The Bounty Hunters: The Marino Bros.: Box Set (12 page)

Lou was a working woman; she worked day by day, and week by week to get by. Her new husband was a mechanic, worked on airplanes at a local, small airport, and he had only been working there about a year. He turned to face her when she started to speak again.

“Well, no matter why you accepted, we are just thrilled you did. I have heard nothing but great things about you. I feel we really have a chance,” she paused looking to see his reaction.

He could hear the fear beneath the surface of her false bravado. He mentally applauded the courage she was attempting to show. A father of four boys himself, he knew what a parent’s love and worry meant, and the toll it could take on a person.

When he continued to give her his most professional perusal, she forged ahead.

“And about your fee?” Lou asked getting right to the point.

“Oh, well,” he muttered, not expecting her to broach the subject so soon but was spared from answering by the young couple and the dog entering from the sliding glass doors off the living room.

“Mom, I will take care of his fee,” Ronnie stated strongly as she led Missy to her bed. Making her way to her attorney, Ronnie extended her arm to shake his hand. He took it, and she shook firmly. The girl was confidant and had an air of strength about her. He felt an instant connection, and despite the clothes, too tight, and the hair, too colorful, he doubted very much that she was a drug dealer, a smuggler. But, it was going to be hard to prove. The evidence was stacked against her. He had his personal assistant fax everything to him about the case before leaving New York yesterday, and he read the file on the airplane and again last night before heading to bed. He couldn’t wait to interview her. Hopefully, she would give him some information he could use to begin developing her defense.

“My fee,” he started awkwardly.

“I have some savings bonds. Gifts from my grandparents. I’ve managed not to touch them through college. They are yours, about eight thousand. Then I can make payments, I presume, once I’m working,” she stated with firmness, trying to negotiate the matter. He had to smile at her naiveté though she tried to sound worldly.

The young man behind her looked uncomfortable. Familiar too, Ronald thought giving him a once over trying to place him.

“Um, Ronnie,” Nikko started and she tossed him an annoyed look over her shoulder to silence him. Nikko placed his hands up and allowed her to take the lead. He was there for support, he reminded himself.

When Ronnie turned back to Mr. Stimson, Nikko just shrugged his shoulders and smiled at Ronald, and that’s when he recognized the young man, he was one of the Marinos. His firm used them, Andreas mostly, the older brother, on occasion to do some digging for them. He correctly assumed Marino’s Bail and Bonds must have posted her bond, and this young man was her watchdog. But from what he had seen in the backyard, this young couple seemed to be more than casual acquaintances.

The oldest brother was smart. Hopefully, this younger one was as well, and did not mix business with pleasure.

“Ronnie, my friends call me Ronnie too, but at work I go by Ronald. As for my fee, and what Mr. Marino may have been trying to tell you, is I am quite, quite expensive.” His repetition of the word had been intended. She would be getting a break, but he wanted to let her know ahead of time this was a serious matter, not to be taken lightly. Clients tended to be more cooperative when they knew what they were getting, and the worth.

Her false bravado wavered slightly, but nearly a breath later, “How much?”

I usually ask for twenty-five thousand up front for costs. My retainer. As my expenses incur, I begin to bill for my services and my time as I accrue it, and then when I go beyond the retainer, I usually expect similar payments to be forthcoming. My hourly wage is three hundred dollars.” He hated to scare the woman, but the proud daughter needed to know these things and the seriousness of the case.

Lou gasped, and her eyes widened.

“I guess we will have to look elsewhere,” Ronnie mumbled less confidently, and began to turn away from him.

“No need,” he reported when Louisa was about to protest Ronnie’s dismissal, “My firm expects each attorney, myself included, to do one pro bono case a year, something big and splashy that will bring us some publicity. Lucky you, I haven’t taken my case yet, and sorry, this case is big and splashy.”

“What?” Ronnie asked afraid to hope, but not believing all the lucky breaks she was getting so far could extend to free attorney services from a greatly respected defense lawyer. “Can you repeat that?” she asked, fearing she hadn’t heard right.

