Attorney-Client Privilege (21 page)

I
was sitting in the gallery of Department 36 of the Los Angeles Superior Court waiting for the judge to take the bench. I was surprised that Girlie hadn’t arrived yet. Maybe she’d been hit by a bus.

The day after getting word of Big Buy’s underhanded attempt to derail my class action, I moved for a temporary injunction to prevent the company from paying off the Big Buy employees.

While the law wasn’t clearly in my favor on this issue, it wasn’t a slam dunk for Big Buy either. No matter what the precedent directed, the judge always had the option to go off on a tangent if he so chose. That was my hope for today.

Olivia had informed me that Janice Miller had reported to Big Buy everything that went on at our meeting at the Center for Justice. I should have listened to my gut. I should have known she was taking copious notes for a reason.

I waited patiently as two attorneys battled over a discovery motion. They finished and the judge called my case number. As I rose to head into the well of the courtroom, Girlie strolled in as if on cue.

She handed a business card to the judge’s clerk, who didn’t seem to mind that she should’ve been there to do that long before the judge took the bench.

“Your motion poses a rather unique legal question,” Judge Ezra Goldberg began, peering down at me from the bench. “My law clerk didn’t find much California law on point.”

I was about to respond when Girlie cut me off.

“That’s because there isn’t much, Your Honor,” Girlie said. “But what’s out there is enough to support Big Buy’s position that its action was completely legal.”

“I disagree,” I said, trying to regain control. “Your Honor, Big Buy was well aware that the meeting I held with its employees at the Center for Justice was for the purpose of discussing legal action against the company. It was a confidential, privileged discussion. Yet Big Buy’s lawyer questioned one of the attendees, intentionally violating the attorney-client privilege that I had established with these potential class members. Then the company used the information that it had improperly gathered as the basis for its decision to entice its female employees not to join the class action.”

Girlie puffed out a breath. “I’ll concede that Ms. Henderson represented three of the employees, and none of them received our letter. Maybe I missed it in her moving papers, but I wasn’t aware of any agreement she had with Big Buy’s other one-thousand-plus female employees across the state.”

Judge Goldberg grimaced. Girlie’s sarcasm wasn’t winning her any points with him. Nor was the low-cut blouse she was wearing. Prior to joining the bench, Goldberg had been a semi-radical activist for Jewish causes. He was the father of eight and as straight-laced as they came. I had appeared in his courtroom many times and always felt he fairly and accurately interpreted the law.

“Your Honor,” I began, “this is not just an issue of whether a formal representation agreement exists. The issue here is the sanctity of the attorney-client relationship. The policy underlying the privilege is to encourage open and honest communication between attorneys and their clients. Big Buy intentionally infringed upon that relationship. If Ms. Cortez wanted to discuss an early settlement, she should’ve contacted me.”

The judge focused his gaze on Girlie. “Counselor, I have to say that I am quite concerned about your actions. In that you were aware that Ms. Henderson was meeting with those employees in preparation for legal action, your discussion with Janice Miller appears highly inappropriate.”

“Your Honor, I’d like to point out that we did not approach Ms. Miller. She came to us, which means she willingly waived the privilege, if one even existed. In addition, before allowing her to share any information with us, I confirmed that she had not signed a representation agreement with Ms. Henderson.”

“Is it your position, Ms. Cortez, that the privilege doesn’t exist in the absence of a written representation agreement?”

“Uh, well…no, Your Honor.” Girlie looked down at her notes and shifted her weight from one of her red patent leather pumps to the other. “But it is my contention that no privilege existed between Ms. Henderson and any Big Buy employee who had not signed a retainer agreement because the class hasn’t been certified yet.”

Judge Goldberg hesitated, then proceeded. “I’m going to grant Ms. Henderson’s request for a temporary injunction. Big Buy is prohibited from issuing checks to any employee until this matter has been fully decided by this court. I will make a ruling as to Ms. Henderson’s request for a permanent injunction by the end of the week.”

My smile was so bright it could have lit up the whole courthouse.

I exited the courtroom ahead of Girlie and politely held the door open for her. This time I was the one gloating and it felt fantastic.

“Tell your client to start saving up,” I said, as Girlie pushed past me. “Because I’m going to make sure Big Buy pays those women a hell of a lot more than the peanuts they’re offering them now.”

