Cathy added, "Just this last week he'd said he had a large sum of money coming in. Said we could move in together. I was so happy. Told my parents, everybody."
Her eyes teared up some.
"Were there any problems he talked about?" the Judge asked.
"Only this patent case. He was very intent on it. Thought you were wrong in your approach, Judge. Something about discovery on a report. Wanted suggestions on how to sway you over to a different line of thinking. Never seen him so agitated over work before. I guess his first actual job in the law and stuff. He wanted it to be right."
The Judge knew why Frankie so badly wanted him to hand over the report to Carl Hicks and his lawyer, but held his tongue.
"Had Frank been behaving strange, a little odd, or out of character the last couple of weeks?"
"No…… He's been working really late, really odd hours. But then of course you know, he’s been working with you."
"What do you call odd hours, Cathy?"
"Well. These late night cell calls. Sudden meetings you’d have late at night. Meetings at Starbucks and stuff. Kinda messed up our social life. I understand and all. Guess it’s just the nature of the practice. But it plays havoc with trying to have a date."
There had been no late night meetings with Frankie. No late night calls. Frankie must have had other friends to meet. Dick Harper perhaps. Or even the mysterious Mr. Wang. He’d covered it by using the Judge's name.
"Was there another woman, perhaps?"
Cathy scowled now, shaking her head, turning a bit pinker. She didn't like the question.
The Judge quickly shifted to another subject.
"You said Frankie told you he was coming into some money? That he thought you could now live together?”
"Yes."
"Did he say where the money was coming from?"
“No.”
"Did he say how much?"
"No. But it must have been a lot. He said he would pay off all his student loans in one swoop, and buy himself a used Mercedes."
"When did he expect it?"
"Any day now I think."
“When’s the last time you talked to him?”
Cathy gave a small cry of pain.
“Last Thursday,” she whispered.
“What time, Cathy? Was it late?”
“About 10 p.m.”
“What did he say?”
“He was very upset. Said he thought he was being followed. Said he felt like someone was ‘tracking’ his every move. Knew where he was going to be before he arrived. Said he’d just returned to his apartment and someone had broken in. Something valuable was missing.”
“Did he say what?”
“No. Said he outsmarted them though. Said he’d just delivered a copy, and still had a second copy.”
“A copy of what?”
“I don’t know. He was just muttering to me over the phone and walking around his apartment. Almost talking to himself. He was very agitated. I told him to call the police.”
“What’d he say?”
“He said he was afraid.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“I heard him mutter something else.”
“What?”
“Something about being shortchanged. Only got a pittance down payment for the copy. Bullshit promises. Can’t trust asshole corporate types. I don’t know. Something like that. He was very upset.”
“How’d the conversation end?”
“I calmed him down. I’m… was… good for him that way. We talked a little about the new apartment we were going to get. We agreed to meet for coffee on Saturday morning.”
“Did he show up?”
“No.” Cathy started to softly cry. “He never came. I waited an hour. Called him several times. No answer. I tried to reach him all weekend. I never talked to him again. Finally on Tuesday my dad called. He’d heard the news on the six p.m. news. He told me.”
Cathy broke down completely then, thrusting her face into a damp Kleenex she pulled out of her jeans.
The Judge stood up. Patted her on the shoulder. Said again how sorry he was for her loss. And then walked slowly through the small garden and back out to the canal. Deep in thought.
CHAPTER 39
10:00 AM Monday
As the Judge pulled into the parking garage Monday morning, his cell phone went off, buzzing away in his earpiece. It was Lieutenant Kaminsky, sounding all soft and buttery. Like a cat that had just inhaled a dish of cream.
The Judge knew what this meant. More trouble. Kaminisky wanted the Judge to drop by his office, sooner rather than later, for a little tete-a-tete. The Judge sighed, maneuvered the car back around, and pulled out of the garage, heading for the Santa Monica Police Station.
