The Last Chance Lawyer Read online

  “I’m a lawyer. Never a judge, heaven forbid. I would be a horrible judge.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve got a perpetual soft spot for the underdog. Because I fight for justice, which is not always what courts dispense. And because I’m always suspicious of the government.”

  “Yeah, the government sucks. Why can’t they get out of our lives?”

  “Basically the same argument I made in the courthouse yesterday.”

  “We should take this country back for the people!”

  Maybe it was time to extract himself from this conversation. Soon his new friend would be talking about his underground survival cellar and the semi-automatic weapons he keeps in his pickup. “You got a ride home, my friend?”

  “I can walk. Should’ve gone home hours ago. Just not sure I can face it.”

  “Haven’t told the wife you lost your job?”

  “Oh hell. She’s used to that. We got far worse to worry about.”

  “Family problems?”

  “Yeah. My brother-in-law got shot last night, in that shootout at the Trademark.”

  He felt a cold chill creep down his arms and legs. “I am...sorry to hear that.”

  “He wasn’t doin’ nothin’. Just mindin’ his own business. Didn’t know about drugs and gangs. And he gets shot. He’s in the hospital now. Might lose his leg. Sister depended on him. We’re getting together in the morning to figure out how to handle it.”

  He tried to play it cool. “If you’ve got a big meeting in the morning, you’d better get home. Give yourself time to sleep this off.”

  “I don’t wanna sleep it off!” His fists tightened. “I wanna get the bastard who’s responsible for what happened to Benny.”

  “Leave it to the police.”

  “Easy for you to say. Did you know any of the victims?”

  He hesitated. “Not personally.”

  “They say one of the guys who started it got outta jail that afternoon. And was already killing again. Did you know that?”

  He had the distinct feeling that it was time to go. “Look, I need to head back to my boat...”

  He started to rise, but the large man clamped a hairy hand onto his shoulder. “Oh hell. You said you’re a lawyer. You said you were at the courthouse yesterday. Are you the one who got that mofo off?” The man was practically spitting in his face with each syllable. “You put this bastard back on the streets.”

  He didn’t know what to do. No one was flying to his rescue. “You don’t know what you’re saying, man. You just need to go home and—”

  “You bastard! You filthy stinking bastard!” The man grabbed him by the lapels and slung him back against the bar. “I’m gonna pound your face into hamburger meat. I’m gonna do the same thing to you they did to our Benny.”

  The bartender tried to intervene, but the large man ignored him. Unless he had a shotgun behind the bar, there probably wasn’t much he could do. “You put that murderer back on the street. What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  “My job.” He brought his hands up fast to break the man’s grip on his lapel, then pressed a hand against his chest. “Look, I don’t want to get into a fight.”

  “Who says you got any choice about it?”

  The man reared back his fist, but tottered and lost his balance. Someone behind grabbed him under the arms and kept him from hitting the floor. Two more men rushed between them.

  “Come on,” someone muttered to the fallen man. “Let’s get you home. You need some rest.” He noticed they both gave him serious stink-eye as they left. They wanted him to know they weren’t doing him a favor. If they had their way, they’d probably deliver the beating the drunk man wasn’t capable of mustering.

  Once they were gone, he tried to relax back onto his barstool, but his heart was pounding, and he realized he was covered with sweat. He polished off his mule in a single swallow, then signaled for another one.

  It didn’t steady his nerves. That guy had seriously shaken him up. What bothered him most was knowing that hothead wasn’t an outlier. The man was expressing what everybody in this town probably thought.

  The man was expressing what the inner voice in his head had been saying to him all night long.

  “Dangerous place to be drinking tonight?”

  His head snapped to the right. An attractive woman with long thick black hair sat on the barstool beside him. Lustrous brown skin tone. Immaculately manicured nails. Real eyelashes, better than most fakes. Earrings matched her bracelet. She’d been there for a while, but she hadn’t shown any interest in him. Mostly she stared at her phone, like so many people in bars these days.

