“I’m not siding with anybody. I just don’t think premarital celibacy is a bad idea.”
“Easy for you to say, Ms. Married Woman.” She rolled her eyes, then checked her watch.
“You have someplace to go?”
“Yeah, I’m meeting a friend at La Louisanne at seven.”
La Louisanne was a popular neighborhood nightspot a few miles away. Definitely not an appropriate hangout for a Muslim, man or woman.
“A male or female friend?”
“Don’t worry. It ain’t like that. I’m meeting with a guy to find out what I have to do to get my investigator’s license. And don’t tell Jefferson ’cuz he might mention it to Clayton.”
“Are you sure being with Clayton is worth everything you’re giving up?”
Special stirred her drink with a red swivel stick and didn’t look up at me. “All I know is, I love him and I can’t imagine not having him in my life.”
“But to give up your faith,” I said. “That’s asking a lot.”
She exhaled. “I know. To be honest, I’m still struggling with it. I pray about it every night. To me, we only have one God. Doesn’t matter whether we call him God or Allah.”
I certainly disagreed with that, but Special seemed too fragile for me to push the issue right now.
“Well, I’m here if you need me. I’m just glad you’re still pursuing your investigations license if that’s really what you want to do.”
“Just keeping my options open.”
I knew my friend. She always had a backup plan in her purse. It made me feel better to know that she wasn’t so blinded with love that she was giving up on her own dreams.
“Is Lamarr still driving you crazy?” Special asked.
“Yep.”
“He needs to forget about that case and move on.”
“I wish he would.”
“Hey,” Special said, springing forward. “You oughta let me investigate Tonisha. I bet I can get that heffa to confess the truth.”
“That won’t be happening.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a crazy idea.”
She flopped back against the booth. “I wish that boy was into cougars. I bet I could make his rich ass forget about that case.”
“You’re not old enough to be a cougar, so get your mind out of the gutter and back on your man.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she said. “I just wish my man wasn’t such a goody two-shoes.”
CHAPTER 26
Olivia recited a short prayer as she trudged into the Big Buy locker room. She was leaving everything in God’s hands. If she took one step, she knew He would take the next.
Two other employees walked by without speaking. After news of her lawsuit hit the workplace, some of her co-workers acted as if she was suing them. No one wanted to be seen talking to her about anything other than work, including Ida.
Since the meeting at Vernetta’s office, she and Ida were no longer speaking. For some crazy reason, Ida blamed Olivia for not being able to settle her case. She decided to drop out of the lawsuit with nothing. Big Buy was only trying to pit them against each other. Too bad Ida couldn’t see that.
Olivia slipped into her Big Buy blazer and closed her locker.
“Richard just called a meeting,” another worker announced. “He wants everyone in the break room.”
A group of about fifty employees, mostly women were already waiting when Olivia entered. Every pair of eyes in the place seemed to be avoiding hers. The woman standing next to Olivia smiled nervously then moved to the other side of the room as if Olivia had some disease. She was not going to let these fools get to her. People turned their backs on Jesus too.
The store manager, Richard Williams, walked in, trailed closely by a smiling Ida Lopez. Olivia noticed that Ida wasn’t wearing her blazer. The two of them marched to the front of the room.
“I just wanted to announce Ida Lopez’s promotion,” Richard said, looking out at the group. “She’s going to be taking over as assistant manager of Risk Management. We’ve had a dramatic increase in customer injuries, some of them caused by sales associates failing to ensure that their areas are safe. So Ida will be patrolling your departments looking for potential hazards.”
Judas, Olivia thought. She tried to stare Ida down, but Ida refused to look her way. She just stood there cheesing as if their lawsuit had nothing to do with her promotion. Olivia couldn’t believe Ida was allowing herself to be used like this.
Richard rattled on about how Ida was such a dedicated employee, then dismissed the meeting.
As everyone filtered out to the floor, Olivia overheard the conversation of two Latina employees.
“They raised her salary five dollars an hour and gave her a two-thousand-dollar bonus,” one of the women said.
“Ida practically won the lottery,” said the other one.
Olivia snorted. Lottery my behind. Ida sold out for chump change.
She made it to Housewares just in time to find Ida trolling the aisles like a drill sergeant on inspection. After every few steps, she stopped to jot something down on a clipboard.
Olivia marched up to her, hands planted on her ample hips. “I guess you’re finally sleeping at night, huh?”
“I’m sorry, but I had to do what’s best for my family,” she said apologetically.
“You only got that promotion because you dropped out of the lawsuit. They’re sending a message to other employees that they’ll get a measly raise if they don’t sue the company. But it’s just a farce to keep us from complaining about all the dirt they’re doing.”
“You have no idea how hard it is being a single parent. Your husband’s a teacher. I don’t have any support, financial or otherwise. If you were a mother, you’d understand.”
Olivia wasn’t letting her off the hook. “You’re certainly setting the right example for your daughters. When you tell them about your promotion, don’t forget to mention that you got it because you were too afraid to stand up for yourself.”
Ida squared her shoulders. “Besa mi culo.”