Girlie’s eyes hardened and her nose lifted into a sneer. “Don’t bet on it.”

G
irlie stood in the lobby of Big Buy’s corporate headquarters, wishing she could be someplace, anyplace, else.

The CEO and general counsel wanted to be informed of the results of the judge’s ruling as soon as the hearing ended. Girlie could’ve taken the coward’s way out and delivered the news by phone, but it was her style to face a difficult situation head on.

Evelyn Kimble, the general counsel, greeted her in the lobby.

“So how did it go?” she asked.

“Why don’t we wait until we get to Rita’s office?”

Evelyn exhaled. “Doesn’t sound like you have good news for us.”

Girlie followed her into an elevator. Right before they entered the CEO’s office, Evelyn slowed.

“If the news is bad, Rita’s going to go off,” she said sympathetically. “Don’t take it personally. I never do.”

Rita Richards-Kimble rose from her seat as soon as they stepped inside. “Is it time to pop open the champagne bottles?”

Girlie simply smiled and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the CEO’s desk. Evelyn sat down next to her. Girlie inhaled and braced herself for the coming onslaught.

“The judge granted the temporary injunction,” she said quickly. “We can’t pay out the checks until Goldberg rules on whether he’s going to issue a permanent injunction.”

“I don’t believe this shit!” Rita yelled and pounded the desk with both fists like a spoiled five-year-old. “I just got off the phone with Welson’s CEO. I assured him that this case was history. They’re not going to buy this company if they’ll have to defend a costly class action. When you came up with this harebrained idea to pay off those women, you told me it was perfectly legal.”

“It is,” Girlie tried to explain. “One of my partners did it successfully in a similar case. I’m confident that the court’s final ruling will go our way. The judge just wanted some time to study the issue.”

“If the court grants that permanent injunction,
then
what are you going to do?” the CEO demanded.

Rita was the reason women had a hard time gaining respect in the business world, Girlie thought to herself. They were way too emotional.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Is that a guarantee?”

“No,” Girlie said. “But the odds are on our side.”

“I don’t want odds. I want guarantees! You also told us you’d be able to find those documents Judi Irving supposedly had. You didn’t come through on that either.”

“No,” Girlie corrected her, “I said
if
they existed, I would find them. And so far the only thing I’ve been able to track down about those documents are rumors.”

Rita ranted for a few more minutes, then stormed out of her own office, leaving Girlie alone with the general counsel.

“Please excuse her,” Evelyn apologized. “She can’t help herself.”

“You deserve an award for being able to work with her.”

Evelyn smiled. “I don’t let her get to me. I stay with this company because my brother built it. If I left, she’d destroy it.”

“Why is she so worried about those documents?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Evelyn was being just as closed mouth as Mankowski had been. Girlie had hoped that having sex with the detective would ultimately produce some useful information. Now, she realized, that wasn’t going to happen. Still, the handsome cop had turned out to be a nice lay. She was a little perturbed that he’d turned down her invitation for dinner. He was probably just freaked out about the whole conflict-of-interest thing. Maybe she would invite him out again.

Girlie said her good-byes and headed for her car, mulling over her next steps.

When she had advised Big Buy to pay off its female employees, she had carefully researched the law and believed her legal analysis was solid. She was actually surprised at the course that the hearing had taken. Based on his comments from the bench, Judge Goldberg might actually rule that Big Buy had violated the attorney-client privilege and issue a permanent injunction, preventing the company from paying off the women. Girlie couldn’t let that happen.

Too bad Goldberg was such a straight arrow. Trying to screw him would be a waste of time. So Girlie had no choice but to resort to Plan B. There was no guarantee that her backup plan would produce the desired result, but it was worth a shot.

Girlie felt a warm tingle course through her body. Her Plan B was so creatively scandalous that every time she thought about it, she almost wet her pink lace panties.

“S
o tell me again?” Mankowski said, talking and chewing at the same time. “What’s this called?”

Girlie reached across the table and wiped the corner of Mankowski’s mouth with her napkin.

“Lumpia. It’s basically a Filipino egg roll. I guess you like it, huh?”

Mankowski wasn’t big on Asian cuisine, but the food she’d been stuffing him with wasn’t bad.

“Pretty tasty,” he said, reaching for another one.

