Love and Mystery Box Set

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Cars moved slowly down Main Street, headed west, and passed the historic courthouse with its silver dome. Being Saturday, downtown Bartow was quiet. My office on the second floor overlooked the small, kitschy little restaurants and a coffee shop off Main that was closed this Saturday. It was a couple of blocks away from the working courthouse, a ten-story brown, blockish edifice that was the tallest building in Bartow. It looked like Lego blocks someone put together. I chose this office so I could walk easily to the courthouse without worrying about parking. The location cost me a decent month’s rent, though.

By my watch, I had a half-hour before the appointment, which shouldn’t take long because it involved a former client, who wanted to consult with me again. Noah should be back soon.

I turned to the items on my desktop to get things going. On Saturday mornings, I went through all the emails from the week, making notes to follow up for uncompleted tasks. After checking my calendar for the coming week, I turned my attention to the money in the operating and trust accounts. I knew that if I didn’t pay particular attention as a lawyer to my trust accounts, I could easily get disbarred.

I hadn’t drawn a full salary in two months, only paying myself partially after paying Lou Ann, my secretary, and Noah. My partial salary went to Elena’s alimony, which helped her pay the mortgage for the house, the child support I agreed to pay without a fight, and the rent for the office and my Oakhaven apartment. I used credit cards for everything else the last two months and had just made the minimum payments. If my practice didn’t get better, I would have to lay off Noah or Lou Ann, or both, and soon. I didn’t want to think about choosing between my boyfriend, and my long-time secretary.

Stuck in my thoughts, I was jarred when I heard a knock. He was early. As I walked to greet my appointment, I stopped by the mirror near the door that was put up to make my small office bigger. I quickly glanced at my reflection to make sure I was presentable. My dark brown hair was a little long, which helped cover the slight graying of hair at my temples. No sleep in my eyes—blue as they were since the day I was born thirty-four years ago—and I saw nothing unsightly, so I quickly went to our small lobby.

Frank was standing near Lou Ann’s desk, over the threadbare rug.

“Hi, Mr. Peoples.” I held out my right hand. “It’s been a long time.”

He shook my hand. “Hey, Jake,” he said, sounding nervous. “You probably thought you’d never see me again.”

Frank was dressed in a polo style shirt, shorts, and topsiders. Gold chains hung from his neck, over his hairy, graying chest. He reeked of strong cologne.

As we moved into my office, I poured a glass of water for him from a cold plastic bottle that came from the mini-fridge. Frank took the offered water and sat down.

“My apologies for not being able to offer coffee,” I said. “Our coffee pot broke but we’ll have coffee here shortly.” We made some light pleasantries, but after a few minutes Frank got right to the point.

“Jake, I need you to represent me again,” he said.

“Why do you need my help?”

“Well, before we get into that, I need to know that whatever I tell you, you’ll keep confidential.”

“Yes, whatever you tell me will be kept in the strictest confidence under attorney-client privilege. I’d never reveal anything without your permission.”

“You could lose your bar license if you did, right?”

“Yes.” I hoped this answer would reassure him.

Frank took a white envelope from his shorts pocket. “Last time you represented me, you charged two hundred fifty dollars an hour. Your secretary who set the appointment told me it was the same hourly rate when I asked her so I brought a check for five hundred dollars.”

“Well, the initial consultation is free.” I quickly glanced at the check Frank presented. “But I still haven’t heard why you wanted to talk to me. It’s hard for me to figure out if I can help you, if you haven’t told me why you need my help.”

Frank hunched his shoulders and spoke softly. “The police have been asking me questions about my former girlfriend, Hannah King. She’s dead. They said she was murdered.”

“So what does this have to do with you?

Frank looked down at his hands, and then moved his gaze out the window. He cleared his throat, and was about to say something, when we both heard the sound of keys in my door.

Noah walked into the office, carrying a cardboard tray of three medium coffees from McDonald’s. In another hand, he brought flowers.

“Frank, this is Noah Beckwith, my investigator,” I said.

Noah put the flowers on another desk, and coffees down on the table between Frank and myself, and shook Frank’s hand. Noah finger combed his chestnut brown hair out of his eyes.

“Anything you tell him is also protected by attorney-client privilege. I asked him to sit in this morning.”

Frank glanced at Noah, the flowers, and then me. I couldn’t read his mind, but Noah was used to people questioning him because even though he was three years younger than I, he looked fresh out of college. His high cheekbones and sharp WASPy features were more suited to a male university pin-up calendar. As I waited for Frank to continue, Noah grabbed a legal pad from the drawer of my desk and sat on the upholstered chair to my right, facing Frank.

“Well, then.” Frank coughed. “I guess I should tell you what the homicide detectives were asking me.”

“Who asked you questions about Hannah?” I asked.

“This cop, named Gary Bush, out of Pineridge.” I quickly glanced at Noah. Until his retirement, his dad used to work at Pineridge police department.

“He also had another detective with him when I talked to him. This other guy had a Russian sounding name. They asked when I last saw Hannah, how long we’d been seeing each other, that kind of stuff.”

“So tell us what you told them,” Noah asked.

