Desperate Measures (40 page)

 

M
IKALA AULANI, DEFENSE ATTORNEY, SITTING FIRST CHAIR IN
the case of
State of Georgia vs. Sophie Lee
, couldn't believe what she had just heard. She felt like she was carved in stone and in a time warp all rolled into one. She wanted to say something, but her tongue wouldn't work. She saw the foreman of the jury holding the paper he had just read from. She had seen the tremor in his hand and known immediately what he was going to say. And that it was not going to be good for her client. She had seen his blank expression. Now she heard the words ricocheting around inside her head, over and over and over.

Her legs were wobbly, and she was soaked with perspiration because the air-conditioning in the courthouse was broken. Overhead, a paddle fan moved sluggishly, barely stirring the stale air. A fly buzzed dangerously near her nose. She wanted to swat at it.

She risked a glance at Ryan Spenser, the prosecutor, bastard that he was, and saw the smug expression that he tried unsuccessfully to hide. Why was she even looking at the son of a bitch? She should be looking at her client, the client who had just been convicted of a heinous crime. A conviction of first-degree murder that would get her a sentence of life in prison without the possibility of parole—for a crime she didn't commit. Twenty-four-year-old dedicated nurses simply did not kill their patients, and yet that bastard Ryan had convinced a jury of seven men and five women that she had done just that. Bastard.

Mikala felt a hand on her arm and looked down, then up. Again, she heard the words but didn't comprehend them. “Is today Tuesday, Kala?” Mikala nodded. “Every single thing, bad or good, has always happened to me on a Tuesday. I guess that makes me Tuesday's Child. Thank you, Kala, for everything,” Sophie Lee said quietly.

Mikala Aulani wanted to cry. She wanted to hug her client, but she was being led away. The judge was thanking the jurors for their service and discharging them. The courtroom was emptying at the speed of light. The trial of the decade had finally ended, and the reporters wanted out to report on the verdict.

Mikala—Kala to friends and peers—sat down and stared at nothing. Jay Brighton, her second chair, started to pack up their briefcases. Across the aisle, Ryan Spenser's staff was doing the same thing.

“Tough break, counselor,” Spenser said. “Guess this breaks that winning streak you've been on, huh? You know what they say—the best man wins. You put on a hell of a defense, Kala, I'll give you that. I'll give you something else, too. Your client handled the verdict well. Guess you coached her for that. Just out of curiosity, what did she whisper to you before they took her away?”

Kala finally turned sideways and looked up at the spit-and-polish prosecutor, with his designer suit, power tie, pristine white shirt, and gleaming porcelain-capped teeth. He looked like an Adonis, and the media loved him. It didn't hurt that his father was the Speaker of the House in Washington, something Ryan Junior traded in on every day of his life.

Later, Kala would pat herself on her back for her comeback. The words came from God only knew where, but she said them with conviction. “She told me to put a hex on you. You know how good us Hawaiian people are at doing that. She asked me to do it tonight at midnight. You know what, Spenser? I'm going to do it, too!”

Kala loved, absolutely loved, the expression that crossed the prosecutor's face. First he turned white under his tan, then red, a feat unto itself. He made a sound that caused Kala to laugh.

The courtroom was empty except for the two of them, Spenser's people the last out the door after Jay Brighton.

All Kala had to do was sling her purse over her shoulder, and she could walk out of the room ahead of the barracuda. Defeated. She squared her shoulders and took a step across the aisle. “We both know Sophie Lee is innocent. We both know Adam Star killed his wife, Audrey, and that the two of you pinned it on my client. I'm going to appeal this verdict, and I'm going to nail your ass and Star's ass if it takes me the rest of my life.... But not until I get that hex going. See you around, dirtbag!”

And then, with all the aplomb she could muster, Mikala Aulani turned and walked out of the courtroom, her head held high, her shoulders squared. She didn't falter until she was outside the courthouse, where Jay Brighton waited for her.

Jay Brighton was young, young compared to her fifty-two years, young enough still to believe in the justice system. He linked his arm with Kala's, and said, “We'll get him, Kala. I'll work for free for as long as it takes. Sophie did not kill Audrey Star. She did not.”

Kala's shoulders slumped even more. “We had six months to try to prove it, and we couldn't, Jay. The horse is out of the barn, and the door's locked now. Sophie will almost certainly be going to prison for the rest of her life with no possibility of parole. What makes you think we can do something now that we didn't do before?”

