Fatal February (12 page)

“I knew it,” Maddie said as she sat down again. “No one dumps Maddie Rodriguez like yesterday’s newspaper. Hey, wait, how do you know about this?”

“Remember, I’m a lawyer too. We have our networks. Let’s just say, I know who else was involved in that will, but I can’t reveal this yet. I have a conflict. I represent Lillian. Has the state contacted you to be a witness in her case?”

“They’ve subpoenaed me to testify at some hearing, but I haven’t spoken to anybody about it yet.”

“Excuse me, Maddie. Catherine, would you mind checking our phone messages at the office? Do you have your cell phone with you?”

Catherine had been sitting transfixed as if she were watching a TV soap. She had totally forgotten about the camera phone.

“Oh, yes, I’ll do that right away,” Catherine said and started rummaging through her huge backpack.

“Well, once Lillian’s case is over, I can help you about the will. But if I do that now, it’ll look like I’m trying to bribe a witness. Now let me ask you a couple of questions. When did Gary buy you that little red BMW, before or after you went to New York?”

“You know a lot. Gary must have talked to you. I get it. Okay, I can wait for you to show me the other
will. He bought the car after New York. I’d been asking him for it for a while. I think that bitch, Lillian, must have found out about me and told him to get rid of me. And those brats of his; they had him wound around their fingers. But no one fucks with me like that. He was gonna buy me a little condo I had picked out, but—”Maddie didn’t finish the thought. She looked angry again and punched her fist into her order pad.

“How’s the new job going?” I asked. “You’re not going to transfer again, are you?”

“Not for a while. I’ve put in for a European post, but they’re hard to come by, and unfortunately, I don’t have the ability to just quit. But maybe, with this other will—”

I interrupted her. “That’s why you need to get in touch with me, if you decide to leave the area.”

“You got that straight,” she said.

“We’ve taken up enough of your time. Catherine and I need to get back to the office.”

“Thanks for coming. I’ll stay in touch,” Maddie said.

We marched out of her office, took the stairs to the first floor, and beat it out of there.

Traffic was at its worst. It was Friday at five in the middle of high season. Drivers from a multitude of states and countries drove in a multitude of styles, some dodging in and out of lanes, others stopping cold to read the road signs.

“Let’s get off of suicide alley and have dinner. Who’s with your kids?”

“I’d love dinner. My neighbor agreed to meet them after school and they’re actually going to sleep over with her kids,” Catherine said.

We pulled off the interstate and into the parking lot at Pete’s in Ft. Lauderdale. The happy hour bar and grill was just what we needed to relax.

“Did you get the pictures of Maddie?” I asked.

“Sure did.” Catherine handed me the phone and I beamed up three excellent head shots.

“How did you know about the red BMW?” Catherine asked.

“I didn’t for sure. The police report said a neighbor of the Yarmouth’s spotted a young woman running down the street to a parked red BMW. The neighbor described the woman as having either long blonde or red hair.”

“Wow, you hit pay dirt. This job is fun,” Catherine said as she swigged down her second beer. It was two-for-one night.

It was after nine when I got home. I was pooped. Couldn’t wait to take a shower and collapse in front of the TV. I hoped Sam hadn’t punished me for being late with his dinner.

As I got out of the car, I heard Sam barking in the back yard. I had left him in the house. How did he get out? He is a wonder dog, but I doubted his ability to unlock doors. I went around to the yard. Sam was jumping on the back door and barking. He was panting heavily. He must have been out there for a while. We entered through the kitchen. I flicked on the light. No notes were near the phone. My parents and my neighbor had keys to the house. They would have left a note if they’d been there. I called out, “anyone here?” Sam ran to the living room, sniffing as he went.

I moved slowly into the dark room heading for the lamp by the sofa. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor. I must have tripped over something, but what? I felt around me and felt broken pieces of something
sharp. Carefully I retreated to the kitchen, grabbed the flashlight by the back door, and returned to the living room.

