by J J Miller
It was clear that Ed saw the logic in my argument.
“Okay, Madison,” he said, leaning closer. “Let’s just say it’s highly likely that your boy is going to wear some serious charges.”
“Are you saying you have no other suspects in this case?”
“I’m not saying that. Maybe we do, maybe we don’t.”
“Are you exploring links to other robberies that have targeted cannabis businesses over the past year?”
“Of course, we’ve considered that but that’s not where this investigation is going. At this point, all roads lead to your boy.”
“This was not a crime carried out by an individual. You know that.”
“Yes, I do. But maybe things didn’t go as planned for Chip Bowman. Maybe he had to take one for the team. And maybe you should encourage him to tell us who else was involved.”
“He’s a victim, not an accomplice.”
“Well, I’m seeing what the evidence tells me. And the picture of what went down is getting clearer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Let’s just say we have reason to believe your boy has come into a whole lot of money. Money that he didn’t think anyone else would find.”
“How much money?”
“I’m not going to specify. Could be that his rich old uncle died and answered all his prayers. Or could be he just got caught red-handed with the proceeds of a fatal robbery.”
“Right,” I said as I tried to process this information.
“He didn’t tell you about the money, did he?”
“He’s not actually my client yet, Ed. We’re just getting to know each other.”
“I can read you like a book, Madison. He hasn’t told you. He’s lied to you. And that’s what he’s gonna keep on doing.”
“Thanks for your time, Ed,” I said as I stood up. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
Frierson smiled.
“You just made my day, Madison. Thanks for stopping by. I guess you thought you had another innocent client to save from the blind gears of injustice. Sorry to disappoint you, my man. You might want to consider that Chip Bowman is just another deceitful piece of shit who’s taking advantage of your bleeding heart. Almost makes me feel sorry for you.”
“Good to know you care, Ed.”
“Get a job with the DA, Madison. I won’t hold any grudges. I’d be happy for us to work the same side of the street. And you’d get the chance to make up for the sins of the past.”
“Thanks for your words of wisdom, Reverend Frierson. You going to hand around the collection plate now?”
“Keep your money, Madison. My job’s got a peace of mind that no defense attorney’s salary can buy.”
“Nice seeing you, Ed.”
“Thanks for dropping by, Madison. And you keep your word, you hear? Your boy better not run.”
“He’s not going anywhere.”
As I left the office, I fumed as Ed’s words rang true in my head. For all his harmless appearance, it just might be that Chip Bowman was a cold-blooded killer. There was every chance he wasn’t that rare tonic that every half-jaded defense lawyer craves: an innocent client.
Outside the LAPD building, I called Bowman.
“Hello?”
“Chip. It’s Brad. I’ve just been speaking to Detective Frierson.”
“Yes?”
“And you know what he told me?”
“No. What?”
“He said he discovered that you have just come into a small fortune. He implied that this money had been found in an account that you thought no one else would see.”
I heard Bowman’s exhale sharply.
“Shit. They must have found it. Fucking Scooter.”
“Found what? Who’s Scooter? Actually, don’t answer that.” I needed to cut the call immediately. Most likely, the cops had already secured a warrant to bug his phone. “Where are you?”
“I’m at home.”
I checked my watch. I had to go and pick Bella up from school.
“Stay there. I’ll be around to see you in the morning.”
I hung up, thinking that nothing about Chip Bowman or this case was as it seemed.
Chapter 11
“Sweetheart, I’ve got a couple more things to do before I can wrap for the day,” I said to Bella as we walked from the elevator to my office. “Then we’ll go have a meal somewhere. Okay?”
Bella grinned. “In-N-Out?”
“Sure. If that’s what you feel like.” I opened the conference door for Bella. “Just settle in here. I’ll be an hour or so. You good?”
“Yes,” said Bella, pulling her iPad out of her bag. “I’ve got some reading to do.”
I walked out the door and looked back through the glass as Bella buried her nose in her device. Having her near me just made everything right in the world, in spite of everything that was horrible and wrong with it.
“This just arrived for you,” Megan said as I reached her desk. She was holding up a large envelope.
“Courier?”
“No. A guy in a suit dropped it off. A lawyer type.”
“Thanks,” I said as I took the package. I read the sender details as I entered my office. It was from Reinhart and Muntz: Eric Lindstrom’s lawyers.
I sat at my desk, cut open the envelope and pulled out its contents.
I smiled as I read the front page of the document. I fished my phone out of my pocket and tapped on a contact.
“Nina,” I said when she answered. “I’ve got some very good news. It’s over. You won.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve just received some paperwork from Eric’s lawyers.”
“Not more of his counterclaim nonsense.”
“No, actually. It’s a surrender. A complete surrender. He’s agreed to everything, and more.”
“I’m not sure I follow. I thought he wanted to fight nasty.”
“Well it seems he had a change of heart.”
“My goodness,” said Nina, her voice light with surprise and relief. “You said everything and more. What does that mean?”
“It means you get the house plus seventy per cent of his assets and business, or the monetary equivalent.”