Jay forced a laugh that came off as more of a bark than anything else. “Well, for starters, you didn't put a hex on him. So, let's get that out of the way and get down to the business of Sophie's appeal. I want to see that winning streak of yours reinstated. And I want to see you chop off that bastard Spenser's balls. Maybe you can work that into your hex.”

In spite of herself, Kala laughed, even though it was a bitter sound. “I wouldn't know a hex if it slapped me in the face.”

“Then make one up. Come on, I'm buying dinner.”

“It's only three o'clock,” Kala said. “I don't think I can eat anything.”

“Who said anything about eating? I'm thinking we need to drink our dinner, then have someone drive us home. Come on, Kala, we have a lot to talk about, and what better way than over a few drinks.”

“Okay, okay. I think we should both go see Sophie tomorrow and prepare her for her sentencing next month. We need to tell her what we're planning to do. Bright and early, Jay.”

“Works for me, boss.”

“Yes, but will it work for Sophie Lee? That's the question, isn't it?”

 

M
IKALA AULANI LOOKED AROUND HER OFFICE FOR THE LAST
time. Now that her thirty-five-year professional life was packed up in boxes, and the pictures, diplomas, and photographs were off the wall, her personal space looked huge. Jay would have to paint the walls to cover up the telltale signs of where all the plaques had been hung. She eyed her old leather chair, which swiveled and rocked. She really had meant to have the crack in the leather repaired; it had been on her to-do list for years and years. She wondered now why it was she'd never taken the time to do it. But, then, she found herself wondering about a lot of things lately, not that it made a difference.

Jay Brighton and Linda Carpenter, husband and wife and newly minted senior partners, carried the packed and taped boxes out to the reception area. At some point later that day, someone would come and take them to a storage unit Kala had rented a month ago. All except for the single box that sat on top of her desk.
That
box was going with her. She was personally going to carry it down to the underground garage and personally put it on the passenger seat of her car, then drive it to her home, where she would put it in a closet in her bedroom. Sophie Lee deserved a closet rather than a storage unit, where her records would never again see the light of day.

Jay Brighton stood in the doorway. “That about does it, Kala. Told you we'd have this locked down in time for you to make your retirement luncheon.”

Kala looked up at her former partner and grimaced. “I decided I'm not going. Call Ben and tell him I have a bellyache.”

Ben was Judge Benjamin Jefferson, Kala's significant other of twenty-five years. Ben had retired two weeks earlier, and Kala had thrown a surprise luncheon, inviting all of his peers. For no other reason except retaliation, Ben had decided to do the same for her. His theory was, if he'd had to suffer through the shitty food, the boring speeches, and the overblown testimonials, then so should she.

Newly retired judge Ben Jefferson loved Kala Aulani heart and soul. Everyone said they were a match made in heaven. Sometimes, Kala believed it, and other times, she didn't.

Stepping into the office, Jay replied, “Oh, no, I'm not calling him! You're on your own, Kala. Hey, you aren't my boss anymore, so don't you dare look at me with those puppy dog eyes. No! You sold Linda and me the firm, and I absolutely do not have to take orders anymore. Not showing up at your very own retirement luncheon would be a pretty crappy thing to do,” Jay said vehemently.

Kala grinned as she stared up at her old partner. Six-foot-seven, probably the tallest lawyer ever to grace a courtroom. An imposing giant of a man, with his flaming red hair, which he hated, and his freckles, which, if anything, he hated even more. Juries loved him and his folksy manner. They likened him to themselves, just plain old ordinary people. They were wrong, of course, because there was nothing in the least ordinary about Jay Brighton, Attorney at Law. Jay had graduated at the top of his law class, had a photographic memory that did double time acting as steel trap. He was
almost
as good a lawyer as she was, Kala thought. She'd trained him well, and he'd listened to every pearl of wisdom that came out of her mouth, soaking it all up like a sponge. Yes, one of the best things she'd ever done in her career was to hire him the minute he applied for the job. She'd never been sorry, either, and she knew he'd never regretted joining her rinky-dink law firm back in the day.

“Listen, Jay, I just want to go home and be alone. Surely you can understand that. You didn't give me a going-away present, now that I think about it. How tacky is that? So, calling Ben and canceling my luncheon will serve nicely as my going-away gift. C'mon, Jay, one last favor. I have so much to do; we leave tomorrow, and I'm not even packed. Do you have any idea how many suitcases I have to fill to go away for six whole months? Well, do you?” Kala bellowed at the top of her lungs.

