Читать книгу DANCING WITH THE ICE LADY - Ken Salter - Страница 8

IN MY UNSETTLED DREAMS I WAS BEING VAMPED AND duped by a series of women sirens all of whom presented different faces of Gloria Simmons. The shrill ringing of my phone rudely ended my less-than-sweet dreams; I was relieved to put them behind me.

“The boss expects to see you at 9:00 A.M. sharp, so don’t be late,” Marcie warned. “You got that through your thick head? Say something so I know you’re awake.”

“Thanks for the call Marcie. Don’t worry. I’ll be there. Is there anything else I need to know before meeting Nate?” Marcie’s voice didn’t sound hostile, but it wasn’t super friendly either.

“No, you got the picture. Just remember what I said when the time comes.” She rang off without further ado. She’d elected to keep her own counsel and keep the ball in my court. I couldn’t expect any sympathy from Saundra either. I was definitely on probation until I came up with the goods on Gloria Simmons and clued them in. I was between a big rock and a nasty, hard place.

I hurriedly shaved, showered and tore into a couple of energy bars from the health food store. I washed them down with gulps of O.J. from the carton. The day was off to a shaky start. Hopefully, it would get better.

Saundra was busy with a new client when I popped through the door. She gave me one of her “you in deep shit” looks as I scooted past her work station and the sad-eyed woman she was tending to. I grabbed the pile of pink message slips and mail from my box that Saundra had sorted and read. I dumped everything on my cluttered desk and headed up the stairs to Nate’s office.

His door was open and he was seated behind his desk with his nose in a file folder. He looked like shit. His fleshy face was blotchy and the big bags under his eyes sagged badly. He looked like he’d been on a two-day bender and desperately needed a shot of Scotch to pick him up. I couldn’t help thinking of the sorry-eyed waif Saundra was attending to and he would have to interview. Nate was going to have to get sobered up quick and back in the saddle if he was going to get through the morning.

“Sit down, R.C. Did Saundra tell you what happened yesterday with Toni Perkins?”

His words caught me by surprise. “No, Saundra didn’t mention anything about the Perkins’ case this morning. She was busy with a client. I met with Toni yesterday and everything seemed OK. She seemed more pissed off about Benny’s new lawyer than being kept waiting.”

Nate didn’t appear too interested in probing me about my session with her, so I waited for him to spit out what was on his mind.

“What an ungrateful bitch! I tried to explain to her that the private agreement they made violates public policy and is, therefore, unenforceable. That cocky piece of shit actually threatened me! Can you believe this crap?”

I was surprised by what he said. I thought Saundra had diffused Toni’s anger and eased her out the door. It sounded like he’d had a run-in with her. “I thought she’d cooled down after meeting with me. Saundra was going to make her an appointment to see you next week when I left.”

“The bitch waylaid me in the parking lot. Can you believe that? I work my butt off all day and when I drag my tired ass outta here to go home, I get jumped by her and her butchy girlfriend.” Nate was working himself up to a boil. I needed to redirect his negative energy.

“She was OK when she left. It must have been her girlfriend who pushed her to make a scene. A good row with you probably plays well on the home front.”

Nate wasn’t about to be mollified. “The bitch gave me an ultimatum. Can you believe this shit? She actually threatened me. She said if I didn’t get Benny Ross to drop custody and visitation rights, she was gonna sue me for malpractice and file a complaint with the State Bar. She was screaming in the parking lot, ‘if we lose the kid, you’re dead meat!’ Can you believe it? We bust our balls for these ungrateful bitches and they threaten to cut off our balls if we don’t win a case they fucked up from the start. Who needs this crap anyway?”

Nate’s boiler was about to blow. His blotchy face had gone from red to purple. He desperately needed a drink to steady his rudder. Better try for a diversion.

“I need to see Mrs. Simmons’ file. I’ve been thinking about the case and I want to kick around some ideas with you. But before I make a fool of myself with her, I need you to fill me in on some of the background missing in our meeting with her. I don’t want to look stupid asking her for info she’s already provided to you.”

The change of subject worked. Nate slammed shut the Toni Perkins file and went over to a bank of locked file cabinets where he keeps his sensitive cases and his stock of Chivas Regal. Nate prides himself on not being an alcoholic by his special criteria. He likes to brag that he never takes a drink before cocktail time, which he roughly defines as starting somewhere between three and five in the afternoon depending on his needs and mood. I know for a fact that he nips throughout the day when he thinks no one is looking. His breath mints may fool his clients, but in our small office, there’s no way you can hide much for long.

