The Price of Candy (31 page)

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Authors: Rod Hoisington

Tags: #kidnapping, #rape, #passion, #amateur sleuth, #female sleuth, #mistress, #blackmail, #necrophilia, #politician, #stripper, #florida mystery, #body on the beach

BOOK: The Price of Candy
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Bronner’s smile broadened.

“What’s going on?” Nita wanted to know.

Kagan motioned Bronner over to him. “You must
work very fast on this. I mean stay up nights and get the complaint
ready to file. Explain to the judge the defendant is to be charged
with felony murder and the state attorney’s case is rock solid.
Tell him you’re ready to file but as soon as she’s served, she’ll
start hiding assets and selling that condominium. That’d be grossly
unjust if permitted, and circumvents the intent of the law. He must
issue an immediate injunction against her disposing of any assets
in anticipation of an adverse judgment. Have your precedents and
arguments down perfectly.”

“What’s going on?” Nita asked again.

Sandy stepped over to her. “I’ll explain.
First, you’re going to have to trust Martin Bronner. I’ll be
working with him. He’s really going to work hard to get you lots of
money.”

“Like hitting the lottery.”

“Nothing like the lottery. Your chances of
hitting the lottery are impossible. Your suit is a slam dunk.
You’re going to sue this Abby Olin for say...one million dollars.
But she doesn’t owe you any money until the judge says she owes you
money. The judge, or the jury, will no doubt rule in your favor.
Putting the screws to her will be irresistible to them. At that
point, Abby legally owes you the one million. Most people don’t
have assets worth that much. Folks win judgments every day and
never collect a dime from the people who wronged them. Many
judgments are worthless. Abby obviously doesn’t have that much
money, but we get to seize whatever assets of hers we can find.
That’s why we’re excited to learn she owns a fancy Florida condo.
If she sells it before we get to it, then we’ll go after the money
she got in the sale. And so forth. It looks good for you, however
the problem is the payoff isn’t guaranteed.”

Nita stepped closer to Sandy and surprised
her by taking her hands. “Thanks, Sandy. I understand there may be
nothing. Just do the best you can.”

Sandy wished her well and said goodbye.
Martin Bronner told her if she could wait a minute, he’d drive her
back to her motel.

She said, “My family’s not going to believe I
was in Florida and stayed at a big Howard Johnson with a swimming
pool. I’ll wait outside for you, Mr. Bronner. I saw a bench, I want
to sit with the Florida sun on my face.”

Martin Bronner walked Sandy to the door. “I
apologize for being an idiot. I know that’s inadequate and now that
I’ve seen you in action....”

“You mean now that you smell a huge fee. You
dress like money, how come you’re so needy?”

“Your frankness has a refreshing appeal to
it, Sandy. My intention is to always dress as though successful. I
see I failed, at least with you. It’s after five. I’d be very
pleased if you’d join me for cocktails.”

“No thanks, you’ve a lot of work to do. You’d
better get an early start on that case.”

“Correct. But I need to talk with you about
our arrangement.”

“Okay, let’s go back and sit down and start
talking. Let me see your card.” He passed one over to her. “Nice
address, near the courthouse. Do you work alone?”

“Yes, a beautiful office. It was my father’s,
mine now.” He smiled. “Too bad I can’t afford it.”

“He’s retired?”

“Alzheimer’s. I look after him.”

“Sorry to hear that. You’ve taken over his
practice...his clients. You must have a good income. You look older
and experienced yet behave as if you’re straight out of law school.
Offense intended. What gives?”

“I got into the law late. I’ve been
out—pardon the expression—screwing around in Italy, HK, and the UK.
Before you ask, I was spending my own money, not my father’s. He
was in estate law and the clients have been dying off. I’ve no
client base to speak of. I’ve been taking some public defender
work. I’m your basic starving lawyer.”

“Okay, sorry I had you wrong. Let’s start
over. We’re essentially in the same place. I’m just a few hours
away from my law degree. Maybe I’m not the one to help you with the
Nita Banks suit. What do your friends call you?”

“Martin, of course. I know your reputation. I
followed your work on the Towson murder. We’re not starting even.
You’re far ahead of me. I’d like you to join me on this. There’s
always Kagan for backup, isn’t there?”

