Family Counsel (The Samuel Collins Series Book 2) (22 page)

“I know. I’ve got major client problems. And the corporate rep
is just as big an asshole as the other two.  What’s your bottom line?”

“$625,000.”

He nodded his head, and I let him think about it for a minute. 
I was looking out to the parking lot when Earl’s car caught my eye. 

“Son of a bitch,” I said under my breath, and I took off walking
towards the car.

“What?” Alvarez asked, following behind me.

“This is my client’s car,” I said.  All four tires had been
slashed.

Alvarez took one look at the car, and said, “I hate my job.”

No surprise there, since he was with one of the high-powered
law firms that grind their associates into the dirt, giving them billing quotas
that are only attainable if they put in 100 hours a week.  He certainly
couldn’t pick and choose whom he represented, and right about then, he was
feeling no love for DIFCO and its sleazebag management.

“Leave ’em and come work with me,” I said, surprising even
myself. I’d never really thought about bringing in another attorney, but once I
said it out loud, it actually sounded like a good idea.

“Don’t ask me twice,” Alvarez said.  “I just might do it.”

I squatted down to check out one of Earl’s tires, running my
finger across the obvious gash, then I stood up and looked around for Big
Brother. With a bank in the lobby of the building, there had to be surveillance
cameras around.  Hell, even without a bank in the building, there’d be
surveillance.

“Do me a favor and don’t mention this to your client?” I asked.

“Does this mean your settlement figure just went up?”

“Nope.  Just my bargaining power.”

We went back inside and I told Alvarez I’d meet him upstairs,
then I went in search of the building manager.  I explained the situation, told
him what I needed, and gave him a hundred bucks as an incentive bonus.  When I
got back upstairs, Earl was on the phone with Destiny’s mother.  If he was
acting
funny
when I left, he was royally pissed when I got back.

“She’s drunk,” Earl said. “Said she wanted to go to the
hospital to see Destiny. But I called my sister, and she’s goin’ over to her
house.”

“Is that the Prius sister?” I asked, and Earl nodded.  “So it’s
under control?  You don’t need to leave?”

“No.  My sister will take care of it.”

“She’s not going to beat her up, is she?” I could just see
myself having to bail her out of jail.

Earl smiled, showing all his teeth.  “Nah, she ain’t gonna beat
her up, Mr. Collins.  She’ll just talk some sense into her.  She’s good with
stuff like that.”

“Okay, change of subject,” I said. “What happened in the
bathroom earlier?”

He looked down at first, like he wasn’t going to answer, then
he reached into his back pocket and unfolded a piece of paper and slid it
across the table.  It was a stick figure drawing  of a guy with a noose around
his neck.

“Where’d you get this?” I asked.

“It was taped to the mirror in the bathroom.”

I just sat there staring at him and he stared right back.
Count
to ten.
“We’ll use this to our advantage,” I finally said. “Someone slashed
your tires, and we’ll use that to our favor too. It’s actually a good thing.”

Earl started to say something, but I held up my hand. “It’s
being taken care of.  By the time we finish here, you’ll have new tires on your
car and you can drive out of here like it never happened.”

“But Mr. Collins, I can’t afford no new tires.”

“Believe me, when we’re done here, you’ll be able to afford
them, but it doesn’t matter because DIFCO’s going to be paying the bill. ”

Earl looked at me as if I had lost my marbles.

“It’s a really good thing, Earl.  And so is this,” I said,
pointing to the drawing. And then I told him the plan.

Just before we broke for lunch, the mediator came in and gave
us DIFCO’s counter offer of $60,000.  I sent him back with the hangman drawing,
without dropping our settlement figure a dime. 

Earl and I went to La Taza for a sandwich and iced coffee. The
puzzle ladies were there working on their ten jillion piece puzzle, the intellectual
guy was at the counter working on his laptop, and a writers’ group was meeting
down the back. We ate quickly and got back to the mediator’s office just as the
building manager was coming to find me.

I had requested that we all meet back in the conference room,
and by the time the defendants got back from lunch, I was all set up for my
presentation.

“What’s this?” Alvarez asked.

“It’s some video footage I want to show the defendants.”

“I don’t remember the plaintiff mentioning any video in his
responses to our discovery requests,” said Alvarez.

“It’s actually just come into our possession,” I said, and I
could see Alvarez sink lower into his chair.

I hit play and sat back to enjoy the show.

The camera was mounted on the corner of the building, pointed
at the passenger side of Earl’s car.  The date was stamped on the top left
corner of the video, and there was a running clock on the bottom right corner,
ticking off the minutes and seconds.  All was still, Earl’s little Prius
sitting safe and sound.  Then from the top of the screen, here comes a guy
cutting between the cars, heading towards the Prius.  He’s dressed in a
baby-shit yellow shirt and jeans, and wearing a cap with the DIFCO logo clearly
legible on the video.