My heart sank as I saw what was left of my cozy hideaway. There were only two possessions that I cared about in that room. I had inherited the rocker and the hooked rug from my parents’ house. The rocker was the one each of us cuddled in with Mother when one of us was sick or scared. The rug was made by my grandmother. She brought it with her from North Carolina when my grandparents came to Florida. Everything else came from either the Goodwill store or yard sales.

The room was a jumble of broken items. I had fallen over the pieces of the lamp. The rocker was in pieces on the rug in front of the fireplace. I found the switch for the ceiling light. The light illuminated an ugly red stain covering the rug. The drawers of my desk were on the floor, their contents strewn over the broken pieces. I realized a burglary had taken place. But how had a strange burglar lured Sam into the backyard?

I hurried into the bedroom. I owned almost no jewelry except for the gold hoop earrings I was wearing. I didn’t have the two-karat engagement ring anymore. The only other valuables were my Grandmother Katz’s gold ring and a gold pennant my dad gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I opened the cubbyhole in
my dresser. Both pieces were still there. Everything in the bedroom was intact, but there was another red stain on my flowered quilt. This was a bizarre burglary.

I sat down in the kitchen and caught my breath. Then I dialed the Coral Gables Police. I was not going to call Carlos, again. I didn’t want him to think I was a helpless female; no,
I
didn’t want to think I was a helpless female. If I kept having one trouble after another, I might scare Carlos away. That thought scared me more than the burglary.

While I waited for the police, I found Marco’s card and called his after-hours number.

Marco answered after two rings. “Pit Bull Security, this is Marco.”

“Marco, it’s Mary Katz. My house was burglarized some time today. I’m waiting for the police now. Were any of your guys watching the place today?”

“Oh, geez, Mary, I’m sorry. We were only watching out for you, so Flako went by your office. When he saw you were gone, he figured you were in court. We never went by the house at all today. But Flako was going to pass by a couple of times later tonight. I’ll get him to come by now.”

“
Flako? Which one is he?”

“The hefty guy who always wears the baseball cap.”

“But flako means chicken. I thought that’s what skinny guys are called.”

“It is, but it’s our little joke. The skinny guy in the office we call Gordo, which means —”

“I know. The fat guy. I’m not that big a Gringo. The police are here now. It’s not your fault about this.” I hung up and answered the door before Sam crashed through it.

The officers checked every part of the house. I couldn’t find anything missing, just vandalized.

“I sent Officer Lewis to talk to your neighbors. See if anyone else has had an intruder recently, or see if anyone saw someone around your house,” Officer Viejo said.

“Other than your parents and your neighbor, does anyone else have a key?”

“Not that I can remember. But I’ve had some other problems lately. Someone slashed one of my tires in my office parking lot and then someone threw a rock into my office window right where I was sitting. Officer, is that blood on my rug?”

“No, go over there and sniff it,” he said.

“Ketchup! Someone poured ketchup on my rug and on my bed.” I sat down on the floor and began to laugh. It was more like hysterics.

“I’ll get you a copy of our report in the morning. This looks like vandalism. Any kids that you’ve had a problem with?”

“No, there aren’t too many kids here. It’s either older couples or younger professionals. I still can’t see how someone came in here and lured my dog into the yard.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve got a cleanup on your
hands, but you’re lucky. You’ve still got your computer and your TV. The ketchup may even clean up out of your rug. Call us if you find anything missing, but I doubt we’ll ever find who did this.”

The officers rushed away to another call. I fed Sam and began to pick up the mess. The rocker was in three pieces. Maybe Donnie Robbins, the furniture restorer, could work on it. He was an old client from the Field-stone firm. Then it hit me. Frank still had a key to the house and Sam knew him well. Frank also knew that the rocker and the rug had a history in my family. He also knew my weakness for fries and ketchup.

I went to the kitchen and found the empty ketchup bottle in the sink. My first call in the morning was to the locksmith to change the locks on all the doors

Monday morning I went to the office early. I had a restless weekend. Even after the locks were changed. I felt uneasy. I mulled over what action to take against Frank. If I called the police and they arrested Frank for burglary, his legal career could be over. I didn’t want to take away his law license, in spite of everything he was putting me through. He must have cared about me more than I had imagined.

