Between Dreams and Nightmares

Chapter 2-2

Here it was again, or still. Maybe it never ended, she couldn’t really be sure. Amanda felt deep disappointment. Not just in her marriage, but in herself. She was an auditor, and a good one. She was analytical and she did not procrastinate; at least most of the time. She had been duped by his seemingly genuine repentance. When the signs of betrayal returned, it had simply been easier to avoid the stress and the pain of living through it all again. For too long, she had just let it slide, deciding that looking the other way and feigning ignorance was better than facing the fallout that was inevitable once the issue surfaced.

Amanda was angry. Her self-esteem had suffered for too long as she looked away while her husband pursued other women. She needed to confront the domestic disaster that was her relationship with Brian at some point, and maybe this should be the time. She walked to the break room and made a cup of coffee. While the coffee maker gurgled as it spit out a cup, she made her decision. She was not going to continue sitting on the sidelines while Brian decimated their vows. Her prolonged inaction reinforced his behavior. Clearly, he was getting away with whatever he wanted, so where was the incentive to stop?

By five o’clock she had come up with a plan. This was the night she would do something about it. She would follow him and see what he was up to while he was theoretically working long hours. Then, she would confront him with whatever she found, and she would no longer accept his meaningless apologies or his empty promises. After that, she didn’t know what she would do with her life, but there was going to be an ending. Perhaps she would find a small apartment in a different part of town so she could start over. She would find a new anonymity and a heavy weight would be lifted from her shoulders. She felt a sad emptiness as she considered that her marriage had been on the downslope for some time. It had just been so much easier not to deal with that part of her life; ironically, the part that had once been the most important part of her life. They had once been so happy. It was as if the happiness and contentment had been slowly draining from her marriage while she looked the other way. It was like the air escaping from a balloon, gradually and almost imperceptibly, until one day a few months back she had woken up feeling deserted and alone, no longer able to deny that there was another woman; that he was doing it again.

She had responded by taking refuge in work, longer hours, and more files. That had helped for a time. But when she came home to an empty house, it was no refuge at all. It was just a means of killing time rather than facing daunting realities that would likely change her life. She had avoided confrontation long enough. She had to do something about this if she hoped to emerge from this relationship with any remaining self-esteem.

Amanda’s anxiety increased as she looked out the window at the busy street below. People were commuting home, to spouses and families that awaited. She had known those warm feelings in the past. Hopefully, the commuters below recognized what they had and were grateful. Joni Mitchell’s lyrics seemed so fitting. ‘You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone—pave paradise and put up a parking lot.’ Amanda’s long-postponed moment of truth was at hand. She needed to know for sure if her instincts were correct. If they were, life was about to change in very big ways.

May 16 6:35 p.m.After considering every possible complaint that his clients could have leveled against him, Brian still couldn’t decide who Judge Savage was going to confront him about. The truth was that he had a number of unhappy clients, most of whom had complaints about his charges or time he hadn’t actually spent on their case. Although he had no idea which client or clients had approached the judge, he was pretty sure that this private meeting had to be based on his overcharging practices. Maybe a number of his clients who had consolidated their efforts to come after him? But those claims were the province of the California Bar Association, which investigated and conducted hearings about the alleged misconduct of its members. Maybe Judge Savage was going to give him some kind of a heads-up; or maybe the judge had an angle of his own.

Brian’s assistant had already gone home as he walked out of the office and into the parking structure. He made his way to the reserved space where his Mercedes Roadster waited. In a few moments, he was out of the parking structure and on the busy streets of the city. Between the high volume of cars on the streets as commuters made their way home from the downtown Los Angeles area and the traffic lights every two hundred feet that further inhibited movement, no one was going anywhere fast. Fortunately, Brian didn’t have far to go to find the exclusive Waterman Club. Brian had been invited to the Club a couple of times over the years but declined whenever possible. It was stuffy and pretentious. You could barely speak the name of the place without a pinky finger in the air.

