Chasing Suspect Three (4 page)

Sandy fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll
put down ‘hostile’ for now. Why were you divorcing?”

“Three reasons from column A, two from column
B—.”

“So the address you just gave me is yours not
his.” She kept making notes on her yellow pad. “How long married
and how long separated?”

“Married three years, been separated about
three months. Had to move out. He owned the condo before we were
married—the Coral Palms on Eighth Street.

“And that’s where he was shot?”

“I know nothing about the shooting. So don’t
even ask me. I walked in, and there he was out dead in the shower
stall. The water running certainly made a mess.”

“What’d you do then?”

She hesitated. “I heard the sirens and got
the hell out of there fast. The next day cops were knocking on my
door scaring the holy hell out of me. They told me they were very
sorry, but my husband had been killed. I said I knew he had been
shot. They asked how I knew it was a shooting. I didn’t know how to
answer, so I started crying. The cop said he was sorry, but they
had to talk with me. He asked if he could come in and look around.
I said no, because...hello? They might find stuff. He gave me this
card—some Polack...Jamiski, or something.” She reached in her
coverall pocket and handed over the card. “I thought everything was
going to be cool, but they came back and arrested me.”

It was Eddy Jaworski’s card, a detective
friend of Sandy’s. “Jaworski, you better hope he’s Polish. They’re
known to be fair-minded and intelligent.” She didn’t know much
about Poles, yet that pretty much described Jaworski, and the woman
deserved to be squelched.

“Oh, didn’t know that. Maybe I should get him
for my lawyer. Anyway, he asked where I was Tuesday night when John
was shot. I told him, home with my boyfriend.”

“I need your boyfriend’s name and
address.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t want him in
this.”

“Geez, he’s your alibi. His name, please?”
she said louder.

“None of your business.”

Sandy put down her pencil and pushed back
from the table to emphasize her upset. Regardless, there was no way
she was going to let this client get away. They stared at each
other. Sandy won.

“Okay...Richie Grant, but you’re not getting
his address. Don’t you try and contact him.”

“Richie Grant?”

“Yeah, he has the same name as that reality
TV show star. You know, the sexiest man alive.”

“If you say so.” She’d never heard of him.
Did you give his name to the police?”

Blank stare.

“Did you just say boyfriend, or did you say
his actual name?”

“I just said boyfriend. I didn’t think of
using his name until just now with you.”

Another deep breath and sigh for Sandy. She
went on, “I’ll need his address eventually.”

“I’m not telling you about him.”

“Margo, if I’m going to defend you, I need to
know the truth about everything.”

“Are you going to defend me?”

Sandy couldn’t hold back the broad grin.
“Yes, I would like to.”

Sandy took another thirty minutes to get some
further basic demographic information. She explained the spouse is
always a suspect in such homicides, and the fee would depend upon
the complexities of the case. She thought it a bad time to mention
in Florida first degree could mean the death penalty.

“You’ve handled a lot of murder cases like
mine, haven’t you?”

Geez, why did she have to ask that? “I’m not
new to criminal law. I’ve been handling murder investigations both
here and up in Philadelphia.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I’m a fully-licensed lawyer and have had
many clients in criminal defense cases.”

“Cases like mine?”

Long pause. “You are my first murder
client.”

Margo shoved her chair back and stood. “Now
she tells me.” Before Sandy could speak, the woman headed for the
door.

“Margo, wait. Just give me a minute.”

The woman turned to listen, her hand on the
doorknob, an icy look on her face. The deputy was watching through
the large glass window.

Sandy stood. “Look, I can help you. I know I
can. Your case is the type of situation I’ve been preparing myself
for all my life. Let me help you, we need each other.”

“Your needs don’t mean shit to me. Practice
on someone else.”

“Girl, you are making a mistake.” She turned
her back to Margo, and slung her briefcase onto the conference
table just to add a little drama. It slid halfway across. “I’m not
going to beg,” she said loudly with her back to the woman. She
started fiddling with her briefcase as though packing up to leave.
“I’m just going to tell you not to go out that door. Let’s talk
about what happened and get ready to confront the police and the
state attorney.”

