Attorney-Client Privilege (31 page)

“M
an, you’re nuts if you don’t pick up a few shares of this stock. It’s the next Apple.”

Detective Thomas sat on the corner of his desk, browsing the CNBC website on his iPhone. It was almost four and he’d been on the thing all day.

“Front me a few grand and maybe I’ll give it a go,” Mankowski said, leaning back in his chair.

“
Me
front
you
? No wife, no kids. You should have a boatload of discretionary cash.”

Thomas looked up from the device, but just for a second. “So you really think Girlie is going to show up for the polygraph?”

“We’ll find out in two days.”

“She ain’t coming,” Thomas said. “No way a lawyer would agree to take a lie detector test. Especially a lawyer as shrewd as Girlie Cortez.”

Mankowski was hoping like hell that she did show. The fact that Judi Irving died as a result of a botched burglary, still left a lot of unanswered questions. There was a definite connection between Girlie and Phillip Peterman. Even though Girlie swore she’d never met Phillip, Mankowski refused to believe the two of them being at the Four Seasons Hotel at the same time was a mere coincidence. He couldn’t rest until he knew for sure how Girlie was tied to Actor Boy.

At least there were no lingering questions about the cause of Phillip’s death. Based on the reports of four eyewitnesses who saw Phillip fiddling with his phone right before the crash, his death was officially attributed to distracted driving. Too bad. Even though he hadn’t killed his girlfriend, Mankowski wanted him around to badger some more.

“Holy shit!” Detective Thomas jumped off the desk. “This is it!”

“What? Another one of your stocks hit an all-time high? Just don’t retire before we tie up all the loose ends in this case.”

Detective Thomas shoved his iPhone inches from Mankowski’s nose. “Read this. This is it! “

Mankowski took the device from his partner, squinting as he tried to read the CNBC website on the small screen. “How do you scroll down on this thing?”

Detective Thomas swiped his index finger down the screen and Mankowski continued to read.

“This is what Big Buy was trying to keep under wraps,” Thomas insisted. “I bet you anything, this is what those missing documents were all about. The reason nobody could find Judi Irving’s documents was because somebody turned them over to
The Daily Business Journal
.”

The CNBC website, quoting an article in the
Journal,
reported that a bid by the Welson Corporation to purchase Big Buy department stores had been called off amid allegations of fraud by Big Buy executives. According to the report, Big Buy CEO Rita Richards-Kimble and the company’s CFO Fred Hiller had been part of a scheme to falsify the company’s financial statements for the past two years. The company’s Big 10 accounting firm, Wynn, Miller & Gold had also allegedly participated in the fraud.

The article stated that Hiller, a former managing partner at the accounting firm before joining Big Buy, was the architect of the scheme. The newspaper also noted that Big Buy’s CEO would have netted $125 million dollars had the Welson deal gone through.

Mankowski handed the device back to his partner as he grabbed his sports jacket from the back of his chair.

“I think we need to take a trip over to Big Buy and shake some trees to see what might fall out. But first, I want to talk to that reporter at the
Daily Business Journal
who broke the story.”

***

It was no real surprise to Mankowski that
Journal
reporter Billie Wilson would hide behind the First Amendment and refuse to divulge the source of her article about Big Buy.

Wilson sat next to the newspaper’s in-house attorney as the detectives leered across the table at her. Unfortunately, she had the upper hand and there was really nothing they could do about it.

Mankowski thought about getting forceful with the woman. But treating her like a suspect wasn’t a good idea since being in the glass conference room was like sitting in a fish bowl.

“Would you at least be willing to tell us when you received the Big Buy documents?” Mankowski asked.

Journalists were second only to criminal defense attorneys on his list of the earth’s lowest creatures.

Wilson arrogantly protruded her pancake-flat chest. “I never admitted to receiving any Big Buy documents.”

Mankowski grunted. “I know that, and I also know that you did. You wouldn’t have printed that article without having some direct proof of the fraud.”

“We’re prohibited from divulging any information about our sources,” she repeated for the umpteenth time. Her sharp nose already made her look like a parrot, now she sounded like one too.

The newspaper’s attorney, a balding Latino in a three-piece suit, was uncharacteristically mute for his species.

“We really need your help,” Mankowski said. “Someone may have died because of those documents.”

Not even that revelation moved her.

“Sorry.” Wilson cocked her head ever so slightly. “Can’t help you. Freedom of the press is at stake here.”

Thomas stood up, never one to push too hard unless he was fairly certain of a payoff.

His more stubborn partner took his time getting to his feet. Mankowski was keenly aware that several sets of eyes from the newsroom were peering at them through the glass. They could probably sense it when one of their own was being pressed for information.

He thought about saying something crass, but decided he’d save his insults for the folks on his next stop.

I
left the office early, planning to have a hot, soapy bubble bath, then plant myself in front of the TV with a big bowl of kettle corn. I’d have the house to myself tonight since Jefferson would be attending a lecture at the mosque.

