Advice of Counsel (The Samuel Collins Series Book 1) (3 page)

I finagled my hand away from her when we got to the steps and I
sat down with a good four feet of space between us.  She moved over and closed
the gap to less than two.

“I need a lawyer,” she declared.

“For what?”

“Sexual harassment.”

Why wasn’t I surprised?  “Someone’s charged you with sexual
harassment?”

She held her hand to her large bosom and I couldn’t tell if she
was feigning shock or if she actually was.   “Charged me?” she said in
disbelief.

“Well, you do come off as a bit of a flirt,” I told her.

“Why would you say that?  You’ve only known me . . .”  She
stopped mid sentence.  “Why you . . . you think I’ve been flirting with you? 
Is that it?”

“Are you saying you haven’t been?”

“Why the hell would I flirt with
you
?” she demanded.

“It seemed like . . .”  I started to say, but she cut me off.

“What is it with you
men
?” She said
men
like it
was a dirty word.  “How can you possibly translate my telling you I need a
lawyer into flirting?”

“I’m sorry, it . . .”  She cut me off again.

“You are sorry.  You’re a sorry excuse for a human being.  Just
like my boss.  Screw you both!”  She got up and stormed off back towards her
house.

She was right.  There was no reason why I should have assumed
she was flirting. 
It was the hair
.  I had taken one look at that hair
and automatically assumed she was a flirt.

“Maddie wait!”  I said, chasing after her.  I caught up to her
and got in front of her so she had to stop.  “Your boss is harassing you?”

“Yes,” she said, and she burst into tears.  “That’s why I need
a lawyer.”

“Well now you have one, so stop crying.  Here, let’s try your
steps,” I said, motioning to her porch.  She wiped her eyes and we sat down on
her front steps.  “Tell me.”

“My husband died last year and ever since, my boss has been
coming on to me.”

“Coming on how?”

“He makes lewd comments.”  She looked down at her chest.  “I
have a baby that I breastfeed and I’ve got these enormous
things
,” she
said, as if they were foreign objects.  “Yesterday, he promised me a promotion
if I’d let him touch them.”

 “Who’s your employer?”

“Datacare.”

“Really?”   I knew of the company.  It was a national research
and development company and they were big.  “What do you do there?”

“I’m an Administrative Assistant.”

“How long has the harassment been going on?” I asked.

Maddie looked away and got real quiet, then she started crying
again.

“Okay, let’s get something straight,” I told her. “Tears are
not going to solve anything.  I need you to be in control and just tell me the
facts without getting all emotional.”

She wiped her eyes again and tried to regain her composure. 
“Last year, we were about to undergo a reduction in force and my supervisor
told me that if I had sex with him, I’d keep my job.”

I did my best to hide my shock, but my heart started racing.  I
was seeing big-time dollar signs.  “And did you?”

She nodded her head and started crying again.   “Just the
once.  I couldn’t afford to lose my job.  I had just lost my husband and I have
two kids to support.  After that, he started touching me and saying disgusting
things to me.”

“Did you ever complain to anyone in management?”

“Yes.  To his immediate boss.  He told me not to take it
seriously – that Larry was just teasing.”

If what she was saying was true, we had a major cause of
action.  It had the potential for being the biggest case to come across my desk
since I’d been practicing.  The kind of case that Plaintiffs’ lawyers dream of.

“Monday morning, we’re going to file a sexual harassment charge
with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission,” I told her.

“So you think I have a case?”

“I think you might just be sitting on a gold mine.”

I took the case on a contingency fee basis, under a 60-40
arrangement.  We spent most of the weekend working on her affidavit that she
would submit with her charge, and by Sunday afternoon, it was polished to perfection. 
I decided to have her file the charge on her own, hoping the company would
screw up even more if they didn’t know that a lawyer was already involved.

I was bringing over the final version of the affidavit and I
had just knocked on her door, when I heard Maddie yelling from inside.  Oliver
opened the door and I raced to the back of the house, following Maddie’s
screams.  A foul smell hit me as I approached what turned out to be the baby’s
room, and I could hear Maddie saying,
shit
over and over again.

