weekend.)
Everyone headed for the door as soon as dinner ended. It was a school night. I went to the kitchen with Mother and Dad to help with the cleanup. Carlos was outside on his cell phone, which he had refrained from using during dinner.
“Carlos is a nice boy and good looking, too, and he’s great with children,” Mother beamed.
“But he doesn’t play golf and he’s probably Catholic,” Dad said.
“Good night,” I said and laid the dishtowel over Dad’s arm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The date for the preliminary hearing was closing in on me. I had to locate Maddie Rodriguez. I wasn’t sure what I’d do when I found her. At the least, I’d interview her informally. If I could eyeball her, I’d be able to tell whether she was capable of being Gary’s killer. I’m not the flashiest attorney around, but I am a good judge of character. When you make big mistakes about people, you learn. Look at the five years I wasted on Frank Fieldstone.
The day after Jonathan’s birthday bash, I arrived at the office early. I had a new client to interview at the Federal Detention Center, but I wanted to get Catherine started on the hunt for Maddie.
“I want you to call each of the Omni Hotels in Miami and ask for Maddie Rodriguez. She was an event planner in one of them, and see if there’s a corporate office in the area. Check there for her too.”
“What should I say if I find her?”
“Nothing. Just hang up and I’ll deal with her when I get back from the jail.”
“What if someone asks why I want to talk to her?”
“They won’t. Just say you’re planning a wedding and she came highly recommended. I’m afraid she may be long gone, if she’s the one who did Gary in.”
I had time to berate myself as I fought the traffic on the way to the federal lockup. I put my name on the wheel in the federal court saying I would take court-appointed cases. These are cases of indigent defendants who cannot be represented by federal public defenders due to conflicts or because they are overloaded with work. When I opened my new office, I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough work to pay the bills. Now I was on overload, but I couldn’t say no. I might need the hourly stipend the feds paid at some later date, so here I was getting involved in more work.
I knew little about the case, just the name Fred Winslow, and the charge, trafficking in prescription drugs. A black man of indeterminable age was led into the attorney-visitor area. His hair was mostly grey and curled into a short afro. He walked slowly as if each step was painful. He smiled when I stood up and told him I was his new attorney.
“You know I can’t afford to pay you nothing,” he said as he settled into the chair across from me.
“That’s not a problem. I’m paid by the federal court to represent you, Mr. Winslow.”
“You can call me Freddy. You mean the government pays you? That don’t sound like you’re really my lawyer.”
Well, Freddy, you’ll have to trust me. Everyone is entitled to a lawyer in this country and if you can’t afford one, the government pays for one. Remember, the cops probably told you that when they arrested you. Have you ever been arrested before? Whatever you tell me is strictly between you and me. That’s called attorney-client privilege. I can never share it with anyone, unless you tell me I can.”
“I was only ever arrested one other time, but that was twenty years ago, for driving with a broken headlight. Wasn’t even my truck. It belonged to the cement yard where I was working at the time. But the cop pulled me in anyway. I got out the next morning. The judge threw out the ticket too. I guess the only thing I was guilty of was driving while black, as some of the young folks say.”
“Okay, Freddy, tell me everything about this case. The charge says drug trafficking. At the time of your arrest, were you working?”
“No, I’m retired. I worked for Jack Reilly Construction for the last eighteen
Everyone headed for the door as soon as dinner ended. It was a school night. I went to the kitchen with Mother and Dad to help with the cleanup. Carlos was outside on his cell phone, which he had refrained from using during dinner.
“Carlos is a nice boy and good looking, too, and he’s great with children,” Mother beamed.
“But he doesn’t play golf and he’s probably Catholic,” Dad said.
“Good night,” I said and laid the dishtowel over Dad’s arm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The date for the preliminary hearing was closing in on me. I had to locate Maddie Rodriguez. I wasn’t sure what I’d do when I found her. At the least, I’d interview her informally. If I could eyeball her, I’d be able to tell whether she was capable of being Gary’s killer. I’m not the flashiest attorney around, but I am a good judge of character. When you make big mistakes about people, you learn. Look at the five years I wasted on Frank Fieldstone.
The day after Jonathan’s birthday bash, I arrived at the office early. I had a new client to interview at the Federal Detention Center, but I wanted to get Catherine started on the hunt for Maddie.
“I want you to call each of the Omni Hotels in Miami and ask for Maddie Rodriguez. She was an event planner in one of them, and see if there’s a corporate office in the area. Check there for her too.”
“What should I say if I find her?”
“Nothing. Just hang up and I’ll deal with her when I get back from the jail.”
“What if someone asks why I want to talk to her?”
“They won’t. Just say you’re planning a wedding and she came highly recommended. I’m afraid she may be long gone, if she’s the one who did Gary in.”
I had time to berate myself as I fought the traffic on the way to the federal lockup. I put my name on the wheel in the federal court saying I would take court-appointed cases. These are cases of indigent defendants who cannot be represented by federal public defenders due to conflicts or because they are overloaded with work. When I opened my new office, I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough work to pay the bills. Now I was on overload, but I couldn’t say no. I might need the hourly stipend the feds paid at some later date, so here I was getting involved in more work.
I knew little about the case, just the name Fred Winslow, and the charge, trafficking in prescription drugs. A black man of indeterminable age was led into the attorney-visitor area. His hair was mostly grey and curled into a short afro. He walked slowly as if each step was painful. He smiled when I stood up and told him I was his new attorney.
“You know I can’t afford to pay you nothing,” he said as he settled into the chair across from me.
“That’s not a problem. I’m paid by the federal court to represent you, Mr. Winslow.”
“You can call me Freddy. You mean the government pays you? That don’t sound like you’re really my lawyer.”
Well, Freddy, you’ll have to trust me. Everyone is entitled to a lawyer in this country and if you can’t afford one, the government pays for one. Remember, the cops probably told you that when they arrested you. Have you ever been arrested before? Whatever you tell me is strictly between you and me. That’s called attorney-client privilege. I can never share it with anyone, unless you tell me I can.”
“I was only ever arrested one other time, but that was twenty years ago, for driving with a broken headlight. Wasn’t even my truck. It belonged to the cement yard where I was working at the time. But the cop pulled me in anyway. I got out the next morning. The judge threw out the ticket too. I guess the only thing I was guilty of was driving while black, as some of the young folks say.”
“Okay, Freddy, tell me everything about this case. The charge says drug trafficking. At the time of your arrest, were you working?”
“No, I’m retired. I worked for Jack Reilly Construction for the last eighteen
Similar Books
