Cookie's Case (12 page)

“Get them Ray-diated.”

“That's right, get them Ray-diated.”

TOO OBVIOUS

I walk out of the club straight into Minotero. This is far from coincidence. He's leaning against a Lincoln Town Car. The government-issued type with a searchlight attached just in front of the driver's side mirror. He's wearing that stupid trench coat again and seems even shorter than I remember.

Anyway, I'm glad to see him since I have something to tell him. I approach purposefully. “Do me a favor, Minnow,” I say. “Never come to my office again, and don't involve yourself with my clients. You hear me?”

“Do you mean Cookie? Or maybe Robert Killroy? Which one?” What's going on here? How would he even know about Robert? I've only started his representation.

“Where are you getting the names of my clients?”

“That's what I do, know stuff. Seeeee.”

I take a second to assess and collect myself. The names of my new clients are not public knowledge, so he's got some real source that, at the moment, I can't figure out. I realize I need to tone things down in an effort to appeal to his sensible side. If he has one. I mean, he did give me his name.

“I don't know who you are,” I say kindly, “or why you're involving yourself in my business, and also in the business of my clients, but you're stepping over the line. I can't imagine what interest you have here. Don't you think it's time to explain?”

“You want explanations, I'll give you explanations, seeeee. I warned you off Cookie's case, and you didn't heed it. I investigate insurance fraud claims, and her case is one of my assignments, seeeee.”

“What are you talking about? She has a solid malpractice case. Besides which, it's clear she's not the type of person who perpetuates insurance fraud.”

“It's not Cookie we're investigating.”

“What do you mean? Who else would be in the position to commit the fraud?”

“The doctor and the lawyer. It happens all the time, usually with medical facilities. But we've seen it like this, too, seeeee.”

“Dr. McElroy and Chris Charles? No. I don't seeeee,” I respond. “What fraud could they possibly be involved in?”

“McElroy commits the surgical error and Charles brings the lawsuit. Just like in the movies. Then they split the insurance payout.”

“Wait a second. The money here isn't so large that any doctor would be enticed to co-conspire in such a plan with so little return. But something else makes the whole thing utterly farfetched …”

“Oh yeah, what's that?”

“If we accept that they're co-conspirators in this scheme, then it must have been set up beforehand. Meaning, they could only effectuate their plan if it was known that Cookie would retain Chris Charles. How do you explain that?”

“Easy, seeeee.”

As frustrating as all this is, at least I got the guy talking. “No, I don't. Her boyfriend, Major, was the one who referred her to Charles and, come to think of it, to McElroy as well. Hmm, so are you saying Major's involved, too?”

“I'm not saying anything. We've been on this assignment a long time, and the end is just around the corner. You're interfering with an ongoing investigation, seeeee. So now that you know, get off the case. I got a job to do here, and you're getting in the way.”

“Not so fast. I'm going to represent my client zealously to the end. Cookie did nothing wrong, based on what you've said, and in handling her action, I'll be doing nothing wrong. You know it and I know it. If she was injured she's entitled to fair and reasonable compensation.” I shake my head reproachfully. “You're the only one with something to lose here, if this story of yours is true.” I mean, how can it be? Major seemed to be in support of Cookie switching attorneys. No way is he involved.

Minnow takes a threatening step forward. This guy loves intimidating gestures.

“You don't believe me?” he shouts. “What do you know? You don't even know these people! How do you explain McElroy testifying about the injury when it wasn't in his operative report? That's proof of his participation in this scheme, seeeee.”

I will say this, Minnow knows his facts. He's definitely on the inside, somehow. But I've had enough of him and his annoying ‘seeeees.'

“Listen to me. In fact, I view things just the other way.” I pause, letting that sink in. “If this was the situation, then McElroy would've come straight out and documented his surgical error in his operative report. How do you explain that?”

“I'll tell you how,” he quickly responds. “Too obvious.”

“Too obvious?”

“Yeah, too obvious. These guys are smart. They're litigating the claim, making it real, seeeee.”

“No, I still don't see. We're getting nowhere. I'm out of here.”