Nikko was behind her; he reached for her hand, took it, and squeezed it reassuringly behind her back. She had heard correctly. He knew Ronald Stimson was a shark. This man fought hard, and knew the law, all the loop holes, and the system. If there were flaws in the case he would find them. Reasonable doubt was all he needed.

Not giving Mr. Stimson a chance to explain, Lou piped in. “Really?” Her stomach had done multiple flip flops, between her nerves and the baby; she didn’t think she would be able to deal with the stress of trying to find a decent attorney she could afford. His words had an invigorating effect on her. She felt like she could breathe again.

“Yes, Mrs. Russell. I know it may sound strange under the circumstances, but your timing was lucky.” He turned to Ronnie, and added, “But there may be some fees my firm won’t condone, and I’d like to have the eight thousand you mentioned as a retainer for those costs.” Also, having a nervous young woman with access to that much money was never a good idea.

A thought occurred to Ronnie as she watched her attorney spot the kitchen table and began to head in that direction. She had a puzzled expression. “Not that I’m ungrateful, Mr. Stimson, but since you will be representing me pro bono, why would you need the eight thousand?”

Yes, the girl was quick, he thought. Mr. Stimson set his briefcase on the table slowly and deliberately before answering her. He looked down on her as he got ready to sit. “Well, Ronnie, and is it okay if I call you that?” he asked, looking at her quizzically. At her nod, he continued while pulling out his chair. “We usually do pro bono for people without any means. If the firm sees you have funds they might suggest I reject the case. Also, having eight thousand dollars available to you, worries me, and frankly I’m sure it will worry the Marinos as well.”

Ronnie looked sharply to Nikko, and he confirmed her attorney’s words. She nodded her acceptance. “Fine, I’ll go to the bank this week.” Her arms crossed over her chest defensively.

“Good, now please sit, we have a lot to discuss today.” He indicated the seat across from him. He placed a pair of glasses from his breast pocket on his face, and popped open his brief case. Taking out quite a large stack of papers in several manila folders, he placed them on the table before him. He closed his briefcase and set it on the floor to make more room for them at the small round table.

Ronnie sat, as did Lou. The attorney looked to Nikko still standing. “Is Mr. Marino staying?” he asked.

“It’s Nikko, and should I leave?” he asked in a tone of innocence. He had been hoping to stay, and hoped no one would ask him to leave. But, Mr. Stimson was too sharp to let something like client-attorney privilege go unnoticed. He didn’t miss a trick.

“Honestly, I don’t mind,” Ronnie looked at her attorney. “I have nothing to hide and I’m innocent. One-hundred percent innocent. And Nikko, is a . . . friend,” she added softly.

Mr. Stimson gave them a prolonged look, and lifted an eyebrow at Lou. She simply shrugged her shoulders and nodded. “Well, okay then. That’s fine with me, but please sit, Marino. I don’t like people towering over me. I often use your brother to do some digging for me, and may call upon him for this case. So, it’s fine by me. But this conversation is protected. Understand?” At Nikko’s nod, and while he got comfortable, Ronald added, “No interruptions either please.” He ruffled through his paperwork and pulled out the police report.

Ronnie saw her mug shot lying on the top, and cringed at the bewildered and frightened expression she wore when that photograph was taken. Remembering that moment, her stomach rolled.

“As to your innocence, well the good news is all the evidence is circumstantial. I can make a case easily that the drugs could have been planted and probably get a jury to buy it. The blood test performed on you showed no signs of drugs. That is excellent, although the prosecution will argue that dealers don’t normally do drugs.”

Lou nodded, and reached over to pat her daughter’s hand. She was relieved her daughter hadn’t experimented as many high school and college students did. “I’ve always stressed to my daughter the dangers of alcohol abuse and the dangers of drugs. Even marijuana can be a gateway drug and lead people down the wrong path.” Stimson was scribbling away on a yellow legal pad.

“Good, I may call you on the stand to testify to that. We will need the names of several people to use as character witnesses.”

Ronnie gave him the names of the few friends she had made locally, Margaret and Brad. She also gave him the names of some professors, and friends back in Maine who could attest to her drug free lifestyle.

Her attorney wrote a bit more after she was finished then asked, “Ronnie, have you ever used narcotics?”