Nina laughed. “I don’t believe it.”
“You’d better believe it. It’s done. You can get on with the rest of your life.”
“Thank you, Brad.”
“No problem. You should celebrate.”
“I think I’ll open a bottle of champagne and drink a toast to my future.”
“That sounds like a great idea.”
“Why don’t you come over and join me?”
We both knew where that might lead, and as much as I thought Nina Lindstrom was a beautiful woman, she was also emotionally vulnerable and I didn’t want to start anything with her that I wasn’t prepared to stick with for a while. In any case, I wasn’t available.
“Sorry, Nina. I can’t. I have plans.”
“Of course you do. I bet she’s a knockout.”
I laughed.
“She is. I’m putty in her hands.”
“Must be a hell of a girl. I always thought Claire was crazy to let you go.”
“I don’t know about that. She’s pretty happy now, so it seems it’s worked out for the best.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Nothing. Just saying relationships are rarely as rosy as they seem. That’s all. You and I both know that, don’t we?”
“Yes, I guess we do. Anyway, congratulations. I’ll speak to you soon.”
After I hung up, I felt a flush of pride in stopping Nina from being fleeced by her cheating husband. I guess family law didn’t suck all of the time.
I walked out of my office and filled Megan in about the Lindstrom case.
“You off now?” she asked.
“Yes. You should call it a day too.”
“Okay
. I’ll come out with you.”
I moved over to the conference room, tapped on the glass to let Bella know it was time to leave. She shoved her iPad away and the three of us made for the elevator.
As Bella and I ate our burgers, I couldn’t help thinking about what Nina had said. It left me with the impression all was not well between Marty and Claire. At some point in my life, I’d have taken this as a cue to raise my hopes of Claire and me getting back together again. But that was a long time ago. I cared about Claire in that I didn’t wish her to be in an unhappy relationship. And that got me to my main concern: if the relationship wasn’t good, how was that impacting Bella?
Before I could figure out how to approach this with some sort of tact, Bella spoke.
“Dad, can I come and live with you?”
Given the train of my own thoughts, the question floored me. Bella had stopped eating and was looking at me with a sad, beseeching expression.
I put my food down. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“I want to live with you. I don’t want to live with Mom any more. That’s all. I like being with you.”
“And I love being with you too, but listen, this has taken me by surprise. It’s serious stuff and we’re going to have to unpack it, okay?”
Bella nodded. “I thought you’d say something like that.”
“Well, let’s start with why you’re unhappy living with Mom. Did you two have some sort of fight?” I’d never known Claire and Bella to be anything other than tight. They never fought. They had the odd disagreement but that was it. Bella loved her Mom to the moon and back, and Claire would be devastated to hear Bella saying she wanted to leave.
“No. But she’s not around like than she used to be. She’s always working.”
Bella’s words made my blood run cold as my mind leapt to the possibility that her step-father might be the problem.
“Is Marty upsetting you in any way, sweetheart?”
Bella shook her head. “No, Dad. He’s okay. He’s away a lot.”
“If you and Mom aren’t fighting and you and Marty are getting along just fine, what’s the problem?”
Bella was pouting now, deep in thought and forming her next words carefully.
“I don’t know, Dad. Mom’s away a lot. Marty’s away a lot. And he’s not my dad. And sometimes I feel like we’re just three people who happen to live in the same house. It’s just that sometimes I just don’t feel like I’m part of a family anymore. Does that make sense?”
“I think so.”
“Are Claire and Marty getting along okay?”
Bella shook her head. “No, not all the time. Mom’s on his case about all his golfing trips.”
I put my hand over hers. “Listen here. You and I are a little family. That’s never going to change. Ever.”
Tears began to well in Bella’s eyes. “Daddy, can I just come and stay with you?”
I felt my heart ache. “Honey, I’d love you to, but as you know there’s your Mom’s feelings to consider and then there’s the legal custody agreement which, by and large, we have to stick to. What I can promise you is that I’ll raise it with Claire. I think the three of us can sit down and talk about it. I hardly ever have PTSD episodes now but I think you’ll remember how scary they could be. And that’s a key reason for you living mostly with your Mom. It’s about your safety and your welfare. And I promise you, your Mom puts that above everything.”
“Really?”
“Of course, she does. When she gets back we’ll have that talk, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Come on. Eat up and we’ll head home and watch a movie on Prime. How does that sound?”
“Great, Dad.”
Chapter 12
After dropping Bella off at school the next morning, I drove into work, parked my car, and made my way to the café across the street from my office for breakfast. My plan was to head out to see Bowman and ascertain whether he was full of shit and should be dropped like a stone. But as I approached the café checking my phone, I saw Jack had emailed me his report on HardShell, and I wanted to digest it before I confronted Bowman.