“Well, the last time I saw Hannah was in a rented house in Pineridge. She stayed at one of these short-term rental houses, you know, the ones they rent out to tourists visiting the theme parks, and all. It was probably around September. We were having that heat wave. Hannah called my cell. We had a big fight a few months back, and I wanted to tell her I missed her. I went there to talk to her about getting back together.”

“Were you the last person to see her?”

“I don’t know. This cop was trying to narrow down the day and time I saw her. He wants me to come in Monday to talk more.”

“Frank,” I said, “if you want me to represent you, you will not talk to the police anymore. But, I didn’t mean to cut you off, so please continue.”

“When I went to see Hannah, she looked like she hadn’t slept for days. She had a meth habit, you know. After I got there, she acted like she forgot that she called me and accused me of ratting her out to her probation officer. She wasn’t making sense. I told her to lay off the drugs.” Frank sighed, picked up the coffee cup on the table and took a sip.

“Go on,” I said quietly.

“I told her she was crazy, and that’s when she took a swing at me. I pushed her. Then she came at me with this bat. I ducked after she swung at me and pushed her backwards. She came at me again. I grabbed the bat before she hit me. There was a coffee mug nearby and I had grabbed it with the other hand. I stopped her next swing and hit her twice in the head with the mug. She fell. I panicked when I saw blood come from the side of her head, and I took off. Hannah was still alive when I left. I swear.”

I wrote notes, running things through, when Noah asked, “So did you give all these details to Gary Bush and his partner?”

Frank looked at Noah, nodding. “Yeah. But I started freaking out though when he started mentioning running my fingerprints off the mug, and wanting to collect DNA from me.”

“Why did you freak out?”

“It was the way they were saying everything. They were insinuating I killed her. They wanted me to give them a taped statement of what I said.”

I asked, “Did you?”

Frank nodded. “I had nothing to hide. I thought if I told the truth they would stop thinking I did it.”

Now Noah asked, “So you told them you hit her with a mug, she was bleeding, and you left her there?” Frank nodded again, silent, and Noah went on. “After you left her, did you call 911 to get her medical treatment?”

Frank shook his head, and said, “No. I didn’t want to get the police or ambulance involved. I thought Hannah was okay.”

“Did Bush mention what the cause of death was?” I asked, not happy with the details so far.

Frank shook his head this time. “He didn’t tell me that.”

I sat back and tapped my legal pad. “Frank, what I would do is keep a low profile. Go about your business like this never happened. I’ll call Pineridge PD and cancel your Monday appointment. Let the police complete its investigation. If anything happens, I’ll let you know. And for God’s sake, don’t talk to the police anymore. If the police want a DNA sample from you, let them ask a judge for a court order. Same thing if they call you to submit for prints, but I assume they have your prints on file when you got busted for that cocaine possession rap a few years ago. Let the cops go through me first.”

“Okay,” Frank said quietly. “I’ll do what you say—I came to you because I trust you. You helped me out last time.”

Noah continued, “Were you asked anything else? Did he give you a date he thought Hannah was killed? Did he say eyewitnesses pointed you as being on the scene?” Frank shook his head, answering no to all these questions.

Frank fixed his gaze at me. “Will you help me, Jake? Please, help me.”

“I haven’t heard anything that says you’re guilty of Hannah’s death. In any event, I think you’re being a little paranoid but I will represent you. From what you told me there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Here’s my check for five hundred dollars.” The paper wavered between us as his hands shook.

“Okay, also need you to sign this contract.” I went through my drawer and pulled out the agreement and fee schedule. There were a couple of blank spots I filled in for him. “Frank, take this contract home, and read it over.”

Frank looked at the fee schedule. I’d written in a one hundred thousand dollar fee if Frank was charged with premeditated murder, and a fifty thousand dollar fee if charged with the lesser, second-degree murder. The contract and fee schedule called for a twenty-five thousand dollar retainer for either murder charge.

“I just want to repeat, Frank, that I can help you.”

“That’s why I came to you. Thank you for taking my case.”

“Let’s wait and see what happens. They may not charge you with anything. There may no case to worry about.”

“Well, I’m innocent, and I am willing to make sure I have a good attorney. I inherited some money from an aunt, and put them in CDs and IRAs. I don’t want a public defender, and I don’t want any other attorney. Just you.”

“Thanks for the confidence, but again I think you may just be overreacting.”

“I sure hope so. I overheard Bush talking to the other detective when I was leaving, and he said the prosecutor was pushing for murder. That’s why I’m so worried. That’s why I came to you.”

Frank was in my office for a few more minutes. Rather than taking the contract and fee schedule home to think it over, as I suggested, he went ahead and signed it. I told him again not to go to the Pineridge police and that I’d call and tell them Frank wasn’t talking anymore. I walked him out of the office and downstairs. After shaking his hand and saying good-bye, I took the steps back up, thinking about what we had just talked about. On one hand, I didn’t want Frank charged with murder because, despite Frank’s ex-con past and using drugs, he didn’t strike me as a murderer. On the other hand, if he was charged with murder, my money problems would be temporarily solved.

Up in the office, Noah stared at me, waiting for me to snap out of my thoughts. His blue gaze was steady. “You don’t believe that he is hiring you because he’s worried, do you? No one hires a criminal defense attorney and signs a contract like he just did because he’s scared of insinuations. He’s hiring you because he killed that woman.”