Justice for all, p.8
Justice For All, page 8
“This pretty boy is what I’m up against?”
“Kind of a hunk, huh?”
“For a lawyer. I mean, he’s wearing the traditional blue suit, but still . . .” She whistled. “Not entirely disgusting.”
Sharon laughed. “He’s gorgeous and you know it. You probably don’t even fantasize about guys who look that good.”
“I assume you’ve already researched him. How is he as a lawyer?”
Emma’s eyes darted. “No one gets everything.”
“Understood.”
“But that could be good for you. You’ll swim circles around him.”
“I like the sound of that.” She thought another moment. “And if I take this case, I’ll be working closely with him?”
“Daily. Just the two of you. Hours and hours.” She paused. “How long has it been for you? Two years? Three?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not counting vibrator activity. I mean the real deal.”
Kenzi tossed down the file. “I can’t believe you two! You’re more sexist than men! You’re using sex to lure me into a case. Because of course all any woman really wants is a good man to take care of her.”
“Maybe for an evening,” Sharon murmured.
“Correction,” Emma said. “I want you to take this case because I think it could make us a lot of money, give the firm enhanced credibility, and establish an important precedent. I’m using sex to achieve an important goal. It’s a completely different thing.”
Kenzi put her arms akimbo. “I am a serious feminist lawyer businesswoman. I am the managing partner in a major Seattle firm. I don’t chase after men. And I don’t need a man to motivate me.”
“Of course. Absolutely true.”
Kenzi gazed at the photo. “Conservative?”
“Probably, given his job, but that doesn’t mean he’s nuts.”
“Hair product?”
“Sure. But to be fair, it works for him.”
“Green bubble or blue?”
“Are you kidding? He probably has the three-thousand-dollar Hermes iPhone.”
Kenzi took a deep breath. “Ok. I’ll consider it. But just to be clear, I’m not doing this because of that dewy-eyed, floppy-haired thirst trap. I’m taking the firm in a bold new direction.”
Sharon nodded. “Right.”
“Taking one for the team, basically.”
Emma agreed. “That’s your story and you’re sticking to it.”
Kenzi snatched the file and sauntered into her office. “The sacrifices I make for this firm . . .”
* * *
“I don’t care how complicated the truth turns out to be,” Dan said. “There’s no good reason to continue visiting pain. These people have been mistreated long enough.”
Kenzi ignored him. “We’re going to bury you. Your client’s claim has never been worth anything. Now a court is going to declare that it’s worthless once and for all.”
“Perhaps. But I think your client wants the money more. My client has no wife and no heirs. He just wants credit for his own work. We could work something out.”
“Sorry. Already told you. All-out war.”
“Why? Because Delia is your path to getting a major Hollywood studio on your client list?”
“Aren’t you the mind reader. You know what I think? I think you’re not sure you can handle having me on the other side of the courtroom.”
“I like working with you. Have since the day we first met at the beach.” He glanced over his shoulder toward Maria. “Which I was totally unprepared for, unimpressed by, and uninterested in. Just a business meeting.” Kenzi grinned. “But if I win, will you put that swimsuit back on?”
“Hey!” Maria said. “This is totally inappropriate.”
Dan, however, couldn’t resist a challenge. Especially when he thought this petite spitfire was trying to intimidate him. “Challenge accepted.” He raised a finger. “But what if I win?”
“You’ll get a lot of money.”
“No, if I lose, I’ll wear the suit. But if you lose . . . you have to live without your cellphone for an entire week.”
Kenzi’s eyes widened like balloons. “What kind of monster are you?”
“Those are my terms. Don’t tell me you’re chickening out. A minute ago, you seemed supremely confident. Was that all bluster?”
Kenzi’s eyebrows knitted. “That’s . . . not . . . I don’t . . . bluster.”
He held out his hand. “Then we have a bet?”
Kenzi’s teeth were clenched. But she extended her hand. “You’re going down, Kite Man.”
He shook vigorously. “We shall see.”
Chapter 12
Three hours later, most of the team still sat in the living room, alternating between working and commiserating. Now that they knew early settlement was off the table and Kenzi had financial support from a deep-pocket movie studio, everything had changed.
Just before dinnertime, Dan’s sister Dinah bounced through the front door, as usual full of twenty-something energy and enthusiasm. She sported a white crop-top tee and a ponytail which he suspected made her very popular down at the court clerk’s office.
She took one look at the team. “Wow. Did we lose a trillion-dollar case while I was out?”
Dan looked up, a half-smile playing on his lips. “No. We’re strategizing about our new case. So we can lose a trillion dollars.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Not by much,” Jenny said. “The Marvel movies made about thirty billion in the first phase. And as you’ve probably noticed, they haven’t stopped.”
Dinah pulled a face. “Eh, Marvel movies are so yesterday. Strictly for parents.”
Jenny looked alarmed. “What about DC?”
“All those white middle-class heroes are lame. King Kaiju is cool.”
“He’s a monster.”