She wasn’t facing the woman, so couldn’t
gauge the reaction. “Believe me, sister, once they get geared up,
you’ve no idea the hell they’re going to bring down on you. I’m not
talking sticks and stones. An entire avalanche is headed your way.
But I say, bring ‘em on. We can handle them.” She truly needed this
case, yet she wondered if she had gone too far with her theatrics.
She waited. Then she heard the sound of the door opening and
clicking shut behind Margo.

S
andy drove back to
the office fearful that she had mishandled the awkward meeting with
Margo Larena at the jail that morning. Yet she was unsure how she
should have proceeded. She was determined not to let such a major
defense case slip out of her hands and away from her bank account
without a fight. After all, wasn’t she the best possible lawyer for
Margo? She would meet with the woman again and convince her.
Victory in such a notorious murder trial would make Sandy’s
reputation, not to mention every one of her remaining car
payments.

Martin was out somewhere, which wasn’t
unusual, as he was not office bound and could easily handle his few
clients part time. Unlike Sandy, he did not depend upon income from
his law practice. His practice tended toward legal contracts,
giving legal advice, and bankruptcy. She usually had one or two
small personal injury or property damage cases going with an
occasional DUI. All incredibly boring. She was energized by clients
who had been dumped on or had innocently run afoul of the law.

In the middle of her desk, she noticed the
police report for the Larena homicide marked “preliminary.” On top
of the report was stuck a memo from Martin, “Did you notice the
murder in the newspaper this morning?”

She read the police report pausing to check
dates with her calendar. She took out the yellow legal pad with her
notes from her meeting with Margo. Going back and forth between the
report and her notes, she tried try to match the facts as given in
the police report with the few logical statements made to her by
Margo. She gave up after two hours. The possibility that it was a
waste of time, and that she had seen the last of Margo added to her
frustration.

She decided she’d drive back out to the jail
in the morning and attempt to regain her trust. The woman was
definitely unpleasant to deal with. A night in a jail cell is
intended to adjust your mental outlook, and it certainly does. To
that, she could personally attest. She hoped the woman’s outrageous
attitude was temporary and not an everlasting personality
quirk.

She folded the papers and headed for Chip’s
house for the inevitable glass of wine and a needed bit of comfort.
Also, to make up for avoiding his bed the night before.

He must have gotten off duty early. When she
got to his place, he had already changed clothes and had stretched
himself out on the sofa checking his iPad, looking fine in a white
polo shirt and knee-length cargo shorts. She gave him a kiss. How
could anyone doubt a beautiful guy who looks like that? “Would you
like to compare the relative craziness of the day with me,
Chip?”

“Not especially. Some of my days get somewhat
soiled. Don’t care to relive many of them.”

“Let me guess. Today you had too many clowns
and not enough circuses.”

“That’s about it. Why don’t I just concede
that today you take the crazy-day prize?”

“We’d better forget it anyway, because I
can’t tell you just how off-the-wall a certain woman is since it’s
privileged communication.”

“Oh, a client.” He grinned. “You don’t mean a
criminal defense case?”

“Yes, a big one!” She jabbed the air with
both fists and threw him a beaming smile.

He got up and hugged her. “Finally, your
first serious honest-to-God client.”

“Except she walked out on me.”

“Meaning?”

“She’ll cool it and we’ll get back together.
She’s defensive but desperate.”

“What’s the charge?”

“Murder in the first,” she said proudly.

A quizzical frown crossed his face. “What do
you mean, murder? Here in Park Beach? We get barely a handful a
year. The most recent one was Tuesday night. The John Larena
shooting that I was called in on.”

“That’s the murder I’m talking about. I think
I’m going to defend his wife.”

He moved in front of her and placed his hands
on her shoulders. “Tell me you aren’t going to do that.”