Nate’s broad back was turned to me as he rummaged in the file cabinet. I was sure he was trying to figure out how to sneak a slug of Scotch without me noticing it. He pulled a file and handed it to me. He lingered at the cabinet while I opened the file.

I noted that the plain manila folder had no typed label like all the other files in our office. Nate had written ‘Gloria Simmons’ in his nearly illegible scrawl. Had Saundra organized the file, the label would have been neatly typed and read “Simmons v. Simmons – divorce.” Inside the file, there was no completed office questionnaire with the demographic info Saundra compiles at intake. Instead, Nate had scribbled some nearly indecipherable notes on a sheet from a lined legal pad.

The notes were as follows: “husband – Jimmy Simmons – co-owner of Simmons Family Mortuary w/ brother Tony S. – Gloria (GS) married Las Vegas NV 4 yrs. ago – no childr. – joint checking – GS some separate prop. – royalty residuals from modeling & advertising – community prop? residence? autos? jewelry? Interest in family biz? Believes there’s lots of cash and unreported income skimmed from the biz. Value of H’s interest before and after 4 yrs marriage? Value of GS career before marriage?”

Nate hadn’t been concerned with the usual demographic data: date of birth, date of marriage, reason for breakdown of the marriage, etc. Either Nate knew the info or left it for me to find out. His notes focused solely on evaluating her husband’s income and property interests that could be divided in a divorce or legal separation. I jotted a summary of his info and when I looked up, Nate’s eye were focused ruefully on his liquor cabinet.

“Where would you like me to start?”

“I want you to dig up financial info on the mortuary for starters. Mrs. Simmons reports that there are currently large amounts of cash washing through the business. As a result, the book value of the business is probably grossly underestimated intentionally. We may have to resort to a court subpoena to flush it out. They’re probably keeping two sets of books.”

“What makes Mrs. Simmons so sure there’s lots of extra cash? Did she provide examples?”

“As she stated yesterday, her husband started giving her large amounts of cash and putting more in their joint account about six months ago. Before that, he always deposited a business check into the account.”

Nate’s information seemed to answer how Mrs. Simmons had $5,000.00 cash to pay a retainer. She also must be skimming fat off the monthly budget or else had a sugar daddy on the side. It solved her problem of hiding her hiring a divorce lawyer – no telltale checks or statements for services rendered to trip up her game. Lots of spouses planning to split and run use similar tactics.

“Where does Mrs. Simmons believe the cash is coming from?” I asked boldly

“She doesn’t know. She states that her husband likes to gamble and has always carried a big roll of cash on his person.”

“Does she think maybe the mortuary gives him two checks as a monthly draw – one to deposit in his joint account and the other to cash for running-around money?” I thought the possibility was dubious but I wanted Nate’s take on it.

Nate paused before replying. “I don’t think so. Mrs. Simmons believes the cash he gives her every month is just a token of what he carries on him.”

Nate was carefully weighing his words. It was not like him to hide and hedge behind “Mrs. Simmons believes.” He’s usually more open and free-wheeling. I suspected he knew a lot more about the origins of the cash than he was prepared to reveal. I decided to try a different tack.

“Why does Mrs. Simmons want to divorce?”

“She’s not sure she does at this point. That’s why she insists on discretion and strict confidentiality on our part.”

I had to bite my tongue not to point out that’s why suspicious wives hire private detectives and not divorce attorneys to get the goods on their spouses. Despite the fact Nate was playing cat and mouse with me, I saw no reason to bite the hand that was feeding us. The legal business is no different from other professions where cash is king. Mrs. Simmons had casually coughed up five grand on word-of-mouth promises and a receipt in Nate’s locked file. There’d be lots more cash coming provided we secured and fed her the information she wanted.

I wanted to hit Nate up for a raise in pay. With a couple of well-heeled clients flush with cash like Gloria Simmons, Nate would be able to pay me what I think I’m worth as a junior lawyer and not just as his investigator. But first, I had to produce the goods. I had one more question. “How did Mrs. Simmons get referred to us? I didn’t see any mention in your notes.”

“That’s confidential. When can you get to work on the investigation? I would like to have something concrete to give her as soon as possible in light of her generous retainer.”

“It depends on how much work you want me to do on our other cases. There’s the final work on Sharon Miller’s case as well as Patsy Kline’s case to try to settle. Of course, we have Toni Perkins to deal with as well.”

“Fuck Toni Perkins! She can kiss my ass. She’s gonna stew and bite her nails before she hears from me. If she dares to file a complaint with the State Bar, you will see to it that she never gets sole custody of her kid.” Nate’s face flushed red again.

