by Reason of Sanity (16 page)

Last night’s dinner was very informative. Not only did I discover a criminal plea I’ve never heard of before but I learned about a business that’s so out of the ordinary, I don’t know why Stuart has never thought of it. When checking it out, I discover that they actually do perform private autopsies. They’re located near Pasadena and have a mobile lab that’s fully equipped to do autopsies on the road. A guy named Victor Gutierrez, who used to work for the Los Angeles Coroner’s office, runs the whole operation, and he’s a really nice guy to talk to on the phone. I politely declined his invitation for a tour of his business facility.

I didn’t realize that the general public might have much use for a business like this, but due to hospital downsizing, many post-mortems are ‘outsourced.’ He seems busy enough and is planning on franchising his services to all of the states and then to sixteen foreign countries. I guess that both he and the I.R.S. are the only two establishments with true job security, both guaranteed by inevitability.

I convince the office that the court will probably reimburse us for the expenditure, so the next move is to decide whether or not to go ahead with it. There are too many unanswered questions in this case, so I push to have the private autopsy done. First step is to call Myra. “Hi, it’s me. I need to ask you a favor.”

“Peter, you know I can’t make a plea bargain on this case… it’s a murder, possibly a special circumstance case…”

I interrupt her. “No, no, I don’t want any deal, it’s something else.” Nothing but silence on the other end. She’s waiting to hear what her moronic exhusband has come up with this time. “You know, I also represent the insurance company against the murder victim’s estate.”

“Well, they feel that with all the unanswered questions, they’d like an autopsy on Drago.”
“No way. The district attorney’s office is quite satisfied with the hospital doctor’s death certificate, and we’re not going to reopen the cause of death issue to satisfy some fat cats at an insurance company.”
“Hey relax, I’m not asking you to do anything. I’ve made arrangements with a private autopsy company. They’ll pick up the body, do their business and return it to your morgue. I’ll even toss in a free copy of their report… and the insurance company will pay for the whole thing.”
“… I dunno.”
“What’s the problem? All I’ll be doing is making your case better for you. Are you worried that my lab will come back with the Flu as cause of death? I’ll tell you what… you can have your own medical examiner observe the whole thing and I’ll even get the insurance company to pay his overtime. How about it?”
The five seconds it takes her to make her mind up seems like five minutes. She finally agrees.
“Yeah, what the hell. Will they do it on a Saturday? I don’t want to see one of our M.E.s lose hours of valuable time from an already overloaded workweek.”
“Not to worry. A Saturday it is. I’ll have my office make all the arrangements and we’ll have the autopsy place make an appointment to pick up the merchandise.”
“Okay Peter, but no funny stuff. I’ll have one of our guys looking over their shoulders. And say hello to Suzi for me.”
Good, it’s a done deal. She went for it. I don’t know why I’m so happy. Maybe because it’s probably the only small victory I’ll ever get in this crazy loser of a case. Nevertheless, the wheels have now been set in motion.
The private autopsy place coordinates their schedule with the county morgue and an off-duty medical examiner and the examination is set for the Saturday after next. They invite me to attend. I explain that the true definition of a lawyer is ‘a college student who can’t stand the sight of blood,’ and I respectfully decline. That adds ‘autopsy’ to my list of ‘do not go to,’ events, along with bullfights, opera, hockey games and ballet.
When we were married, Myra was always bugging me to take her to the opera and to see a ballet. It was always me who was backing out for one reason or another. This time, it’s her turn. When I asked her if she was going to the autopsy, she told me she couldn’t make it – she was having her hair done that day. Me too.

The thought of having over a week with nothing to do is too tempting. Usually, when I try to take only an hour or two off to do some reading, some emergency pops up. I’m afraid to think of what could happen if I actually plan on taking a whole week off. Maybe an earthquake or some other natural disaster.

While I’m sitting up on the boat’s flybridge trying to imagine what situation will destroy my week off, good friend Stuart calls and provides the answer to my question. He desperately wants me to meet him at the Pacific Division of the Los Angeles Police Department. Vinnie’s been arrested.

meet Stuart, who has already had Fradkin Bail Bonds post the five thousand dollars to get Vinnie released. When Vinnie comes walking out to the lobby he’s dressed in a two-tone gray police costume, complete with one of those over-the-shoulder leather straps that attaches to his belt, like a school crossing guard. He’s also wearing a badge and a holster and there’s a stain on the front of his trousers.

Something tells me that I don’t want to hear this story, but it seems unavoidable. Stuart starts. “Remember that great idea I had to convert an old Brinks truck into a funeral armored thing?”

I think back a ways. Yes, he did mention that crazy idea. “You mean the ‘He’s taking it with him’ armored truck for stingy dead guys?”

“Yeah Pete, that’s the one. Well, I promised Vinnie a hundred for each funeral he did and today was our first job.”

“Oh, you like it huh? I thought it would be nice touch, so I went to a military supply house and bought the whole thing for Vinnie. He’s supposed to be the ultimate armored car guard.”