The great man came out to the counter himself to meet the Judge, escorting him back to the same mean little interrogation room he’d used before. The Judge sat down but Kaminsky continued to stand, his hands on his hips, towering over the Judge. Trying to be intimidating.
“So lots of things are developing Judge,” Kaminsky said.
“Oh really, Lieutenant? Tell me. I don’t do well with suspense.”
“Well for one thing, Frank Wolen was murdered. You remember. That’s your law clerk. And you just happened to be the one who forced entry into his apartment and found the body.”
“The door was open. And the paramedics found the body. Not me.”
“Yes, well forensics says he was hit over the head before he died. That the body was moved and positioned into that bathtub. It was a semi-professional job. Someone used a sap that didn’t show marks so it wasn’t obvious he’d been hit first. And the gun was fired with the victim’s own hand while he was unconscious, so all the calibrations were right for a self-inflicted wound.”
“I’m not surprised, Kaminisky. Frankie had shown no signs of wanting to commit suicide.”
“Yes, you would know, wouldn’t you Judge?”
“And there are more developments?” asked the Judge.
“Oh yes. Randall Hicks was murdered too. We think someone hit him with the same sap, rendered him unconscious, and then pushed him in the water. Hicks, the one you had the secret meeting with. The guy who died because he was pushed off your dock. In front of your yacht.”
“We’ve been through this Kaminsky. I had nothing to do with that.”
“So you say, Judge. So you say.”
“Is that it, Kaminisky? You’re just confirming things we’ve both suspected.”
“There is one other small matter, Judge. I haven’t had a chance to confirm it yet. So I thought I’d talk to you, first. Go to the horse’s mouth, so to speak. Or is that the right end?”
Here it comes, thought the Judge. What possible additional fact could there be that could implicate him?
“Go on Kaminsky. Spit it out.”
Kaminisky was standing over the Judge now, bouncing subtly on his toes. Obviously enjoying the suspense.
“There are rumors that Carl Greene’s estate, with its new technology and all, may be worth a billion dollars.”
The Judge sat up a little straighter. He hadn’t heard a number like that floated before.
“So, Kaminisky? Lucky heirs, huh?”
“See that’s just the thing, Judge. What I hear, and this is all off the record still, until a formal probate is opened. What I hear is it’s all been bequeathed to one person in some sort of trust.”
“Well, Kaminsky. Perhaps that’s another motive to put old Carl out of his misery.”
“That’s exactly what I thought, Judge. We’re on the same page finally.”
“So who’d old Carl leave it to?”
“You, Judge. You.”
The Judge was stunned. Without words. He just looked at Kaminsky uncomprehendingly, openly astonished.
Some part of him registered this was not the reaction Kaminsky had been hoping for. Disappointment was etched across Kaminsky’s face.
“Is that all you have to say for yourself,
Judge?” Kaminsky finally asked. Coming off the balls of his feet now, his enthusiasm flagging.
“I’m as totally surprised as you are, Kaminsky. I know nothing about it. I didn’t know the man. Met him only three times and formally at that, inside arbitration. Why he would want to include me in some sort of trust in his estate boggles the mind. People don’t just go around leaving a billion dollars to someone they don’t know, even just as a trustee overseeing a trust. Where did you hear this? I’d like to get to the bottom of it as much as you.”
“It was an off the record conversation with Greene’s estate attorney, Judge. I expect he’ll be contacting you in due course. I just wanted to be the first to give you the news.”
Kaminsky was completely deflated now. The interview hadn’t gone as he’d expected. Kaminsky marched to the door and opened it, indicating by his action it was time for the Judge to leave. He made no effort to shake the Judge’s hand, and the Judge didn’t offer.
The Judge walked out into the Santa Monica sun a bit dazed. What in the hell had Carl Greene done in his estate planning. And why had he named the Judge trustee?