Olivia had no idea what Ida had just said, but she knew it wasn’t nice. “You want to say something to me, you need to say it in English.”
“Kiss my ass,” Ida repeated.
Olivia pointed a finger in Ida’s face. “You better be glad I’m a Christian, or I would—”
“You certainly not acting like a Christian right now.”
“I’m a Christian all right. That’s why I’m going to pray that the Lord shows you the error of your ways. I heard you sold out for a measly five-dollar-an-hour raise.”
Ida’s body visibly bristled. “Actually, I also got—” She stopped. “It’s none of your business what I got. You’re just jealous. Talk to me this time next year when you’re still wrapped up in that stupid lawsuit. You probably won’t even get a dime.”
“I’m not doing this for the money,” Olivia insisted. “The way this company treats women is wrong. Do you really think you’re ever going to go any higher than assistant manager of Risk Management?”
“Time will tell,” Ida said, puffing out her chest. “This might not be the best company in the world, but it’s certainly not the worst. I watched my mother come home every day with her back aching after slaving in a sewing factory all day. I have it good compared to what she went through. And anyway, things are changing. They’re transferring a female store manager here next week.”
Olivia threw up both hands. “And why do you think they’re doing that? Because of our lawsuit.”
“I don’t care why they’re doing it. I’m just glad that they are. Now get out of my way.”
While neither of them had raised their voices, they had drawn the attention of a handful of employees and customers. It was obvious from their facial expressions and body language that they weren’t having a friendly chat.
Olivia stayed put, forcing Ida to step around her.
“By the way,” Ida called back, “you need to take care o
f this.”
Olivia turned around and saw Ida pointing down at a wire protruding from a shelf.
“I’m going over to inspect Women’s Clothing. If this isn’t fixed by the time I get back, I’m writing you up.”
CHAPTER 27
Girlie leered across the table at the plump schoolteacher she’d been deposing for the last hour. She enjoyed grilling her opponents and couldn’t wait to get Olivia Jackson in the hot seat.
“Mrs. Mitchell, in your complaint against the Beverly Hills School District, you alleged that after you were terminated, you were too emotionally distraught to have sex with your husband, is that correct?”
A burst of red eased up Melinda Mitchell’s flabby neck. Her eyes darted sideways in a wordless appeal for her slouch of an attorney to object. Bob Reed had obviously neglected to explain to his client that filing a loss of consortium claim rendered her sex life an open book.
Reed gave Melinda a remorseful shrug that told her to answer the question.
She daintily pressed her right palm flat against her chest, then nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Girlie said, leaning forward a bit. “But the court reporter needs an audible response.”
“Oh…um…yes,” she squeaked.
To heighten the woman’s embarrassment, Girlie had assembled an all-male audience. Sitting across from Melinda Mitchell were her principal, the school district’s human resources manager and two associates from her law firm. With the addition of the male court reporter and videographer, plus the two attorneys, Melinda had an audience of eight.
“Mrs. Mitchell, prior to your termination, how many times a week did you have sex with your husband?”
Melinda’s head whipped in the direction of her attorney again. “Aren’t you going to object? This is personal.”
“There’s nothing for him to object to,” Girlie replied.
Reed leaned over and whispered into his client’s ear.
Melinda’s nostrils flared as she glared across the table at Girlie. “Four times a week,” she said testily.
Perfect. Melinda was lying to make her claim look more severe. No married couple had sex four times a week after twenty-five years of marriage. And Girlie couldn’t imagine any man wanting to climb on top of Melinda Mitchell.
“And what kind of sex was it?”
“Excuse me?” Melinda’s entire face blushed beet burgundy. Again, she appealed to her attorney. “Do I have to talk about this?”
Girlie smiled. “I’m afraid you do.”
“Well, I don’t know what you mean.” She folded her arms and rested them on her cushy bosom.
“What I’m asking for,” Girlie explained in a soft, matter-of-fact voice, “is a description of the type of sex you claim you were having four times a week. Was it missionary style? Or were you on top? Did you give him blow jobs or did he—”
“Objection!” This time Girlie had awakened something in Reed. He pushed his chair back from the table. “You’re out of line, counselor!”
Melinda clutched her throat and appeared to be choking. The human resources manager had covered her mouth with both hands. The two associates sitting to Girlie’s right struggled to keep straight faces, while the principal tried to avoid the drama by staring out of the window.
“You’re just trying to upset her,” Reed charged. “This is completely unprofessional.”
“Let’s go off the record.” Girlie waited as the videographer announced the time of their break.
“Your client said she didn’t understand my question, so I was just trying to help her out by offering up a few examples. And just so you know, I’ll be asking her the exact same questions in front of the jury. So consider this a dress rehearsal.”
That was a lie. Browbeating a witness like this in front of a jury would only produce sympathy for her. The primary purpose of this line of questioning was intimidation.
“I’m not…I…I can’t…I need to take a break.”
Just after Reed escorted her out, Girlie’s assistant entered the conference room and called her outside for a private conversation.
“There’re two detectives in the lobby who want to speak with you,” she whispered.
