Attorney-Client Privilege (25 page)

T
he detectives found Camille standing in the doorway of the salon when they pulled up out front. Before they could park, Camille pranced over in leopard-print leggings and a matching lace blouse.

Detective Mankowski rolled down the window as Camille squatted down to talk to them.

“Meet me at the coffee shop,” she whispered, pointing across the street. “Too many nosey Nellie’s in the salon. Go on over while I run back inside and grab my purse.”

They were seated at a table near the door when Camille sashayed in.

“This won’t work,” she complained, looking around the tiny cafe. “I don’t want anybody to overhear us.”

She selected a table for four in the back near the emergency exit.

Camille dropped her rabbit hair purse in the empty chair. “First of all, I need to know if you guys are willing to slice me a deal?”

This time both men laughed.

“
Cut
you a deal for what?” Mankowski asked.

Camille rolled her eyes. “For information.”

“We don’t cut or slice deals. Prosecutors do that. But once we hear what you have to say, we’ll see what we can do.”

“The cops on
Law & Order
do it all the time,” she whined. “I want a deal!”

“Did you commit a crime?” Mankowski asked.

Camille leaned back in her chair and folded her bony arms. “You’re not tricking me into a confession. I’m taking the Fourth.”

“It’s the Fifth,” Mankowski corrected her. “Did you have anything to do with Judi Irving’s murder?”

She pressed a hand to her cheek. “Oh, heavens no!”

“Then you don’t need a deal
.
”

Camille took a few seconds to ponder that.

“You’re the one who called us, remember?” Thomas said. “So whatever it is you called us about, you need to start talking.”

Camille nervously glanced around the restaurant, then leaned her head close to theirs. “Okay, here it is,” she said in a hushed tone. “I wasn’t exactly truthful with you before.”

“About what?”

“About being home with Robby. I wasn’t at his house the night his wife was murdered.”

Mankowski cocked his head. “So why did you lie?”

“To help Robby.”

“So you think he killed Judi?”

“I dunno. Maybe.”

Camille’s new version of events didn’t smell right.

“The last time we spoke to you, you were pretty certain that Robby couldn’t hurt a fly,” Thomas said.

Camille huffed. “Let’s just say he’s not the man I thought he was.”

“So when did you reach that conclusion?” Thomas asked.

“A few days ago.”

“Did you guys break up or something?”

Camille’s eyes began to well up. “How’d you know?”

“Just a lucky guess,” Thomas said. “What happened?”

“He had the nerve to tell me that we weren’t a good fit,” she whimpered. “After all I’ve done for him.”

Mankowski scratched his chin. “And now you want to get back at him.”

She dabbed her eyes with a table napkin. “All’s fair in love and battle.”

“I’m not sure we know which story to believe,” Mankowski said. “The first story you told us or this one. Maybe you were telling the truth before and now you’re lying to get back at Robby for dumping you.”

“I’m telling the truth now,” she pouted. “I wasn’t with him that night. I swear.”

G
irlie hadn’t felt this great since the day she’d made partner.

She was seated in the boardroom at Big Buy headquarters, trying to look humble as the board of directors sang her praises.

“That was an incredible result,” said the CEO. “An absolutely brilliant strategy. Any other attorney would’ve had the company tied up in litigation for years, billing us up the whazoo. But you were thinking outside the box.”

Rita’s tirade in her office just a few days ago was totally forgotten now.

Girlie glanced to her right at Evelyn. The general counsel’s stoic expression conveyed that this love fest didn’t exactly please her.

“I was just doing the job I was paid to do,” Girlie said, her best imitation of humility.

Fred Hiller, the CFO, picked up an envelope and walked around to the side of the table where Girlie was sitting.

“This is just a small token of our appreciation,” he said, handing it to her. “There’s a check inside for fifty-thousand dollars. That’s a bonus for you, not your firm,” he stressed. “I’ve already made that clear to your managing partner. Having us pay out those measly bonuses will save us far more than fighting a class action.”

The general counsel had staunchly opposed Girlie’s idea to pay off all the potential class members, but Rita had overruled her. Girlie decided to throw Evelyn a bone.

“Thank you all very much. But this has really been a team effort. I’ve worked hand-in-hand with your general counsel. So let’s not leave her out.”

The board members took about ten seconds to applaud Evelyn, then turned back to heaping praise on Girlie.

Evelyn apparently decided to interject some gloom into the celebration.

“We still have one plaintiff left,” she said. “We shouldn’t really celebrate until we’re able to get rid of Olivia Jackson’s case too.”

The CEO swatted away her sister-in-law’s concerns. “That’ll be easy. Even
you
would be able to settle that case.”

Girlie looked from the CEO to the general counsel and wondered how they’d been able to work together for as long as they had.

“I don’t think it will be that easy,” Evelyn said. “I suspect Ms. Jackson’s attorney will dig in her heels even more.”

“Don’t worry.” Girlie’s tone was full of assurance. “It’s my plan to have that case resolved very shortly as well.”

“So are we going to try to settle with her too?” the CFO asked.

Girlie smiled. “Not right away. The plaintiff already turned down an offer of three months’ pay. I’d like to drag this process out a bit. Teach her and her attorney a lesson.”

