ON Fire (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 5) (Redemption Thriller Series 17) Page 2

  Winston held up his hands. “No offense, Noah. Please, I hope you know that it’s not personal to her or to you. But while she legally shouldn’t be involved in this case, it’s also best to keep things calm, if you know what I mean.” He put a hand on Franklin’s shoulder. “My client, your brother, has been through a lot. We need to keep level heads and plan out our strategy. I hope you can understand where I’m coming from.”

  Noah shook his head and pushed off the table to stand. He stared at his brother. Franklin had no visible response to anything that had been said.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re connected to this kind of lawyer. But you do what you think is best for you, Franklin. It’s your natural instinct anyway. If you need me, I’ll be out in the lobby with my emotional girlfriend.”

  He walked out without a response from anyone else.

  Winston rested his arms on the table, clasped his hands, and looked at me.

  “Now, we can get down to business.”

  3

  I could feel the spotlight shining on me like I was on center stage. It wasn’t something I’d been seeking. Still, though, as I watched the family drama unfold, three thoughts came to mind: 1) While I didn’t trust Winston Palmer, who might be in the running to have his mug shot next to the Wikipedia entry for “Sleazy Lawyer,” that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at his job. I got the feeling Franklin would only hire the best. 2) As much as I wanted to join Brook in the lobby, that wasn’t what she needed from me. She needed my help, even if there was this love-hate thing going on in the Marshall family. 3) Sleaziness notwithstanding, Franklin probably was rolling in cash. A high-paying client could certainly help bolster my PI business.

  For all those reasons, I maintained a calm façade.

  “So, before we proceed, Mr. Novak—”

  “Just call me Ozzie. We’re not in a court of law…yet.”

  He winked and used his fingers to pretend to fire a gun at me. “Good one. So, to get right to it, we’d like to hire you.”

  “I figured as much, although I’m not sure why you picked me, or how you even know who I am.”

  Franklin pushed a sleeve up his arm. “Noah’s mentioned you. But he’s not the one who wanted you here.”

  I was confused. “I thought he recommended me.”

  “He actually never mentioned your name at the police station. I know you from your reputation. I’m aware of what you’ve accomplished, and it’s quite impressive.”

  I looked out the window and spotted the large dome at the top of the capitol building. My name had been in the news for a few cases, but it wasn’t as though I’d been featured in the Austin American-Statesman as the next Sherlock Holmes. A strange sensation went through me, almost as though someone had been watching my life very closely in the last few months. I knew the thought was ridiculous, if not paranoid.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “So, you’ll take the job?”

  “Depending on the rate, I’ll consider it.” I wasn’t going to hang around slime for pennies on the dollar. I quoted him my normal rate.

  “We’ll double it,” Winston said, a Cheshire-cat smile on his face.

  I was almost ashamed that my pulse quickened. “That should work.”

  “Very well. We have a preliminary hearing set up for two days from now. Of course, we’ll be entering a plea of not guilty. And I’m not just saying that because that’s the standard protocol. I’m saying that because I know Franklin T. Marshall. And he couldn’t murder a fly.” He smacked Franklin on the back.

  Franklin attempted to smile, but he looked too tired to make it work.

  “For starters, I know you’ve been a practicing attorney,” Winston said. “Your work speaks for itself.”

  Which meant, of course, he either looked down on it or had no idea who I was. Maybe both. I simply nodded and leaned back in my chair.

  He babbled onward. “Your job is to provide evidence of reasonable doubt. There are facts, and then there are opportunities to show reasonable doubt. You chase every one of those opportunities, give them to me, and I’ll determine how many we need to show the judge to get this case dismissed.”

  “I have questions so I can get to work,” I said.

  “Fire away,” Winston said, moving out of his chair and walking toward his desk.

  “How do the two of you know each other?”

  Winston’s gait had a slight hesitation, although he made it to his desk and picked up a large mug of what I assumed was coffee. He turned, stared at me, and sipped so loudly even I could hear it.

  But it was Franklin who spoke up. “Winston and I worked together a while back to help support a key piece of legislation on behalf of one of my clients.”

  That was a tad cryptic. They’d been in bed together—that was all I heard. “And the client was?”

  Franklin brought his hands together. A light chuckle. “Do we really need to sift through my entire work history? I mean, frankly, those client relationships are confidential. I signed papers saying as much.”

  Defensive and arrogant. I fought the urge to shoot off a zinger that might offend him.

  “Look, Mr. Novak…” Winston was walking back to the table. “We can be a completely open book if we have to go there. Yes, we have certain confidential agreements in place. As an attorney, I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

  Appreciate. That word out of a lawyer’s mouth carried the weight of a feather, and it was deceptively manipulative. I didn’t appreciate his use of the word “appreciate.”

  I swiveled in my chair. Winston sipped more from his mug and then continued. “But at some point, if I feel it will benefit my client, then I’m sure there’s a way we can…uh, find a way around that.” He winked again.

  That creeped me out. I’d rather be courted by a seven-hundred pound grizzly bear. Then again, Winston did have certain features that reminded me of the bear species.