“He’s a cool monster. He wasn’t created by a nuclear explosion, like Godzilla. That was a metaphor for postwar Japan. King Kaiju is a child of the seventies. He was created by pollution. He battles global warming. Much more contemporary. And important. And hot.”
“He’s kinda scaly . . .”
“He’s adorable. Like the prince in Beauty and the Beast. Or Quasimodo. Or ET. Or—”
“Also, he destroys cities just by walking across them.”
“Only when fighting crime. That makes him a good guy.”
Dan couldn’t help but smile. Dinah had brought so much joy to his world. He’d only learned he had a half-sister late in life, but they’d made up for lost time. He couldn’t believe the enormity of her spirit, especially given all she’d been through. And now she was a law student! “I see you know as much about this character as Jenny.”
Dinah crossed to the kitchen. “No one knows more about comic book characters than Jenny. But you should understand that you’re fighting over a Gen Z superstar. Kaiju is for us like Scooby Doo or Star Trek are for Boomers.”
“But he was created in the seventies.”
“And is coming into his own now. I have a near-mint copy of King Kaiju #3.”
Jenny’s head whirled around. “The one where he’s taking down enemy ships in Golden Gate Harbor?”
“That’s the one.”
Jenny gave her a stern look. “Girl, we need to talk about a trade.”
“What, for some Aquaman thing? Pass.”
“I got early Wonder Woman.”
“She’s the one with the lasso, right? Nah, too S&M for me.”
“Batgirl. Batwoman. Madame Xanadu.”
“No thanks.”
“Power Girl. Complete set. You know, you kinda look like her.”
“Are you joking? No one looks like the women in comics. She’s drool-bait for emotionally arrested adolescents.”
King Kaiju #3
“Thanks. I’m keeping my Kaiju.”
Maria cleared her throat. “I hate to interrupt this scintillating comic auction, but is anyone hungry?”
“Always.” Dinah grabbed some cold pizza from the day before.
“I’ve ordered dinner,” Maria said. “I meant to cook, but time got away from me. DoorDash is bringing Mexican.”
Dinah clapped her hands. “Excellent. I’m starving.”
Maria frowned. “How do you stay so skinny?”
Dinah shrugged. “Good genes.”
Dan added: “Young age.” He entered the kitchen and grabbed a slice, hoping Maria wouldn’t notice. But she did.
His phone buzzed. The ID at the top of his iPhone read KAKAZU. “Yeah?”
“Dan? Jake.” His friend Jake Kakazu was now chief of the SPPD homicide department. “We have troubles.”
“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m not handling murders. At least not at the moment.”
“Are you repping a guy named . . .” Pause. Shuffling of paper. “Apologies if I mispronounce this. Kazuhiko Wu?”
Dan felt a chill tingle down his neck. “Yeah. But it’s not murder. It’s—”
“And before you came along, he sued something called Sidekick Comics?”
“Probably. I just filed a more recent—”
“Let me cut to the chase. I’ve got a corpse. A bloody, hideous, headless corpse.”
“Headless?”
“You heard me right.”
Dan recalled what Maria told him before. “You might find the head at Lost Luggage . . .”
“Thanks, genius. Already matched the two. ID’d him through fingerprints. No criminal record, but he sat for the bar exam, which as you know means being printed.”
“He’s a lawyer?”
“Kevin Lieber, who court records indicate represented your client in an earlier suit.”
“I’m sorry to hear this . . .”
“Dan, let’s have a talk.”
“If you insist. I suppose you’re worried Wu could be in danger.”
Long pause on the phone. “This killer doesn’t seem to have a problem with your client. This killer goes after his lawyers.”
* * *
Dan drove south to Kissimmee at least once a month, especially when tides were low and surfing was in its doldrums. Sometimes he went out on Lake Toho, but his favorite stop was Kissimmee Waterfront Park, which had walking paths, playgrounds, and a pier. But today he and Jenny were headed toward Old Town. Like so many would-be destinations, Kissimmee had rejuvenated its downtown by making it touristy, with brick pedestrian lanes, a Ferris wheel, the world’s only year-round haunted house—and lots of shopping.
Jake sent a uniformed officer to escort them past the crime-scene tape. They were behind the Old Town Main Stage. Apparently, an hour before, local performers had put on a Disney-themed musical revue. But now, the mood was definitely not “Be My Guest.”
He spotted Jake on the other end of the roped-off area. He was barking orders at forensic teams. Trying to collect evidence in an open area with tourists stomping around had to be a challenge.
He greeted Jake. “Thanks for calling.”
Jake nodded. “I didn’t do it to help you. I called because I need information I suspect you might have.”
“If I can help, I will.” He glanced behind them, where two officers from the medical examiner’s office were lifting the headless corpse onto a gurney. A large pool of blood on the concrete was dark and congealed. He’d been there for a while. And he had not improved with age. Dan didn’t know how the head had been removed, but the corpse’s neck was jagged and black. Exposed bone was visible.
Dan had seen a lot in his time, but this was butchery. He had no idea what the motive might have been, but whatever it was, it didn’t justify this.
