The Neon Lawyer
Authors: Victor Methos
Other titles by Victor Methos
Jon Stanton Thrillers
White Angel Murder
Walk in Darkness
Sin City Homicide
Arsonist
The Porn Star Murders
Sociopath
Black Widow
Run Away
Mickey Parsons Thrillers
The Murder of Janessa Hennley
The Bastille
Sarah King Mysteries
Blood Dahlia
Plague Trilogy Medical Thrillers
Plague
Pestilence
Scourge
Stand-Alone Thrillers
Titanoboa
The Extinct
Sea Creature
Superhero
Serial Murder and Other Neat Tricks
Murder Corporation
Diary of an Assassin
Black Sky
Dracula–A Modern Telling
Savage
Earl Lindquist: Accountant and Zombie Killer
Science Fiction & Fantasy
Clone Hunter
Empire of War
Blood Rain
Star Dreamer: The Early Short Fiction of Victor Methos
Black Onyx
Black Onyx Reloaded
The Vampire Diaries: The Beautiful
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2014 Victor Methos
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781477825976
ISBN-10: 1477825975
Cover design by
Damonza.com
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014940481
For Sam, Noah, Jonah, and Linds. The stars in my sky.
Contents
At his best, man is the noblest of animals. Separated from law and justice, he is the worst.
—Aristotle
Based on a True Story
One
The young girl saw the candy the man was holding.
A blue van was behind him with the sliding door open, and the man flashed a wide smile. The girl had seen him before. He’d come to her school and sat across the street in his van. He had waved to her once but she hadn’t waved back. Her mother had taught her not to talk to people she didn’t know.
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”
“Well, that’s great, sweetheart,” he said, the smile still in place. “That’s a good lesson. But my name is Ty. What’s yours?”
“Tabitha.”
“Tabitha. That’s such a pretty name. And you’re six years old, I bet.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I’m six.”
“Well, Tabitha, I’m forty-two. See? Now we’re not strangers anymore. You know me and I know you. Take the candy. It’s fine. I have some balloons here, too.”
She had seen the balloons earlier and was wondering about them. They were different colors: green, blue, red, purple, and pink. Pink was her favorite color, and she was going to ask for one of those, but thought she should ask her mother first. Her mother had told her that no one ever gave anything away for nothing—that if something seemed too good to be true, then it probably was. Tabitha was pretty sure that meant she would have to pay for the balloon.
“Do you want a balloon, sweetheart?”
She nodded. “But I don’t have any money.”
The man chuckled. “It’s free, darling. Just because you’re so pretty. Now which one would you like?”
“A pink one.”
“A pink one? Well, that’s a great choice. Let me get it for you.”
The man climbed into the van and untangled a pink balloon from the others. He crawled to the open door and held the balloon out to her. His hands were dirty, and she could see black underneath his fingernails. “Here ya go.”
Tabitha smiled and took a few steps forward. When she reached out and grabbed the string of the balloon, she felt pressure on her arm. It hurt, and she didn’t know what it was, but then she saw the man’s hand. His fingers were turning white because he was squeezing her arm so tightly.
His face had changed. He had been smiling before, but now his face looked like something she saw in her bedroom at night whenever her night-light went out, something that would give her nightmares. Even his eyes looked different. She was so scared she couldn’t even scream.
“I have more presents for you in here,” the man growled.
He hauled her into the van and slammed the sliding door shut.
Two
Brigham Theodore leapt over a pothole. He dashed across the sidewalk as if in a race, but there were no competitors. A homeless man sat slumped against one of the buildings. Brigham sprinted past him, then stopped and turned around. He had several dollars he was saving for a celebratory lunch. Brigham kept two dollars for himself and gave the rest to the homeless man, who said, “God bless,” with a wide smile.
“No problem,” Brigham said, before he started his sprint again.
An intersection light turned red and he glanced both ways before dashing across. A white cargo truck blared its horn and swerved around him.
