A Case of Redemption (24 page)

That was possible, of course, and yet I knew it was untrue. Nina
apparently could tell that I wasn't buying it, because she said, “Mind if I play a little devil's advocate?” She didn't wait for an answer. “I'm beginning to think that we might be playing into Kaplan's hands. Why are we knocking ourselves out trying to prove that Brooks was the guy Roxanne was sleeping with? Aren't we better off saying that L.D. wasn't jealous of anyone rather than identifying the guy who made him crazy enough to kill Roxanne? Besides, Brooks may have an alibi, and then we're in real trouble, pointing at a guy who can prove he didn't do it.”

“I understand what you're saying, Nina, but the jury is already predisposed to believe L.D. killed Roxanne because that's who the police and the prosecutor say did it, as well as a hell of a lot of people who heard the ‘A-Rod' song. For us to convince them that the cops were wrong, we need to show them who really killed her.”

“Look, I'm not saying that Brooks didn't have an affair with her. Maybe he did and it's his pubic hair in her bed. But it's also possible the pubic hair belongs to some bartender Roxanne picked up that night. Who knows? But what I do know is that we're running out of time. I just wonder if we're being smart by focusing so much effort on trying to prove an affair with Brooks when, even if we can do it, I'm not sure that helps the defense, and it might really hurt.”

I didn't answer, which caused Nina's eyes to drop to the pavement, as if she was embarrassed by what she'd just said. When she looked back at me, it was with something of an expression of pity.

“It's just us, Dan,” she said soothingly. “Do you still think L.D.'s innocent? I mean,
really
? Based on everything you and I have seen recently? You knew that I was the original true believer, but after all the lies . . .”

My first impulse was to lie to her. It would have been easy for me to argue that I just disagreed with her view of the evidence. But what was the point of falling in love with someone if you couldn't be honest with them? If they didn't understand exactly what you were feeling, deep down?

“I don't know,” I said slowly and softly. “Sometimes, though, it feels like it's not so much that I
believe
he's innocent as much as I
need
him to be innocent. Does that make any sense?”

“It does,” she said, a strong current of sadness in her voice. “A lot, actually. But, Dan, you have to remember, the jury, they're not going to need L.D. to be innocent. In fact, the opposite is going to be true. They're going to need him to be
guilty
, because that way, Roxanne's murderer will be punished.”

C
apital Punishment Records was housed in the Time Warner building at Columbus Circle. At the height of the Internet bubble, back when the company was called AOL Time Warner, business was flush enough to justify building two sixty-story towers. The bottom three floors are filled with high-end designer stores and restaurants, including one where a prix fixe dinner runs $350 per person, before drinks, tax, and tip. The twenty uppermost floors are corporate offices with among the highest per-square-foot rents in the city.

When we got off the elevator on the sixtieth floor, a waterfall was where I expected the reception desk to be. I followed the running water with my eyes until an impossibly proportioned Asian woman with stick-straight platinum blond hair that fell past her waist came into view.

“They're all waiting for you,” she said with a British accent.

Nina and I followed her down the length of the hallway to the corner of the office space. Once there, she opened an unmarked door and told us to enter.

Matt Brooks's office was even more over-the-top than the reception area. A life-size nude photograph of his supermodel wife hung on the only wall that wasn't a window, along with no fewer than six television screens. Every piece of furniture was fire-engine red, including Brooks's desk, his chair, the guest seating, and even the rug.

“So nice to see you again, Dan,” Brooks said. “And you, too, Nina.”

Brooks looked Nina up and down, just like he'd done in Atlantic City. It was only upon his return visit to her face that he extended his hand to me.

“Allow me to introduce you to my brain trust.” Brooks motioned toward the seating area. “This is Jason Evans, who is my chief of staff, and next to him is our general counsel, Kimberly Newman.”