CHAPTER 40
7:30 PM Monday
They sat down to dinner Monday evening in the pretend French chateau. The Judge, Katy, Flo and Ralph. The Judge had gotten to know Katy’s folks better in this interval of hiding out at their Brentwood house. And they’d gotten to know him. Ralph had welcomed the Judge into the family with open arms. Appeared truly glad to have the Judge sharing his home. Flo was more reserved, but had softened considerably. Bowing to the inevitable. This tired old man was now her new son in law. She was stuck with the Judge now and seemed more or less resolved to make the best of it.
The Judge was peppered each night over dinner with questions about the case and what he’d learned that day. It was good grist for the mill. Everyone seemed to have an opinion of who had done what to whom. Unfortunately, he had three dinner companions, and therefore three entirely separate scenarios about who had killed Carl, Frankie and Randall Hicks, and why.
Flo was convinced Carl’s gay lover had killed Carl in a fit of jealousy. In her view gays were over-sexed, over-emotional, and likely to turn on those who’d dumped them. She wasn’t sure about the other murders, but posited that Randall Hicks had killed Frankie to shut him up, and then was killed himself by a distraught investor who’d lost everything investing in Hicks’ phony company.
Katy was of the view that Yana had killed Carl in a rage that Carl wouldn’t share his new technology as part of the property settlement in their divorce. She had a dim opinion of Russian woman who came over to poach American men out from under American girls. She suggested Frankie found out what Yana had done somehow, and told Randall Hicks about it. Both Frankie and Hicks were then silenced by Allan Clark to protect Yana. And to protect what Clark thought would be his share in the new technology when he ran off with Yana. She believed Yana was using Clark like a cat’s paw and would drop him like a rock once everything blew over.
Ralph put his money on Carl’s mysterious silent partner as Carl’s killer, positing a hot dispute between them. The partner wanting to sell out to Cindy Kwan and her group, collect his half of a big check and go home. Carl frustrated that result by stubbornly refusing to sell the rights to his new technology. Ralph was appalled by Dick Harper’s lack of ethics, and liked him as the villain who killed first Frankie and then Randall Hicks, to hush them up about his illegal spying, videotaping, and bribes. Ralph posited it was a desperate attempt by Harper to save his lawyer’s license and his career.
The Judge said it was too soon for him make a guess about the killer or killers, although he felt strongly it was the homeless gang that killed Carl in that ally. He just wasn’t sure why.
The dinner conversation tonight had traveled over this ground and moved on to Ralph’s new oil project planned for the Gulf of Mexico. Somewhere along the way the girls fell off that discussion and moved on to their plans for the big wedding reception at the California Club. The master guest list was growing by leaps and bounds. The Judge would be a considerably poorer after this butcher bill was paid.
Flo’s excellent cooking and a special wine from Ralph’s cellar had left everyone with a warm glow in their stomachs. Katy had declined any alcohol again at dinner, earning her a keen look from her dad who then smiled softy but held his tongue. The conversation shaded down into a relaxed lull over coffee and an upside down pineapple cake Flo had baked.
It was then Katy dropped her second bomb. Tapping her spoon on her water class to get their attention, she said, "I have an announcement."
Three heads snapped to attention, picking up on the excitement in Katy’s voice. The Judge knew this could only be one thing. He cringed inside in anticipation. He supposed there was no easy way to do this.
Katy stood up and raised her water glass.
“The Judge and I didn't plan for this to happen. But it has. And we’re both so very excited and happy. I’d like to announce to you two, dear parents, that I'm pregnant. You are going to be grandparents."
Florence's mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. There was silence. You could have heard a pin drop.
Then Ralph raised his glass high in a grand salute, saying "Congratulations you two, that's wonderful news. Wonderful, wonderful. Your mom and I are so excited."
The Judge stole a peek at Florence. She'd managed to crank her mouth closed, and now a small tear was sliding down one cheek. But it was a happy tear the Judge could see with considerable relief. Florence produced the largest smile he’d ever seen on her. And just like Katy, it was now traveling all the way up into her eyes. She turned from Katy to the Judge with new respect and a warmth in her face. The Judge could tell that as far as Florence was concerned he was in. In the Family, in the circle, in her affection, just in. He'd contributed to producing a grandchild. All other considerations paled against this blessed accomplishment.