Brian slowly made his way down Flower Street, then turned into the Club’s parking deck and deposited the car and the keys with a young attendant in a green jacket, who gave him a nod and a claim ticket. Brian left the parking structure and made his way to the non-descript building exterior with the giant ‘W’ near the front door. A uniformed doorman stood by to open doors for arrivals and departures and do necessary favors for members.

If you had an invite that allowed you to walk through that exclusive front door, a large lobby featuring heavy leather and dark wood awaited. Moving into the building from the lobby, a series of paneled rooms with high ceilings appeared, each with massive chandeliers, and multiple seating areas with brown leather couches and armchairs. The place was cavernous. The atmosphere included the smell of cigar smoke and old money that hung in the air and never seemed to dissipate. It had been accumulating for over a century and was an expected part of the ambiance. The rooms were populated with well-dressed men scattered around in seating areas that had been oriented for privacy, talking about their deals of the moment. Here members discussed and planned massive stock purchases, plant closures and company acquisitions.

As Brian made his way towards a large lectern where a hostess halted the unrecognized, screening non-members who made it this far, a mid-thirties woman in a black evening dress approached him and said, “How can we help you, sir?” She considered him with a half-smile, as she waited for an explanation that would justify his presence.

“I’m Brian Harmon. I have a meeting with Judge Savage this evening.”

She nodded almost imperceptibly and displayed a momentary smile. “Yes, sir. Please follow me.”

Brian followed her out of the massive room and two adjoining rooms, at which point they proceeded through a door and down a wide hallway and made a left turn. The place seemed to go on forever. Five doors down the hallway, the woman stopped at a door marked “The Sinclair Room,” and knocked.

“Come in,” the judge’s voice called out. The woman opened the door and announced, “Mr. Harmon is here for your meeting, Your Honor.”

“Please, send him in.” The woman held the door open, turned to Brian, gave him a nod and waved him into the room. As he entered the room, she silently disappeared.

“Good evening, Your Honor.”

In the room were four leather armchairs arranged around a marble coffee table and a marble credenza that ran the length of the room. “Hello, Brian. Please have a seat.” Judge Savage turned his attention to several crystal decanters waiting on the credenza. “How about a drink?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ve got some nice Macallan twelve-year-old Scotch today.”

“Definitely good stuff,” Brian replied.

Judge Savage walked to the credenza and poured two glasses, handing one to Brian.

Brian took a sip and then looked at the judge. “Excellent,” he offered with a smile. He paused a moment and then said, “I’m curious about why we are here. How can I help you, Your Honor?”

Judge Savage sat down but didn’t speak. In the silence, Brian was expecting to be hit with nasty anecdotes about his behaviors from disillusioned clients, but it didn’t happen. He watched Judge Savage’s expression change and suddenly realized that the judge was embarrassed and groping for words. The judge ran a hand over his brow and through his thinning hair, and then began, “I am talking to you today as my counsel. Do you agree to that relationship? I want to make sure the attorney-client privilege protects this discussion.”

The judge planned to hire him? Brian tried not to let the shock show in his expression as he replied, “Yes judge, I agree.”

Judge Savage nodded and then said, “I made a mistake, Brian. A big one. Last year I took a p*****t from someone after giving a reduced sentence.”

Brian was stunned a second time and tried hard not to show it. If anyone else had told him that Judge Savage took a bribe, he simply would have said it wasn’t possible. “Who got the reduced sentence?”

“His name is Ray Rawlings. He was found guilty of grand theft by false pretenses.”

“An embezzler?”

“Yeah, he stole half a million dollars from his employer over two years.”

“Doesn’t seem too controversial so far.”

“I set aside the jury verdict, ordered significant evidence suppressed and then he

pleaded to petty larceny.”

Brian wore a confused expression. “Why?”

“The evidence was questionable, and this guy was connected at the highest levels of the federal government. I was contacted by the representative of a U. S. senator. I agreed to suppress critical evidence and he agreed to take a plea that got him probation. Part of the deal was that the whole five hundred thousand be returned to the employer and the money was returned. Two days later, an envelope containing fifty thousand in cash was delivered to me.”

“Was giving you money part of the deal?”