Nate’s threat to have me sabotage her case was not lost on me. Nate planned to keep my ass in a sling regarding any malpractice complaint. Everyone around me seemed to be hedging their bets and looking for me to take the fall if things went awry or I didn’t play their game. I recalled my grandpappy’s admonition that “white bosses gonna work your black hide to the bone, then dump you like a broken mule.”

Marcie was right; I was going to have to dig up almost all the info on the Simmons case by myself. Nate was stonewalling me. Before I found myself out a limb while someone was sawing it off, I needed to clarify the limits of my authority.

“You want me to restrict my investigation to public sources of information or do you want me to employ my street people to try to get a fix on what’s going down at the mortuary?”

“I want you to use all your resources on this case, R.C. Just be discrete and careful. The Simmons brothers won’t be amused if they discover you investigating their business.” I sensed an uncomfortable edge of danger in Nate’s veiled warning. He’s not a good liar or actor. He knew much more than he was prepared to reveal. I’d have to snoop around to find out. I needed to know of couple of more things before I started.

“Do you want me to gather the demographic info we need to file a petition for divorce or legal separation that’s not in the file?”

“No, leave that to me.”

“What about the info I get as I go along? Suppose she asks for it before I can discuss it with you? Do I put her off or give it to her when she demands it? You may be hard to reach if I have to go through Marcie or Saundra; they’re sure to listen to anything I say.”

Nate rubbed his chin while he pondered what to tell me. “Respond directly and truthfully to her questions, but don’t volunteer information. I want a written report on your findings daily. You can write it by hand, but leave no copy in your office computer if you type it. Your reports are to be left in her file in my locked safe.”

I was sorely tempted to ask for a notebook computer I could carry with me. I quashed my impulse to demand one. I’d wait until I had some juicy info before insisting I needed an expensive toy to aide my investigation. Nate wanted me to be his good man Friday. He’d be perfectly happy with handwritten reports to have an excuse to meet directly with Gloria Simmons.

Like most infatuated males, Nate didn’t want me getting too close to Mrs. Simmons. He expected me to concentrate on the mortuary and leave the more intimate inquiries to him. Nate knows me well enough to know I’d pump Mrs. Simmons for whatever info I needed whether he liked it or not. He also knew I wouldn’t reveal how my street contacts worked or what info they developed unless I wanted him to know. He was bound to practice law within the strictures of the California Evidence Code and the Code of Professional Ethics regulating lawyers’ conduct; I wasn’t yet, so he knew better than press me on my sources or how they got their info.

Nate kept a stash of cash in his safe for me to use to pay my eyes and ears on the street. No receipts and no questions as to how I used the money so long as I got the goods; just as well our client paid cash. There’d be no paper trail in billing records regarding who I paid and for what.

“I’ll need $500.00 in pocket money to start. I’ll have a written report in your safe by 5 P.M. tomorrow providing I don’t have to work on pending cases.”

Nate didn‘t hesitate to swing his safe open and hand me a wad of greenbacks. He knew I only wanted small, well-used bills to pay my “street expenses.” I stuffed the pile of 20’s, 10’s and 5’s in my pocket.

“I’m gonna drop Perkins. What about Sharon Miller and Patsy Kline? I’d like to drop them as well.”

“I think we have Miller’s settlement wrapped up.” He rummaged through the files on his desk and pulled one; he removed the top pleading document and handed it to me.

“Make a copy and take it around for her to sign when you have time. Her husband has signed off on the child support and alimony. Tell her I’m sorry I can’t meet with her personally. She should be happy with the results. You’ll have to meet with the Kline woman. I’m booked solid with depositions. You did the investigation, so you can give her the bad news yourself.”

I shrugged. We both knew if Mrs. Simmons called in the meantime, I was expected to drop everything and play run and fetch it for Nate’s primetime client. As I left, I was pleased to see Marcie’s door was closed. After making a copy of the Sharon Miller settlement, I called her to set up a time to drop by her apartment to sign her settlement agreement. I called Patsy Kline and set up an appointment in my office for later that afternoon.

I hustled out of the office past Saundra who was still with a client. She gave me the evil eye, but held her tongue in front of the woman seated at her desk. I smiled at the woman; she looked to be in her early forties. She regarded me with a sad, doleful expression of bewilderment. Her faded calico dress looked like it came from an old Montgomery Ward mail order catalogue for farm wives. She’d twisted her long, chestnut-colored hair into a flat pigtail and stuffed her still pretty feet into nondescript Birkenstock sandals. No wonder Gloria Simmons could breeze into Nate’s office and sweep him off his feet.

I’d work outside the office until my appointment with Patsy Kline to avoid Nate’s staff monitoring my moves.