“What’s the matter?” I shouted, but as I stepped into the room,
the problem was evident.  There was a screaming baby standing in his crib,
naked from the waist down, and there was crap everywhere.

“Shit!” Maddie said again.  “He took off his diaper!”

It was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen.  Evidently
the kid had finger-painted with his shit, because it was all over the place. 
On his hands, in his fingernails, in his hair, on his face and arms and legs. 
It covered the sheet from one end to the other and was all over the slats of
the crib and on the railings.  The kid had had a hell of a time, and if it
weren’t so disgusting, it would have been hilarious.   As it was, I was
horrified and backed up trying to get out of the room.

“Can you take him?” Maddie asked, trying to hand me the kid.

“No way!” I said, throwing my hands up in the air.  “I can’t do
it!”

Oliver had come into the room and was looking around at the
mess with a horrified expression on his face.

“Oliver, run get Mrs. Johns,” I told him, backing away from
Maddie and the smelly, dirty baby.  “Quick!” I added, giving him a shove to get
him started.

Oliver took off running as fast as he could, slamming the front
door as he made his exit.

“I need your help,” Maddie pleaded.  “Hold him so I can get his
shirt off.”

No way in hell was I going to hold that filthy kid.  “You hold
him and I’ll take off his shirt,” I countered.

We went into the bathroom and she held the baby out while I
tried to take his shirt off without getting shit all over myself.  The kid had
settled down and was no longer crying, but he kept reaching for me with those
disgusting little shit-covered hands.  I finally managed to remove his shirt
and I tossed it on the ground in the corner of the bathroom.  Having done my duty,
I tried to retreat, but Maddie wasn’t going let me get away so easily.

“Can you run the bath?” Maddie asked.

I turned on the water and again tried to leave, but then she
needed wipes.

“Wipes?”

“Wipes,” she repeated.  “They’re in a blue box in his room on
the changing table.”

Oh, God
. 
Not back in that
room
.   I
looked at Maddie and then at the kid and decided that getting the wipes was the
lesser of the evils, so I braved the smell and raced in and retrieved the
wipes.   I had another quick glance at the crib and decided if it were me, I’d
throw the damn thing out, bedding and all, and go out and buy a new one.

Maddie laid the kid down on a towel and started wiping him off
starting with his face and hands and working her way down that dirty little
body.  I looked at my watch and wondered what was keeping Mrs. Johns. 
Apparently Oliver had not conveyed the urgency of the situation.

“Have you ever bathed a baby?” Maddie asked, with a hopeful
note in her voice.

  “I’m not good with babies,” I said.  I looked at my watch
again. 
Where the hell was Mrs. Johns
!  The front door opened and
slammed and I could hear footsteps walking quickly through the house.

“Oh my goodness!” I could hear her say.  “Oh, my!  Maddie,
dear?”  Mrs. Johns came into the bathroom and took in the scene.  “Bless your
heart.  Did you have an accident?” she asked the baby. 
This was no
accident. 
Mrs. Johns smiled at me.  “Hello, Samuel.”

“Mrs. Johns,” I nodded.

“It looks like you have everything under control in here,” she
said.  “Why don’t I get started on the crib?  Where do you keep your cleansers,
dear?” she asked Maddie.

I was off the hook.  Thank goodness for Mrs. Johns.  I made a
mental note that I owed her one and decided I would reduce my fee for preparing
her will in consideration of her saving me from having to bathe the kid.

“You okay then?” I asked Maddie, making another attempt at an
exit.

“Yeah.  Thanks for your help Samuel.”

“No problem,” I lied, trying to sound nonchalant.  “I’ll leave
your affidavit on the table.  Call me if you have any questions about going to
the EEOC.”

I got out of the house as quickly as I could, and went home and
took a shower to disinfect myself.

Maddie called me the next morning at work to tell me she had
gone down to the EEOC and filed her discrimination charge.    I was curious as
to whether her supervisor would take any adverse action against her.  I almost
hoped he did so we could amend the charge to include retaliation; the more
ammunition we had, the better.  It would be a great case to take before a jury,
and Maddie would make a good witness after we got her a new hairstyle.  The
jury would definitely be sympathetic towards her. 