Alvarez let out an involuntary moan, and Trey Block sat up
straight in his chair, staring in disbelief at his ugly mug on the video, where
he stops in front of Earl’s car and looks around to make sure no one’s around.
He goes around to the driver’s side of the car and disappears from the camera’s
view, only to pop back up after a couple of seconds to look around again. He
moves toward the back of the driver’s side and disappears again, then pops back
up and looks around. Walking around the back of the car and over to the
passenger side, the video clearly captures a big ass hunting knife in his hand,
and we get to witness him slashing the rear passenger side tire with the knife. 
He pops up again like a jack-in-the-box and moves to the front passenger tire
to complete the job, then he disappears from the screen from the same direction
that he had come.

The defendants were so engrossed in the video that they didn’t
notice the two police officers who had stepped into the room while they were
watching. When one of them coughed, everyone turned around at once and the look
on Block’s face was priceless.  I couldn’t have asked for a better present if
I’d picked it out myself.

“What the . . .” Block exclaimed. His fight or flight instinct
kicked in, and he jumped up, sending his chair rolling backward and knocking
over an easel. The cops went for their guns as Earl literally picked me up and
physically moved me out of the line of fire.

Block threw his hand in the air.  “Don’t shoot!” he whimpered.

The cops cuffed Block and sat him back down hard.  Stewart
Lyden and the corporate rep were huddled in a corner whispering, Alvarez and
Hats and Boots were talking in hushed tones in another corner.  I pulled Earl
out of the room and we stumbled down the hall and into a vacant office, where
we closed the door and laughed until we cried.

When we got our shit together, I went to find the mediator.

“$775,000 lump sum payment, plus 40% for my attorney’s fees, in
two separate checks; DIFCO picks up my client’s COBRA payments for six months;
Mr. Jefferson will resign effective immediately.  We’ll agree to a
non-disclosure provision and a non-disparagement clause.  This is our bottom line
final offer.  No more haggling.  It’s take it or leave it. If the defendants
accept it, we won’t press charges on Slasher and we won’t talk to the media. 
If they don’t, all bets are off.  That fucker’s going to jail and the video
will be on YouTube within the hour with the DIFCO logo front and center, for
all the world to see.”

The mediator finished writing everything down, and read our
conditions back to me. I confirmed his accuracy and he went off again with his
legal pad, wearing a determined look on his face.  I followed him out into the
hall and saw the back of Stewart Lyden rounding the corner, presumably heading
towards the bathroom. The mediator went the opposite direction.

Lyden was just coming out of the bathroom as I was
approaching.  I scanned the hallway to make sure Big Brother wasn’t watching,
and then
WHAM
! I slugged him in the gut with everything I had.  He was
totally unprepared, with his stomach muscles completely relaxed, and it knocked
the living shit out of him.

He doubled over, then leaned back against the wall for support.

I moved in right next to his ear.  “I didn’t like your
artwork.”  I left him there gasping for air and went in the bathroom to wash my
hands, and when I came out he was gone.

I caught up with Alvarez in the break room.

“Do we have a settlement?” I asked.

“The corporate rep is on the phone with the president of
company. I’m hoping he has some sense, because no one from the local branch
does.”

“I’m telling you right now, I’m not entertaining any more
counters.  I know you’re in a bad spot with your clients, and I wish I was
dealing with another lawyer because we’re friends, but we’re done. It’s take it
or leave it.”

“Yeah, I know. And I gotta say, I’m not sure why you didn’t
increase your initial figure, after what went down today.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Pigs get fat . . .” I said.

Alvarez nodded. “And hogs get slaughtered.”

The corporate rep poked his head in. “We’re ready,” he told Alvarez.

And that was how we settled Earl’s discrimination suit.

After our successful mediation, I needed to make a quick trip
to the courthouse before checking in with Niki.  I had just come out of the
men’s room, when my cell phone rang.

“Turn on CNN,” Niki said.

“I’m at the courthouse.  Why?”  I asked, looking around for an
office with a television. 

“What channel?” Niki was saying to someone else.  “It’s on the
locals too,” he informed me.

I spotted a friend’s office and headed there. “What is it?” I
asked. 

“Mendoza.”

I entered the office and all heads turned. The room was full of
people, mostly secretaries, and they were all huddled in front of a small
television. 

“I’ll call you back,” I said, and I hung up.  “What’s going
on?” I asked. 

They looked at me like I was from Mars; eyes wide, mouths
agape.  One of them openly pointed at me.

“It’s him,” the woman said.

The group separated, allowing me passage to the TV.  I stood,
shocked in place, as I watched Rafael De La Fuentes Mendoza being escorted into
a vehicle and whisked away.  It was a clip that had been taped earlier, but the
voice-over was live. 

“You’re watching Rafael De La Fuentes Mendoza of the
renowned Mendoza crime family, apparently turning himself in to the FBI.  Although
we are not aware of any charges pending against this man, sources tell us that Rafael
Mendoza placed a call to the authorities late last night, stating that he was
willing to testify against the family organization known as La Gente . . .” 

The reporter continued, but my mind went racing.  It snapped
back when I heard my name.

“
Mendoza’s attorney, Samuel Collins, has not been available
for comment.  Collins, a San Antonio native, has been in the headlines numerous
times during the past years, most notably for the multi-million dollar judgments
he has secured for his clients.

They flashed a photo of me taken the previous year at an awards
banquet.  It looked like I’d had my share of beverages.  I was all smiles; not
very lawyerly.