“Before we discuss this further, you need to
know my source believes that condo in West Palm might go for over
four million. We’ll sue for eight. It’s on the water and the area
has been rejuvenated upscale. You could pocket a million.”

“I like that part. But you told Mrs. Banks
one million.”

“I can’t get my head around one million let
alone four and I’m sure she can’t either. Anyway, I don’t want her
dreaming of two million and not getting a dime. Now you may not
want me after I explain to you how it has to be. You see, my goal
is my own law practice here in Park Beach after I pass the bar. I
need a big score to set it up and get started. If I join you on the
Juanita Bank’s suit, I’m willing to accept contingency, however I
need an agreement with you for one-half of the net proceeds paid to
you. Now, regarding Jerry, you’ll pay him up front—standard rates.
He gets paid with no waiting. I’ve no idea where that money will
come from because I don’t have zilch.”

“One-half! You’re crazy. No way. You said I
have a slam dunk case already in my pocket. I must say, I’m very
impressed with you and it’d be nice to work with you. Still, as you
say, I can hire all the assistance I need. I’m willing to go as
high as ten percent of the net. I think that’s more than
generous.”

“Martin, you make a great appearance. You’ll
look lovely in front of a jury. You’ll be dynamite with opening
statements and closing arguments. You’ll make a great front man,
but down in the trenches they’re going to eat you alive. So for
plea bargaining and negotiations you better let me handle it. For
example, right now I’m going to say to you that I insist on
receiving the full fifty-percent and you can take it or leave it.
And Martin, you’re going to hesitate, hem, haw, and then say that
you’ll take it.” She stared at him.

Martin Bronner turned away. He stood and
buttoned his suit jacket all in the same automatic motion. He
walked around the conference room table rubbing the back of his
neck. He sat back down frowning. He then spoke the beautiful words
Sandy needed to hear, “Okay, I’ll take it.”

Sandy wanted to dance around the room, but
contained herself. If successful, and it looked good to her, her
share of the sizable fee would set her up in her new law career.
Maybe not a total pot of gold but certainly a rainbow.

Martin also was smiling. “Sandy, a minute ago
you joked that I’d look lovely in front of jury. Forgive my
boldness, but I think you’re lovely and I’m not joking. I’d like to
know you better if you’ll permit me that honor. Excuse me, I’m not
normally so forward.”

“Thank you, Martin, that sounded very nice.
One other little thing. You mentioned you traveled to UK and HK. Is
HK Hong Kong?”

He nodded. “Interesting place. The Promenade,
the Cultural Centre, the Liu Man Shek Tong, and other famous
landmarks. After we win the suit I’d like to escort you there.”

Bronner made a slight bow and said goodbye.
Kagan came out of his office when he heard him leave. “You don’t
take any prisoners, do you?”

She said, “I would’ve settled for much less.
He has a Harvard look and a Vassar personality—not that there’s
anything wrong with that. I find it rather pleasing.”

“I know his father, as you might expect. We
both have been in the local bar association for years. He’s
inactive now, of course.”

“Would you recommend Martin for my co-counsel
in this Banks suit?”

“I don’t know where he’s been hiding, but
I’ve no objection. His father was out of my league. He had national
connections and was part of the Country Club set. That never was my
crowd. I was just a small-town attorney and the town outgrew
me.”

“Any regrets? You’ve a spotless reputation in
Park Beach. I consider myself fortunate that we connected.”

“All eighty-year-olds have regrets. But I’ve
had a pleasant life. When I retire, you’re welcome to take over
this office and all that’s in it.”

“Thanks, Jerry. That’s very generous of you
and it’s comforting to have such a nice offer in my back pocket.
However, my thinking changed abruptly today. The Banks suit is
going to make me a famous lawyer. And worldly gentlemen such as
Martin Bronner are going to escort me to exotic places like Hong
Kong.”

“Don’t pack your bags quite yet. Moran may
have your career blocked for two or three years.”