  “He may lose a family member. He’s understandably upset.”

  “So he’s taking it out on the defense lawyer?”

  Apparently she’d overheard most of their conversation. Or did she already know? “That’s what everybody does. The media fans the flames of the kneejerk redneck reaction. Everybody hates defense lawyers–until they need one. Just like everybody assumes anyone charged with a crime is guilty–until it happens to them. Then the system is flawed, rigged, unjust. And the defense lawyer they despised before can’t do enough to help them.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.”

  “Could we talk about something else?” He sat up straighter and took in a few quick breaths. There was a rumor floating around that inhaling air quickly sobered you up. He doubted it was true, but it did at least make him feel more alert. “What brings a woman like you to a place like this in the dead of night?”

  “Seriously? That’s your best pickup line?”

  “I was just trying to initiate a conversation. No ulterior motive. Would you rather I asked about your astrological sign?”

  “Keep trying.”

  “Fun facts? Icebreakers? Bar tricks?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve seen it all.”

  “Why don’t we just have something that approximates a real conversation? I’m Dan.”

  “I’m Maria.”

  “Unwinding after a hard day’s work?”

  “In fact, I’m still on the clock.”

  “You work here?”

  She laughed. “Perhaps I’m a lush. Or a complete loser.”

  He squinted slightly. “You’re not a lush. You ordered a wine spritzer, and you haven’t touched it. No alcohol on your breath. And you’re also not a loser. I can tell from your voice and your vocabulary that you’re well read, probably well educated. You’re wearing Jimmy Choo shoes and a pair of Gucci Genius jeans that cost ten times what I paid for mine. To be fair, they make your ass look fantastic.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes.

  “Just stating the obvious. No offense intended.”

  “None taken.” She smiled. “I’m a legit snack. You’d be lying if you pretended you didn’t notice. Now I see what Mr. K was talking about.”

  “What? Who?”

  “You’re quite the observant one.”

  “It’s what I do. Connecting the dots. Uncovering the larger story. Our lives are all a tangled web of interconnecting stories. You just have to find the points of intersection.”

  “This is important to practicing law?”

  “Vital. Here’s what you have to understand—everyone lies. Even the innocent. You have to make some connections on your own.”

  “And that’s why you were staring at my jeans?”

  “Point being, you’re not a loser, and I don’t think you come to this bar frequently. I doubt you’ve ever been here before in your life. But you’re here tonight, and even though half the stools at the bar are empty, you’ve chosen to sit beside me.” He pivoted slowly. “Which either means you were drawn by my irresistible animal magnetism...or more likely, you came looking for me.”

  “Maybe I’m drawn to skinny drunk guys feeling sorry for themselves.”

  “More likely this has something to do with what happened last night at the Trademark. Are you packing? Is this a hit?”
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  “Aren’t you the drama king.”

  “I doubt you came to thank me.”

  “True dat. I came to deliver an invitation.”

  “To your place? Sorry, Maria, not on the first date. I’m not cheap.”

  “More like a business meeting. And it isn’t coming from me. Mr. K is issuing the invitation. He’s my boss. He’s had his eye on you for a while, apparently. But now he says you’ve become available.”

  “Mr. K? Who the hell is that?”

  “Check your cell phone. He sent you a text two hours ago. If you looked at your phone more frequently, I wouldn’t have had to come to this dive tonight.”

  He withdrew his phone. Sure enough, he had a text from an unidentified caller. MEETING AT 11 AM. MR. K. Judging from the address, it was probably one of those nice homes or condos on Snell Isle, one of the most desirable neighborhoods in the city, with its own harbor. Ideal for water enthusiasts, and just a short stroll from everything in the city that mattered. “The drive should be pleasant. But why on earth would I want to do this?”

  “You seem to be unemployed at the moment. What have you got to lose?” She slid off the barstool. “Here’s a guarantee I can make. This meeting will change your life.”