I turn but not before taking in three numbers and three letters, and begin walking away. There's a remote possibility it all might be true, only because he's in possession of such detailed facts. Plus, I saw the movie Minnow was referring to with that plot—
Malice
with Alec Baldwin and Nicole Kidman. But it was the operating surgeon who co-conspired with his patient to commit the insurance fraud.

I feel his eyes on my back. He's pissed off.

I pull out my phone and start an e-mail.
To: Pusska. Subject: Various. Please come to my office at nine a.m. with the findings on your assignment. I also have something else for you
. I send her the make, model, and license plate of Minnow's car, stating,
I hope this helps. Thanks
.

Before I even have the chance to put the phone away, it vibrates in my hand. It's Pusska's reply.

“You know you vant to fuck me.”

Chapter Eleven

“L
et me know when Pusska gets here,” I say as I pass Lily.

“No ‘hello,' no ‘good morning Lily, how are you today?' Just a command. That's a little disrespectful, don't you think?”

“Yes, you're right, it was. Good morning, Lily. How are you today? Could you buzz me when Pusska gets here, please?”

“I'm fine, and no. Why don't you get yourself a real investigator? And you're way too comfortable with me,” she cautions.

I nod, continuing on. I think we don't have a normal lawyer-paralegal relationship. And she's right.

I enter my office and stop in my tracks. There's a surprise. Pusska. She's sitting at my desk with her feet up. There's an open bottle of red, and she's sipping from one of the wine glasses I keep stowed away in my private cabinet next to my mini wine fridge. To my further surprise, she's wearing a skirt suit, a first. However, her blouse is unbuttoned awfully low, lower than your normal suit-wearing woman.

Then again, Pusska is no normal woman.

“Shut door,” she orders.

Having learned my lesson from Lily, I now greet Pusska accordingly.

“Good morning, Pusska. How are you today?”

“Vhat a nice vay to greet someone,” she responds, raising the glass of wine in her hand. “I'm good, but not as good as this vine. I'm connoisseur. It's magnificent. Pour yourself a glass before it's all gone.”

I smile. “I try not to drink in the morning. It may lead to other bad habits that could play into my self-destructive tendencies. But thanks, anyway.”

Pusska looks deep into my eyes. She's got something planned.

“Vell, okay then. I'll continue vith my drinking alone, if you don't mind, darling.” She takes a large gulp and gives a long
ahhhhh
after she swallows. She's buzzed.

When this happens, watch out. I've seen Pusska like this on two or three occasions over the four years she's been my investigator. With each binge, she gets a little more revealing.

“No,” I answer, “I don't mind. Enjoy your wine as long as it doesn't compromise your work product.”

“I assure you, darling, it von't.”

Two
darlings
so far. She's obviously got intentions. “So what do you have for me?”

“Right to business, so boring. Vhy don't we sit on your couch and I tell you?”

“I'm good right here on this side of the desk. You can stay in my big comfy chair and sip your wine while you give me what you got.”

She looks deep into my eyes again. Uh-oh. She swings her feet down and sits up. Taking a large authoritative slug of wine, she empties the rest of the glass. She leans forward. “You know you vant to fuck me.”

I go with the truth. “Yes, Pusska, I definitely vant to. Who wouldn't? You're gorgeous, sexy, and there's no doubt in my mind that you know how to please a man. So what do you got for me regarding Minnow?”

“So vhat do you got for me! So vhat do you got for me! Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes.”

“Suit self. Ven you ready to vant me, I von't vant you.”

“Yeah, that's basically how things go for me. Now, back to Minnow. What do you got?”

After a small delay, tears fill her eyes. Now what?

“There's no need to cry; it's not you, it's me.” I've always wanted to use that phrase. Unfortunately, given my historical role in breakups, I've never had the opportunity.

“No, it's me,” she asserts. “I hate myself.”

“Pusska, why would you say that?”

“Because I do.”

I can see I have no choice here. “Tell me why you'd say that, Pusska.”

“Because I'm whore. No self-respect. I know this. That vhy I hate myself.”

“First of all you're not a whore. Second—”

“I am whore,” she interrupts. “I use sex to get vhat I vant. I learn this. My mother vas town whore. She had no teeth.”

