Lawyer Trap

26





DAY FIVE–SEPTEMBER 9

FRIDAY MORNING


After a fitful night of twisting and shifting, Aspen woke early Friday morning to a cold and cloudy dawn. She didn’t have a job, but she did have her dignity. Who would hire her now, though, after being fired on her fourth day of work?

No one, that’s who.

Still, she wouldn’t take back her words last night even if she could. Maybe she didn’t have a paycheck or a career, but at least she could look in the mirror without disgusting herself.

She showered and ate cereal.

Then she headed to Einstein Bros and drank coffee alone at a table as she pondered her options. She remembered turning off her cell phone last night, pulled it out of her purse and powered it up.

She had a half-dozen voice messages.

All from Blake Gray.

“We need to talk.”

As soon as she erased the last message the phone rang. When she answered, Blake Gray’s voice came through. Before she could hang up, he said, “First, you’re not fired. Second, Jacqueline Moore was way out of bounds. Third, we need to talk and get this straightened out.”

She almost powered off but didn’t.

“Talk about what?”

“Last night, the future, everything,” he said. “Where are you?”

She told him.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

She tried to warn him that he was wasting his time, but he had already hung up. So instead she got in her car and left.

When she got home, she changed her mind and went back. Blake Gray arrived three minutes later, wearing a wool-blend suit worth more than her entire wardrobe.

He hugged her around the shoulders and said, “Give me two minutes, I need coffee or I’m going to be cranky all day.” She nodded and felt queasy. Whatever happened in the next ten minutes would be a turning point.

He came back, sat down, and took a noisy slurp from the cup.

He looked good.

Powerful.

Yet compassionate.

She wished she had dressed in something other than jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Good stuff,” he said.

She muttered something and waited.

“First,” he said, “Jacqueline told me to tell you she’s sorry. She’ll tell you herself when you see her.” He lowered his voice. “Unfortunately, she’s a damn fine lawyer—one of the reasons the firm even exists, to be honest with you—but she also has her moments. Between you and me, I’m trying to keep her in the firm but she’s making it more and more difficult every day. I don’t know what’s going to happen, if this keeps up.”

Aspen sipped her coffee.

“It’s more than just her attitude,” she said. “I don’t understand why I was called into a meeting to begin with. It felt like the KGB had come to get me.”

He nodded and understood her viewpoint.

“Outsiders see big law firms as rock-solid institutions that have been there forever and always will be,” he said. “In reality we’re very fragile. Personalities, egos, money and a million other things take their toll every day. I know, because my primary responsibility as the head of the firm is to keep it healthy, so we can all make a living and pay our bills.”

He got a gleam in his eye and stood up.

“Come on,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

They took his vehicle—a white F-150 pickup that had to be every bit of twenty years old—to an edgy section of Colfax Avenue, not far from Capitol Hill. They parked on the street and walked over to a comic book store sandwiched between a mom-and-pop grocery and a laundromat.

He opened the door for her, and they walked in.

The musty smell of aged paper permeated the air.

The man behind the counter looked like a throwback to the ’60s, with long thinning gray hair and a goatee. His face exploded into a smile when he saw who walked in.

“I’ll be damned,” he said, “Blake Gray himself. How long has it been? A year at least …”

“Too long,” Blake said. He made introductions and then said, “Mind if I give this pretty lady the tour?”

“Please.”

Blake turned to Aspen and said, “This is where I had my first law office, right out of law school. I had a desk over there, a table there, and a small bookshelf over there. I lived in the back room, illegally. I used to hang out in the front door and pass my card out to people walking by. I didn’t get my first client for six weeks and he stiffed me on the bill. That’s the check I have framed in my office, by the way.”

Blake bought a $50.00 comic, an old Tarzan classic, and they left.

Then they walked down Colfax.

“I love this part of town,” he said. “It has an edge to it, it’s real. I know every step of the way from the office I just showed you to the one I have now. And I know it’s a two-way street. It’s my job to be sure the firm doesn’t end up back here.”

A couple of elderly women walked toward them.

They gave Blake the evil eye.

He chuckled.

“They think you’re a hooker and I’m down here picking you up,” he said. “Anyway, to get back on track, the meeting last night was my idea. It’s still important for us to know how you’re connected to all these murders.”

Aspen felt he deserved to know that much and told him how she connected the fact that Rachel had disappeared right around the same time as the two women who were found buried at the old railroad spur. She concluded that Rachel was a third victim and was probably buried around there as well, so she went down to look.

She told him how she’d found a head in one of the graves.

“I called the police anonymously,” she said, “because I had nothing else to tell them that would be of any help, and I didn’t want to get involved because Jacqueline Moore had already warned me to back off.”

They walked and talked until Blake understood the events to his satisfaction.

“Here’s what we need to do,” he said. “First, you come back to work, okay?”

She hesitated.

Then gave in.

“Okay.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll call that detective and invite him to come down to the firm and talk to you this afternoon. Would that be okay?”

“Sure.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “You know,” he said, “big law firms are just a slice of life, meaning that things don’t always go perfect. We all get our bumps and bruises as time goes on. What I look for in a lawyer is someone who can keep things in perspective and stay in it for the long haul. You’re already showing me that you have that quality.”

She cocked her head.

“You can stop feeding me bullshit now,” she said. “I already said I’m coming back.”

He laughed.

“I would,” he said, “except I’m not.”

Back at his truck she commented, “I always pictured you in a Mercedes.”

He patted the hood as they walked past.

“Never forget your roots,” he said. “This guy here’s my daily reminder. By the way, no one knows what happened last night, except the people who were in the room. It’s probably best if it stayed that way.”

“I agree.”