  Chapter 8

  Dan awoke on his boat, though he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten there. His head pounded. Apparently, there was a little man with a hammer and anvil inside his skull beating time. Had he remembered to drink lots of water before he went to sleep? Take a couple of aspirin? He couldn’t remember. All things considered, he should probably count himself lucky he made it back to his bed. The Defender was his safe haven, and right now, he needed one. Maybe no kiteboarding this morning.

  He reached for his phone. There was a message there from someone called Mr. K. Like Special K? Circle K?

  And then it came back to him. The bar. That strange if gorgeous woman stalking him. Maria. Who wanted him to come to a meeting, but inexplicably didn’t want to come back to his boat.

  She already knew he’d been cut loose by the firm, so someone had a serious ear to the pavement. Although for all he knew, Barry Friedman had given a press conference to brag about the dismissal.

  What did Mr. K want? What was the meeting about? He might be out of the firm, but he was hardly broke. Then again, his stash wouldn’t last forever, and he didn’t actually have anything else to do today.

  He pushed himself out of bed and began the arduous task of putting his act together.

  Nice of Mr. K to schedule the meeting for late morning. It was almost as if the guy knew he’d be hung over and was trying to cut him a break.

  DAN HAD THOUGHT MORE than once about getting a place on Snell Isle, not because he needed a house but for the enormous showoff factor. Having a home on Snell Isle was a sure sign you’d made it. He cruised past the palm trees and pelicans and perfectly mowed lawns, drinking it in.

  He pulled his Porsche in front of the designated address and released a soft whistle. Nice place. At least 5000 square feet, possibly more. Hard to tell how many bedrooms the two-story terra-cotta mansion might have. But it was big and well-kept, landscaped, gorgeous. Apparently Mr. K had made the big time...somehow.

  He approached the front door and knocked. Barely an instant later, a smiling man opened the door. Friendly. African-American. Fiftyish. Somewhat thick around the middle. Holding a half-finished crossword puzzle. Wearing a sweater vest.

  “You must be Dan?” the man said, hand extended.

  He nodded. There was something inherently creepy about a scenario in which everybody else knew who you were and you didn’t have a clue who they were. Or why you were here.

  “I’m Jimmy Armstrong. Glad you could make it. Come inside.”

  The living room was just as plush as the exterior. A big semi-circle sofa, two recliners, and a fireplace with a huge flat screen television hanging over it.

  “And this is your...office?”

  “This is the lobby. We have individual offices upstairs. Converted bedrooms. We use this room for conferences, team meetings, that sort of thing. And the weekly Gloomhaven game.”

  “Gloomhaven?”

  “Yeah. It’s like Dungeons & Dragons, only cooler.”

  “And you play this once a week?”

  “It’s a firm requirement.” Jimmy gave him a friendly slug on the shoulder. “I’m playing with you. You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do. But it’ll be your loss.”

  They approached a bar outside the kitchen and met another man, younger, probably late-thirties. Way too tall. Drawn face, serious expression. Long fingers. Whitest teeth he’d ever seen.

  Jimmy introduced him. “This is Garrett Wainwright. He’s a wizard.”

  “He’s...what?”

  “In the Gloomhaven game.”

  Garrett leaned in and shook hands. “And a lawyer in real life.”

  “He’s been on the team the longest. FYI, he’s your biggest advocate in the room.”

  “I didn’t realize I needed an advocate in the room.”

  Garrett nodded. “You don’t. Your record speaks for itself.”

  “My...record?”

  “In the courtroom. Your winning streak. Your ingenuity.”

  “I’m not sure everyone admires my ingenuity. Especially right now.”

  Garrett shrugged. “You certainly don’t lack for talent. Maybe just for...direction.”

  “You’re part of this firm? Or whatever it is?”

  “Have been for years. Love it.”

  “Not many lawyers talk about how much they love their work.”