On a hunch, I called my investigator friend back and requested
that he send someone into Maddie’s department at Datacare to see what he could
dig up.  I reasoned that if a supervisor was so blatant in his harassment of a
subordinate, it could be indicative of the attitude of the higher-ups of the
company, as well.  And the higher up the executive, the bigger the payoff.

While I had him on the phone, I asked if he had come up with
anything on Landra Krally, but he said that so far she was clean.  I told him
to keep digging.  My instincts told me that little Miss Krally was up to no
good.  And as much of a pain in the ass as my neighbors might be, I wasn’t
going to let some con artist rip off their life savings.

I called Mrs. Johns when I got off the phone to let her know
how much I was going to charge for revising her will and my timeframe for
getting it to her.  I had knocked off $100 from my fee for her coming to the
rescue during the baby-shit fiasco at Maddie’s house.  She had risen several
notches in my book with her calm and collected handling of the situation.  Of
course, she didn’t know that I had discounted my fee, so that meant I would
have to quote the same price to Mrs. Howard since I knew the two would be
comparing notes on my services and fees.  While I had her on the phone, I
inquired as to the inclusion of Landra Krally in her will.

“Landra has been helping us out for years,” Mrs. Johns said. 
“None of our children live close to us and she’s like a daughter to us.  We
just wanted to acknowledge how we feel about her and thought it was a nice
gesture.”

A nice gesture
?  A nice gesture in my book was a gift
certificate to Outback Steakhouse, not leaving someone a couple hundred
thousand dollars in your will.  How could I put it tactfully?

“I know it’s none of my business, but have you conveyed your
intentions to your sons with regard to the change in your will?”

“Well, I don’t remember if we mentioned it or not?  Is there a
problem?”

“No, there’s no problem.  I just want to make sure you are
absolutely certain that you want to leave such a large portion of your estate
to someone who isn’t family.”

I had never heard Mrs. Johns laugh before, and it gave a whole
new dimension to her personality.  “You’re very sweet to be concerned, Samuel,
but you needn’t be.  We’re absolutely certain.”

I still didn’t feel good about it, but I wasn’t going to argue
with her.  I told Mrs. Johns I’d have the wills to her by the end of the week,
then I hung up and dialed Mrs. Howard’s number.  We went through pretty much
the same conversation I’d had with Mrs. Johns, and I got the same response from
Mrs. Howard.  Somehow, this Landra Krally person had charmed her way into the
Last Will and Testament of not one, but two of my neighbors.  My question was,
how many others had she conned?

I finished up early at the office and went for a run in my
neighborhood when I got home.  Oliver must have seen me leave because he was
waiting in ambush in the Johns’ yard when I returned.   His face lit up when he
saw me, and he came running over.

“Hi, Samuel!  Want to play catch?”

“Oh, not right now, Oliver,” I said, trying to catch my
breath.  “I need to take a shower.”

“After that?” he asked hopefully.

I was about to put him off until another day, when a white Lexus
pulled into Mrs. Howard’s driveway and distracted me.  A girl got out and took
some grocery bags out of the trunk and headed towards the front door.  She
looked about my age and was wearing a pink and black exercise outfit that
showed her bare stomach and left just enough to the imagination.  Her long
brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail high on her head and it swayed from side
to side as she walked.  She looked athletic but incredibly feminine at the same
time.  My jaw fell open and I couldn’t draw my eyes away from her.

She looked in our direction and smiled and called out,  “Hi,
Ollie!”

He waved enthusiastically, then ran across the street to greet
her.  She set her grocery bags down and picked up Oliver and spun him around,
then she smothered him with kisses all over his face while he laughed and
fought to get away.  I was in awe, totally transfixed on her.  She had to
notice that I was staring at her.  How could she not? But when she looked in my
direction again, she smiled casually and gave me a little wave, then gave
Oliver one last hug before letting him escape.  He came running back over to me
as she gathered up her grocery bags and resumed her progress towards the door. 
She knocked on Mrs. Howard’s door and let herself in, and then she was gone.

