Attorney-Client Privilege (8 page)

B
enjamin hopped off the Santa Monica Freeway and drove south on Crenshaw Boulevard, blasting Tupac’s
Only God Can Judge Me
at eardrum-busting level.

He tapped the steering wheel and mouthed the lyrics in rhythm with Tupac. “That which does not kill me can only make me stronger,” he rapped, completely off key.

Tupac was a friggin’ poet laureate as far as Benjamin was concerned.

Although it was close to midnight, it was not unusual for Benjamin to be headed in the direction of his office. When he couldn’t sleep, working was the perfect remedy. Lately, he’d spent more nights camped out on the lumpy couch in his office than in his rent-controlled apartment within walking distance of Venice Beach.

He eased his orange Volkswagen Beetle into a narrow alley and pulled into a stall near the back entrance of the building. He shut off the lights and finished listening to the rest of the song, his head bouncing in rhythm to the beat.

Turning off the ignition, Benjamin hopped out of the car. He planned to spend the next few hours reviewing a brief he was drafting in a mortgage scam case. Benjamin enjoyed the intellectual part of practicing law far more than arguing before a judge or jury.

As he approached the Center’s back entrance, he frowned at the heavy steel bars. The place looked like a prison. But after two break-ins and the loss of three laptop computers, he had to face the reality of their South Los Angeles location.

He removed the two locks on the steel door, then unlocked the thick wooden door. Though the police had advised him to install an alarm system, it wasn’t in the budget. As it turned out, they didn’t need it. After the Center helped the mother of a local gang leader save her home from foreclosure, the gang had issued a protection order for the Center. That kind of security was better than any alarm system on the market.

Benjamin flicked on the lights and walked down a bright, yellow hallway dotted with motivational quotes.

You can if you think you can.

It’s hard to fail, but it’s worse never to have tried to succeed.

Be just and fear not.

Benjamin didn’t just want to help his clients solve their legal problems, he wanted to change their lives.

He was about to stick his key into the door of his office when something stopped him. The door was already open just a crack. He tried to recall whether he’d forgotten to lock it. No way. Benjamin
always
locked his office.

He took an uneasy step inside and felt along the wall for the light switch. The breeze from the cracked window hit his face seconds before he noticed the open file cabinets and papers scattered about the floor. He stepped further inside, surveying the debris.

The office suddenly went dark.

“What the—”

A gloved hand rammed Benjamin’s forehead into the adjacent wall. “Don’t move and keep your mouth shut.”

Brightly colored stars blinked on and off and Benjamin’s head felt like it was on fire.

The gloved hand was clamped so tight around his neck that he could barely breathe, let alone speak, but he tried anyway. “Take my wallet,” he managed to eke out. “It’s in my back pocket.”

“I said keep your mouth shut.”

Benjamin sensed that his assailant was not some crack head. He was a head taller than Benjamin and heavyset. He also wasn’t some neighborhood thug. He had the deep voice of an older man, an older white man.

“I want those documents you got from Judi Irving,” the man spat. “Hand ’em over and I’m out of here.”

“I don’t have them.”

The man pulled Benjamin’s head back toward him, then slammed his face into the wall again. His yarmulke tumbled to the floor and he could feel his entire face puff up like a beach ball.

“I…swear…I…don’t…have…them,” Benjamin stuttered. “I don’t even know what they are.”

“Don’t make this hard on yourself. Either give me the documents or tell me where they are.”

Benjamin’s panic level shot straight skyward. The guy was not going to take no for an answer. Right now, Ida’s fears no longer seemed farfetched. Maybe Judi
was
dead because of those documents. And now Benjamin might be next.

He tried to swallow, but the hand around his throat made that next to impossible. “Okay, okay,” he said. “They’re in the trunk of my car. Out back.”

“That’s more like it,” the man said.

Still holding him by the neck, the man twisted Benjamin’s right arm behind his back. He ushered Benjamin out of the office and down the hallway toward the back door.

Benjamin’s right eye was swollen shut now and everything around him was a blur.

“Open the door,” the man ordered.

He kept a grip on Benjamin’s neck, but let go of his arm. When Benjamin extended his right arm to reach for the door, pain vibrated through his whole body. He doubled over in pain.

“Open it!” the man shouted.

Benjamin used his left hand to ease the door open.

The man pushed him across the threshold, then immediately jerked him back inside. Their feet became entangled and they both tumbled into the wall to the right of the door. Benjamin landed shoulder-first with a painful thud.

“Turn off that spotlight!” the man ordered.

