in the firm to make a fling worth her while.
She batted her eyelashes. “Are you flirting with me again?”
“Yep, I think I am.” His breathing was low and gruff now. “You sure you don’t want me to stay? I give great back massages.”
“Now what in the world would your wife have to say about that?”
“Mildred would have absolutely nothing to say because Mildred would never find out.”
Girlie laughed. “How many times do I have to tell you? If I slept with you, it might jeopardize our wonderful working relationship. And there’s no way I’d want to do that. Now get out of here. I have work to do.”
She was relieved when Christopher finally left. The guy was nothing but talk. According to his legal assistant, he spent over a grand a month on calls to 1-900-ALL-PORN. If she had whipped out one of her perfect tits, Christopher probably would have fainted.
Girlie picked up the Big Buy complaint from the corner of her desk and flipped through it. She fully understood why Rita Richards-Kimble was so worried about the case attracting media attention or turning into a class action. That would jeopardize the company’s merger with the Welson Corporation. The CEO was probably in line to pocket millions from the deal.
Girlie had been looking forward to another long, contentious match-up against Vernetta Henderson. Too bad this battle would be such a short one.
CHAPTER 16
Mankowski darted in and out of traffic on Sunset Boulevard, his eyes pinned on Phillip Peterman’s white Ford Explorer.
“So just how long are we going to follow this guy?” Thomas asked, as he checked the latest stock quotes on his iPhone.
“Until we find out who he’s screwing. I know he has a chick on the side. I can feel it.”
The detectives spent most of the morning parked on Phillip’s street, several houses away. They followed him to 24 Hour Fitness and back and were now tracking his second trip of the day. A review of Judi and Phillip’s home and cell phone records revealed nothing helpful. The bank records showed that Judi saved every dime she earned, while Phillip didn’t know how to spell save.
“Once we find out who he’s screwing,” Mankowski said excitedly, “we’re going to scare the hell out of her until she spills the beans. The guy’s so s
tupid he probably told her everything.”
Thomas fiddled with his iPhone. “My new tech stock is up six points today.”
“Put that thing away.”
“I’m telling you, man, you have to get into the stock market. It’s the only way to make a buck these days.”
“The stock market is just legalized gambling.”
“Okay, just wait until I’m rich.” Thomas slid the phone into the pocket of his jacket.
Phillip pulled into the parking lot of a large strip mall off Fairfax. Mankowski hung back to give Phillip time to park. “Guess he’s not headed for his broad’s house, huh?” Thomas teased.
“You don’t know that. Maybe she works someplace in here. She’s probably some kid half his age. The guy looks like a pervert.”
Phillip hopped out of his SUV, opened the back door and grabbed a knapsack from the seat. The detectives watched as he climbed a flight of stairs and entered Stars Acting Academy.
“He’s probably banging some girl in the class,” Mankowski complained.
He insisted on staying put until Phillip’s acting class ended. Over an hour later, Thomas nudged Mankowski’s arm, waking him from a deep sleep. He opened his eyes to see Phillip walking out of the acting school with a cute red-head in shorts and flip flops.
“Bingo!” Mankowski said, grabbing the steering wheel to pull himself up.
The pair talked and laughed as Phillip led the woman to his Explorer.
Starting up the car, Mankowski followed Phillip and the woman out of the parking lot and south on Fairfax. They stayed with him until Phillip pulled into the driveway of the house he had shared with Judi, which was no longer cordoned off as a crime scene. The detectives waited until the couple had entered the house before parking.
Mankowski grinned ominously. “I say we give ’em about fifteen minutes to get hot and heavy, then do a little coitus interruptus.”
Thomas laughed. “You’re having way too much fun at this guy’s expense.”
Mankowski constantly checked his watch. He could only manage to stay put for ten minutes before bolting from the car. He pounded on the door, expecting that it would take Phillip several minutes to answer.
Seconds later, he opened the door, but not wide enough to welcome them inside.
Phillip sneered at the detectives. “What can I do for you?”
“Just checking in to see how things are going.”
“I’m fine.”
Mankowski placed his foot across the threshold. “Mind if we come in?”
“Yep, I would mind.”
“Why? You got company?”
“Actually, I do.”
“Didn’t take you long to get a new broad?”
“I don’t have a new broad.”
“Oh, so you admit you already had a woman on the side?”
“What’s going on, Phillip?” The woman from the acting class walked up behind him.
“Just two cops who dropped by to harass me.”
“Hello, ma’am,” Mankowski said. “We know Mr. Peterman’s been grieving since the loss of his girlfriend. We were just checking on him. I guess you’re helping him through his grief.”
“It’s not what you think.” Her wide eyes shined earnestly. “We were just rehearsing. Phillip needs to stay busy to keep his mind off of his loss.”
“We don’t have to explain anything to them,” Phillip groused.
The woman softly touched his shoulder. “Yes, we do. Then maybe they’ll leave you alone.”
She stepped in front of Phillip. “I’m Traci. C’mon in.”
Traci led them into the living room, where two Coke cans and several pages from a script were spread across the coffee table. “I have an audition tomorrow and Phillip was nice enough to help me rehearse my lines.”
Mankowski wasn’t buying it. His eyes bounced around the room. Acting in haste often resulted in people overlooking something. He was bound to spot a condom or a discarded bra.
