Single Jeopardy (23 page)

Most people think that the definition of ‘intimacy’ is having a ‘sexual relationship,’ but sex is only one part of it. It’s sharing an interest, communicating, trust, and the freedom to say whatever’s on your mind knowing that you’ll get some support in return. Helping her study law started to get us closer to that, but never really got us all the way there. This evening’s chitchat makes me think of our old conversations. Any verbal exchange between spouses that can go on for at least ten minutes without an argument starting is a good sign, almost as enjoyable as watching a long volley between professional tennis players.

To keep the conversation going I consider bringing up Stuart’s adventures, but she never cared for him, so that topic is avoided. Several other topics are also being avoided and I get that old feeling like I’m walking on eggshells around her. If I say the wrong thing, she’ll get mad again. This isn’t fun anymore. Come to think of it, if we weren’t discussing the law, it rarely was fun. I guess if you’re not talking about something she’s really into, you’re just not a very interesting person. Maybe that’s why she’s so enamored with her boss and the job, because it’s law, law, law, all day long. That reminds me of a line that William Shatner delivered in a
Saturday Nite Live
skit that featured him talking to a bunch of attendees at a Star Trek convention, all clad in Star Trek costumes - from crew members to Klingons. He looked down at them and said “people, get a life!” I think someone should say something like that to the people in her office.

At this point I’m already starting to sneak glances at the clock on the wall opposite where I’m sitting, hoping that this forced polite evening will end. I don’t want to miss the eleven thirty P.M. Charlie Rose show on our local PBS station. He really knows how to ask questions. I’d like to see him cross-examine a witness in court.

After we’ve had another round of drinks or two and a couple of gourmet meals, the drinks are catching up on me so I excuse myself to make a pit stop. On the way to the men’s room I notice that the local nine o’clock news is being broadcast, in English. With four screens in a relatively small restaurant, about the only time you can’t watch one is when you’re in a bathroom, but you can still hear it in there, and I did. The newsreader drones on. “Culver City Police have announced that they are zeroing in on a suspect for the parking lot murder that took place several months ago in Marina del Rey. This local department took over the investigation, so as not to cause a conflict between the Los Angeles Police Department and the local district attorney’s office, currently finishing up jury selection on the same case, but with different defendants. We’ve never seen this happen before: another person being investigated for the same crime in which a trial with other defendants is taking place.”

Almost breaking my zipper, I make a mad dash to finish up and get back to my table. Just as I exit the men’s room, I see the newscaster wrapping up: “the police spokesman stated that most of their new information was provided to them by a private attorney who was formerly married to the deputy district attorney now prosecuting those other defendants in the downtown Los Angeles trial.” When I get back to the table Myra is gone, but our dinner check isn’t, so it looks there really is ‘no free lunch.’ I can’t help it. No matter how hard I try, everything I do winds up hurting her in some way.

I wonder what little girl could have been leaking information to the press. It looks like behind the scenes there were some people working for me that I didn’t know about. Culver City Police had accountants going through Palmer’s restaurant books, so it looks like he might also be a suspect soon. Another expected development is the phone call that I get from Stuart telling me that Maggie has been fired.

Her cases for sexual harassment and wrongful dismissal are temporarily being put on hold. She agrees that it would be best to wait until the criminal investigation ends. In the meantime, I have my other problem to worry about. After that disastrous dinner, Myra will probably do anything to get me back behind bars, so from this moment on I’d better act as if I was under a microscope, because I’m sure that the entire district attorney’s staff, the LAPD, and the local press are watching my every move. And the moves they can’t see might just get leaked to them anyway. At least one almost decent thing has happened: later this evening when I stop in at the Chinese restaurant to pick up a local throwaway magazine I see Maggie waiting on tables.

*****

Chapter
17

The television newscasters are having a field day with this new turn of events. Defense attorneys for the Asian gang members were successful in getting the trial continued until after the Culver City Police finish their investigation. District Attorney Bill Miller has suddenly become the
Invisible Man,
leaving poor Myra dangling in the wind, facing the news cameras and trying to explain away what is going on, and why two different police agencies are investigating the same case, with the focus of their interests going in different directions.

It was only a matter of time before Bill Miller finally would come out from under his rock. It only took him a few days to concoct some way to save his own face, so he scheduled a press conference. I see him on the early evening news while enjoying my guacamole at Pollo Meshuga, when he shows up on the TV screen. It looks like he’s outside on the Criminal Court building steps and surrounded by alleged journalists, all shoving microphones into his face. After posing long enough for the still camera guys to get their shots, he starts his oratory. “This office has the highest regard for one of our finest trial deputy district attorneys, Mizzzz Myra Scot. It is therefore with deep regret that earlier today we have accepted her letter of resignation from our office. She has been under extreme stress for the past few months and wants to take some time off to consider pursuing other matters.” Questions are being shouted out to him by the wolf pack of reporters.

“
Mister Miller, is it true that she was fired for mishandling the Asian gang murder trial?”

“
Mister district attorney, will the Asian gang trial continue soon?” It doesn’t stop until Miller does exactly what I warned Myra he would do.

“
This office is currently revisiting all of the preparation work that Mizz Scot did for this trial. If we find any inconsistencies, we will then re-think our trial strategy.”

Damn, I’m sorry it had to happen this way, but it’s just like I tried to warn her. He blames it all on her, and he just walks away. It hit the fan and not one piece landed on him. And the whole world, including Myra, believes that it was entirely my fault. I guess the police weren’t about to admit that they’re working with a pre-teen kid on a homicide case, so I get stuck with taking the credit.

The
RoadRunner
crushes the
Coyote
once again, without even trying. I wish there was some way I could explain that I never did anything to intentionally hurt her, but what’s the use? She never believed me in the past, so why should she now? If she hadn’t inherited so damned much money from her grand-father, I might actually feel sorry for her being out of work.