  I decided to point the bull’s-eye straight ahead.

  “Did you kill the woman?” I asked, looking at Franklin.

  “No. Absolutely not. It’s important for me to know that you believe me, Ozzie.”

  I nodded. “Have you ever met her?”

  His eyes shifted to Winston for a moment. “Yes.” A one-word response. This could take a while.

  “How?”

  “We worked together on a special project that involved a foreign government.”

  Special project. Foreign government. This was turning into a buzz-word orgy.

  “Is that protected by confidentiality agreements as well?” I knew my tone came off as feisty.

  Winston had just sat down. “We know this will be raised by the DA’s office, so it’s fair game. They were working through some privacy laws with certain government entities.”

  Better, but not exactly the “open book” I’d been promised. “What is it that you do exactly, Franklin?”

  “I cultivate relationships, assisting companies, legislators, and government entities in understanding the benefits of certain policies.”

  “You’re a fucking lobbyist?” I stopped swiveling, shocked at myself for uttering the phrase. It had just come out. But I didn’t apologize.

  “Lobbyist, yes. Not everyone uses the F-word when describing my job.” Franklin’s chin lifted slightly, as if he were proud of his role in the world. I was certain he had justified his job countless times.

  “Back to your special project. What governments were involved?”

  He rubbed his shiny forehead. “India, Malaysia, Indonesia.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve overlooked a key piece of information that will help me look for those opportunities of reasonable doubt. What was the victim’s name?”

  “Pamela Connor.”

  I nodded. “And she worked for this company that had retained you?”

  “I see you understand how the process works. Yes, she worked for LogicShip, in their Government Affairs Division.”

  “And how would you describe t
he full nature of your relationship?”

  He paused.

  “Did you have arguments? Did anyone witness those arguments? Did you hardly work together at all? Was it more of an email, texting, phone relationship?”

  His eyes dropped to the table, as if they were searching for a safe place. A few seconds later, Winston nudged him, and Franklin lifted his head. His gray eyes were glassy.

  “I…” He cleared his throat. “Pamela and I were dating.” His voice had a little less rigor behind it.

  “Dating.” I waited a beat and then said, “Are you married?”

  He pursed his lips and gave a stiff nod. “Elaine. Twenty-one years. Two kids, ages sixteen and fourteen.” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “Does your wife know?”

  “Oh boy, does she.”

  I shifted my eyes to Winston, who said, “He talked to her early this morning. By now, she’s probably already pulled the kids out of school, packed some bags, and started to drive to her parents’ place in Maryland.”

  A hush fell over our space. I pondered my next question but also gave Franklin some time to pull it together.

  “And I’ll be able to speak to Elaine to verify your alibi?”

  “Uh, sure, if she’ll take your call,” Franklin said.

  “For now,” Winston said, chiming in, “let’s just assume she’ll back it up.”

  I could feel my brow furrow.

  “If this turns into a divorce, we don’t want to unnecessarily rock the boat,” Winston added.

  “Ah, it’s a money concern,” I said.

  No response. I moved on to another topic. “Was Pamela married?”

  Franklin said, “Oh, no. Very independent. She is…was…quite brilliant. Very focused on her career. She was going to do really big things in this world.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was driven. Had lots of goals. I mean, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see her as a CEO in five years or running for national office. Actually, not just run but win. She had great ideas, knew how to strategize with the best of them, but could get into logistical details if needed. Very impressive.”

  “Is that what attracted you to her?”

  He looked off, nodding. He didn’t care for my line of questioning, it was obvious.

  He brought his hands together. “I’m not used to being in this position—”

  “Of weakness? Where you don’t call all the shots?” I looked to Winston. “I’m assuming you’ve prepared him for what to expect as this process moves forward.”

  Franklin jumped in before Winston could respond. “I’ve already been humbled, thank you. The DA has already done a bang-up job with that.”

  We exchanged a few more details about his work and then moved on to talk about the cause of death and where the body was found—on the deck of a swanky suite at the Four Seasons.

  “Did you see her last night?”

  “Yes. We…uh, spent the night together. Well, part of the night. We’d thrown a little party in the suite earlier with some delegates from the countries we were hosting. I had the room booked for three days, so we figured, you know...”

  I knew. He gave me more details of their night. He’d left the room at just after midnight to go make an overseas call with a dignitary from India. From there, he decided to go home so he could wake up next to his wife. Quite the gentleman.

  “And Pamela wouldn’t wake up and wonder where you were?”

  “She’s nothing like that. She’s not like a wife that you have to check in with every few hours or they think you’re off cheating on her with a bimbo.”

  I let that statement hang in the air a couple of seconds.

  He dotted his forehead with his handkerchief again.

  “So, we just need to figure out who had access to the room, maybe get some video from the hotel, and we should be able to expose the real killer. Or at least verify that Franklin doesn’t show up on the video near the time of death. Sounds pretty cut-and-dry to me.”

  They looked at each other, and then Winston spoke. “The DA says he has video of Franklin walking down the hall on the fourteenth floor at four a.m. That’s right around the time they believed she was killed.”