I grabbed a table near the front window, ordered and put my headphones on. They were not for music. I’m not the kind of person who can focus while listening to music, no matter if I love it or loathe it. I could no more do that than tap dance while trying shoot leaves off a distant tree. To concentrate, I needed sounds that my mind won’t wander into, sounds that channel my mind into focus mode. And for me, that’s the sound of thunderstorms. So, while I sat in the shade of a sunny Southern California day, my mind was treated to distant thunder, wind, and the sizzling patter of falling rain.
Jack’s report began with some background on Quinn Rollins. He’d gone to college, joined the 75th Ranger Regiment, and found himself taking part in Operation Desert Storm. He then went into the private security sector that was making billions from a State Department keen to outsource more and more of its overseas military projects. Rollins did stints at both Dyncorp and then Blackwater. In 2005, he set up a security guard franchise called Rampart with a Blackwater colleague named David McClean. This business ended bitterly with Rollins accusing McClean of embezzlement. They fought in court for three years, an effort that almost bankrupted Rollins. Then five years ago, he founded HardShell to service the cannabis economy. McClean, having observed Rollins’ success, set up a rival company named Bravo that had not come close to matching HardShell’s success.
Rollins was now in his early fifties. In the recent photo Jack supplied, he looked fit and happy. His sandy hair was cropped short but most of his scalp was bald. His beard was neatly trimmed and graying at the chin. The image, lifted from the HardShell website, projected reassurance to potential clients—here was a man who could solve civilian problems with military-grade acumen.
I scrolled down to Jack’s notes on the robbery victims, Bo Hendricks and Nathaniel Reed. As I began to read, a male voice broke through the sound of torrential rain. I ignored it and kept my eyes on my phone. Then a hand waved in front of my face. I looked up to see a man standing at my table.
It was Quinn Rollins.
“Mr. Madison? Brad Madison?”
“Yes,” I said, pulling my earphones down to my collar.
“My name is Quinn Rollins.”
I pretended that I’d never heard such a name in my life nor ever seen his likeness. But unlike the rather cheerful image I’d just seen, the man standing before me was the image of stress. No optimism shone from his eyes or glowed from his cheeks. His expression was stern and intense.
“Yes? What can I do for you?”
“I wonder if we could talk?”
“Do you know what I do for a living, Mr. Rollins?”
“You’re a defense lawyer.”
“That’s right. How did you find me?”
“I looked you up.”
“And you’ve been waiting outside my office since when?”
Rollins nodded. “Well, I—"
“So, you saw me come in here and you’ve been watching me for how long?”
Rollins shook his head in denial. “I haven’t been spying on you, Mr. Madison. My company is going through a very difficult time, and I’m working round the clock to hold it together. I did see you come in here, but this introduction was delayed an important call.”
I didn’t buy it. It was my bet that Rollins had been watching to see if someone joined me. Someone like Chip Bowman.
The waiter brought me my food—a jalapeno cream cheese bagel. I looked down at the plate but didn’t touch it.
“What is it you want to speak to me about?”
“I think you know the answer to that question.”
Unless Chip had disobeyed my clear instructions and told Rollins he’d visited me, there was only one way he could know: Frierson.
I picked up the bagel and fixed my eyes on Rollins. “How about you state your business now or leave me in peace? You’re not the only one with a long to-do li
st. I came here for a quick breakfast, not to play guessing games with strangers.”
With that, I took a bite, caught the eye of the waiter, and signaled for my check.
Rollins bent down to bring his face level with mine. His agitation was bordering on panic. “Look, I know Chip’s been to see you,” he said. “My company’s going to hell because of what’s happened, and every hour of every day is vital to me. The sooner this mess is cleared up, the better. I came to see if I could help. That’s all. Can I sit?”
I nodded. As far as I was concerned, he could do the talking. I was going to tell him nothing.
Rollins sat himself down and stared at me. I dabbed a finger onto some poppy seeds on my plate and ate them. He kept his back straight and clasped his hands on the table. When a waiter came with my check he asked if Rollins wanted to place an order. Rollins released his right hand to perform a short cut through the air, dismissing the waiter without a word.
“I understand that you won’t confirm or deny anything that you and Chip discussed, as your profession demands. But two of my staff members are dead. A small fortune has been stolen off me. My company has taken a massive blow. And the families of those two men deserve answers, and they deserve justice. The money that was stolen has not only hurt my business cash flow, it has damaged the trust I’ve established with my clients. The credibility of my company is in tatters.”
“Have you got insurance?” I asked.
Rollins nodded his head. “I have good coverage, thankfully. The premiums are through the roof, and I’d hate to think how high they’ll go if things like this keeps happening. Anyway, as you’d expect, no insurance company is going to just pay me out. They have to investigate.”
“Of course. It must be difficult. And I can understand that you want to stay abreast of what’s going on in terms of the investigation into this crime. But other than that, I don’t know what I can offer you.”
“I’m not here to ask anything from you, Mr. Madison. I just want to offer my help, like I said. I was very fond of Chip. Well, I am very fond of him. And I don’t like thinking that he played any role in this crime but I’m also a realist. We deal in a lot of money—all of it cash—and it’s enough to turn anyone’s head.”
