Murder in Germantown (19 page)

My reflection time was over at 8. Marsha was on the scene to kick my day off, but I felt like being stingy with my time that day. I began to meticulously plan my day. I had no court appearances. I wanted no phone calls until further notice, unless they were from Brandon’s school, where he had better been and not conning Dajuan out of another day at home.

By 8:30, I was in my coat prepared to leave my office when Marsha’s sexiness entered. She waved a greasy homemade pork chop on an English muffin sandwich in her hand. I snatched it up and devoured it greedily.

I told her, “Do not text my cell phone, unless Osama bin Laden needs a lawyer. And I am not taking any clients today.”

“
Where are you off, too?”

“
To see the wonderful Wizard of Oz.”

CHAPTER 43

It had been my fourth courtroom visit of that day at the Criminal Justice Center. I had no cases, but touring railroad central was always my favorite past time. My laptop and I had not been bored. I was building a legal career and what better way to spend part of my day than watching my opponents try their cases.

I walked into a courtroom and became excited. So many dirty secrets, embellishments, half-truths, and flat out lies were revealed in court. It took a fine lawyer to reconstruct the facts through exhibits and testimony and unearth the truth. For a good legal drama, forget about what Hollywood had to offer. A trip to the local courthouse did justice.

A courtroom spectator watched a horrible trial be put on and heard all of the hallway gossip as a bonus. That was more intriguing than what happened inside the courtroom, at times. The delicious behind-the-scenes myths and scandals were tasty. Beware of the graphic crime-scene photos, though. I had seen a few races to the bathroom from some gut-wrenching photos. Don’t have a pity party for the vics, either, as they are on the witness stand letting beautiful tears fall from their eyes, as the DA asked, “Are you okay? Do you need time?” until you have heard both sides. I promise unparalleled let-down when the defense exposed that the true victim was not as pitifully distraught as they let on.

By 10:35, I was in the Honorable Francis Willis’s courtroom, and my only purpose there was to build my dossier on Assistant District Attorney, Guy Dietz. I had a file on all of them at the DA’s office. I knew their weaknesses, strengths, and conviction records. I studied them with vigor. I may have known the legal them better than they did. My file on them contained character flaws, attitude problems, and mood swings. Did they whine about being overruled? Did they offer abusive objections? Did they speak clearly? Eloquently? Were they sartorial and exuded confidence? What did they drive? Where did they reside? Married? Single? Kids? Clubs? Memberships? Affairs? Thanks to Rude, I knew it all.

Take Guy Dietz. He donned a navy suit more than enough. I knew it was the same one because it had a miniscule cigarette burn on the bottom right side of the jacket. He adored clip-on bow ties. He was an absolute slob without table manners. We lunched--once, and trust that was enough--to discuss a plea. He raised his spoon to his mouth ninety going south. He kept his mouth packed. Never did he stop shifting his food in his mouth creating that abominable smacking sound that cattle were notorious for. He was a vile and viscous viper toward defense witnesses and the presiding judges. And his mother gave him a sexy name like, Guy. He was no Guy. Not even a Bartholomew. I had heard him punctuate a question to a witness with a curse. Now there he was before the Court to hear all motions
in limine
of a robbery case that was tried shortly after the
limine
hearings. This was what unfolded before the Court:

“
What other motions do you intend to file?” Judge Willis asked David Tom, the defense attorney.

David Tom was a veteran attorney who spent 17 years at the DA’s office prior to private practice. No doubt he had the DA’s number. He knew their strategies, how they selected a case to try, prep witnesses, select experts, and gather case law. He had a fairly solid image. Nothing
to scantily clad in his legal closet.

“
Honorable Willis, the defense will file a motion to dismiss based on the prosecution not bringing my client to trial within the 180-days as set forth in the Penal Code...”

Good ol’ Guy Dietz, interruptive-attorney-at-law cut his colleague off.

“
Undoubtedly, the Commonwealth will oppose that motion,” Dietz said, loudly and rose to his feet. “We...”

“
Mr. Dietz, please have a seat,” Judge Willis chided.

He had his glasses, which were tinted, looking directly in Dietz’s direction. As far as I knew, he could have been looking at a Playboy Magazine behind those glasses. They were shades.

“
I will not be yelled at as long as I wear the black robe.”

That was a pompous statement, and one to be noted in my Judge Willis file.

That far, my Willis file reflected that he was 61. I was at his 60th birthday bash, as Wydell called them. He had been on the bench for 19-years and made a play for General Attorney. He had his political path paved until scandal brought him down. He was accused of taking a bribe. I digress.

“
Undoubtedly,” he continued sarcastically, and I wanted to hoot, “You’ll oppose. I would think that when you walked into this courtroom you were aware that today is the day that I’d hear motions
in limine
, and you would be doing a lot of opposing. Now do your job and please allow me to do mine without the grandiose interruptions. There’s no media here, but if you’d like some, maybe you can have Abraham re-assign you to the Torres cannibal circus on 10.”

Dietz bowed down in his seat. I had never seen that, or Willis being so calloused. The pressure was now on the defense, too. Tom knew he had better not become a victim of that harshness, especially when a jury was involved. But, I’d bet that Willis would not pull that in front of a jury.

I received a text message from Rude, and was rescued from this train wreck.