Linda Carpenter, a string bean of a young woman with corkscrew curls that poked up from her head, took Jay's former position in the doorway, and bellowed in return, “I'll do it!”

Kala looked Jay in the eye, and admonished, “You do not deserve that young woman, and I'm sorry I paid for your wedding.”

“Stuff it, Kala!” Jay blustered. Long years of familiarity allowed him to talk this way to his old boss. “Why do you find it so hard to accept a few well-meaning accolades? Don't give me any crap here. The reason you don't want to go to that luncheon is some asshole told you that Ryan Spenser is going to show up. With a gift. You're a bigger person than he is. Why can't you go and stare the bastard down?”

“Because I can't. This is the end of it, Jay. I'm not going. Period.”

“Okay,” Jay said agreeably.

Kala eyed him suspiciously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it didn't, Kala gathered up her laptop, her purse, her suit jacket, and dumped them on top of the Sophie Lee box. “Where's the dolly?”

“In the reception room. I'll get it.”

“And I don't want or need a parade following me down to the garage,” Kala shouted to Jay's retreating back.

“Like that's going to happen,” Jay snorted, his eyes burning. Damn, he never thought saying good-bye was going to be so hard. He eyed his wife, who had returned to the reception area and seemed to be having the same problem he was having. The filters probably needed to be changed in the AC unit. Dust particles could really play hell with your tear ducts.

Linda grabbed her husband's arm and dragged him down the hall into the kitchen just as the door to the reception room opened. They didn't bother to look over their shoulders to see if it was a client or the mailman.

“What?” Jay blurted.

“I can't stop crying, that's what!” Linda said, burying her face in the crook of her husband's neck. “What are we going to do without her? She's the rock. She's the glue that made this law firm work. I don't think either one of us is ready to step into her shoes. What if Kala's clients don't want
us?”

“Then it's their loss, Linda. We have our own clients. This is a thriving law firm. We have five junior partners. We have five paralegals, an office manager, and a secretary who is not only as old as God but knows how to sweet-talk people who walk in the door. We can make it work. We really can.”

Linda sniffled. “Well, don't expect me to give you wake-up calls if I have to leave the house before you, and don't expect me to remind you to take your umbrella, pick up your cleaning, and get a haircut. That was Kala's job.”

“Yeah, okay, I won't expect you to do that. I'll flounder around on my own,” Jay said, his voice choked with emotion.

Their eyeballs popped when they heard their names being screamed at the top of Kala's lungs. They almost killed one another racing to her office. Both of them pulled up short when they saw a man with two canes lower himself to the chair opposite Kala's desk. Underneath her summer tan, Kala's face looked white. She was shaking so badly, Jay and Linda thought she was having a seizure. “What's wrong?” they both shouted in unison.

To say the man with the two canes looked like death warmed over would have been too kind a statement. He was cadaver thin, his eyes sunken, his skin sallow. It was doubtful he weighed a hundred pounds. In the thirty-odd years Jay had worked for and known Mikala Aulani, he didn't think he'd ever seen her as agitated as she was at that very moment. He didn't know what to do, so he waited, his eyes not on the man but on Kala.

“Linda, Jay, this is ... this is Adam Star. He ... he came here to ... he came here to ...”

The voice was raspy, the words almost unintelligible, but the trio understood them nonetheless.

“What Ms. Aulani is trying to say is, I came here to tell you that ten years ago, I killed my wife, Audrey. Sophie Lee is innocent. As you can see, I'm dying, and I want to make things right.” One skeletal hand reached inside his jacket to withdraw a DVD. His hand shook violently when he tried to slide it across the desk toward Kala. “My lawyer has a copy of this. It shows me confessing to the murder, along with all the details. My lawyer will be turning it over to the court when I . . . am no longer here.”

Three jaws dropped as three sets of eyes stared with unblinking intensity at the man.

Jay spoke first. “I guess my question would be, how much longer will it be before you are no longer here?” Jay didn't give a damn if he sounded heartless and cruel. What this man had done to Sophie Lee earned him a fat zero in consideration in Jay's opinion.

“You son of a bitch! You let that young girl go to prison for life! What kind of a monster are you?” Kala shrieked. “I knew it was you! I always knew! Now, when you're dying, you want to make it
right!
I hope you burn in hell!” Kala shrieked again.

Adam Star turned his head on its scrawny neck to Jay, and said, “I'm already on borrowed time, but I assume you want me to be more specific.”

“Yeah, that would help,” Jay drawled.

