Page 4 of Some Like It Deadly
Did he look tired? Rubbing the back of his neck, he shook his head. “I’d rather get a few letters done. I’m supposed to be at a charity function at six-thirty—oh, that reminds me. Do you have evening wear?”
“Cocktail or formal?” She’d set the steno down then worked on her tablet.
“Both, but for tonight—cocktail.” The event was a minor one, but he hadn’t been able to do much for it over the intervening months and he wanted to put in an appearance. “We can go, mingle for about an hour and then get dinner and go over the rest of the week.” He’d devoured most of the sandwich, a hell of a lot hungrier than he’d realized. Of course, he’d skipped lunch to interview Kate then been on the phone since.
“Very well. I’ll send someone to pick up a dress for me.” She flipped the tablet around and passed it over to him. The case filefor Leonard versus Johnson was open. Sliding his finger over the screen, he paged through. Kate retrieved the empty container and the prescription bottle, disposing of the first and returning the latter to the shelf.
“We can swing by on the way to it, if you think you can change fast.” It would save time. “And I can dictate a few letters in the car.” Richard grimaced and dragged his attention up from the file. “I’m sorry, Miss Braddock, you really are going to have to jump in the deep end this week. While I do demand a lot, it won’t always be this chaotic.”
“It’s not a problem. I’ll adjust and make sure I keep an array of clothing choices on hand for future events. I noticed you have the scholarship charity dinner on Thursday, but you RSVP’d as a maybe. Should I decline or accept it?”
“Accept. It was only a maybe to get Armand off my ass.” When his friend had been trying to manipulate him into declining any number of events so he’d stay home. “That will be full formal and I have a half-dozen clients who will also be attending in addition to the grand duke, so we’re not going to have a lot of time to enjoy the function. Do you need something to eat? I have more sandwiches stocked.” It was the one habit Miranda drilled into him. She had a service stock the fridge weekly and he had to eat at least half of them or she’d start canceling his appointments.I wonder if Miranda put that in her notes?Would Kate make the same kinds of threats?
“I’m fine, thank you. Water?” She’d retrieved two bottles and returned to the desk before he could nod. A line in the second continuance held his attention and he had to read it three times.
Leonard stipulated he’d suffered grievous injuries during an armed robbery in Johnson’s convenience store. The owner, Johnson, had also been injured—he’d sustained a gunshot wound to his shoulder. Total physical damages amounted to about fifteen thousand dollars, but loss of work and having toclose his store for repairs while in the hospital had cost Johnson considerably more. Leonard’s suit cited Johnson’s refusal to cooperate with the armed robbers—identified as two men of Latin descent in their late teens, early twenties. Though they were suspected in a string of related crimes, neither subject had been apprehended.
When Leonard brought suit against Johnson, he maintained he’d been unable to work, had suffered mentally, physically, and emotionally following the attack and had a doctor diagnose him with PTSD. But the second continuance had been asked for and sustained because Leonard had to be out of town.
The judge had granted the request because Richard had been in the hospital and still recovering. Richard hadn’t thought much of it, but he’d also been on painkillers. Scrolling through the pages, he looked for the attending evidence attached to the continuance—where had Leonard needed to be that he couldn’t be in court?
Reaching for the phone, he punched in the number for one of the investigators he kept on retainer. “Hey, Mitch, it’s Richard.”
“Welcome back, man. How’s your first day?” A former member of the LAPD, Mitch Blake had taken medical disability after a drunk driver left him with a permanent limp and partial hearing loss, but neither injury had done anything to damage his sharp mind.
They’d met via a case when Richard had defended another officer in a civil suit. Mitch had been honest about his fellow officer’s anger management issues, but adamant that he’d been in a solid frame of mind during the arrest. After his accident, Richard had offered his services free of charge and they’d worked together on several cases since. Mitch was a straight shooter, and he’d helped Richard with other delicate cases including two relocations.
He trusted him.
“Busy as hell. Look, I know you’ve probably got a lot on your plate and this may be nothing, but I need a fast turnaround on some information.” Richard picked up a pen and twirled it around between two fingers. Across from him, Kate held up her notepad with a single question mark on it.
“Whatcha got?” Brisk and to the point—it was why he and Mitch worked so well together.
Shaking his head in answer to her silent query, he tapped his pen on the desk. “John Leonard, age 42. Lives at 4421 Wilkins Avenue—he stipulated that on April 14thhe had to be out of town and was unable to attend court. Can you find out where he went?”
“Sure thing, boss. Anything else?”
“No, that’s all for now—anything you can pull together on that and if it smells fishy…?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll drop a line. Talk to ya soon.” Mitch hung up and Richard drummed his pen again. He’d missed something when he’d reviewed those papers and being medicated didn’t excuse it.
Not when Brett Johnson had hung his future on Richard defending him. If he lost, Johnson would lose his store, his life’s work, and his retirement. The man didn’t deserve that.
One benefit of his own firm was the ability to take on any case he chose—like Johnson. His younger associates did a fair share of pro bono work, it was a requirement of their hiring into Prentiss and Associates, but some cases were personal for Richard and he kept them on the down low. Those details didn’t leave his office.
Kate had taken it upon herself to remove his can of Coke and he hadn’t finished it yet. Irritated, but forcing patience, he twisted the cap off the water bottle. After swallowing a long drink of water he nodded to her steno. She picked up her pen and looked at him expectantly. “Let’s draft a letter to Mr.Johnson and alert him to the continuance, dated today. Brett, please accept my apologies for the many delays your case has faced over the last few months. I spoke to and obtained a continuance in the discovery phase today due to just returning to the office from my recovery. I also have some questions regarding the previous continuance. All briefs will be filed with Judge Ryan’s office next Monday—add the date—and I will contact you when a trial date has been set. I know your concerns and I will do everything I can to resolve this matter prior to going to trial. I look forward to talking to you soon, sincerely—fill in the data.”
He took another drink and watched her flip the page to begin the next letter. They’d managed six before his next call. Since he could handle talking to Armand’s cousin Francesca about the upcoming release of her trust fund without Kate, he sent her out to take care of those letters.
Closing his eyes, Richard pinched the bridge of his nose. Alone, he could admit to the weariness dragging on him. He shouldn’t have tried to play so hard on the court. He didn’t have anything to prove with Armand—except he did. His best friend still blamed himself for the car accident and had all but buried Richard in bodyguards for the three months of his convalescence. Though Richard had read the reports from Armand’s security team, as well as the investigation opened by the police department, he remembered very little of the actual accident.
That bothered him. He thrived on details, but the vague shadow of crunching metal and falling were all he’d been able to piece together. The doctors had told him he may never remember it.
Though his case remained open, everyone—Armand included—believed the accident was tied to the same group that tried to kill Armand. Richard was the face of the family, and itdidn’t matter that they had no conclusive proof, his best friend wouldn’t let it go. Richard’s injuries had scared Armand and he’d reacted accordingly.
Hell, he probably bribed that doctor to keep me on limited mobility.
Playing hard had been the only way to prove he was back up to snuff. Except—his side ached and he wanted that nap Kate had suggested earlier. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he hit the button for Kate’s desk. “I won’t typically ask for this, but I have to get on the phone with Francesca Grace to go over some inheritance issues. Do you mind heading down to the coffee kart in the lobby and picking me up a latte? Treat yourself to one too.”