“You satisfied?” Phillip grunted.
“How about if we check the bedroom?”
“How about if you get the hell out of my house?”
Mankowski wanted to punch him in the gut. Hard. Damn, he missed the good old days.
“You gave us the wrong cell number for your agent.”
Phillip hunched a shoulder. “Did I? I’ve been told I have pretty sloppy handwriting.”
“No problem,” Mankowski said. “We got the correct number from his assistant.”
Phillip stiffened. “Really? So…uh…did you…did you get a chance to speak with him?”
“Not yet. He hasn’t returned our calls and we’re actually a little concerned about that. You might want to urge him to do so.”
Phillip smirked. “I’ll do that.”
“How come you didn’t tell us about Judi’s insurance policy?” Thomas asked. “Three- hundred grand is a nice payout for a few months as a boyfriend.”
“That policy had nothing to do with my being with Judi. It wasn’t important to me.”
“Glad you feel that way,” Mankowski told him. “We let the insurance company know that you’re a person of interest in Judi’s death. They won’t be paying a dime on the policy until we give them the word.”
Phillip’s body puffed up like he was going to explode. “You had no right to do that. I didn’t kill Judi.”
“Yeah, sure you didn’t.” Mankowski took a step toward the door. “We’ll drop by later to check on you. Call us if you need anything.”
Mankowski groused to himself all the way back to the car. “They probably spotted us following them.”
“I say we spend a little more time checking out Judi’s ex-husband,” Thomas suggested.
Both men had strong motives for killing Judi, but Mankowski’s money was still on Phillip Peterman.
Actor Boy was the killer. He could feel it deep in the pit of his gut.
CHAPTER 17
Benjamin hopped off the Santa Monica Freeway and drove south on Crenshaw Boulevard, blasting Tupac’s Only God Can Judge Me at eardrum-busting level.
He tapped the steering wheel and mouthed the lyrics in rhythm with Tupac. “That which does not kill me can only make me stronger,” he rapped, completely off key.
Tupac was a friggin’ poet laureate as far as Benjamin was concerned.
Although it was close to midnight, it was not unusual for Benjamin to be headed in the direction of his office. When he couldn’t sleep, working was the perfect remedy. Lately, he’d spent more nights camped out on the lumpy couch in his office than in his rent-controlled apartment within walking distance of Venice Beach.
He eased his orange Volkswagen Beetle into a narrow alley and pulled into a stall near the back entrance of the building. He shut off the lights and finished listening to the rest of the song, his head bouncing in rhythm to the beat.
Turning off the ignition, Benjamin hopped out of the car. He planned to spend the next few hours reviewing a brief he was drafting in a mortgage scam case. Benjamin enjoyed the intellectual part of practicing law far more than arguing before a judge or jury.
As he approached the Center’s back entrance, he frowned at the heavy steel bars. The place looked like a prison. But after two break-ins and the loss of three laptop computers, he had to face the reality of their South Los Angeles location.
He removed the two locks on the steel door, then unlocked the thick wooden door. Though the police had advised him to install an alarm system, it wasn’t in the budget. As it turned out, they didn’t need it. After the Center helped the mother of a local gang leader save her home from foreclosure, the gang had issued a protection order for the Center. That kind of security was better than any alarm system on the market.
Benjamin flicked on the lights and walked down a bright, yellow hallway dotted with motivational quotes.
You can if you think you can.
It’s hard to fail, but it’s worse never to have tried to succeed.
Be just and fear not.
He was about to stick his key into the door of his office when something stopped him. The door was already open just a crack. He tried to recall whether he’d forgotten to lock it. No way. Benjamin always locked his office.
He took an uneasy step inside and felt along the wall for the light switch. The breeze from the cracked window hit his face seconds before he noticed the open file cabinets and papers scattered about the floor. He stepped further inside, surveying the debris.
The office suddenly went dark.
“What the—”
A gloved hand rammed Benjamin’s forehead into the adjacent wall. “Don’t move and keep your mouth shut.”
Brightly colored stars blinked on and off and Benjamin’s head felt like it was on fire.
The gloved hand was clamped so tight around his neck that he could barely breathe, let alone speak, but he tried anyway. “Take my wallet,” he managed to eke out. “It’s in my back pocket.”
“I said keep your mouth shut.”
Benjamin sensed that his assailant was not some crack head. He was a head taller than Benjamin and heavyset. He also wasn’t some neighborhood thug. He had the deep voice of an older man, an older white man.
“I want those documents you got from Judi Irving,” the man spat. “Hand ’em over and I’m out of here.”
“I don’t have them.”
The man pulled Benjamin’s head back toward him, then slammed his face into the wall again. His yarmulke tumbled to the floor and he could feel his entire face puff up like a beach ball.
“I…swear…I…don’t…have…them,” Benjamin stuttered. “I don’t even know what they are.”
“Don’t make this hard on yourself. Either give me the documents or tell me where they are.”
Benjamin’s panic level shot straight skyward. The guy was not going to take no for an answer. Right now, Ida’s fears no longer seemed farfetched. Maybe Judi was dead because of those documents. And now Benjamin might be next.
He tried to swallow, but the hand around his throat made that next to impossible. “Okay, okay,” he said. “They’re in the trunk of my car. Out back.”
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