The CEO smiled, but only for a second. “What if her attorney really has those documents?”

“I don’t think she does,” Girlie said confidently. “Trust me. If Vernetta Henderson had something on the company, you can bet she would’ve played her hand by now.”

“I like your style, young lady,” said Bob Zimmerman, one of the board members. “I can tell that you enjoy going for the jugular.”

“Yes, I do,” Girlie said proudly. “And when I’m finally done with Ms. Vernetta Henderson and her one remaining client, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

S
pecial was more than proud of herself. She had waited four whole days before returning Clayton’s call. But the second she heard his voice, all the resolve she’d built up sapped right out of her.

“How you doin’?” Clayton asked.

She took in a deep breath. “I’m good.”

Actually, she was pretty messed up. She had no appetite, still couldn’t sleep through the night and her heart felt like someone had trampled on it with a pair of football cleats. Love sucked.

“I miss you,” he said.

I miss you too,
she felt, but didn’t say.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

Brothers were forever trippin’. First they can’t get enough of you, then they dump your ass, then they want you back.

“Have you eaten yet? I wanna take you out to dinner.”

“Why? Sister Akila’s not available to cook for you tonight?”

“It’s not like that. I’m not with her.”

Men were so friggin’ stupid. That tattle-tale had her eye on Clayton. Six months from now, he’d be walking Akila down the aisle instead of her.

“So can I take you to dinner?”

“Nope. Gotta do my nails.”

Clayton chuckled. “So it’s like that?”

“Yep, it’s like that.”

“Don’t you miss me?”

Of course, I do
. “A little.”

“Alright,” he said. “I won’t push it.”

That was an hour ago. Now his fine ass was standing on her porch, smiling like he was about to get some.
Damn him.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” He held up a bag. “Since you wouldn’t let me take you out to dinner, I brought dinner to you.”

Special searched for the strength to tell him to leave, but had none left. She stepped back and let him in.

Damn. He smelled good too.

“So what’s in the bag?”

“I stopped by Simply Wholesome. Got us some tofu burgers.”

A stiff smile concealed her disappointment.
If you really wanted to impress me, you shoulda stopped by Woody’s and picked up some pork ribs.

Clayton marched in like he owned the place. Like everything between them was great. He placed the bag on the kitchen table.

“I wanted to let you know that I changed my name.” His face swelled with pride. “I’m Khalil Ali now.”

“Wow, you really did it. The name fits you. I like it.” And she really did.

Special opened the cabinet and pulled out two plates. When she turned around, Clayton was standing directly in front of her, his body almost touching hers.

She tried to breathe, but couldn’t.

“I miss you,” he whispered. His sweet breath warmed her face.

She tried to take a step back, but she was trapped between Clayton and the counter. He wrapped his arms around her.

“What are you doing?” Her protest had little force behind it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know I miss you.” He pressed his lips to hers.

They connected in a soft, slow kiss, then Special turned her head away.

“So what’s this? A booty call?”

“You and I were never about that. You know that.”

He kissed her again and this time, she let go, kissing him back.

Their lips still pressed together, Clayton lifted her up and sat her on the counter. Special’s legs easily wrapped around his waist. Clayton quickly scooped her up by the butt and started carting her toward the bedroom.

They were almost there when Special had a change of heart. “No,” she said, trying to pull away. “I can’t do this.”

Clayton acted as if he hadn’t heard her. He kept walking, his face buried in the crook of her neck, peppering her with kisses.

“I’m serious. Clay—I mean, Khalil. I can’t do this.”

Just before they entered the bedroom, Special reached out and grabbed the doorframe, then pressed her hand flat against the hallway wall, stopping him. She unwrapped her legs and jumped from his embrace.

She backed away from him until the wall stopped her.

“Why are you here, Clayton? Sorry, Khalil. You made your choice very clear to me.”

Breathing heavily, he slumped back against the opposite wall, facing her. There was barely enough light in the hallway to make out each other’s face.

“I’m here because I miss you and because I want you in my life.”

“We’ve been through this already. I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“How do you know that for sure? You didn’t really give it much of a try. I’ve been praying for Allah to show you the way.”

The first tear hit her cheek before she even felt the moisture in her eyes.

“That’s not going to happen,” she said. “I can’t be your Muslim wife. I have my own faith and I don’t want to change it.”

He twisted his lips to the side. They just stood there for a long, sad moment. Special wanted to tell him to leave. She also wanted to beg him to stay.

“I don’t want you to ever have any doubt that I love you,” he said quietly. “Because I do. A lot.”

“I know that. I need you to go because I don’t know how much willpower I have left. If you stay too much longer, we’re going to end up in bed.”

He smiled. “For real?”

Special grabbed his forearm and led him back into the living room and opened the front door. When he bent down to kiss her, she leaned her head back, out of his reach.

“Please, don’t. We can’t—”

He ignored her lukewarm protests, pulled her to his chest. “How about this?” he said with a devious smile. “What about one last booty call for the road?”

She laughed and squirmed free. “How about you take your horny behind home?”

