Attorney-Client Privilege (24 page)

D
etective Thomas slapped a sheet of paper on the corner of Mankowski’s desk.

“Peterman’s DNA results are in,” he said. “And you’re not going to believe it.”

Mankowski leaned back in his chair and continued his intense examination of the
Sports Illustrated
Swimsuit Edition. He turned the magazine sideways to admire the luscious brunette centerfold.

“What’s not to believe? It was Actor Boy’s DNA underneath Judi Irving’s fingernails, right?”

Following Phillip’s death, his agent had finally called back and admitted that Phillip hadn’t been at his house that night. For Mankowski, Phillip’s lack of an alibi only confirmed that he had killed Judi. His gut was right again.

Mankowski had wanted Phillip to pay for Judi Irving’s death, but that was impossible now. Without Phillip, he knew it would be difficult, if not impossible, to tie Girlie in. He could not and would not let Girlie walk away scot-free. Vernetta Henderson might believe that Girlie Cortez never got caught, but Mankowski was determined to prove her wrong. He’d cracked difficult cases before and he’d do it with this one too.

“Yep,” Thomas said. “It was Phillip’s DNA.”

This news didn’t excite Mankowski since he knew his gut had been right all along. He flipped a page in the magazine.

“At least we kept that scum from getting the insurance money before he kicked the bucket. I just wish we knew where he’d gotten the cash to lease that Benz.”

“We already know where he got it,” Thomas said. “From your girlfriend.”

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” Mankowski snapped, finally looking up. “Go ahead and admit that my gut racked up another one.”

“Hold on a minute, partner.” Thomas took the magazine from Mankowski’s hands and shoved a piece of paper in its place. “Your gut’s not getting credit for solving Judi Irving’s murder just yet. Take a look at this.”

Mankowski scanned the DNA report.

“What’s the deal?” he said, glancing up at his partner again. “You just said Phillip’s DNA was a match.”

Thomas smiled. “The test confirmed that the blood and skin underneath the fingernails of Judi’s right hand belonged to Phillip. But believe it or not, she apparently sunk her nails into two people. Phillip
wasn’
t a match for the DNA underneath the nails of Judi’s
left
hand.”

Mankowski sprang forward in his chair. “You’re shittin’ me.”

Thomas pointed at the report. “Nope, it’s right there in black and white. You know what I think? I think Judi did scratch Phillip’s face that night. But also she scratched somebody else.”

“Maybe Actor Boy had help,” Mankowski said, thinking out loud.

Thomas shook his head. “I think your gut’s been way off on this one from the start. You and your tunnel vision have been too focused on Phillip.”

Sometimes Mankowski hated it when his partner made sense.

“Robby Irving hasn’t shown up to provide his DNA,” Thomas continued. “Maybe the neighbor heard Judi fighting with Robby, not Phillip. Robby Irving has the same motive as Phillip—that insurance money. We’ve been letting your gut, as well as your dick, lead us down the wrong path.”

Mankowski started to get huffy about his partner’s snide remark, but suddenly snapped his fingers and turned away. He dug through a stack of pink message slips on his desk.

“Robby Irving’s ditzy girlfriend called me a couple of days ago.”

“Uncooperative Camille? What did she want?”

“I don’t know.” Mankowski pulled Camille’s message from the stack. “Haven’t had a chance to call her back yet. It looks like Robby Irving needs to go to the top of our persons-of-interest list.”

“He never came off mine,” Thomas reminded him.

“And we still gotta figure out how those documents fit in,” Mankowski said, reenergized. “Maybe Judi’s death isn’t connected to Big Buy at all.”

“I hope it doesn’t turn out that we wasted all this time looking at Peterman, when Robby Irving’s our guy,” Thomas said, getting in another dig.

The police had officially ruled Phillip Peterman’s death a case of distracted driving. Three witnesses reported seeing him looking down at his phone seconds before the crash. Unfortunately, they found no useful information in his phone.

Mankowski was unwilling to admit that he was wrong on this one yet.

“Don’t get all happy. We can’t rule out Actor Boy as the killer yet. The guy definitely had something to hide. Otherwise, why was he using a throwaway cell phone? We just gotta figure out how Girlie Cortez is connected.”

“Good to hear that you’re finally willing to admit that Girlie punked you.”

Mankowski grimaced. “Nobody punked me.”

“Really? She screwed you, she screwed Phillip and who knows who else.”

Mankowski had nothing to say to that.

“Let’s go.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. “We can call Camille from the car and tell her we’re on our way over. And after we finish with her, we’re going to pay Robby Irving a visit.”

I
’d just returned to my office after a trip downstairs for coffee when I heard my iPhone ring. I picked it up and saw that I had missed two calls from Jefferson.