“You are not your mother. And using your sexuality to get what you want is pretty normal. Okay? Besides, you have beautiful teeth.”

“I am whore,” she restates in apparent distress. “Men in my country make me whore. Old fat man vith money have young sexy girl. Girl vith old man for money, old man vith girl for sex. It only vay for poor girl to have good life. Then I come to America and have chance to change. And vhat I do? I act like whore in vorse vay.”

“Pusska, you've had two long-term boyfriends since we've been working together. Neither were fat old rich men. Give yourself a break.”

“Yeah, my boyfriends. You don't know. Instead of fat old rich man, I go for skinny young rich man. But both boyfriends married. Like I said, vorse. I use sex thinking they marry me once I break marriage. That never happen. They throw me avay to gutter like sick dog.”

“Well …” I'm playing for time. “Did you really go after both these married men because they were rich?”

“Yes.”

“And did you go after each one with the intentions of breaking up his marriage?”

“Yes.”

“And you thought that after you'd used your considerable wiles to get them into a weakened emotional state, you'd eventually prevail and marry one?”

“Yes.”

“And you were using hot sex to carry out this plan?”

“Yes.”

“And you were going to marry them for their money?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that kinda does make you a whore. And a homewrecker.” She erupts, crying again. I roll my eyes. But she's too upset to notice. What did she expect me to say?

“Please,” I beg, “stop crying. Don't be so hard on yourself. You were a young girl who had to survive some tough situations. You can't be blamed for that. Right now, it's time to move on, to clean up your act. You're a great person, so give a guy the opportunity to like you for you, not for the sex.”

“Move forward, you say, like it so easy. Men vant only one thing. So I act like whore.”

“All right, Pusska,” I say, as if giving in. “If that's what you think, then just come over here and blow me.”

“Vhat!” she exclaims. “I'm not going to do anything to you!”

“See,” I say. “That wasn't so hard, was it? Consider
that
your first step toward being a respectable young lady.” She smiles. “And you know I was just kidding when I asked you to blow me?”

“You can say you vere kidding, as long as we both know you vant me.”

On the words
vant me
, Lily barges in like some overprotective buddy of my wife. They lock eyes. I'm sandwiched between the negativity that suddenly suffuses the room.

“Vell, vhat do you vant? This is private meeting.”

“Not any longer,” Lily responds. “And it's
well
, not
vell
;
what
, not
vhat
; and
want
, not
vant
. Get that right, already. You've been here long enough to know it's a
w
, as in
witch
and not a
v
, as in
vampiress
.” Lily, having struck, defiantly puts her hands on her hips, ready for the counterattack. Can anyone say catfight?

Lily and Pusska are continually at odds with each other—and it's all Lily's fault. She dislikes everything about Pusska and has made it well known. Lily's a hard-working, single,
Puertorriqueña
mother from the hood who takes great pride in her achievements. She came from a family on welfare, was the first to graduate high school, went on to an accredited paralegal school where she finished at the top of her class, and has worked for me ever since.

She runs my small practice and knows more about law than most attorneys. As I think I've described, she also happens to be absolutely gorgeous. Think Penelope Cruz.

But unlike Pusska, Lily's never once used her looks to get anything. In fact, the mere thought of doing so repulses her. And when guys, failing to sense this, come on to her, she serves them a nut roast. The smart ones slink away, believe me.

“
Tsk, tsk, tsk
,” Pusska retorts. “You shouldn't talk vith such anger and disrespect. But I'm glad you're here. Fetch me some coffee.”

Lily comes up behind me and, by the sound of her footsteps, she means business. I look over my shoulder, and she smacks me upside my head. Not a hard one, but enough to rattle me.

“Hey! What did I do?”

“Oh, shut up, you idiot. I'm not going to work here if you're going to start cheating on your wife with this drunken—”

“Stop right there!” I command. “No one's cheating on anybody. What has to happen is that you two put aside your attitudes. I need both of you. You're both integral to the success of this law office, and I can't handle the friction anymore. Now I want you to shake hands and just get over it. Do you hear me?”

They look at each other. Neither is going to make the first move.

“Come on, ladies,” I say. “It's in everybody's best interest that we all get along.” I stand up, and Lily takes a step back. I walk around my desk and take Pusska's arm.