After he stepped outside, Special closed the door, then hurried over to the front picture window. She lifted the curtain just an inch and watched Clayton walk to his car. She continued to sit in the window long after he was gone. She imagined that she must have looked like a jilted heroine from some sappy chick flick.

Only one more night
, Special promised herself. She would cry herself to sleep one more night. Then she was moving on.

D
etectives Thomas and Mankowski agreed wholeheartedly on how they should approach Robby Irving. No more Mister Nice Guy.

They stormed onto his porch and banged on the door with the urgency of a fire.

“You have a problem,” Mankowski announced, when Robby opened the door.

He was chewing and they could smell something spicy wafting through the open doorway.

“No,” Thomas corrected his partner, “he has two problems. You and me.”

“What’s going on?” Robby swallowed the last of whatever he’d been eating.

“You lied to us,” Mankowski bellowed. “And we don’t like that.”

Robby looked right, then left, as if he was concerned that his neighbors might be watching. He didn’t say a word, but opened the door wider and allowed them inside. He did not offer them a seat.

“I didn’t lie about a thing,” he finally replied.

“You said you were coming down to give us your DNA. You never did that.”

Robby inhaled. “I’ve been busy. I didn’t want to take time off work to come down to the station. And since you guys didn’t call me about it, I figured it wasn’t a big deal.”

Mankowski looked him in the eye. “Well, you not showing up to provide your DNA like you said you would
is
a big deal.”

“So, we’re here to collect it now.” Mankowski pulled an envelope from his pocket. He opened a plastic packet. “No needles, remember? Just a cotton swab.”

“I didn’t kill Judi. You can’t force me to do that.”

“You’re right,” Thomas said. “We can’t force you. But if you didn’t have anything to do with Judi’s murder as you claim, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Robby’s chest heaved in frustration. His expression conveyed more annoyance than worry.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Mankowski asked. “I’ll be honest, if you have something to hide, you probably shouldn’t do this.”

Robby’s eyes met Mankowski’s. He seemed to be weighing the pros and cons in his head. “Okay, I’ll do it. I need to go rinse out my mouth.” He turned toward the kitchen.

Both officers were close on his heels. They watched as he filled a cup with water, swished it around in his mouth and spit it in the sink.

Robby walked up to Mankowski. “Let’s get this over with.”

Mankowski swabbed the inside of Robby’s cheek and placed the swab in a sterile plastic envelope.

Robby led the detectives back into the living room. “So is that it?”

“Nope. Where’s your girlfriend?” Mankowski asked. He scanned the small living room. It had the stark feel of a bachelor’s pad.

“We broke up.”

“She told us.”

His left brow arched in surprise.

“She also told us you asked her to lie for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Camille says she wasn’t with you the night Judi was murdered. She says she lied to us to help you out. So where were you?”

“That bitch is lying!”

The bug-eyed rage that distorted his face gave the detectives pause. Robby Irving didn’t look like a harmless pharmaceutical sales rep anymore. He looked like a killer.

“She only did that to get back at me because I dumped her.”

“Well, you no longer have an alibi so you need to come up with somebody else who can confirm your whereabouts that night.”

“There isn’t anybody else. I was here with Camille all night.”

“We don’t believe you.” Mankowski glanced over his shoulder. “Mind if we look around?”

“Yeah, I do mind. I didn’t kill Judi. So there’s no reason for you to be nosing around my house. You need to go arrest Phillip Peterman.”

“We can’t,” Mankowski said. “He’s dead.”

Robby rocked back. “Really? How?”

“Car accident.”

“Then why are you hassling me? You should be closing the case since your primary suspect is dead. Hey, wait a minute?” A look of delight crossed his face. “Does this mean I get the insurance money now?”

“Nope,” Thomas said gleefully. “It doesn’t work that way. It goes to Phillip’s next of kin. His mother in San Francisco.”

Robby’s fists curled up tight. He looked as if he wanted to punch a hole in the wall, but somehow managed to restrain himself.

“The case is still open,” Mankowski said. “And now we have time to focus on other suspects. Like you. You actually remind me a lot of Peterman. You’re almost as evasive as he was.”

Robby’s nostrils flared. “Don’t compare me to that gigolo,” he spat. “I’m glad he’s dead!”

“Seems you have quite the temper, Mr. Irving,” Thomas said, goading him. “The kind of temper that might make a man pound his wife’s head in for her insurance money.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I—”

It seemed to dawn on Robby that by showing his rage, he was only confirming the detectives’ belief that he had killed Judi. A forced smile replaced the brief glimpse of his fury.

“I understand your divorce got kind of ugly,” Mankowski said, hoping to push him to the point of an explosion. “You leave your wife and she shacks up with a hunk of a kid who’s way better looking than you. That could put a lot of men over the edge.”

“We’re done here,” Robby said.

Mankowski kept at it. “I think you killed her for that insurance money. Next time, you should make sure you’re the beneficiary
before
you commit murder.”

“You guys must be hard of hearing. Get out! Now!”

Robby marched over to the door and pulled it so hard the whole room rattled.

“I didn’t kill my wife and you can’t prove that I did. Hurry up and get the results of that DNA test so you can leave me the hell alone!”