“Dog found him,” Jake explained. “Body was sorta shoved under the edge of the stage. Probably late at night when the joint was closed. I found a hole in the fence. Coroner hasn’t given me a number yet, but he’s been there for days.”
“I don’t know this guy. Never even heard his name.”
“Your client must. Ask him why someone would want to kill his old mouthpiece.”
He would. But the answer seemed obvious. He’d been killed because he had some connection to this IP rights battle. But what was the connection? What did he know? Many people with conflicting interests were involved, and the amount of money on the line made murder a definite possibility. But why the lawyer?
Didn’t make any sense. And also established a rather unpleasant precedent.
“Why cut off his head?”
“Yes, that is the million-dollar question. Or in this case, the billion-dollar question.”
“But you don’t know the answer?”
“When I know why he was decapitated, I’ll know who killed him.”
Flawlessly logical, as Spock used to say.
“I will say this,” Jake added. “I don’t think it was planned, at least not well in advance. The removal of the head was . . . rough.” He took a deep breath. “I doubt the killer had the proper tools.”
“So it was a spontaneous decision to decapitate?”
Jake swore under his breath. “The investigation is still in progress.”
“Anything in his pockets?”
“Keys. Change. Nothing that told us anything we didn’t already know.”
“Cellphone?”
“Didn’t have one.”
“How can that be?”
“He must be a time traveler from a different century.”
“You’ve got someone checking his credit cards?”
“Of course. But I doubt he was killed because he spent too much at Walmart.”
“Friends, family, co-workers?”
“We’re just getting started. But he had a solo practice, has a cousin in Arizona, and has never been married.”
“Not many people to interview.”
“The Maytag repairman had more friends.”
Maybe he should give Jake something. So he wouldn’t regret inviting Dan and would be more likely to do it again in the future. “I know you’ve barely started investigating, but I can’t think of any reason why this friendless IP lawyer would be at this park by himself . . . unless someone invited him.”
Jake nodded. “I don’t think he was murdered here. I can tell the body was moved after death. And decapitation.”
“That suggests the murder happened somewhere around here.”
“Which makes sense, since the victim lived nearby. And the head was found not too far away. I understand needing to get rid of a body. But I don’t know why he cut off his head first.”
“Watch your pronouns. You can’t assume the killer was male.”
“This would require enormous upper-body strength.”
“You still can’t be sexist. Maria has convinced me that toxic masculinity is ruining civilization.”
“That sentence should’ve been in the past tense.”
Down the boardwalk, Dan spotted some jugglers and, in another area, a guy doing magic tricks on a unicycle. Visitors were giggling and eating popcorn.
“So can you contribute anything to this mystery?” Jake asked.
“Sorry. But we’re going into discovery mode. If I learn anything that might help you figure this mess out, I’ll let you know.”
“Appreciated. You don’t have to do that.”
“You didn’t have to call me today and I find it hard to believe you thought I knew anything relevant. You were trying to help me.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“You think if this guy killed one lawyer, he might kill another. And you’re worried about me. And Maria and the rest of the team. That’s why you called.”
“I’m the homicide chief. I can’t play favorites and I definitely can’t buddy up to a lawyer. Especially not a defense lawyer.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But I can be . . . thorough in my investigations. Interviewing the parties who might have relevant information.” He flashed a quick grin. “Especially the parties who introduced me to my beautiful wife.”
Dan nodded. “Give her my best.”
“I will.” He raised a finger. “I could tell you not to leave town. But you wouldn’t listen.”
A biting reference to Dan’s previous case.
The medical examiner’s interns covered the body, then carried it to a waiting ambulance. Even with the sheet, Dan felt he could see every line and curve of the headless corpse’s body. And he could definitely smell it. Could practically taste it.
“But I will say this. You are in danger. You, your client, your team. Even your sister. Everyone. We have no idea what’s going on here. All we know for sure is that it relates to you, or your client, or your case. So as far as I’m concerned, every one of you has a target painted on your back.” He swallowed hard. “So be careful.”
Part 2: East is East and West is West
Chapter 13
Lydia Franchini couldn’t believe she was sitting in a therapist’s office. There was no shame in it. Many people benefitted from talk therapy. Her perpetually jealous older sister, for one. Her co-worker Roger. He was in worse shape than she was. According to Dr. Quinlan, Lydia suffered from PTSD. Roger was practically catatonic. Apparently gummies and severed heads don’t mix well.
“How is your anxiety?” Dr. Quinlan asked. She sat about five feet away in a much more comfortable chair, but that was fair, since she probably sat in it all day long. Here on the loveseat, Lydia had the option of lying down. Did anyone actually do that?
“Fine. No change really.”
“Sorry. Medication isn’t helping?”
“I tried half a Xanax one morning and put myself into such a fog I couldn’t sort the lost luggage from the coffee machine.”
“Hmm.” The doctor made a few notes. “Maybe we should switch up your meds. Still having nightmares?”
“Yes. I see it over and over, again and again, like it’s on some nonstop film loop. In the third person. I see myself, standing there, opening that damned Samsonite bag and . . . and . . .” She covered her face. “It rolls out.”
Dr. Quinlan nodded. “The head.”