“What about the empty holster on Vinnie’s belt?”
“That’s one of the problems.”
At this point the story looks good enough for me to make an offer to buy the screenplay rights. Little do I know that it gets even better. Vinnie tells the next part.
“Well Mister Sharp, we get this nice funeral job. All I gotta do is be at the funeral home at one in the afternoon, put the truck in the procession and go with them to the cemetery, about five miles away.”
“That sounds straight enough Vinnie. So how did you wind up in jail?”
“Well, Stuart told me that the air conditioning in the truck wasn’t rebuilt yet, so I brought along a cooler full of colas. When we got to the cemetery, the guy directing traffic had us pull up so close together, that I wasn’t able to get the truck out of there and had to wait until the whole funeral was over.
“Anyway, I had about five cokes and really had to take a leak, but there was no toilet in sight.”
I have a weird feeling what’s coming next. Vinnie proves me right.
“So, I walked a couple a hunnert feet away from where all the people were and saw a real big tree behind a bush.”
“Don’t tell me Vinnie, I’ve already seen this movie. You were peeing against the tree, weren’t you?”
“Well yeah, but that wasn’t the problem. All of a sudden there were about ten cops surrounding me with their guns out. They shouted that I should put my hands up, so I did. That’s when I soiled these pants. I was right in the middle of peeing. I’m sorry, Stu, I’ll pay for the cleaning.”
“Vinnie, where did all the cops come from?”
Stuart has the answer to that one. “The dead guy was an older cop who was the watch commander at one of the local precincts. He died of a stroke, so there were plenty of cops at the funeral. His ex-wife was cut out of the will and she was mad at the deceased. She’s the one who hired us.”
Vinnie has the rest of the answers. “Yeah, there were a lot of cops there. I guess one of the cemetery’s groundskeepers saw me peeing and didn’t know I was the armored car driver, so he told the cops that there was a guy with a gun behind a tree. He fingered me.”
As usual, whenever Stuart and Vinnie are involved, there’s a fantastic story. I don’t think that Jimmy Breslin or Dave Barry could create anything better than this. Maybe Donald Westlake, but he’s the only one.
“Vinnie, do you have anything against regular bathrooms? You know, if a person gets arrested for petty theft, the first time it’s usually just a misdemeanor. If they get arrested for it a second time, it can be charged as a felony and it’s called ‘petty with a prior.’ In your case, we’ve already had one case with you peeing on a tree. This time, they might be justified classifying it as peeing with a prior.”
They are not amused. Vinnie is charged with one count of carrying a weapon, and one count of lewd conduct. In mitigation, Stuart tells me that the gun isn’t real. It’s one of those replicas they sell that look and weigh like the real thing. I remind him that in most of the catalogs I’ve seen, they don’t ship those things into the state of California. Stuart tells me that he had a friend out of state get it for him.
I don’t know what to tell him on this case. At first I think that maybe I can get the gun charge dropped because it isn’t a real one, but it’s also a violation to expose a replica. California Penal Code section 417 covers the drawing and exhibiting of any deadly weapon, whether it’s a loaded or unloaded gun, or any other deadly weapon. They call it ‘brandishing.’
In Vinnie’s case, the only weapon he was exhibiting wasn’t his gun, but he was still wearing one.
There’s even a law covering security guards that specifically prohibits the carrying of an “…inoperable, replica, or simulated firearm.”
The bottom line is that police are really down on people who have replica guns. The only thing that Vinnie has going for him in this case is that the replica was holstered and not being used in any attempted crime, unless ‘peeing while armed’ is now against the law. I’ll have to check the Internet for that one. The only break we’ve gotten so far is that the Sierra Club hasn’t been bringing any actions against Vinnie for his treatment of trees.

If a criminal attorney can get to the City Attorney before charges are filed, he can sometimes explain away what’s been interpreted as criminal behavior. I don’t know if it’ll work in this case, but the facts are so outrageous that I have to give it a try. I call an old classmate who works at the City Attorney’s office and make an appointment to come in and meet with the head deputy in charge of filing complaints. The police were nice enough to provide me with a copy of the ‘incident’ report, so I’ve got more than just my word to offer as to exactly what went down.

I also get Stuart to sign an affidavit to the effect that he bought the costume and replica weapon and hired Vinnie to wear them both – and supplied him with the cooler full of cokes. Next, we take some pictures of Vinnie in uniform standing next to the armored truck and I get Stuart to have a port-a-potty installed in the truck. A copy of the receipt for its purchase and installation is included in my presentation package. All of this, along with the argument that because the truck can be mistaken for a real armored vehicle, Vinnie should be allowed to wear the holstered replica as a crime deterrent, should get me either a laugh, a dismissal, or both. Vinnie suggests adding a picture of the tree to my presentation package… I pass on that one.

Walking through the City Attorney’s office, package under my arm, at each desk I pass, someone is smiling at me. Is my fly open? Would that deserve a smile? When I get to the Chief Deputy’s office, I see that they’ve got six people in there. They invite me to sit down at the conference table. I think I’ll keep my mouth shut for a minute or two and let them start the meeting for me.