I definitely needed a break after my stressful day. That morning
The
Daily Business Journal
broke the story about Big Buy’s financial fraud. I spent almost an hour on the phone with Jane, trying to calm her down. She claimed the CEO was treating her even worse than before, so she wanted to quit. But after Jane told me about the four-hundred-thousand dollars Big Buy’s founder left for her in his will, I wasn’t about to let her leave that money on the table.

Right after hanging up with Jane, Olivia called me. She was also ready to throw in the towel. I listened sympathetically as she told me how she was being shunned at work. I didn’t share the information Jane had revealed to me, but I did tell her that I’d uncovered some information that might allow me to negotiate a decent settlement for her. By the time we hung up, she was holding on, but the thread was pretty thin.

Since my blowup with Jefferson over his talking to the Community of Islam about a loan, we hadn’t discussed the issue again. On Sunday mornings, I continued to head off to Faithful Central Bible Church, while Jefferson went alone to the mosque. Prior to his interest in the Community, Jefferson occasionally attended church with me, but most mornings he slept in.

I eased my Land Cruiser into the driveway, surprised to see Jefferson’s car parked on his side of the driveway.

When I entered the house, the familiar sound of the TV welcomed me. Jefferson was in his usual spot on the couch in the den, drink in one hand, the remote no farther than arm’s reach.

There was still a dubious tension between us that we’d been ignoring, something we were both pretty good at. A disagreement could hover below the surface for months before finally exploding in our faces.

“I’m surprised to find you home,” I said, kicking off my shoes. “Isn’t there a lecture at the mosque tonight?”

“What? You’re not happy to see me?” His tone was neither serious nor playful.

“I just didn’t expect you to be here. You always go to lectures on Tuesday nights.”

He lazily hunched his left shoulder. “I decided to skip a night.”

When my husband was in one of his moods, it was usually best to give him some distance. Most of the time, I wisely did so. Tonight, though, curiosity wouldn’t let me.

I eyed the brown liquor in his cocktail glass and assumed that it wasn’t tea.

I plopped down next to him on the couch. “I thought Muslims weren’t supposed to drink alcohol.”

His gaze remained on the television screen. “I thought Christians weren’t supposed to judge people.”

“Okay, I get it. You’re in a bad mood.”

I motioned to get up, but before I could, he placed a hand on my forearm.

“Don’t go.”

I settled back in, my mood about to become as funky as his.

“I’ve decided not to join the Community,” Jefferson announced. “So you happy now?”

Hell, yeah, I’m happy.
“Is that why you’re in such a funky mood tonight?”

“I’m not in a funky mood.” He swirled his drink, which made a clinking sound when the ice hit the side of the glass.

“Then what would you call it?”

He twisted his lips sideways as he thought about my question. “I’m in a reflective mood.”

I laughed. “Okay, then.”

Several minutes passed with the only sound in the room coming from the Jaheim music video on the television screen.

I tried hard to keep my lips sealed, but the questions bouncing around in my head needed answers. “Did you decide not to join the Community because of me?” I finally asked.

Jefferson didn’t rush to respond.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I definitely didn’t wanna deal with the drama of seeing your lips poked out every time I went to a lecture. But that wasn’t what led to my decision.”

It was easy to see that my husband was in the midst of a serious internal struggle. I snuggled closer and decided to let him talk when he was ready.

“Those brothers are on a mission,” he said after a few more minutes had passed. “And I really respect that. But I didn’t wanna half-step. I don’t have time for all the meetings or the patience for all the rules and regulations. If I couldn’t do it with the kind of passion and commitment that Clayton—I mean, Khalil—has, I wouldn’t feel right.”

He held his glass high in the air, then took a sip. “And I can give up bacon. I might be able to cut back on cussin’. But I ain’t giving up Cognac.”

I chuckled. “So that’s what it came down to?”

Jefferson smiled. “I am who I am.”

“What about the loan?”

“The general contractor got his act together. I didn’t need it after all. Now go ahead and just say it so we can get past this.”

“Say what?”

“How glad you are that I’m not joining the Community. You probably wanna do some cartwheels across the room.”

“You did have me worried,” I confessed with a laugh. “I really thought you might get as deep into the Community as Clayton is.”

“And if I had?”

“My faith is important to me, so that would’ve been a big problem.”

“I still don’t understand why you were trippin’ so hard. Especially since I rarely even went to church anyway.”

“Yeah, but you were raised as a Christian. Despite your willingness to dabble in Islam, I know your religious beliefs are the same as mine. Our faith and our upbringing in the church shape who we are.”

“You act like we agree on everything. We don’t.”

“I know that. But some aspects of a marriage are more important than others. For me, my faith is one of them. And on that, we need to be on the same page. I’ve been praying about it. If that didn’t work, I was gonna call your mama and tell on you.”

“Oh, that would’ve been messed up,” Jefferson said, laughing. “I’m just lucky she hasn’t seen that
Times
article.

The room fell silent again.

“Thanks for backing off and letting me work this out on my own.”

“No problem,” I said, briefly looking skyward.
Thank God.