“No. It was never even discussed.” The judge looked up at the ceiling for a moment and shook his head. “But I never gave it back.”

Brian nodded thoughtfully. After a time, he said, “As a practical matter, it seems like a done deal. Why is it a problem now?”

The judge shook his head unhappily. “Because they want me to do it again for someone else. This time for a guy named Frank Nolan, who is accused of spousal a***e. They want this guy to get a top-secret clearance and it’s not going to happen if he’s convicted of physically abusing his spouse.” He considered Brian with disgust in his expression. “I got myself into some real s**t here, Brian. The same senior advisor contacted me and told me that I needed to take care of this. This time I told him I wouldn’t do it. That’s when it all hit the fan. The guy made mention of the former occasion and how that could become a problem for me if I didn’t help this time.”

“Wow,” Brian replied. “So, they gave you unexpected money last time hoping you would accept it because it gave them blackmail leverage.” The judge nodded but remained silent. Brian considered a moment and then asked, “Do you think he’s serious about the blackmail? About exposing what happened?”

“As a heart attack.” He leaned back in his chair. “I told them I was not going to do it. There was a long silence and then the voice on the phone said that they would think about that—whoever ‘they’ are. Yesterday I got a call back from the same guy telling me that it was in my best interest to do the right thing. I was given a week to change my mind or all of the facts surrounding Rawlings, including the money delivered to me, would become public knowledge.” The judge’s eyes narrowed, and he wore an angry look. He drew a deep breath and then shook his head. He looked at Brian and said, “I’m not going to be blackmailed, so it looks like I will need a defense attorney as well as a new career. That’s why I asked for this meeting with you.”

“Do you know who the caller is?” Brian asked.

“Yeah, I have his name and did a little research. He’s a top-level aide to a U. S. senator,” the judge replied.

Brian considered this for a time and then said, “Maybe there’s a way to prevent this from happening. What if I talk to this guy and try to negotiate some resolution that doesn’t involve you altering anyone’s sentence?” Judge Savage regarded him thoughtfully. Brian added, “Maybe there is an agreement we can reach short of taking your scalp to resolve this matter. I’m not sure it serves anyone’s interests if all of this becomes public, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yeah, maybe. So, what would we offer them?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Brian replied. “We’ll see if we can get some insight into what they want. Let’s find a way to shut this down.”

Judge Savage reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. Handing the envelope to Brian, he said, “The contact information for the guy we’ve been talking about is in here. Have your office send me your client agreement for my review and signature.”

“Shall do, judge. I will get on this tomorrow and let you know what I find out.” He took one more sip of the exquisite whiskey, then he stood and said, “Talk to you tomorrow, judge.”

Savage nodded and said, “Thanks for your help with this. This is need to know only, even within your office, okay?”

“Agreed, Your Honor.” Brian stuffed the envelope in his breast pocket and tried to remember the way out of this maze. His concern was short-lived. When he stepped into the hallway, a young man was waiting to escort him out.

“Mr. Harmon, please follow me.”

This crazy Club had people standing around in hallways just in case they were needed. It was how the aristocracy lived and the judge came from one of those families. The young man deposited Brian at the front door and turned away without further interaction. Brian made his way out of the building and past the uniformed doorman. He walked to the parking structure and gave his ticket to the waiting valet, who promptly delivered his car.

Brian made his way onto the downtown streets thinking about what the judge had told him. His overriding emotion was elation because the meeting had not been about his transgressions. As he drove, Brian came up with an idea that might turn the judge’s situation into a big win for the judge and for Brian. He was in the catbird seat. He had inside information and the senator’s people had no idea who he was. This could be an opportunity to make some real money while he assisted the judge.

It was a good day, and a little celebration was in order. He pushed a button on his phone. On the second ring a woman’s voice answered.

“Hi,” she said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I didn’t think I would hear from you today.”

“I didn’t either, but I’ve been thinking about you. Okay if I come over?”

“Sure. The sooner the better.”

“I don’t want to waste a moment. Can you meet me at the door; maybe already n***d?”

There was a soft chuckle and then she replied, “I’ll see you shortly.”