“The switch is up front, in the lobby. It’s on a timer.”

“Goddamn it!”

The man didn’t speak for a long time and seemed to be weighing his options. He maneuvered Benjamin aside, leaned his head out of the door and peered from left to right.

“That your Volkswagen over there?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” Benjamin mumbled.

The man marched him outside, stopping when they reached the back of Benjamin’s Volkswagen. “Open it.”

“The trunk is in the front,” Benjamin blubbered.

The man cursed and trotted him to the front of the car just as Benjamin realized that he didn’t have his keys.

“Uh…my keys are inside. I dropped them on the floor.”

“You must think this is a game.” The man pounded Benjamin’s head against the car.

Benjamin cried out in pain.

“I don’t have time for games.”

“I…I just realized that I didn’t have them.”

Benjamin didn’t know what he was going to do when the man opened the trunk and discovered that the documents weren’t there.

“You little—”

“Yo, Ben, is that you?”

Benjamin couldn’t see who was calling out to him, but he recognized the voice. It was Sonny, the security guard who patrolled the nightclub two doors down. Benjamin had saved him from eviction last year.

The man glanced behind him. “Damn!”

He shoved Benjamin aside and took off running. Benjamin tried to brace his fall, but couldn’t prevent his head from careening into the pavement.

“You okay, man?” Sonny ran over and peered down at him.

“Yo, Ben, you okay?” He patted Benjamin lightly on both cheeks. “C’mon, man. You gotta wake up!”

O
livia Jackson’s wary eyes bounced around the sterile home of Judi Irving’s sister. The place had all the warmth of a hospital operating room. Nothing but chrome and glass and colorless walls. Olivia doubted there was a single Bible in the whole place.

Along with Ida, she’d come to pay her respects. But there was also another, more pressing reason for their visit.

Olivia realized how little she knew about her friend. She wasn’t even sure Judi was a Christian. Her nose wrinkled as she stared across the living room at Phillip Peterman. If Judi
had
been a Christian, she certainly didn’t behave like one, shacking up with that sad piece of work. That boy was barely old enough to wipe his own behind.

For the past half hour, Olivia had been waiting for the right moment to approach Phillip. Ida sat next to her on the couch, ringing her hands and reciting the Holy Rosary in Spanish.

“I still don’t think you should do it,” Ida said, whispering into Olivia’s ear. “It’s just not right. We came here to pay our respects.”

“We can’t afford to wait,” Olivia whispered back. “We have to talk to him now. Sometimes, you just have to follow God’s will.”

“This has nothing to do with God’s will,” Ida insisted. “We should just leave it alone.”

For someone who professed to be a devout Catholic, Ida didn’t have an ounce of faith.

Olivia kept an eye on Phillip as he chatted with two employees from Big Buy. She’d never known anybody who was grieving to smile as much as he did. She recalled the first time Judi had introduced them to her new man. Olivia’s first thought was that Phillip Peterman had certainly found himself a sugar mama.

When the two women who were talking to Phillip finally left his side, Olivia sprang up from the couch.

“C’mon,” she said, tugging Ida by the arm. “Let’s get this over with.”

They followed Phillip into the kitchen and waited while he retrieved a beer from the refrigerator.

Olivia couldn’t believe the man was drinking at a time like this. But what did she expect? Judi did pick him up in a bar.

“Hello, Phillip,” Olivia said. “We worked with Judi at Big Buy. We’re so sorry about Judi. How are you holding up?”

Phillip smiled weakly, then popped open the beer. “It’s hard. I really miss her. Thanks for coming.”

“Well, just know that the Lord will never leave you, nor forsake you.”

“Uh, yeah…okay.” He walked over to the counter, poured the beer into an orange tumbler, then tossed the can in the trash.

“If there’s anything we can do to help, please let us know,” Ida offered.

Phillip nodded. “Thanks.”

“Do you know yet when the service will be?” Olivia asked.

“We have to wait until the coroner releases the body before we can finalize the funeral arrangements.”

Olivia’s whole face crumpled into a frown.
The body?
He made Judi sound like a piece of furniture.

Phillip placed the tumbler to his lips and started guzzling down the beer.

“I should get back to the other guests,” he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

He started to leave, but Olivia stopped him. “We were wondering if we could talk to you about something.”

He looked past them into the living room. “I’m listening.”

Olivia took in a nervous breath. “Judi told us you weren’t too thrilled about her suing Big Buy.”

“I just thought it was a waste of time. You don’t get promoted by suing people. You get promoted by doing a good job.”