Brigham didn’t know how he’d missed such a large vehicle barreling toward him. He waved and shouted, “Sorry!” but kept going.
The convention center was packed. Over two hundred newly minted lawyers were being sworn in that day. The Salt Lake City swearing-in was always held in the Salt Palace. Brigham hoped there would be snacks because he hadn’t eaten yet, having rushed to the convention center straight from work.
The principal of the elementary school where he worked as a “facilities technician”—the new fancy term for janitor—had allowed him this morning off, but he had to be back before afternoon. He was fairly certain he would be the first member of the Bar in Utah to also be a janitor.
Brigham rushed across the street. The building had been remodeled recently but it still looked like the basketball arena it used to be. Several posters were up for Salt Lake Comic Con, which had taken place almost three months ago.
He took the stairs two at a time, ran through some doors and up another set of stairs. In a large auditorium, two hundred people in suits milled around as family members sat on folding chairs and snapped photos with their phones.
Brigham slipped into the group. Almost everyone there knew each other since they’d gone to the University of Utah or Brigham Young University. But he was a transplant from Tulane. After Hurricane Katrina, his law school class had been cancelled. Rather than transferring, he took some time off, then came back later and finished. He’d wanted to practice somewhere rural. Most big cities had a lawyer for every six or seven people. The markets were so saturated that no one could find a job. And the jobs that were available either didn’t pay much or expected you to live at the firm. He wanted neither, so he’d picked the place that looked just about as far from New Orleans as he could get: Salt Lake City, Utah.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats,” someone announced.
More folding chairs had been set up for the admittees. Brigham sat at the end of a row next to a man with an unlit cigar in his mouth. The chief justice of the Utah Supreme Court spoke for a few minutes about the grandeur and importance of the law, and about how she reminded her husband, who was a physician, that while his professional forebears were bleeding people with leeches two hundred years ago, hers were drafting the constitution of the United States. The story got a laugh.
Then the dean of the University of Utah spoke about the grand ol’ profession and told some anecdotes about the one year he actually practiced law before joining academia.
The chief justice took the podium again and asked the admittees to stand. Brigham got to his feet with the others. The chief justice administered the oath, stating each sentence and waiting as the admittees repeated it:
I am fully subject to the laws of the state of Utah and the laws of the United States and will abide by the same.
I will support the constitution of the state of Utah and the Constitution of the United States.
I will abide by the Rules of Professional Conduct approved by the Supreme Court of the State of Utah.
I will maintain the respect due to the courts of justice and judicial officers.
I will not counsel or maintain any suit or proceeding which shall appear to me to be unjust or any defense except as I believe to be honestly debatable under the law, unless it is in defense of a person charged with a public offense. I will employ for the purpose of maintaining the causes confided to me only those means consistent with truth and honor. I will never seek to mislead the judge or jury by any artifice or false statement.
I will maintain the confidence and preserve inviolate the secrets of my client, and will accept no compensation in connection with the business of my client unless this compensation is from or with the knowledge and approval of the client or with the approval of the court.
I will abstain from all offensive personalities, and advance no fact prejudicial to the honor or reputation of a party or witness unless required by the justice of the cause with which I am charged.
I will never reject, from any consideration personal to myself, the cause of the defenseless or oppressed, or delay unjustly the cause of any person.
Brigham repeated the words, excited and nervous and frightened all at once. When the oath was done, cheers went up from the crowd behind him as they clapped for their loved ones. No one was there for him, so he left after he received his certificates.
A hot dog vendor was around the corner, and Brigham bought one with everything on it. Sitting down at the curb, he ate and stared at his certificates. He kept re-reading his Bar certificate: the title of the court with his name underneath stating that he was authorized to practice law. He could now give advice and get money for it in exchange. A smile came to his lips, but it only lasted a moment. He had to be back at the school and in uniform.
He finished his hot dog and began the quick walk back to the school, his certificates tucked under his arm.