I started walking towards my door, with Oliver right in
stride.  “Who’s your girlfriend?” I asked, trying to shake whatever emotion had
taken hold of me.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Oliver laughed.  “That’s Landra.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.  “
That’s
Landra Krally?” I
exclaimed.  
No wonder the neighbors love her
.  Hell, I was ready to
revise
my
will and I hadn’t even met her.

“She’s really nice,” Oliver said.

“She likes
you
,” I said, reaching down and rumpling his
hair.  He laughed and took my hand in his and studied my knuckles, then he held
his palm up to mine and compared size.

“Is your hand as big as David Robinson’s?” he asked.

“Not even close,” I laughed.  Now, don’t get me wrong, San
Antonio loves their NBA Spurs, and David Robinson is a household name; but I
was shocked that a three year old would know of him. “How do you know about the
Admiral?” I asked.

“The what?”

“The Admiral.  David Robinson,” I clarified.

“He used to play for the Spurs.  He’s a seven-footer.  How tall
are you?”

“I’m a six-footer.”

“Oh.”  He said it like he was disappointed.  “Are you a role
model?” he asked with a hopeful note in his voice.  “Mommy says David Robinson
is a good role model.”

I couldn’t argue. David Robinson had brought morals and values
to a league full of gangsters and thugs.  Somehow, those qualities had been
translated into a negative, with his critics calling him
soft --
the
league’s choir boy.   For me, I’d take Robinson over the league’s punks any
day.  “David Robinson is a great role model.  I think you should stick with
him,” I said, and Oliver smiled happily.

Now . . . I’d never been big on kids, not that I’d been around
that many of them.  But in general, I didn’t like them.  They were loud and
obnoxious, and more often than not, they were dirty.  Dirty hands, dirty face,
dirty clothes.  But Oliver was different.  Not that he wasn’t dirty.  I think
he’d been digging for worms in the Johns’ flower bed while I was running, and
he had dirt under his nails and all over his shirt where he had wiped his
hands.   But for some reason, I couldn’t help but like the kid, and I found
myself telling him we’d play catch after I showered.

He waited on my steps until I came back out, then we threw the
football back and forth for the next 30 minutes.  We were sitting on my lawn
taking a break, when Mrs. Howard’s front door opened and out she came with
Landra Krally.   My heart rate picked up a couple of notches.  They looked over
and it was obvious that Mrs. Howard was talking about me, then they crossed the
street and headed in our direction. 
Yes
!

I stood up and walked across the yard and met them halfway.  I
greeted Mrs. Howard then held out my hand and introduced myself to Landra.

“Hi.  I’m Samuel Collins.”

She smiled and looked me in the eye when she shook my hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Samuel.  I’m Landra Krally.”

Her hand was soft and warm, and I held it longer than necessary
before releasing it.

“Sara told me she had a new neighbor.  You moved in last
Thursday?”

She had the most beautiful white teeth and big brown eyes. 
“Yeah.  Do you live around here?” I asked.  My eyes kept traveling to that bare
stretch of stomach, and I was trying, unsuccessfully, not to openly stare at
her.

“I live a couple of streets over.  She smiled down at Oliver,
then looked back at me.  “Ollie told me you taught him how to throw a
football.”

I looked at Oliver. “Did you tell her that?” I asked him,
nudging his shoulder.

“Yes,” he laughed.  He shoved me back with both hands, putting
all his weight into it, but he couldn’t budge me.

“Well, don’t just talk about it,” I told him.  “Show her how
good you are.  Go out for a pass.”

He backed up about 10 feet and I threw him the ball.  It hit
him in the chest and fell right through his hands.  “Watch, Landra!” Oliver
called out, picking up the ball.  He threw a pass that came right to me.

“Ollie, that’s great!” Landra said, clapping her hands, and I
could tell she was genuinely excited for him.  She looked at me and gave me
that incredible smile again.  “You’re really awesome, you know that?”