“Well, I'm already on borrowed time, as I just said, so I think it's safe to say I doubt I'll be here this time next week.” He turned his head again to look at Kala, and replied to her question, “The kind of man who didn't have the stomach to be tied down to a paralyzed woman twenty-four /seven. I was never cut out to be the dutiful sort. The doctors said Audrey could live into her nineties with proper care. I didn't have the guts for that. Audrey demanded my constant presence, even during the night hours. I was tied to her. I couldn't breathe; she was smothering me. And yes, Ms. Aulani, I'm sure I will burn in hell.” Star leaned back, the constant flow of words exhausting him.

“Why did you come here?” Kala whispered, her shrieking over.

“I owed you and your client a face-to-face. You can show her the DVD when you think it's time. She was an exceptional nurse. She actually cared about Audrey, which is more than I can say I did. Because of that, I want to give you this.” The skeletal hand reached into the inside pocket of his cashmere jacket and withdrew a folded set of papers. “My last will and testament. I'm leaving everything I own, which is substantial, beyond substantial actually, to Sophie Lee. I have appointed you, Ms. Aulani, as my personal representative to see that my will is carried out the way I want it to be.”

“You can't inherit if you kill someone,” Jay said through clenched teeth.

“I didn't inherit a single dime when she died. Almost immediately after we were married, she put everything in my name. She said it was a wedding gift. We were very much in love. We had our whole lives ahead of us. We were ‘as one,' was how she put it. She trusted me to handle her fortune for the both of us. The Star fortune already belonged to me at her death and had for some time. Therefore, I can leave it to whomever I choose, and I choose to leave it to Sophie Lee to make up for what I've done. I know Audrey would approve.”

“Ryan Spenser?”

“I always suspected he knew I killed Audrey, but he was never able to prove it. On more than one occasion, he said the media would love the other-woman part of it, as they would never believe that Sophie and I were not having an affair. More meat, more fodder for the nightly news. He was right, and it was the trial of the century.

“Ryan Spenser became the golden boy. He rolled along, winning every case he tried after that one. I never saw him after the trial, but about six months ago I got a personal letter from him asking me if I would consider backing him in his run for governor next year. He, of course, didn't know I was ill, and I've been housebound since. If what you're asking me specifically is if he knew he was prosecuting an innocent woman, I would say yes. But that is just my opinion. He had the facts going for him. It was either her or me, and like I said, he couldn't prove I did it. That left only Sophie Lee, and he convinced a jury of seven men and five women that she did it.”

This time the words did exhaust Adam Star. Before he closed his eyes, he pressed a button on his watch. Two male nurses barreled into the room, took one look at their patient, and scooped him up. They were out the door in thirty seconds, their patient in their arms, leaving behind three stupefied lawyers.

Kala was the first to speak, her eyes wide with wonder as she stared at the box on the top of her desk labeled
SOPHIE LEE
in permanent black marker. “My mind isn't working right now, so will someone please tell me what day today is?”

“Your retirement day, Kala,” Linda said.

Jay knew exactly what Kala meant. His voice was pitched so low, Kala had to strain to hear the words. “It's Tuesday, Kala.”

Kala lowered herself into the leather chair with the crack running down the middle. Gradually, she was able to focus. She reached for the stiff blue paper that covered Adam Star's last will and testament. She had to clear her throat twice before she could get the words out past her tongue. “Set up the DVD. I want to see what's on it. But first I want to read this will. If that bastard lied to us, I will kill him myself.”

It took no time for Kala to read through the short, simple will. Everything appeared to be in order. She sifted through the legalese. Two persons had signed, attesting to having witnessed Adam Star's signature. It was in order and dated exactly one week prior. Everything Adam Star owned, compliments of his dead wife, Audrey Star, now belonged to Sophie Lee. Or would belong to Sophie Lee one moment after Adam Star's passing. Everything he owned amounted to hundreds of millions of dollars in stocks, bonds, real estate, and, of course, 51 percent of Star Enterprises, whatever that happened to be. Somewhere there was a yacht moored, a corporate Learjet parked somewhere else, a helicopter grounded on some helicopter pad God only knew where, two cigarette boats worth $100,000 each, berthed in Key Biscayne, Florida, and a fleet of high-end cars to the tune of $5 million. Among the listed real estate were the mansion Audrey Star had died in, a ski resort in Aspen, Colorado, and a mountaintop estate in Hawaii, overlooking the Pacific. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. The real-estate holdings ran to six pages and represented so many zeros, Kala felt light-headed.