Evans was as large as a refrigerator, and I assumed that among his chief-of-staff duties was to serve as Brooks's bodyguard. Newman was at the other extreme, waif thin. She was around my age, I assumed, still on the young side to be the general counsel of a company generating a billion dollars in annual revenue.

Brooks settled into the red leather club chair next to Newman, and Nina and I were directed to the red leather sofa opposite them. Looking like a man without a care in the world, Brooks said, “So, what can I do for you legal eagles today?”

“We'd like to know more about Roxanne,” I said. “What was she like? What did you observe about her relationship with L.D.? That type of thing.”

Nina and I had agreed that this was the way to approach Brooks. Go in softly, getting him to give up as much information as we could, and then hit him hard with the evidence we'd obtained down in Stocks.

Brooks looked at Newman as if he was asking her to give him consent to continue. Either she did or her silence was deemed approval, because he said, “You can't swing a dead cat and not hit some diva prima donna in this business, but Roxanne wasn't that way at all. She was just an angel.”

“Was that just with you because you were the boss, or did she have that reputation with everyone?”

“As far as I know, everyone.”

“How did you feel about her relationship with L.D.?” I asked.

“They were consenting adults.”

I didn't say anything. Sometimes silence is a better inquisitor.

“Look,” he said, “no boss wants fraternization, but what can you do? That kind of thing happens when you're on the road. You just hope everyone can stay professional after it ends, because, you know, it always does.”

Nina looked back at me, as if to say, what now? There was really only one other thing I wanted to know and so I asked it straightaway.

“Mr. Brooks, were you having an affair with Roxanne?”

Newman spoke quickly and loudly. “He doesn't have to answer that.”

“I think he may just have done so,” I said with intended snark.

Newman started to argue with me, but this time Brooks spoke over her. “It's fine, Kimberly. I don't mind telling Mr. Sorensen what he wants to know.”

He shifted his gaze from her to me, and with the change of position came a change in expression, from happy-go-lucky to controlled vengeance. “No” was all he said.

“So you're denying that you and Roxanne were lovers?” I said, although that was clearly what he'd just said.

Newman had had enough. “Matt, as your legal adviser, I must insist that we end this now.”

“Only a fool disregards his lawyer's advice,” Brooks said with a broad smile. “And whatever else you may think about me, I hope that at least you have come to the conclusion that I am not a fool.”

Nina knew this meant we weren't going to get anything else, and so she reached into her briefcase and handed Newman a subpoena. Newman looked at it quickly, grimacing as if she were reading an off-color joke.

“We've provided all our records concerning your client to the DA's office,” Newman said. “You'll need to take it up with them.”

Kimberly Newman was clearly not very well versed in criminal practice. In civil litigation, subpoenas are always about documents. Emails, letters, drafts of agreements, and the like. There's no end of paper that a civil litigator can produce.

“We're not looking for documents,” I told her. “As you'll see, the subpoena calls for Mr. Brooks to provide us with samples of his fingerprints and a few strands of his pubic hair.”

Brooks chortled. “You've got some balls, Dan.”

I stared at him, not sure whether to acknowledge his statement as a compliment, and then I stood to signal that, to my mind, the meeting was now over. Nina rose with me, and that caused Brooks's flunkies to follow suit. Finally, Brooks, too, got to his feet.

Still wearing that big smile, Brooks reached out and literally grabbed my hand to shake it. He squeezed so tightly that I could actually feel his fingernails cut into my flesh. His eyes darted, looking wildly about. I pulled back, but that only caused him to force me toward him, so that we were standing only inches apart.

So close, in fact, that when he leaned in, his whisper was not heard by anyone but me. What he said was: “Let me give you a piece of advice,
Counselor
. If I ever hear another word out of you about me and Roxanne, nobody, but nobody, is ever going to hear from you again.”

Nina didn't say anything until we were out of the building. The moment we were back on the street, however, she said, “What did Brooks say to you when we were leaving?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Just . . . school-yard stuff.”

“C'mon, Dan. Now's not the time for bravery. Tell me.”