  “I don’t even think of it as lawyering. In my mind, I’m part of a search-and-rescue team.”

  “And you like that?”

  “I do. Someone rescued me once. I’m glad to be able to pay it forward. We need more of that in this world. Less government, more entrepreneurs, more private charity. A nation of leaders, not leeches.”

  He was relieved, if that was the right word, to see a familiar face emerge from the back of the kitchen, even if the face was staring at her cell phone. “Maria, right?”

  She looked up. “Maria Morales. Pleased you remember. I wasn’t sure you would.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re very memorable.”

  “Yes, and you were very drunk. Glad you could make the meeting.”

  “Are you the reason I need an advocate?”

  She glanced at Garrett and Jimmy. “I am...not going to lie to you. I wasn’t in favor of bringing you in.”

  “Didn’t want to sully yourself with a criminal defense lawyer?”

  “Don’t be a jerk. We’re all criminal defense lawyers. I was only concerned about your...ethical issues. And to be blunt, I didn’t think Brian could be replaced.”

  “Who’s Brian?”

  Garrett jumped between them. Clearly he was the peacemaker. “Maybe someone should give you the nickel tour. I’ll volunteer.”

  “Sounds okay.”

  “Downstairs are the common areas. The living room. The kitchen. Two conference rooms. A small gym. A meditation room.”

  “A meditation room?”

  “What do you think we are, barbarians?” Garrett continued. “Upstairs are all the private offices, where you can meet clients, or just chill, put in some me time. You’ll take the one at the end of the corridor. You can decorate anyway you like. I favor prints from the Dali Museum. Maria likes Restoration Hardware and boy bands.”

  “And Jimmy? Let me guess—Gloomhaven.”

  “Mostly DC superheroes, actually.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “All except Maria.” He winked. “She’s more of a Marvel fan. Big rivalry.”

  Maria nodded. “DC is lame.”

  Jimmy drew up his shoulders. “DC is the house of writers. Marvel is for movie zombies.”

  “Calm down, children.” Garrett glanced at his phone. “I just got a text from Mr. K. He’s ready to start the meeting.”

&nb
sp; “Is he here?”

  “Oh no. He’s never here, not in person. He’s joining us by Skype.”

  “Just couldn’t make the drive downtown?”

  “Downtown from where?”

  “He doesn’t live around here?”

  “I have no idea where he lives. None of us do.”

  “But he’s the head of the firm?”

  “And then some. Have a seat on the sofa, Dan. I’m going to Airplay the call up to the television.”

  Given the size of the screen, he thought, this was not going to be so much a conference call as an IMAX movie screening. He settled onto the sofa. He had no idea what he was getting into. But at least it didn’t look like it was going to be boring.

  The screen blipped a few times, refocused, and eventually resolved. To a blank screen. He expected to see a big face peering down at him. Instead, he saw absolutely nothing.

  “Good morning, Dan. Thank you for joining us.” A friendly, tenor voice radiated from a Bose sound bar. “I hope you’re feeling okay this morning. Jimmy has a dynamite hangover remedy, if you want it. Never fails.”

  He checked the reactions of the other three people in the room. None of them seemed to think anything was strange or amiss. But the television was a solid blue field. Audio, no video.

  “Your image isn’t coming through,” he said.

  A chuckle emerged from the television set. “It never does. I like it that way. Want the Jimmy special?”

  “I’m okay, thanks. Maybe next time.” How was he going to scan someone he couldn’t see?

  “Let me get straight to the point, Dan. I’m the one they call Mr. K.”

  “Does the K stand for something?”

  “That’s not important. I’m just giving you a moniker. People seem more comfortable when they have a name to put with a voice. I expect you’ve already figured out why I’ve invited you here. I’d like you to join our little law firm.”

  He glanced around. “This is a law firm?”

  Jimmy brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder. “Are you throwing shade at our office space? I’ll have you know I spent six months on the interior decoration, matching colors, choosing carpets. Hell of a lot of work.”