Girlie had called him up and insisted on taking him to her favorite Filipino restaurant not far from her home in Cerritos.

It hadn’t been easy for Mankowski to pretend as if everything between them was hunky-dory. After seeing Girlie walk out of the Four Seasons seconds behind Phillip Peterman, he realized just how dangerous the woman was. Mankowski was also pissed that she was playing him. He was now more determined than ever to bring down Phillip Peterman and Girlie Cortez right along with him.

He pointed to a chicken dish in the middle of the table. “How do you pronounce that again?”

“Adobo,” she said, puckering her lips. “Ah-doo-bo. It’s the Spanish word for seasoning or marinade. The chicken is slow cooked in soy sauce, vinegar, and garlic, then pan-fried.”

“Uh, why do you guys use a Spanish word to describe a Filipino dish?”

“I guess you don’t know your history. The Philippines was colonized by Spain. Most Filipinos have Spanish surnames. Ferdinand and Emelda
Marcos
. Manny
Pacquiao.
Girlie
Cortez
.”

Mankowski nodded thoughtfully. “Actually, I’d never thought about it.”

They enjoyed their food in silence for the next few minutes.

“So why is this place called Goldilocks?” he asked.

Girlie laughed. “The two women who opened the restaurant thought naming it after Goldilocks would bring them luck. And I guess it did. It’s now a chain of restaurants in the Philippines, the U.S. and Canada.”

“This is quite a history lesson I’m getting.”

They munched in silence for a minute or so.

“So how’s the Irving murder investigation going?” Girlie asked, trying to appear casual.

Mankowski had been waiting for her to get around to asking about the case.

“I think we may be close to cracking it,” he lied. “Her boyfriend’s about to go down.”

“You really think he killed her?”

Mankowski took a sip of Coke. “Actually, I do.”

He waited for another question, but Girlie didn’t ask one.

“Have you ever met the guy?” he asked, carefully studying her face, looking for a tell.

“Nope.”

Mankowski felt his gut clench.

“I heard he was a pretty handsome guy who made the rounds.”

Girlie’s narrow shoulders rose and fell. “Not my type.”

“How would you know he’s not your type if you never met him before?”

“Sounds like I might be a suspect,” Girlie said, playfully. “After Judi’s death, I read about her murder on the Internet. One of the articles had a photograph of Peterman. He’s a starving actor, right?”

Nice
. A slipup and a fast recovery. The girl was good.

“So exactly what is your type?”

Girlie smiled. “I like big, strong manly men like you.”

He grinned. “You’re really good for my ego.”

“I didn’t think a guy like you needed your ego stroked. And speaking of stroking…”

She seductively sucked on her lumpia. The same way she had sucked on him.

Although he was trying hard to play it by the book, the lower half of his body refused to cooperate. He shifted in his seat and tried to erase the image of a naked Girlie sitting at the foot of his bed playing with herself.

Mankowski decided to ask about her background again, no longer caring if it made her uncomfortable.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said. “You told me you grew up not far from here, but that’s all I know about you.”

She cocked her head. “Not much else to tell.”

Just like the last time he asked about her personal life, Girlie’s demeanor instantly grew dark.

“I was raised by my mother. She died several years ago.”

That explained a lot. No father in the picture. That had to be why she thrived on manipulating men. Daddy issues.

“My mother put me through school working as a nursing assistant at Long Beach Memorial.”

“And your father?”

“Wasn’t around.”

“A serviceman?”

Girlie laughed. “That’s pretty stereotypical of you. What? You think my mother was snatched from the Philippine rice fields by a U.S. soldier who got her pregnant and dumped her once he got back to the states?”

Boy, she was touchy. “No, I just—”

“Well, that’s not my story,” she said, her tone now snippy. “It was just me, my mom and her unending series of boyfriends who never hung around long enough to marry her or become a father figure to me.”

“So you never had any contact with your father at all?”

“He never claimed me, okay? Can we just leave it at that?”

“Well, your father was an asshole,” Mankowski said. “Because you’re an amazing woman. It’s definitely his loss.”

Girlie shrugged.

A heavy silence hovered over the table. “Maybe we should change the subject,” Mankowski said.

“Good idea.” Her smile returned as she took another bite of her lumpia. “Now, tell me again why you can’t come home with me tonight,” she said coyly. “And this time, make me believe it.”