From the look on her face I realized that if I tried to downplay it so she wouldn't be worried, I'd likely just make her more concerned. “He said that if I made a thing about his affair with Roxanne, he'd
kill me. Not that blatantly, but that was the gist of it. Like I said, just school-yard threats. I'm not worried.” With a chuckle that might have been confused with whistling by a graveyard, I added, “Nobody kills defense attorneys.”

She didn't laugh.

A
t seven thirty the next morning, the phone woke me. I didn't want to answer, but Nina kept nudging me.

“It might be someone important,” she said.

“I don't want to give you an excuse to get dressed,” I said as the phone rang for the second time.

“At least check the caller ID,” she said in the middle of the third ring.

She was right. It was important.

“Hello, Daniel,” said the distinctive baritone of Benjamin Ethan.

My first thought was
Damn
. My second was about how I could have been so stupid as to not see this coming.

“Hi, Benjamin . . . to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I'm calling on behalf of Matthew Brooks, whom I've been retained to represent. I understand you met with my client and Kimberly Newman yesterday and served a subpoena. Unfortunately, I've been on the run, but I wanted to reach out to you right away so that we could set up a time to meet.”

That's why Taylor Beckett was a no-go when I asked for office space. Even as early as then, Ethan must have already been retained by Brooks.

And that meant Brooks, unlike me, saw this coming weeks ago.

I wasn't taken in by Ethan's “aw shucks, I'm not sure what's going on” presentation. He was famous for being one of the hardest-working lawyers in the city. There was no way he would ever have made this call without full command of the facts.

“There's really no reason we need to meet,” I said, “unless you want to hand over Mr. Brooks's pubic hairs and fingerprints in person.”

He chuckled. “Now, now, Daniel, let us not get ahead of ourselves. And yes, I understand what you are seeking in the subpoena. I have to tell you, though . . . off the record and as a friend, you are making a major mistake, and I hate to see you look foolish.”

His tone actually conveyed that he thought he was doing me a favor. Of course, that made it all the more condescending.

“All I'm asking, Daniel, is to allow me the opportunity to talk to you for about twenty minutes. At worst, I'll be giving you free discovery. No reason to turn that down, right?”

I couldn't argue with that logic. If I refused to meet for the sake of scoring points in my passive-aggressive struggle with Ethan, I'd be shortchanging my client.

“Okay, Benjamin,” I said. “What time?”

“Thank you, Daniel. I do appreciate it. I'm not available until four today. Can we meet then, at my office?”

Not available. Right.

“No problem. I'll see you then.”

Nina must have known it was bad news from the look on my face. Tentatively she asked, “Who was that?”

“Benjamin Ethan.” I shook my head. “You're not going to believe this, but Matt Brooks has been lawyered up since day one.”

“Nothing but the best,” she said. “So now what?”

“We're seeing him at four. He said he was busy until then. What he really meant was that he needed the time to get a protective order.”

•   •   •

Taylor Beckett moved into its current space two years before I joined the firm. It was actually one of the reasons I had picked it over its equally prestigious competitors. Unlike, for example, Nina's old shop, Martin Quinn, Taylor Beckett had enough space so that first-year associates immediately got their own offices. Funny how things like that can shape your life. I'm sure that if I'd gone to another law
firm, things would have progressed pretty much the same way—long hours, same accident—but you never know.

Everyone refers to Taylor Beckett's building as the Pyramid Building because the top of the tower resembles something of a pyramid, albeit one made out of black glass and sitting atop a fifty-floor office tower. As I walked into the Pyramid's lobby, I thought about how much I'd changed since the last time I'd entered this place.

I was a sadder man now, that much was undeniably true. At the same time, I was a more hopeful one, too. The day before the accident, I had no reason to believe that my life would look any different ten years from then, or twenty, or ever. Now I was definitely a work in progress, and although I had no expectation that my grief would ever fully subside, for the first time since the accident I could envision a future in which I was happy.