“Thanks for bringing me back down to earth.
I’ve been trying to think of ways to force his hand...haven’t found
it yet. Is Nita still out front? I know where I can buy her an
inexpensive swimsuit. Juanita Banks is going to swim in a Florida
motel pool and go home with a tan.”

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-one

 

The national media had not yet discovered
that Sandy was involved deeply in both the Privado Beach affair and
the felony murder case against Abby. That was fine with Sandy;
she’d prefer to keep it that way. The TV and print media were
pretending to create news out of all the circulating rumors and
speculation. They had most of it wrong or at best backwards, and
were overlooking certain important angles. Moran’s dramatics added
to the confusion. He had overreached with the media. They were
already expecting more than he could deliver.

She enjoyed watching Moran tangle himself in
such a public relations problem. Her own problems remained: getting
him off her back so she could proceed with the bar exam, become
licensed as an attorney, and move on with her life. She was certain
that he intended to keep her under the conspiracy charge and in
limbo until the last possible minute. Reaching the last minute in a
criminal trial could take years.

His problem: manipulating the media. Her
problem: Moran on her back. Both had been crisscrossing each other
in her mind for days when it occurred to her that the two problems
were linked. Then, surprisingly, the two problems came together in
her mind like two sides of Velcro.

Amazingly simple. At the peak of the media
frenzy, she leaked word to Moran that she had prepared for a
national interview with Renaldo Gitano, the ace reporter from CNN.
The media had it all wrong, she exclaimed; she and Gitano would
straighten them out in sensational fashion.

Her bluff worked. In a near panic, Moran
called her to his office and pleaded for her silence. He realized
her revelations would be a disaster. It would appear to the media
that she was the center, the source of inside information. She was
where it’s at—what was that State Attorney babbling about? Between
what Sandy had developed on her own and what Goddard and Triney had
fed to her, she knew more than he did about Abby, Toby, and Kidde.
Moran couldn’t risk the embarrassment of having details exposed,
losing control, and having the media asking him to confirm or deny
her comments. Would she please reconsider?

She told him she’d have to decide. Then she
let him sweat for twenty-four hours, which was twelve joyful hours
longer than a nervous Kagan advised. Sandy then negotiated
successfully the immediate withdrawal of all charges against her.
Just when he began to recover from making that painful concession
to her, she added to his distress by insisting he provide her with
a glowing letter of recommendation to the Florida Bar Association,
which also must explain his error in charging her with conspiracy.
It killed Moran to not only release her from his grasp, but also
substantially advance her career.

With the threat of jail removed, she could
devote prime time to finding poor Jamie. Abby’s indifference to the
plight of her daughter let Sandy to believe that she had taken
Jamie to some friend or relative. Kevin had been working tirelessly
checking out everyone that he could remember was acquainted with
Abby. He seemed to be unraveling with frustration.

U.S. Representative Frederic Kidde, the
politician who didn’t want to be connected to the beach scene, who
was afraid the voters would blame him for leaving the deceased
Betty Jo, and who also had exercised bad judgment in not coming
forward immediately when he learned she was abandoned, would soon
be political history. Unfortunately, the media kept their foot on
his neck until the next circus came along. By then his political
career, his reputation, and his way of life were devastated.

One of the biggest disappointments in the
life of TV reporter Renaldo Gitano was he could never piece
together the relationship between the congressman and the dead
stripper. How they had met and how they came to Florida. There had
to be a dynamite story there if he could just uncover it. The
anticipation of such a story energized him for months. He was
convinced gold was to be discovered in there somewhere.

Gitano tried vigorously, but after weeks of
digging developed only one solid lead. He located a woman who had
driven from Baltimore to Jacksonville at that time and reportedly
had given Betty Jo Hodges a short ride. The woman obviously knew
something, yet adamantly refused to discuss what had happened. He
was at a loss to understand the woman’s attitude. Reportedly, as
soon as he mentioned the name, Betty Jo, the woman slugged him with
her bare fist and pushed him off her front porch. No one else
seemed to know anything.

No one knew except the congressman himself
and Sandy Reid. Only she understood that Freddy Kidde had
sacrificed everything to the unrequited passion of a woman he’d
casually encountered. Freddy had trusted her and she’d never reveal
what had happened on that trip to Florida.

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