He was probably calling to ball me out for breaking my promise to leave the office by six. Since the incident at the Howard Hughes Promenade, Jefferson had started calling me several times a day just to check on me. While I was glad he was concerned about my safety, he was starting to make me feel a little nervous.

We still hadn’t resolved our differences over his interest in the Community of Islam. Jefferson was continuing to attend lectures at the mosque every Tuesday night and most Sundays. For now, we both avoided the conflict by never bringing it up.

Now that my class action was history, I was pouring all of my energy into Olivia’s individual case. I’d convinced her not to dismiss the lawsuit just yet, but I didn’t know how long she could hold out.

Turning off my computer, I began packing up to leave. Once I got to my car, I would let Jefferson know I was on my way. I bent down to retrieve my purse from the bottom drawer of my desk. When I stood up, Lamarr was standing in the doorway of my office.

“Hey, counselor,” he slurred. His right hand was tucked behind his back. “You workin’ pretty late tonight. Hope that’s my case you slavin’ over.”

A jolt of panic hit me at the sight of my wealthy client. His sluggish speech pattern told me he was either intoxicated or high, or both. He was usually immaculately dressed. Today, his jeans were dirty and his white T-shirt was stained with brown splotches that looked like dried gravy. The stench of body odor tainted with alcohol wafted all the way across the room.

“How’d you get up here?” I said. “The guard is supposed to call me before letting anyone up after hours.”

Lamarr shrugged, stepped further into my office and closed the door behind him.

“Everybody know me,” he bragged with a smile. “And everybody know you’re my lawyer. I told the guard I wanted to surprise you, so he let me up. After I gave him my autograph, of course.”

“Well, I’m surprised alright.”

This wasn’t the first time our poor excuse for security had ignored after-hour procedures. I planned to complain to the building manager first thing in the morning.

Lamarr was sporting thick cornrows now and facial hair that was too unkempt to be called a beard. He was squinting so much I couldn’t tell if his eyes were even open. His dirty T-shirt draped over his low-hanging jeans gave him a hard-core gang-banger look.

His slovenly physical appearance wasn’t what concerned me most.

“What are you holding behind your back?” I asked.

My mind had already raced to the worst-case scenario. Dissatisfied clients have been known to take out their frustrations on their lawyers. Was I staring at a client who was upset enough to pull out a gun and blow me away?

Lamarr snickered and took several long strides toward me. He was now inches away from my desk, his right hand still tucked behind his back.

“You know, I really don’t like it when people hang up on me. I paid you over two-hundred grand. You’d think I’d get a little more respect for that much dough.”

“I hung up because you weren’t listening to me. What are you holding behind your back?” I asked again.

“I bought you a present.”

I held my breath and wondered when the security guard would be making his rounds. Not that it mattered since none of the guards carried weapons.

“What kind of present?”

Instead of answering, Lamarr slapped a bouquet of red roses on my desk. Petals scattered everywhere.

I must’ve jumped a good foot off the floor.

“Why you so jumpy, counselor?” A cloud of alcohol rolled past my face as he spoke. “You ain’t afraid of me, are you?”

I stared at him a long time before answering. The fact that he was carrying flowers and not a .38 did little to reduce my anxiety level. Actually, I was afraid, very afraid. But I couldn’t let him know that.

Show no fear.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Do I have a reason to be afraid?”

“I don’t know. Do you? By the way, you never told me you was a black Muslim. I was glad to hear that. That means you can relate to how the white man tries to keep a brother down. That’s what this is all about. The same way they tried to bring down Tiger Woods and Mike Tyson. That’s what they’re trying to do to me.”

He was obviously delirious.

I grabbed the strap of my purse and hoisted it on my shoulder. “Thanks for the flowers. I was just about to leave. So—”

“Have a seat,” he said. His tone was serious now.

“We’ll have to talk another time. I have to get home.”

He slapped the desk with his open hand. “I said, sit your ass down!”

Lamarr was no longer squinting and I could see the whites of his eyes, except they weren’t white. They were bloodshot red.

I eased back into my chair.

“I wanna know why you won’t hold a press conference for me like you did for those women at that store?”

Lamarr was a large man, but he seemed twice as large as he glowered down at me.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to call a press conference right now. We don’t have anything new about the case to announce.”

“So? Make some shit up.”

“That’s not how it works.”

My eyes slid sideways toward the closed door. Since Lamarr was intoxicated, maybe I could make it to the door before he caught me. But then what? It would take forever for the elevators to arrive. The stairs were not an option. I’d seen too many bad B movies where stairwell chases end badly to even consider that as an option.

“I have a question for you,” Lamarr said. “All that nice stuff you said about me in court during your closing argument, did you really believe it?”

I swallowed. “Yes, of course.”

His chin jutted forward and his lips tightened. “I think you lyin’. You think I raped that bitch, don’t you?”

My heart thudded against my chest. “You told me you didn’t do it and I believe you.”