CHAPTER 44

Aramis looked forward to going to the LaSalle University campus. At precisely 11:35, he stumbled into the bathroom. He showered, trimmed his goatee and dressed. He looked like a Harvard student all over again. He donned jeans and a college sweatshirt, sipped coffee and sat at his desk reviewing his notes from Ravonne. His home telephone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and gripped it up.

“
Yes, Mr. Lemmelle,” he said, chuckling.

“
Good boy,” Ravonne said and laughed. “Listen, you’ve got to get over to that campus. I need a story on my client, Wydell James. Nothing negative.”

“
You’ve told me this.”

“
Miz, this is tricky, man. I need some sympathy.”

“
And you’re going to get it by the late edition. Stop sweating me man.”

“
But it’s already noon. You know all of the campus will be drunk by two. I know this reporting thing is fun for you. Just another day in Vegas, but a man’s life is on the line. The stakes are high. You have to get back to the newsroom to type this bad boy up and have ninety-nine editors review it. With all that, won’t you miss a deadline?”

“
Come on, Ray-Ray. Step into the millennium. I’ll E-mail the article. I’m only doing color and background. Besides, I already have the shell of the article written. I’ll E-mail it to you before I leave out the door.”

“
Okay. Could you add a name to your list? Shannon Oscar is my client’s girlfriend. She tossed me a $30,000 retainer. See if you can find anywhere the money came from. Don’t ask right out; just suggest that I am so expensive. If Wydell was into anything crooked, especially selling drugs, I need to be prepared.”

“
Why doesn’t he just tell you that?”

“
Clients usually have no knowledge of the law. They believe they can’t be represented by me if I know the truth. I can and would. It’s just ethically I could never claim that they’re innocent, only that the prosecutor can’t prove it.”

“
That’s why I report the law, and not defend it. And you call what I do Vegas. I am going to the campus no. Bye!”

Life without a woman was bad enough, but Ravonne wanted him to run around college campuses and be surrounded by well-favored females with brains and retentive knowledge. He had been driving for ten minutes before he thought about how much fun that may be. Maybe this investigative escapade would take his mind off sex for a moment.

Not hardly.

He would run down his list of students he needed to interview, write up his piece, be back home by eight to catch
24
. As he watched
24
, he would have the phone chat line on hold.

He parked his car on Olney Avenue in front of a building that mirrored an Italian cathedral. He found the registrar’s office there. He did not want to be on campus long, so he handed the student clerk a list of basketball players that he wanted to interview. He also gave her a lie that he was writing a piece on college hoop stars. The student looked at his press credentials suspiciously, but she handed over the class schedules of three students. It was against school policy, but how could she deny those students the possibility of receiving coverage that could put them on the NBA’s radar.
It’ll be a little trickier to get Shannon Oscar’s, though
, he thought.

“
Thank you,” Aramis told her very nicely. “Would you happen to know, Shannon Oscar?” he asked coolly with a smile on his face.

It was warm like she was an old friend.

“
The runner? Yeah. What about her?”

“
Happen to have her schedule? I hear her boyfriend is the star of the team? I’d like to get her take on him.”

“
I don’t know, Mr. Reed. I could be in trouble for the schedules that I have already passed to you. I better talk to the Dean first.”

No deans
, he thought. He may get kicked off campus and not get to the boys if the dean was called. He thanked her and flashed from the hallway before she felt guilty and confessed her crime to the dean and security.
I’d report that, too
, he thought and laughed out loud.

CHAPTER 45

Aramis studied the Spring 2007 listing of classes, professors and classrooms on a bulletin board in the school cafe. The board reminded him of Harvard’s
advertisements for old text book sales, tutors, roommates, off-campus rooms/apartments, party announcements, intramural games, and club meetings. A pretty little woman skated past him on roller blades. He smiled at her and signaled for her to stop.

“
Sorry to bother you,” he said as she removed her earphones from her ear. “Could you point out these three buildings for me? I’m new and haven’t learned the campus, yet.”

“
Sure.”

She began to point out the buildings.

“
Thanks,” he told her and locked in the building locations. Before she skated off, he asked, “Do you happen to know Shannon Oscar?”

“
I do.”

“
I need to talk to her. I wanted to check on Wydell.”

“
Wydell?” she asked. “What happened to him?”

“
You haven’t heard?”

“
No.”

“
He’s in jail for murder.”

“
No way,” she raved with her mouth ajar. “He’s no murderer.”

“
Cops say so,” Aramis replied like a college punk.

He recalled that coy tactic working excellently to get Harvard co-eds into bed.

“
That’s why I wanna talk to Shannon to be sure that he is holding on.”

“
From what I know, she stays in a rooming house on 20th Avenue. I don’t know the address, but the house has a lot of lights and Christmas ornaments on the lawn, which eight days after New Year’s the girls continue to light.”

“
Thanks a lot. What’s your name?”

“
Dora.”

“
Antonio.”

“
Nice to meet you, Antonio. I’ll see you around.”

Aramis watched her cute little butt skate away and he made his way to Jared Vetter’s Art History class. The class should have been ending, and he hoped that the professor did not release early. He entered the hallway and four classes rushed into the hall. He eyed the students coming out of classroom 107B. It was not hard to spot Vetter. He was 6’5”, lanky and boisterous. Jared was no doubt a jock.