Olivia wanted to respond to what she interpreted as a slight, but knew it was best to ignore it. “Ida and I are still going ahead with the case.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“And we need your help.”

Phillip’s face clouded. “I’m not sure how I could possibly help you.”

“Judi told us about those Big Buy financial documents she received in the mail,” Olivia explained.

He took a long sip of beer. “Judi never mentioned any Big Buy documents to me?”

Olivia wasn’t sure she believed him. But then again, Judi probably didn’t trust the man enough to tell him about the documents.

“Well, Judi received some documents about the company that could help our case. I’m sure they must be somewhere around your house.”

“Have you checked with her attorney?” Phillip snapped his fingers. “Come to think of it, I think Judi did mention that she’d turned over a bunch of documents to her attorney. What’s her name?”

“Vernetta Henderson.” Olivia smacked her lips suspiciously. “Just a second ago you said Judi never mentioned any documents to you.”

Phillip bristled. “I think you misheard me. I said Judi never mentioned any Big Buy documents to me.”

“Well, we already spoke with Vernetta. She doesn’t have them. Maybe we could come over and—”

“That’s okay, Phillip.” Ida gave his forearm a motherly pat. “We’re sorry to bother you at a time like this. Let’s go, Olivia.”

Olivia fired off a heated look at her co-worker. “As I was about to say, if you don’t mind, maybe we could set up a time to come over and look for them. Judi told us she put them in a safe place. So maybe—”

“No way I’m letting you snoop around my home,” Phillip said, his voice laced with annoyance. “You should forget about that lawsuit and be glad you both have jobs.”

He stalked back into the living room.

“Didn’t I tell you this was a bad idea?” Ida complained. “I hope he doesn’t tell people we came here to bug him about our lawsuit instead of paying our respects. Those documents are gone because Big Buy paid somebody to take ’em when they murdered Judi.”

Ida stomped back into the living room and Olivia reluctantly followed.

Olivia refused to buy into Ida’s paranoia. Judi had always been extra cautious about the case. She’d probably hidden the documents so well no one would be able to find them.

Olivia would just have to pray and ask God to lead her to them.

“I
can’t believe you waited this long to call me!”

I had just arrived home from work and was standing in my bedroom, listening in shock as Benjamin recounted being attacked two nights earlier at the Center for Justice.

“Well, I’m fine now.”

Benjamin sounded as if he was trying to talk with a mouth full of cotton balls. After the beating he described, I could only imagine how he looked.

“I’m coming over,” I said.

“No need. My mother’s here. She’s insisting on staying with me for a few days.”

We were both silent, reluctant to say what we were obviously both thinking.

“Maybe Ida was right after all,” I finally admitted. “Those documents, whatever they were, got you beaten up and probably got Judi killed.”

“Maybe,” Benjamin agreed.

“Olivia asked Judi’s boyfriend about the documents. He claims Judi never told him about them.”

“Maybe he’s lying?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“If there’s some evidence out there that the company was willing to kill for, then this case is much bigger than either of us thought it was,” Benjamin said. “If you want to drop the case, I’ll understand.”

I looked up to see Jefferson standing in the doorway. The grim expression on his face telegraphed that he’d been listening to my conversation.

“I’m not abandoning Olivia and Ida, or you,” I said. “Judi may’ve lost her life because of this case. That makes me even more determined to win. We just need to be extremely careful until we figure out what’s going on.”

A second after I hung up, Jefferson stepped inside the bedroom. “What happened?”

I told him about the attack on Benjamin.

“This isn’t good,” Jefferson said. “First your client is murdered, now this. I really think you need to—”

“I’m not dropping the case.”

Jefferson sighed. “I can’t believe how short your memory is.”

He was referring to my representation of Micronics Corporation in a case which also involved some missing documents. Things got a little rough and it was Jefferson who ultimately came to my rescue.

“The case just got going,” he said. “It wouldn’t be hard for another attorney to step in. I can’t believe you aren’t concerned.”

What happened to Benjamin did have me pretty freaked out. The burglar’s demand for those Big Buy documents was a fact that could not be ignored. But I was not frightened enough to abandon my clients.

I headed into the den with Jefferson close behind me.

“I’m not dropping the case, so let it go.”

“Fine,” he said. “I know how hard-headed you can be. But let’s make a deal. If anything else crazy happens, promise me you’ll tell them to find another attorney.”

“Nothing else is going to happen.”

“Okay,” Jefferson said. “But if it does, you’ll drop the case, right?”

The doorbell saved me from having to make a commitment I didn’t want to make.