“No, never.” She was firm.

“Will pictures surface showing you in an ill light. Facebook? Instagram? Twitter? Drunk, using drugs, smoking cigarettes, hanging out in places with less than respectable people.”

Ronnie’s stomach lurched. She nodded.

“What kinds of pictures?” he asked. “I need to know. The prosecution will find them, probably has them already, and I’ll need to find a way to explain them without putting you on the stand.”

“I’m not worried about going on the stand,” Ronnie interjected defensively. “And as to your question, I think there may be one or two pictures of me drinking, hanging out around a campfire with some friends, and there may be people in the background smoking.”

“May be? And smoking what?” he asked, sharpening his focus on her.

“Yes, smoking pot. It’s far enough in the distance that we could argue it is just cigarettes. But, I don’t smoke pot, and I have never smoked a cigarette in my life. Yes, I have had a drink or two on occasion, at parties, but I respect myself and my body and what I put into it.”

“Okay, Ronnie. I get it. But on the stand, you can’t blow your top and get defensive like you just did, juries don’t like it. It makes you appear belligerent, rude, and angry. Let me worry about what to argue and make the decision on whether or not to put you on the stand. Plus, the police can simply find these people in the pictures, and ask them. If they have any arrests for drug use, well, forget about it. That will look bad, very bad for you that you hang out with people convicted of drug use.”

As he talked, Ronnie knew this route wasn’t a good one. She had to tell him. “Shit, Joey, my ex-boyfriend’s friend, was the one in the background. And he was once arrested for possession. It was a small amount, but . . .” she trailed off realizing how that would look for her. Guilt by association.

“Not good,” he confirmed. “I’d say remove the picture, but I’m sure they already have it. The prosecution had two days last week, and with young people they go straight to social media to begin their search. Teens incriminate themselves constantly with the stuff they put on the net. On Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.” He shook his head at the stupidity of youth. Even with all the warnings and precautions, kids these days revealed way too much via the internet.

He shuffled through some more papers, and pulled out another report. “Let’s talk about the drugs the police found inside your scuba equipment and snorkeling equipment. How did it get there do you think? Their case revolves around this. If there is any plausible way to explain it and provide proof to back it up, they will have to throw out the case. It could have been planted by anyone, cruise ship personnel, customs, wherever you had your tank, and equipment serviced, a drug dealer, anyone, but can you think of someone in particular.”

This is where Ronnie didn’t hold back. “Absolutely. It was Gary. I know it without a doubt,” she added.

All eyes turned to her. Mr. Stimson was looking at her with new interest. Nikko was shocked by this new bit of information. He had assumed someone she didn’t know had planted the drugs. The scumbag.

“How do you know it was this Gary fellow? I see no mention of him in the reports other than he was your boyfriend and the two of you shared a cabin. No drugs were found in his belongings.” Mr. Stimson shut his file, and picked up his pen.

“Gary Caldwell. My ex,” she stated vehemently looking downcast and away from Nikko. “I know it was him because when the police were approaching, and the people in line began to murmur their suspicions because there were so many officers and custom officials with dogs, I turned to Gary, and he looked terrified. He was already backing away.”

“Really?” Her attorney’s voice sounded pleasantly surprised. “Tell me about Gary?”

“I told this to the police, but they didn’t seem interested,” she confessed.

“They wrote nothing about that in the police report. That I find strange too. I will most certainly be calling the prosecutor today about that. What else should I know about Gary?” Mr. Stimson didn’t sound pleased that the police ignored putting this information in their report of their initial interview with Ronnie. He was taking notes while she spoke.

“Well, he does smoke pot, or did. And his family is connected. They don’t know about him smoking pot on occasion though. Well, not that I know of. But, I have seen him do it a few times. I’d thought he stopped. In fact, I had demanded he stop. It was one of the reasons we broke up last year. His grades were slipping and I suspected he was using again this year. I nearly ended it, but he swore he wasn’t using right before our trip. But, I’d noticed these last few months he had been sleeping more, missing classes, in fact he never would have graduated without me.”

“You didn’t cheat?” her attorney asked, looking up from his pad of paper.