I could request a restraining order to keep him away from my house and office. That would lead to a stalking charge. The news media would pick that up. I came up with a third way to deal with him.

My first phone call of the morning was to Marco and his Pit Bulls. I left him a message to stop by the office at his earliest convenience. Just as I ended that call, my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, but I answered anyway.

“Mary Katz.”

“Mary, it’s Karen Kaminsky. I’m calling to remind you that our hearing before the bar ethics board is this
week. I need to sit down with you. We have a lot of work to do to be prepared. Mary, are you there?”

“Yes, Karen. I guess I forgot about the hearing. There’s been a lot going on here. Of course, I’ll be available whenever you need me.”

I had put the ethics hearing out of my mind. I needed the time to be ready for Lillian’s hearing. If I didn’t give Karen the time to help me, I could be out of business.

Karen and I worked long hours preparing our strategy. If I were found in violation, it could affect my ability to make a living. Karen asked me a lot of personal questions about Carlos. When she realized that she knew the Martin family, she asked to meet privately with Carlos. I wasn’t sure what she was plotting, and I was terrified.

The night before the hearing, Carlos insisted on taking me to dinner.

“You’re not eating and you’re not talking,” he said. “Think positive. I’ve been in a lot of scrapes, but the world turns and a new day erases the old. I think that’s an old Spanish saying, but it doesn’t seem to translate very well.”

“Sure it does. You’re used to getting into trouble and bouncing back. I’m used to getting people out of trouble, but this time I can’t see how to get myself out of this.”

“It’ll be okay. Trust me.”

“Oh, Carlos, shut up, before I start blaming you again.”

The hearing before the Florida Bar Ethics Commission was held in the bar’s Miami office boardroom. If the panel of three members were to find a possible violation, then they would hold a full hearing and forward a recommendation to the Supreme Court for punishment. This could be as little as a reprimand, or as big as a suspension or disbarment. This could be the first step in months of litigation and buckets of tears.

When we arrived at the bar’s offices, I was shocked to see Carlos in the waiting area.

“What are you doing here?”

“Karen thought it might be a good idea.” He smiled that heart-melting smile.

“Come on,” Karen said, as she pushed me ahead. “Let me do my thing.”

We entered the boardroom. A male bar counsel and two older panel members, both male, were seated at the table. No feminist friends here, I thought.

“Ms. Katz, you are charged with violation of 6-208 (d) of the Code of Professional Responsibility. This is a serious matter and, might I say, a rather delicate matter, as it has to do with your having sexual relations with a client right in your law office.”

I felt my cheeks burning.

Karen began to speak. “Gentlemen, first let me present this group of letters from a number of bar
members attesting to the flawless record of Ms. Katz. Next, I wish to present her record of activities to assist the bar in its various charitable outreach programs, most notably representing poor children who lack family ties and assistance. She has also served as a tutor and mentor for children with learning disabilities.”

“All very nice, counsel, but I don’t care if she’s Mother Teresa. The point is, did she or didn’t she get caught diddling a client?” one of the old guys said.

“I’m getting to that. I know that we are not allowed to know who files the bar complaint against a lawyer. However, we have reason to believe that this complaint came from Ms. Katz’s ex-fiancé, and is made for vengeful reasons. If the saying goes ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,’ doesn’t the same go for the disgruntled rejected male?

“Now we all know,” Karen continued, “that this ethics rule was enacted over the objections of many bar members. Some of you in this room posed the arguments against its passage. You asked what happens if the lawyer is representing his or her spouse. Can they no longer have sexual relations? We all know why the rule was passed. It was because of one criminal defense attorney who was sleeping with his client’s wife. She paid his fees with the idea in mind that her husband would get life in prison and she’d be rid of him. We can all see that is a conflict of interest. The committee that fashioned the rule stated that where there is no conflict of interest possible, there is an exception to
this rule. It is the client who must raise the complaint, because counsel took advantage of him. With that in mind, I am going to call Ms. Katz’s client as a witness. Please, ask Mr. Martin to come in.”