It dawned on the Judge he'd gotten it wrong. He’d thought he’d been an old guy trapping Katy, taking her off the market when she truly belonged to someone half his age, knowing full well he was already on the way to being old and decrepit. But he was the one now trapped for life. He'd been spotted, stalked, bagged, and delivered by Katy into the world of marital commitment. His fate was sealed by his contribution to her production of their child. For better or worse they were tied together now forever. He'd hadn't a clue who the big game hunter really was. Now he understood.
Chapter 41
11:00 AM Tuesday
The Judge parked on Pacific Avenue and walked the short block down 18th to the Venice boardwalk. It wasn’t nearly as busy during the week. He headed north in long strides, trying to get his cardio going, determined to extract exercise while he looked for Marty, the street kid he’d talked to before. There were homeless here and there along the boardwalk, and the adjacent lawns and benches, as always. But no Marty.
He turned and retraced his steps south, then kept going past his entry point, heading for Muscle Beach. He spotted Marty sitting beneath a palm tree, reading a tattered comic book. As he approached, Marty looked up, apprehensive, then showed a smile of yellow teeth as he recognized the Judge. A combination of friendliness and avarice showed in his eyes. He was remembering the fifty dollar bill.
“Hi, Marty, how about an ice cream?”
“How about a hamburger, Mr.?” said Marty.
“Done. I’m the Judge, Marty, remember?”
“I remember. You’re the guy was ogling the boobs parade.”
The Judge winced, but ignored the comment. His protest would only make it worst. They walked back along the boardwalk until they came to the Sidewalk Cafe. Marty ordered a cheeseburger, fries, a large shake and an apple pie turnover to go. The Judge ordered coffee.
They sat together on the bench across from the joint and watched the people go by for a time while Marty ate. He finished quickly. Meals were likely few and far between.
“So where do you live, Marty?”
“I live with my mom.”
“Do you live in an apartment?”
“No. In our car.”
Marty’s chin came up. Prepared to fight if the Judge wanted to make something of it.
“How’s that like?” asked the Judge.
“It’s okay, Judge.”
“Isn’t it a little crowded?”
“No. I’m smaller so I get the front seat. She gets the back. It’s kind of a pain though ‘cause we have to move it all the time. My mom has rules we follow, Judge. Just like everyone else.”
“Like what?” asked the Judge.
“Like we rotate among several parking places so we don’t get noticed. When we move around inside the car, we move slowly to avoid rocking. We keep the windows cracked open while we sleep, but not wide enough for someone to reach in. We have a porta potty I have to dump and keep clean. We try not to spend more time in the car than necessary. Mom says the more time we spend in our car, the more smells accumulate.”
“Where do you park your car?”
“We hop around a four block area.”
“Does your mom work?”
“She works a little, but she doesn’t get paid much. She can’t find a full time job. We live off of food stamps, gift cards for gas and food, and Mom gets Social Security disability. Mom does our laundry in the church annex. We take showers at the YMCA or on Venice Beach.”
“That sounds pretty rough, Marty.”
“Naw, we get by. It’s kinda like Robin Hood. Sometimes people even come by looking for us so they can point and take pictures. Mom says we’re a tourist attraction.”
Marty looked up to see if the Judge would make fun of this.
“How come you’re not in school, Marty?”
“I’m supposed to be. Mom thinks I am. But the guys in school don’t understand about the car. They tease me. Some days I get tired of it. So I just don’t go. It doesn’t matter. School’s pretty boring.”
“Let me talk to a few friends I know… discreetly.” The Judge quickly put up his hands to stem the immediate protest. “Perhaps I can get a little help for you. But that’s not the reason I looked you up, Marty. I’m looking for those guys that tried to hurt me on the beach the other week. We talked about them before, remember? You were going to check around. See if you could find where they hung.”
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