DANCING WITH THE ICE LADY. Ken Salter

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      I had to bite my tongue not to point out that’s why suspicious wives hire private detectives and not divorce attorneys to get the goods on their spouses. Despite the fact Nate was playing cat and mouse with me, I saw no reason to bite the hand that was feeding us. The legal business is no different from other professions where cash is king. Mrs. Simmons had casually coughed up five grand on word-of-mouth promises and a receipt in Nate’s locked file. There’d be lots more cash coming provided we secured and fed her the information she wanted.

      I wanted to hit Nate up for a raise in pay. With a couple of well-heeled clients flush with cash like Gloria Simmons, Nate would be able to pay me what I think I’m worth as a junior lawyer and not just as his investigator. But first, I had to produce the goods. I had one more question. “How did Mrs. Simmons get referred to us? I didn’t see any mention in your notes.”

      “That’s confidential. When can you get to work on the investigation? I would like to have something concrete to give her as soon as possible in light of her generous retainer.”

      “It depends on how much work you want me to do on our other cases. There’s the final work on Sharon Miller’s case as well as Patsy Kline’s case to try to settle. Of course, we have Toni Perkins to deal with as well.”

      “Fuck Toni Perkins! She can kiss my ass. She’s gonna stew and bite her nails before she hears from me. If she dares to file a complaint with the State Bar, you will see to it that she never gets sole custody of her kid.” Nate’s face flushed red again.

      Nate’s threat to have me sabotage her case was not lost on me. Nate planned to keep my ass in a sling regarding any malpractice complaint. Everyone around me seemed to be hedging their bets and looking for me to take the fall if things went awry or I didn’t play their game. I recalled my grandpappy’s admonition that “white bosses gonna work your black hide to the bone, then dump you like a broken mule.”

      Marcie was right; I was going to have to dig up almost all the info on the Simmons case by myself. Nate was stonewalling me. Before I found myself out a limb while someone was sawing it off, I needed to clarify the limits of my authority.

      “You want me to restrict my investigation to public sources of information or do you want me to employ my street people to try to get a fix on what’s going down at the mortuary?”

      “I want you to use all your resources on this case, R.C. Just be discrete and careful. The Simmons brothers won’t be amused if they discover you investigating their business.” I sensed an uncomfortable edge of danger in Nate’s veiled warning. He’s not a good liar or actor. He knew much more than he was prepared to reveal. I’d have to snoop around to find out. I needed to know of couple of more things before I started.

      “Do you want me to gather the demographic info we need to file a petition for divorce or legal separation that’s not in the file?”

      “No, leave that to me.”

      “What about the info I get as I go along? Suppose she asks for it before I can discuss it with you? Do I put her off or give it to her when she demands it? You may be hard to reach if I have to go through Marcie or Saundra; they’re sure to listen to anything I say.”

      Nate rubbed his chin while he pondered what to tell me. “Respond directly and truthfully to her questions, but don’t volunteer information. I want a written report on your findings daily. You can write it by hand, but leave no copy in your office computer if you type it. Your reports are to be left in her file in my locked safe.”

      I was sorely tempted to ask for a notebook computer I could carry with me. I quashed my impulse to demand one. I’d wait until I had some juicy info before insisting I needed an expensive toy to aide my investigation. Nate wanted me to be his good man Friday. He’d be perfectly happy with handwritten reports to have an excuse to meet directly with Gloria Simmons.

      Like most infatuated males, Nate didn’t want me getting too close to Mrs. Simmons. He expected me to concentrate on the mortuary and leave the more intimate inquiries to him. Nate knows me well enough to know I’d pump Mrs. Simmons for whatever info I needed whether he liked it or not. He also knew I wouldn’t reveal how my street contacts worked or what info they developed unless I wanted him to know. He was bound to practice law within the strictures of the California Evidence Code and the Code of Professional Ethics regulating lawyers’ conduct; I wasn’t yet, so he knew better than press me on my sources or how they got their info.

      Nate kept a stash of cash in his safe for me to use to pay my eyes and ears on the street. No receipts and no questions as to how I used the money so long as I got the goods; just as well our client paid cash. There’d be no paper trail in billing records regarding who I paid and for what.

      “I’ll need $500.00 in pocket money to start. I’ll have a written report in your safe by 5 P.M. tomorrow providing I don’t have to work on pending cases.”

      Nate didn‘t hesitate to swing his safe open and hand me a wad of greenbacks. He knew I only wanted small, well-used bills to pay my “street expenses.” I stuffed the pile of 20’s, 10’s and 5’s in my pocket.

      “I’m gonna drop Perkins. What about Sharon Miller and Patsy Kline? I’d like to drop them as well.”

      “I think we have Miller’s settlement wrapped up.” He rummaged through the files on his desk and pulled one; he removed the top pleading document and handed it to me.

      “Make a copy and take it around for her to sign when you have time. Her husband has signed off on the child support and alimony. Tell her I’m sorry I can’t meet with her personally. She should be happy with the results. You’ll have to meet with the Kline woman. I’m booked solid with depositions. You did the investigation, so you can give her the bad news yourself.”

      I shrugged. We both knew if Mrs. Simmons called in the meantime, I was expected to drop everything and play run and fetch it for Nate’s primetime client. As I left, I was pleased to see Marcie’s door was closed. After making a copy of the Sharon Miller settlement, I called her to set up a time to drop by her apartment to sign her settlement agreement. I called Patsy Kline and set up an appointment in my office for later that afternoon.

      I hustled out of the office past Saundra who was still with a client. She gave me the evil eye, but held her tongue in front of the woman seated at her desk. I smiled at the woman; she looked to be in her early forties. She regarded me with a sad, doleful expression of bewilderment. Her faded calico dress looked like it came from an old Montgomery Ward mail order catalogue for farm wives. She’d twisted her long, chestnut-colored hair into a flat pigtail and stuffed her still pretty feet into nondescript Birkenstock sandals. No wonder Gloria Simmons could breeze into Nate’s office and sweep him off his feet.

      I’d work outside the office until my appointment with Patsy Kline to avoid Nate’s staff monitoring my moves.

      Chapter 4

      AFTER SKIPPING OUT OF THE OFFICE, I HEADED TO a funky, little café called “Reggie’s Place” on Martin Luther King Way near the Berkeley-Oakland border. I waved to Reggie, who was chopping and dicing vegetables; I slid into a booth at the back where I could watch the door. It’s been a habit of mine ever since I read how Malcolm X always kept his back to the wall and an eye on lookout so his enemies couldn’t take him by surprise.

      As a kid raised in Berkeley, I’d identified with Malcolm СКАЧАТЬ