“Come on now,” I coax. She reluctantly allows me to guide her. “Now shake hands,” I insist.

They look at each other. “Come on now,” I repeat.

Pusska, surprisingly, makes the first move. She reaches out saying, “Lily, I don't know vhy there's tension between us, but I am sorry there is.”

They shake hands and share a sort of smile. I feel relieved.

“Great. I'm glad you guys finally got past this. Now, Lily, why did you barge in here in the first place? Were you just keeping tabs on me?”

“Your kids' principal is on the phone. He tried to call your wife, but she's most likely playing tennis and can't be reached. He's got Connor and Penelope in his office. He's on hold.”

I sigh. “You should have said so right up front.” Smugly, she walks out.

I pick up. “Hi, this is Connor and Penelope's dad. What's going on? Is everything all right?”

“Yes, everything's fine,” comes the reply. Whew. “But both your children are refusing to respond to their teachers unless they're addressed by their new names, which we have no record of. If there's been a name change, we're going to need either you or your wife to come in and sign the paperwork to reflect that in Dirk's and Summer's official school records.”

“I see. Well, there has been no official name change. They seem to be going through a phase. Could you put them on the phone for a second?”

“Certainly.” I hear him tell them to share the phone.

“Hi, Daddy,” they say.

“Guys, you've got to stop this.”

“No way,” Connor responds.

“Yeah, no way,” adds Penelope. “We like our new names. I'm Summer and Connor is Dirk, and that's final. We need to show our independence.”

“That's twisting what I said, and you can't change your names.”

“Yes we can,” Penelope responds. “My friend Mark's dad, Mark, did it. Mark is his favorite name, so Mark's dad, Mark, changed his name to Mark. Then Mark's dad, Mark, named his son Mark too because, like I said, Mark is his favorite name. So I know you can do it because my friend Mark's dad, Mark, did it.

“Put the principal back on the phone.”

“Hello.”

“Yes, I'm sorry for any trouble this is causing,” I say. “I'll try to get things back to normal. For now, please just deal with them in any way you see fit.”

“I'll send Dirk and Summer back to their classrooms,” he allows. Kids are his business, after all.

“So, do you vant to know vhat I got for you, or vhat?”

“Yes, Pusska, I actually do. I've been hoping to learn that since I walked in and saw you drinking my vintage wine. Tell me what you've got for me. Let's start with Minotero. Who does he work for, and what's his involvement with Cookie's case?”

“Ah, yes, him. Vell, I can tell you who he's not.”

“Okay, who isn't he?”

“First, he isn't vorking for Chris Charles as you suspected. He isn't a government man, this is for sure. He doesn't vork for the DA, he doesn't vork for the FBI, he doesn't vork for Frauds Bureau, and he doesn't vork for any other state or federal agency. And, as far as I can tell, there's not one such formal agency, government or private, taking any interest whatsoever in Cookie's case or in Chris Charles or this Dr. McElroy. They're not on radar screens.”

“Well, do you have any idea who he is and what interest he has in wanting me to step away from Cookie's case and return it to Chris Charles?”

“No.”

“And the plate number?”

“Vell, I ran the Town Car plate you gave me and get info.”

“Go on, I'm listening.”

“Plate stolen.”

“That's it?”

“Yes, that's it. I don't know vhat his interest is vith this case, but I'll find out if you vant me to.”

“I do. But I'm not sure it's necessary this minute. We'll keep it on the side for now because I can't see how it matters to my properly representing Cookie. But McElroy? What did you find out about him?”

“Okay, him. Vell, he's been brought up on charges twice for performing unnecessary surgery. On vun of those occasions, Major submitted an affidavit on his behalf, stating the surgery was medically indicated. I have papervork here for you on both cases. Not too bad, eh?”

“No, not too bad, considering surgeons perform unnecessary operations every day.”

“Ya, that vas my thought. I have Cookie's MRI studies vith me. I picked them up from Chris Charles on my vay here. He vas cooperative and say sorry for not giving you them vhen transferring file. He forgot.”

“Great, thanks.”

“You're velcome. May I make suggestion?”

“I'm listening.”