The comment was so off the wall it left me speechless.  But it
was the
way
she said it that really got me.  Like the matter wasn’t up
for discussion. 
You’re awesome, and that’s the end of it.
   And as much
as I liked the idea of being awesome in Landra Krally’s eyes, I had to set the
record straight.  All I had done was show the kid how to hold the ball right
and swing his arm.  Oliver had done all the work.

“Oliver’s got a great arm.  He just needed a couple of pointers
to get him on track,” I explained.

She smiled again and kind of cocked her head, like she was
checking me out.  I realized that if Maddie had done that, it would have
totally irked me. Landra Krally pulled it off with no problem.

“Do you have dinner plans?” she asked.

She was just like Oliver – you had no idea what was going to
come out of her mouth next.

“Tonight?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“Yeah.  Why don’t you come eat with us?  We’re just going down
the street to get a burger at Chester’s.”

I pretended to think about it for a couple of seconds before
agreeing to dinner with Landra and Mrs. Howard, then I looked down at Oliver. 
“You want to come?” I asked him.

“Yeah!” he said happily, jumping up and down.  “And can I get
some of those chips that give you bad breath?”

Chips that give you bad breath
?
 
I was stumped. 
“What do they look like?”

“They’re orange and they’re triangles.”

“Nacho Cheese Doritos?”

“Do those make your breath smell bad?”

“Yeah.”

“I think that’s them.”

“Yeah, you can get some.  Go ask your mom if you can come.”

Mrs. Howard had been conspicuously silent, but the smile on her
face told me she had been planning this encounter since Mrs. Krally had planted
the notion in her head the week before.  She kept looking from Landra, to me,
and back to Landra, and she looked very pleased with the way things were going.

We set the dinner date for 6:30 and Landra and Mrs. Howard went back across the street.  Oliver had gone home to ask if he could come to
dinner with us and the phone was ringing when I got back inside.

“You want to take Liver to Chester’s?” Maddie asked.

I literally cringed when she said it.  “Listen, Maddie,” I told
her.  “You’ve got to quit calling Oliver
Liver
.  It’s the worst nickname
I’ve ever heard.  Your just asking . . . no, I take it back . . . you’re
begging
some little punk to beat the shit out of him.  Why can’t you just call him
Oliver?”

If she was insulted she hid it well.  “I never really thought
about it.  But I guess you’re probably right.”

“I am right.  Believe me.  When I was a punk, I beat up kids
for lesser offenses all the time.”

Maddie laughed.  I guess she thought I was kidding.  “You’ll
need a car seat,” she said.  “I have a spare one in my garage, or you can take
my car if you want.”

I’d seen Maddie’s car.  “I’ll take the car seat.  Tell Oliver
I’ll pick him up at 6:25.”

I looked over Mrs. Howard’s will again while I passed the time
before dinner and it snapped me back to reality about Landra Krally. I had
obviously been thinking with a different part of my anatomy.  But no matter how
attracted to her I was, and the attraction was undeniable, there was every
indication that she was trying to defraud both Mrs. Howard and the Johnses.

The fact of the matter was, con artists are very likable
people.  That’s how they get away with what they do.  They’re generally good
looking and they’re always charming.   They assert themselves into a person’s
life, they gain their trust, and then they rob them blind.  Landra Krally
actually fit the description to a tee – she was good looking, she was charming,
she had asserted herself into my neighbors’ lives, she had gained their trust,
and each household had changed their will for the sole purpose of including her
as a beneficiary.  The facts and my instincts told me that something was up. 
By the time dinner rolled around, I had the matter back in perspective . . . or
so I thought.

My doorbell rang at 6:20 and there was Landra Krally standing
on my front porch with those white teeth and big brown eyes, and this time her
hair was down, which made her look even more beautiful if that was possible. 
She had changed clothes,
thank God
, so at least I didn’t have to stare
at her stomach, but even in faded old jeans, she exuded this . . . something. 
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.  It wasn’t sex.  It was . . . She was so
wholesome
. 
She looked so healthy and vibrant.  Hell, even her skin was perfect.  She was
like the perfect piece of fruit. 
That was it
!  Landra Krally was the
forbidden apple.  And damned if I wasn’t Adam.