All eyes in the room turned on me and I held up my hands in
surrender. 

“I am
not
his lawyer!” I said adamantly.

All of a sudden, the place was stuffy as hell.  I’d broken into
a full-blown sweat.  I left the office as abruptly as I’d entered and
speed-dialed Niki Lautrec.  He answered on the first ring.

“I assume they’re mistaken in tagging you as the lawyer,” he
said.

“Damn right they’re mistaken!  I ought to sue their ass.”

I’m sure there was a time when I was angrier, but at the moment
I couldn’t place when.  I was livid.  I must have looked like a man possessed
as I made my way down the hall towards the exit. It felt like I was walking
backwards on an escalator, that the exit was getting further and further away.

“What’s your plan?” Niki asked. 

I stopped short, realizing that I had no idea what I was going
to do, and some lady behind me slammed right into me.  It knocked her on her
backside, and she landed in a very unladylike  position. If I hadn’t been so distracted
I would have laughed out loud.  As it was, I apologized and tried to avert my
eyes as I helped her up. 

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“It was my fault,” she said, brushing her dress down.  She tried
to look unruffled, but her face was tomato red.  “I wasn’t looking where I was
going.” 

She took off before I could say anything else.  Niki was talking
to me.  

“We’re coming to get you.  Meet us at the back of the
courthouse in five minutes.”

For some ridiculous reason, I felt like a fugitive; like I’d
been accused of some obscenity and I needed to hide out until I could plan my
strategy.  And the really stupid part was that there would be lawyers who would
give their right arm to represent a guy like Mendoza.  They’d line up for a
mile for the chance.  It wasn’t like I’d done anything wrong, but I slinked
over to the corner by the back steps until I saw Niki pull up.  It had started
to rain and I’d left my umbrella in the Suburban.  I walked briskly to the car
and climbed into the backseat, and I fought the urge to duck down and hide
until we got away from the area.  They were in Niki’s rented Expedition, with
Niki at the wheel and his brother, Eli, in the passenger seat.  No sign of the
other two accomplices.  The air conditioner was cranked up so high that the
windows were fogged up with condensation. 

“I swear to God, I’m going to sue any station that even
mentions my name!”  I slammed my fist against the back of the front seat to
release some frustration, but the padding was thinner than it looked.  I shook
out my sore knuckles.   “Damn.  That hurt.”

Niki laughed.

“You know what this means for Felicia if it wasn’t Mendoza that took her?” I asked.

Niki nodded without speaking, and he and Eli exchanged a look. 
Apparently they’d already discussed it. 

“Have you found anything?” I asked them.

“We have a pretty good idea where she is. We should know by
tonight,” Niki said.

“
Tonight
?  With Mendoza out in the open, Felicia is expendable. She’s useless to La Gente with Mendoza in custody.  If you know where
she is, you need to go in and get her
now
.”

Niki stopped at a red light and turned around to face me.  He
gave me a look that said to let him do his job, then he reinforced the look
with a tone of voice he rarely used with me.  It was curt and, I must say, very
effective. 

“If she’s not already dead, they’re not going to kill her
immediately.  And if they think that you’re Mendoza’s lawyer, they can still
use Felicia as leverage. We need to keep that in mind before you make any kind
of statement.”

I was floored by what he was suggesting.  “You think I should
go along with him?” I asked in disbelief.  “That I should represent him?”

“No.  But I’m saying that if you go public and say that you are
not Mendoza’s lawyer, his family will be more inclined to dispose of your
cousin.  I’m saying that you don’t have to admit or deny it if you lay low,
stay out of sight; disappear for a while so they can’t confirm anything.”

“
Disappear
?  I have a trial starting on Monday.  I can’t
just
disappear
!”

“For
today
,” he said, as if he were explaining it to my
kid. “Until we get your cousin back.”

“Maddie’s cousin,” I said, rubbing my temples. “What if she’s
not where you think she is?”

“Then we go to Plan B,” Niki said.

“And that is?”

“I’ll let you know when it happens.”

I stayed in Niki’s suite at La Mansion, while the four of them
went out and did whatever they do.  The solitude gave me some time to try to fit
the pieces together. 

If Mendoza had planned on turning over evidence against his
family from the beginning, that would explain why they had committed him to
Serenity.  But why he would want to testify against his family in the first
place eluded me. 

As to Mendoza’s assertion that he would be charged with the
prosecutor’s murder, I didn’t know if he’d made it up to get me to represent
him, or if he really believed it.  The theory actually sounded plausible when
he’d related it, but if his plan to turn state’s evidence predated his stay in
Serenity, then I had to assume that his hiring me had nothing to do with
defending him on a trumped up murder charge.  It was more likely that the story
was meant to bait me into representing him against his family.

Why he wanted me as his mouthpiece was something else.  There
were thousands of  attorneys to choose from.  Why did he have to pick on me? 
I’d told him in no uncertain terms that I didn’t want the job; there were
plenty of attorneys that were way more qualified than I was to represent him
and that would do so willingly.  In the end, it all boiled down to one thing: 
This was all Felicia’s fault.