I
t took Mankowski and Thomas close to ninety minutes in rush-hour traffic to make the drive from
The Daily Business Journal
to Big Buy’s headquarters in Anaheim. In light of the media firestorm the company found itself in the midst of, the detectives had correctly predicted that the CEO would still be in the office despite the fact that it was almost eight.

It hadn’t been easy to get an audience with Rita Richards-Kimble. Only after Mankowski threatened to drag her down to the station for questioning, did she suddenly become available.

“As you can imagine, we’ve had a pretty rough day with all of these scandalous news reports about our company,” Rita said, when they entered her office. “So obviously I’m not happy to have two detectives in my office right now.”

She rounded her desk, gave both detectives a firm handshake and showed them to an adjoining conference room. The impressive space had windows on two sides and a long, black lacquered table surrounded by sixteen black leather chairs.

Mankowski sank down into one of them and felt like he was resting on a mound of cotton.

The CEO sat at the head of the table and faced the detectives who sat on either side of her. She was a weird-looking woman, Mankowski thought. Something about her face seemed a little off, but he wasn’t quite sure what. Probably too much nipping and tucking.

“My general counsel will be here in just a second,” Rita said, the tips of her fingers pressed together. “In the meantime, can you give me a little more information about why you’re here?”

“We believe the news reports about your company’s financial irregularities are tied to a case we’ve been investigating.”

Her perfectly arched brows furrowed. “And what case would that be?”

“The murder of Judi Irving. We understand that Ms. Irving was suing Big Buy for gender discrimination. We believe she had copies of documents with information about the company’s fraudulent financial statements that somehow got into the hands of
The
Daily Business Journal
.”

“That’s as ridiculous as the media’s lies about our finances.”

Another woman entered without knocking and curtly introduced herself as the general counsel. She was better looking than the CEO, but was way too buttoned-up.

“I hope you haven’t answered any questions without me,” Evelyn Kimble gently chided the CEO.

The general counsel pulled out a chair and sat down next to Thomas. She looked from Mankowski to his partner. “It’s very unusual for us to get a visit from law enforcement.”

Mankowski repeated what he had just told the CEO. Almost immediately, he picked up on a restrained friction between the two women. They had yet to make eye contact. Maybe now was a good time to turn up the heat.

“We also have evidence that Phillip Peterman, Judi Irving’s boyfriend, was intimately involved with someone who had close ties to your company.”

“Who?” both women blurted out in the same shrill voice.

“Your attorney, Girlie Cortez,” he said.

It was Thomas’ idea to ambush them with the information so they could observe their reactions.

The general counsel’s rosy cheeks whitened. “Are you saying Girlie was sleeping with Mr. Peterman?”

“That’s what we believe,” Mankowski confirmed, then waited a beat. “Is it possible that Ms. Cortez may’ve turned over your company’s records to
The Daily Business Journal?
”

“That’s absurd,” the CEO bristled. “Girlie didn’t perform the kind of legal work that would have given her access to our financial records.”

“She could’ve gotten access to them if somebody sent them to Judi Irving and Ms. Cortez was screwing Judi Irving’s boyfriend,” Thomas pointed out.

Neither woman could muster a response to that scenario.

“We’re also looking into the possibility that Ms. Cortez obtained the documents from Peterman at the company’s request,” Thomas continued. “That might explain Mr. Peterman’s untimely death. Maybe someone had him killed to keep him quiet about what he knew.”

Mankowski gave his partner an attaboy grin. That was complete bull, but he liked it.

“That’s ridiculous!” Rita pushed away from the table. “Our earnings reports aren’t fraudulent and Girlie Cortez is way too smart to ruin her legal career by doing something that stupid. And if we
had
hired her to recover those documents, you can bet they would’ve never ended up in the hands of
The
Daily Business Journal.
”

He could see why this woman was the CEO. She had some grapefruit-size balls. She’d immediately zeroed in on the one big flaw in their little theory. If Girlie was doing the dirty work of her clients, she wouldn’t have given the documents to the
Journal
.

“Girlie told us Mr. Peterman died in a car accident,” Evelyn said quietly. “I didn’t think his death was the result of foul play.”

Mankowski hunched his shoulders and spread his arms. “I’m not at liberty to disclose the evidence we’ve gathered.”

No one spoke until the general counsel rose from her chair. “We have no knowledge about any of this. So I think we’re done here, gentlemen.”

Mankowski didn’t want to leave. His chair was softer than his bed.

“We’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Ms. Cortez that we know about her relationship with Mr. Peterman,” Thomas said, as he neared the door. “Our investigation is still ongoing and we don’t want to tip her off.”

“I can assure you that nobody connected with Big Buy had anything to do with those documents or the death of Judi Irving, her boyfriend or anybody else,” the CEO insisted. “Especially not one of our attorneys.”

“Shouldn’t you talk to Ms. Cortez before making that representation?” Thomas asked.

“We don’t need to talk to her,” Rita insisted. “The attorneys we hire don’t engage in unscrupulous or illegal conduct. And neither do we.”