  I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry. I began to question if I’d heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

  “They claim to have a snippet of video of Franklin on the same floor as the Congressional Suite.”

  Ah, the Congressional Suite for the congressional arm-twister.

  “And your position is that there’s no way that person is you?” I asked Franklin.

  “I did not kill Pamela. I cared about her. Why would I want to kill her?”

  Franklin was beginning to sound like a politician, which reminded me of a fungus I’d get on the bottom of my foot during indoor swim season. He hadn’t answered my question, and then he’d asked me an open-ended question—one that was unanswerable, really.

  “Do you have any contacts in the DA’s office?” Winston asked.

  His directness caught me off guard, but not for long. “I’ve had to work with them on occasion. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Good, because I don’t want to have to use Brook in a way that could jeopardize her job.”

  Winston was acting like his role as firm partner meant that he could act as chief puppeteer. Did he not understand that even if he asked Brook, she could say no? Or tell him to go to hell? I began to question my role in all of this. But I didn’t push back, not yet. I concluded the questioning and said I’d be in touch if or when I had more information. I got out of my chair.

  “So, between us,” Winston said, “I think the DA is bluffing about this video evidence.”

  “Isn’t that a bluff that could backfire?”

  The lawyer’s hands dropped to the table. I noticed they were manicured and covered in rings—one was particularly gaudy, like a Super Bowl ring. “Possibly. Hopefully. Maybe they have the video, but it’s someone who looks like Franklin. They told us, obviously, to try to get Franklin to cave. But he didn’t. They might very well be sweating bullets. But if they are bluffing, I’m not only going to use this to expose their underhanded tactics, I’m going to sue this city into bankruptcy.” Winston leaned back, rested his arms on his oversized belly, and sneered.

  “What’s the cause of death?” I asked, trying to ignore his smug look.

  “Strangulation,” Winston said.

  I nodded.

  “One more thing, Ozzie.” Franklin looked at Winston and then at me. “I’ve been threatened recently.”

  “With your life?”

  He nodded.

  “Phone calls, emails, in person?”

  “Typed notes, usually left on my car, although I found one in my briefcase.” He rubbed his forehead. “Still can’t figure out how that one got in there.”

  “Why do you think you received these threats?”

  “I didn’t think much of it at first. I mean, given my job, I piss people off. So, I thought it was just some bitter person who wanted to beat his chest and prove he could scare me. I didn’t get scared. It pissed me off a little, but I was never really worried.”

  I asked if he still had them.

  “I like to keep control of my world, so I threw them all away. All except this last one.” He motioned his head toward Winston, who unfolded a note on the table. I read it to myself.

  You’re a lying, cheating bastard. Change or you will die.

  My blood went cold. “Did you show this to the DA?”

  “Nope,” Winston said. “Not appropriate to show our cards at the time. It goes in the drawer of opportunities.”

  I could have sworn that Winston smiled, as if he’d somehow planted the note to give Franklin some type of excuse. But did it really? The note was directed at him and his cheating habits. The person was threatening to kill him, not Pamela. But I wasn’t going to argue minor points. I asked Winston to take a picture of it and send it to my phone.

  �
�I’ll have my assistant do it.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. “I’ll be in touch.”

  I headed out to the lobby and knew the first thing I needed to do: take a shower.

  4

  Huddled with me on the front steps of the building, Brook and Noah agreed that, for now, I shouldn’t share confidential information with them. They asked only general questions: “Do you believe that Franklin didn’t murder that woman?” “Does he have a solid alibi?” “Are they asking you to break the law to clear his name?”

  The last question from Noah caught me by surprise.

  “Why would you ask me that?”

  He looked off for a second, his thin hair fluttering in the breeze. He was thick, no more than an inch or two taller than Brook. It seemed as though he were rummaging through a myriad of thoughts. It looked painful.

  Finally, he said, “Franklin doesn’t have Boy Scout ethics.”

  “He’s a lobbyist,” I said, stating the obvious. “I don’t want to disparage every single person in that industry, but ‘Boy Scout ethics’ and ‘lobbyist’ aren’t typically used in the same sentence.”

  He swallowed. “I get what you’re saying, Oz. But he didn’t come out of my momma’s womb as a lobbyist. The egg was hatched, so to speak, and then came the chicken.”

  “Chicken-shit loser,” Brook muttered, and though I couldn’t hear her clearly, I could read her lips. Her arms were crossed, although her body was leaning against Noah’s. I considered that a good sign. The stress hadn’t created a fissure in their relationship; they had each other to confide in. I hoped that would continue.

  “I’m assuming you’ve never met the victim, Pamela Connor?”

  Noah looked at me like I’d grown a third eye.

  “Are you kidding me? I hardly know my niece and nephew. I’ve spoken to Elaine maybe three or four times in the last ten years. Texted a few times just to get ideas for presents for the kids. But, damn, can you imagine being married to that lying sack of shit? She ought to get some type of medal.”

  “And what about Franklin? How often did you guys talk?”

  “I couldn’t stomach much of his bullshit. And he didn’t like to feel the guilt. So it was a mutual arrangement of avoidance.”