“What are you doing, Chip? I know you might
be part of the prosecution against my client. And I know State
Attorney Moran is going to have a fit imagining our pillow talk
passing secrets.” In the past, Chip had given her inside
information he thought she should know about, if he had no conflict
of interest. “We’ll just have to keep that part of our lives
separate from one another. Margo Larena deserves a defense even if
guilty, and I certainly deserve my first client.”

“You can’t do it, Sandy.”

Why did he say it like that? She stepped back
from him. “It’s not as though I need your permission.” Her voice
was rising and her face turning red. “Even if I lived under your
roof, you don’t forbid me anything.”

“Of course, I’m sorry I phrased it like that.
I don’t mean I forbid you to do it. I meant I don’t want you to do
it. I met your client, Margo Larena. Around three years ago.”

“So you’ve met my oddball client. Did you
know her husband, John?”

“No, I met her before they were married.”

A wild thought struck her. “You mean you
dated her?” If he’d been attracted to someone frumpy like Margo,
she didn’t know this guy at all. Her voice was tense. “She isn’t
the one who gave you that book of poems?”

“Oh no, but I went out with her
sister-in-law, John’s sister.”

Now she could breathe again. “So what? I
certainly don’t care who you dated. It’s old news.” She gave him
her most accepting smile.

She knew about one former girlfriend, the
legal secretary, now called an administrative assistant, who still
worked in the County Clerk’s office. In fact, Sandy saw her
occasionally around the courthouse and had spoken with her.
Everyone in Park Beach seemed to know that the attractive redhead
had lived in this house with him for a couple of years. Thankfully,
she was now married, which took her out of the game. They remained
friends and Sandy liked her as well. No secrets there.

The ones with secrets would be the writer of
the scorching diary, and the guy who had been swinging from the
bedroom chandelier with her.

She could handle all this old girlfriend
stuff. Chip was almost forty; of course, he had a past. She didn’t
care about previous girlfriends. Just so he didn’t call out their
names during lovemaking. The past was past. And that’s where old
girlfriends should be buried. They shouldn’t keep popping back up
like some desperate ghoul who won’t stay dead.

“Geez, that’s wild. You once dated the
victim’s sister. Interesting since you’ll be investigating the
murder. Yet I don’t see why I can’t defend the victim’s wife.”

“It would be too confusing around here, not
to mention causing multiple raised eyebrows around the courthouse.
The victim’s sister is the one I met with for coffee the other day,
the one who I guess wanted to reconcile. You know that poetry book
I threw in the trash? She’s the one who gave it to me.”

S
andy and Chip had
spent the night quietly together with each not venturing across the
centerline of the bed for at least that night. To avoid reopening
the discussion the next morning, she pretended to be groggily
half-asleep while listening to him fussing around preparing to go
in early. Between thoughts of Chip’s former girlfriend eager to
seduce him with the aid of her sexy diary, and his not wanting
Sandy to represent Margo, who might not even want her as her
attorney, she had plenty to disturb last night’s sleep. He gave her
a forehead kiss and touched her hair before leaving. That helped
her mood immensely.

At the office that morning, Martin appeared
to have his head deep in a pile of bankruptcy papers, so she just
waved on the way to her desk. The question on her mind was, should
she go ahead and represent Margo Larena in spite of Chip’s
objection? She would wait to ask Martin. Meanwhile, she would run
her dilemma passed her old friend Jerry Kagan.

Before he retired, Kagan was one of the few
gutsy defense lawyers willing to go up against the scheming State
Attorney Lawrence Moran. When she first stormed in from
Philadelphia to rescue her brother from the murder charge, they
teamed up. By the time they were done, Moran was shamefully
embarrassed, and his case was destroyed. As a result, they had
earned Moran’s everlasting animosity. The episode restored much of
the prestige Kagan had enjoyed in his younger years.

Kagan answered his phone with a typical
remark about how delightful to start the morning hearing her voice.
How could he help her?

“As you know, Jerry, I sometimes get mixed up
in situations that often conflict with Chip’s position as a
detective on the police force.”