Before Girlie could respond, Reed returned to say his client was too distraught to proceed with her deposition. Girlie started to object, but she was really curious about why two cops wanted to see her.
Girlie walked her clients to the elevator, then took the stairs to her law firm’s reception area.
When Mankowski saw Girlie sashaying his way, his first thought was that she looked even sexier than she had on TV.
She stopped much closer than necessary and extended her hand. “I’m Girlie Cortez. How can I help you?”
Mankowski found himself intrigued by her in-your-face demeanor.
“We’re investigating the death of Judi Irving,” he explained after introducing himself and his partner. “We’d like to talk to you about the Big Buy lawsuit.”
“I’m willing to help you any way I can, detectives.” A hint of flirtatiousness backed up her words. “As long as it doesn’t involve any privileged information or damage my client’s interests.”
Mankowski never dated lawyers. The female prosecutors and judges he knew were way too rough around the edges. But Girlie had a softness about her that made it hard for him to keep his mind on business.
They followed Girlie to her office. Mankowski had never seen a pink couch before. Girlie directed the detectives to twin chairs on one side of a small coffee table, while she took the couch. She crossed her legs and extended her arm along the back of the couch.
Mankowski had dated women like Girlie Cortez before, so he knew exactly how to play her. He began by ignoring her magnificent legs.
“We understand you represent Big Buy in a gender discrimination case filed by Judi Irving and two of her co-workers,” he began. “What can you tell us about Ms. Irving?”
“Nothing. She wasn’t my client and I never had an opportunity to take her deposition. You should be talking to her attorney, not me.”
“We already did.”
Girlie’s lips formed a slight snit.
Mankowski smiled. The two women definitely didn’t care for each other.
“It’s our understanding that Ms. Irving had documents that contained damaging information about your client.”
“As far as I know, that’s just a rumor. You can’t possibly think the lawsuit had anything to do with her death.”
Mankowski shrugged. “Anything’s possible. So you haven’t seen the documents?”
“Nope. Does Vernetta have a copy?”
“If she does, she’s not telling us.”
“That’s no surprise.”
Mankowski wasn’t about to reveal what he knew about the break-in at the Center for Justice. If Big Buy was involved, that meant their lawyer might be too. After interviewing Benjamin Cohen, he was convinced that the lawsuit and those documents did indeed have a connection to Judi’s murder.
“We understand that the right discrimination case could result in a company being hit with a pretty significant jury verdict.”
“True. But only if the company loses.”
“Ms. Henderson thinks she has a pretty strong case.”
“I disagree. But that’s the nature of litigation. If attorneys viewed the facts the same way, our courthouses would be empty.”
“You seem pretty confident about your case.”
“There’s no reason not to be. I’m good at what I do, detective.” She paused. “Actually, I’m good at a lot of things.”
Mankowski liked Girlie’s sassy little mouth. And he could think of a thing or two he’d like to do with it.
After a few more questions, it was clear that Girlie wasn’t giving up any useful information.
“We won’t take up any more of your time,” Mankowski said, rising.
Girlie led them back to the lobby.
“How long have you been in law enforcement, detective?” Gi
rlie asked.
“Twenty-two years.”
“Wow. I bet there’s a thing or two you could teach me.” She placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed ever so gently. “About criminal procedure, that is.”
Mankowski did not crack a smile. He turned away and punched the elevator button.
“What was up with that?” Thomas asked, once they were alone in the elevator. “I’ve never seen you blow off a woman like that before.”
“A little too flirty for my taste,” Mankowski lied.
“Yeah, right,” Thomas said.
Mankowski could barely keep his excitement in check. His partner definitely wouldn’t approve of the carnal thoughts he was having about the ballsy little lady lawyer.
Actually, he had every intention of hooking up with Girlie Cortez. And sooner rather than later.
CHAPTER 28
“You owe me,” Jefferson grumbled as he put on his tie. “We just better be back in time for the Vikings game.”
“You’ve told me that three times. I got it. Just stop complaining.”
Special had twisted my arm and I, in turn, twisted Jefferson’s. We were on our way to a Sunday morning lecture at the mosque.
I had changed clothes three times and was thinking about changing again. This was my first visit to a mosque, so I wanted to make sure I was dressed appropriately.
Special told me not to stress over what to wear, just as long as it wasn’t super short, extra tight or low cut. I examined myself in the mirror, confident that my two-piece knit suit was sufficiently respectful. Even though Special told me covering my head wasn’t mandatory, I stuck a silk scarf in my purse just in case.
Jefferson and I arrived about twenty minutes before the start of the service. The closest Community of Islam mosque was only a few miles from our house. The modest storefront building was sandwiched between a bakery to the left and a 99¢ store on the right. The only available parking was on the street.
Jefferson opened the passenger door and helped me out. “Can you please get rid of that sourpuss face? We’re doing this for Special.”
His lips curled into an exaggerated pretend smile. “As long as I’m sitting in front of the TV with a beer in one hand and a remote control in the other by kickoff, everything will be fine.”
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