I may live to regret this, but an idea just came into my head that might solve all of my problems at the same time. If destroying Myra’s career and doc’s getting away with millions after killing his wife are the problems, why not invite Myra to help me give the doc enough rope to hang himself. That way her career can be restored, district attorney Miller will be shown to be the incompetent idiot he really is, and the doc gets nailed for whatever his crimes may be, including but not limited to the murder, conspiracy, fraud and poor choice in power boats.

A lot of ideas look good on paper, but the trick is to get people to go along with them. Myra and I differ in opinion most of the time, but there’s one thing you can’t take away from her: she’s no dummy. Other than marrying me, she’s done a good job of running her life. Her ambition gets in the way sometimes, but that’s a normal error any human can make. My job now will be trying to gain her trust to join with me in the plan.

I call her at home. “Hi, it’s me. Wait, please don’t hang up, let me explain.” Amazingly, she’s very calm, probably under the influence of some Merlot.

“
No Peter, I’m not hanging up. There’s really not a helluva lot more you can do to me, so go ahead. What’s the bullshit line de jour? Another burnt out boat to sell? How about some swampland near the Marina… I’ve always been interested in real estate.” She’s right about at least one thing; I’ve done so much to her already that things only have one way to go from here.

“
Myra, I want you to know that when I took that sexual harassment case from Palmer’s book-keeper, I never in a million years could have realized something like this would happen.” Evidently, she knew nothing about Maggie’s case. Miller, her idol, never told her how he got the information he had obtained. I could tell she was being kept in the dark.

“
Sexual harassment, what are you talking about?”

The way to a male lawyer’s heart is through his briefs. The way to a female lawyer’s heart is through her curiosity. I explain to her that whatever the Culver City Police detectives found out and based their case on came from statements my client made to me, overheard by the little Asian girl, who had already been doing some computer work for the Culver City cops.

After what seems like an hour of explaining, she finally starts to believe me. In all the years we were married she knew I was the ultimate screw-up, but she also realized that I never flat-out lied to her. Not once, unless you count those times she asked about looking fat in some dress. She even goes so far now as to admit that she believes that the boat burned without me knowing about it. This is it. I tell her my suspicions about the doc and ask her to join with me in getting his fraud exposed and maybe nail him for murder. To my surprise, she doesn’t immediately turn me down. Instead, her concern is about our chances of success.

“
That’s a nice plan Pete, but me being on your dock would be like waving a cross in front of a vampire. Remember me? I’m the one who had your murdering doctor arrested and indicted last month.”

“
Yes, but when I explain how you were just following orders from your boss, he’ll understand. And besides, if I can forgive you, then he should be able to.”

“
Aw, gee… I don’t know about that. The ‘just following orders’ defense hasn’t worked so well since the Nuremberg Trials…” I can’t blame her for hesitating.

“
Don’t worry honey, I’ll handle things with the doc. I’ll tell him that I’m expanding my office staff and we want to go after his insurance company not only for the insurance policy amount, but for a huge punitive damage award on two separate grounds: first, after all the proper claim procedures were followed, they negotiated a settlement in bad faith. Second, they slandered doc by turning him in to your office. Both counts of the suit could total a multi-million dollar damage award that they’d surely like to settle without the publicity and going to court.

“
We’ll sign the doc up on only a twenty-five percent retainer. Being a doctor, he’s cheap, so he’ll jump at the bargain; they teach that at medical school. The lure of a multi-million dollar settlement and discount retainer amount will be too much for him to refuse. It wouldn’t make any difference if I associated Osama bin Laden in on the case, he’d still jump at the bargain.”

Silence. I go into my ‘I’m not okay mode.’ After the ten seconds that seems like an hour, she finally bites. “How do we spring the trap?” Good, now to reel her in.

“
Simple. He’s already convinced he’s gotten away with it, so with an additional big bucks settlement as extra incentive, he’ll open up like a sardine can, giving us all the info he’d normally never give the authorities in a million years.”

“
I know in my heart he’s guilty Peter, but what finally convinced you?” This is the moment of truth. Either I trust her or I don’t.

“
Will you agree to work on this case with me or not, because anything I tell you has to stay strictly confidential. I don’t want any of it to leak to your former boss.”

“
Oh, Peter, don’t worry, I’m through with that louse Miller. I should have followed your advice about him a long time ago. Now let’s hear what you’ve got.” I have to trust her. There’s no other choice, so I tell her about the second DNA sample that the kid sent in for analysis and how it established that who we thought was the nurse was actually the wife, who is not dead, but alive and in on the whole conspiracy. At first she balks, because if the wife is still alive, there’s no way to put him away for murder.

“
Myra, you amaze me. I’m handing you a chance to get your career back on track, snooker your ex-boss and nail a bad guy, and all you can do is complain that it’s not enough. Don’t forget, there’s an unknown victim in a grave on Catalina Island. Maybe you can get lucky with that case. If you don’t want in on this, that’s okay, I’ll do it myself. Watch the evening news.”

When I first started practicing criminal law, quite often a client would ask, “do we have a chance to win this case?” After a while I learned how to give the client an answer he could identify with. “You’ve got the question wrong, pal. It’s not ‘are we going to win,’ it’s ‘are you going in or staying out?’ It might take a little while, but soon it would sink into their thick heads, when explained a little more graphically. The clincher to my argument would probably be this question: “Listen Einstein, which would you rather do - plead guilty to a petty theft charge and do sixty days in county jail, or plead guilty to second degree murder and get out on probation?” That usually did the trick, and they’d finally catch on. It doesn’t make a difference what the final outcome of the case is: it’s the sentencing that counts, so it’s not winning or losing, it’s going in or staying out that makes the difference.