Lamarr angled his head as his expression switched from one of anger to seduction. He stepped around the desk, licking his lips.

“You ever thought about gettin’ with me?”

My hands squeezed the arms of my chair. “No. I’m married.”

“That don’t mean shit. I screw married women all the time.”

I tried to slow the pace of my breathing.
Show no fear.

“I never told you this, but one of the reasons I picked you for my lawyer was ’cuz I thought there was a vibe between us. You smart and shit, but you also got a hella phatt ass.”

He laughed and fell into one of the chairs in front of my desk.

I immediately bounced to my feet. It felt much better to be staring down at him rather than the other way around.

“I’m not comfortable with this conversation, Lamarr.”

“
I’m not comfortable with this conversation, Lamarr,”
he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “And I’m not comfortable with paying that bitch no two-million dollars.”

I flinched when my iPhone rang. Before I could get to it, Lamarr grabbed it from my desk and tossed it across the room. It fell to the carpeted floor with a thud just to the right of the door.

“We don’t need no interruptions.”

Internally, I was in full panic mode now. I was ready to tell Lamarr whatever he wanted to hear to get him out of my office.

“Fine, Lamarr. If you want me to hold a press conference for you, I will.”

“Oh, so now, you wanna cooperate.” He slid so low into the chair that his huge head hooked over the back.

“What else you wanna cooperate about, counselor?”

“You’re really making me uncomfortable, Lamarr. You need to leave.”

“Maybe I should show you why that bitch Tonisha did all that scheming to get with me. It wasn’t just because I play pro ball.” He winked. “I really know how to please the ladies.”

He hopped up and started walking around the desk toward me. I jumped behind my chair, using it as a shield.

“C’mon, counselor, you ain’t scared of me, are you?”

I took a step back, at the same time that I pushed the chair forward. I was trying to get within reach of the paperweight on my desk just in case I needed to use it.

“I’m not playing, Lamarr. You need to leave.”

“Stop actin’ like you don’t wanna get with me.” He lifted his T-shirt to show off his solid, ripped abs, then slapped his stomach with his palm. “You like this? Bet your husband ain’t got a body like this.”

“Is this how it went down with Tonisha?” I asked.

My question stopped him cold. His body stiffened and he seemed to awaken from his high.

“I told you I didn’t rape that bitch!” His tone was angry and this time he didn’t slur a single word.

“Considering the way you’re acting right now, that’s kind of hard for me to believe.”

Rather than upset him, my comments seemed to wound him. I could see that expressing disbelief in his innocence was the only weapon at my disposal.

“Frankly,” I continued, “I’m wondering if the way I’m feeling right now is how Tonisha felt right before you raped her.”

“I’m not no damn rapist!” he yelled, his voice quivering. “I wasn’t gonna do nothing to you. I was just playin’ with you, girl.”

He threw up his hands and fell back into the chair. “I just want you to get me a press conference. That’s all. Can’t you just—”

The door of my office suddenly flew open and Jefferson stepped inside. “What’s going on in here?” His narrowed eyes scrutinized me, then Lamarr, then me again.

The rage and frustration on Lamarr’s face had been replaced with a smile. “I was just talking a little late-night business with my counselor here. You’re Jefferson, right? Good to see you again, bruh.” He extended his hand.

Though I hadn’t said a word, Jefferson apparently sensed that I was in distress. He ignored Lamarr’s hand and walked up to me.

“You okay, babe? I heard yelling in here a second ago.”

He took in the rose petals scattered everywhere, then walked across the room to retrieve my iPhone from the floor. “What’s this doing on the floor and what’s that all over your desk?”

“Everything’s cool,” Lamarr said, easing toward the door. “I’ll holla back at you tomorrow about that press conference, counselor.”

When the door finally closed, I collapsed into my chair and dumped my face into my palms.

“Babe, what’s going on in here?” Jefferson demanded, standing over me. “Did he get out of line?”

If I told my husband what had just happened, he’d be on his way downstairs after Lamarr.

“What made you come down here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

“You didn’t answer my calls. I even called just before I came up here. Why didn’t you pick up?”

I stood and buried my face in his chest. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Tell me what happened?”

“I can’t talk about it,” I lied. “It’s privileged.”

“You’re lyin’. Did Lamarr get out of line? Do you need me to kick his ass?”

I laughed. “I don’t think you could.”

“I know that. I’d bring some of my boys with me.”

I sat back down and turned on my computer. “I have a short letter I need to prepare.”

“Now?” Jefferson asked with a frown. “Can’t that wait until tomorrow?”

“Nope. I have to do it now so it can be hand-delivered first thing in the morning. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.”

Jefferson took a seat. “A letter to who?”

“Lamarr,” I said, anxious for the computer to boot up. “Telling him to find himself a new attorney.”