I made my way to the front door. “That’s Special. I’ll get it.”

Special had called an hour earlier asking to borrow one of my purses for some big Community of Islam function. She might be a Muslim woman now, but fashion was still high on her list of priorities.

When I opened the front door, I was surprised to see Clayton standing behind her.

“So what have you two lovebirds been up to?”

“We just saw the new Tyler Perry movie,” she said, stepping inside. “It was hilarious.”

Confusion glazed my face.

Special looked over her shoulder at Clayton. “Baby, Vernetta thinks being a Muslim means we have to stay locked up in the mosque all day.”

Clayton laughed. “Not true.”

I was embarrassed that Special was making me look so uninformed. But to be honest, I did think going to the movies was prohibited by their faith.

“I’m not big on the movies,” Clayton said. “But Perry’s films usually have a positive message. Since that’s what my woman wanted to see, I didn’t have a problem supporting her.”

Special glowed up at Clayton. I had never seen her this enamored with any man.

I took a step toward a table in the entryway. “Here’s the purse you wanted.”

“That’s not it,” Special said. “It’s the one with the silver button on the front.”

“You’re going to have to come look for it yourself.”

I pointed Clayton toward the den. “Jefferson’s in there.”

In the bedroom, I tugged a large straw basket out of the closet.

“Girl, you have enough purses in here to open up your own booth at the swap meet.”

“Some women have a shoe fetish,” I said, laughing. “But for me, it’s shoes
and
purses.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed while Special sifted through the basket.

“Business must be good, counselor.” She admired the new suit laid out on the bed. “’Cuz Donna Karan ain’t cheap.”

“I figured I owed it to myself after Lamarr’s case.”

“See, that’s what I like about your business. Win or lose you still get paid the big bucks. How’s he doing?”

“Not good. The Legends still haven’t notified him if he’ll be able to play again.”

“He should’ve thought about that when he picked up that skank.”

Special finally found the right purse.

I’d been so busy with work, and Special was always at the mosque, that we still hadn’t found time to discuss her conversion to Islam.

“So you’re really serious about this?” I asked.

“Yep.” She didn’t bother to look at me as she piled the purses back into the basket.

“So you don’t believe in Christianity anymore?”

Special huffed. “Can you please just support me for once without giving me the third degree?”

“I just asked a question.”

“This is what Clayton wants to do and I want to support him.”

“But what do
you
want to do? And more importantly, what do you believe?”

“We need to talk about this another time. We’re running late.”

“Okay,” I said. “You let me know when you have time.”

We walked back into the den where Clayton and Jefferson were deep in conversation.

“People have a lot of misconceptions about the Community,” Clayton went on. “They’re often surprised once they check us out.”

“I know at least six dudes I grew up with who turned their lives around once they became Muslims,” Jefferson told him. “And I’m talking about hard-core, rob-your-own-mama kind of guys. If the Black Muslims can change brothers like that, they must be doing something right.”

“We’re not Black Muslims.” Clayton’s face hardened. “The white media gave us that title. We’re Muslims.”

“Hey, uh, okay, man. Uh, my bad.” Jefferson turned awkwardly to me. “Clayton’s been kicking me down with the four-one-one on the Community of Islam. I had no idea this brother was so deep.”

“Hey, I’m just learning myself. If you really want to get some knowledge, you should come down to the mosque to hear a lecture. You too, Vernetta.”

My normally talkative husband was suddenly tongue-tied. “Uh, yeah. We’ll have to do that.”

“How about this Sunday?” Special suggested.

Jefferson blasted me with a look that told me it was my job to come up with an appropriate excuse for turning down my friend’s invitation.

“I promised to go to church with my mother this Sunday,” I said.

“Me too,” Jefferson chimed in.

“Puh-leeze,” Special said to Jefferson. “You’ve never even seen the inside of her mama’s church. You can go there anytime. Y’all are both coming down to the mosque with us. I’ll make reservations for brunch afterward. It’ll be fun.”

Jefferson and I walked them to the door.

“I ain’t going,” Jefferson said, the second the door closed. “’Cuz if we do, they’re gonna be bugging us about going to a bunch of meetings all the time. I’m down with what the Community’s trying to do for black folks, but it ain’t for me.”

“You were the one acting like you were all interested.
If the Muslims can change brothers like that, they must be doing something right,
” I said, mimicking him.

“I was just trying to be nice.”

“Well, too bad. You know how Special is. If we don’t go, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I don’t care,” Jefferson said. “She’s
your
best friend, so that’s
your
problem. I ain’t going.”