11. Michael
Chapter 11
Michael
I pace up and down my office, spinning the pen around in my hand in an attempt to balance my thoughts and somehow find a silver lining or at least some sort of solution .
I throw the pen up, reach out to catch it, and then forget about it and let it drop to the floor when someone knocks on the door.
“Yes?” I call out.
Brenda’s head pops in.
“Mr. Richmond is here to see you,” she says.
I gesture with my hand. “Let him in.”
Peter walks in seconds later, a briefcase in hand.
“You could have walked right in,” I say, going to sit down. “Why did you have Brenda announce you?”
“It was her idea. She said you’ve been pacing around your office all day, and she didn’t want anyone interrupting whatever it is you’re trying to figure out,” he explains.
I groan. “I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about. Why is it that you came to see me? I don’t think we have any meetings today, do we?”
“Actually, we do,” he says, opening the briefcase and bringing out a stack of documents. “But seeing as you don’t remember, Brenda might be spot on.”
I grab one of the thick document files see the words green and environmental on it, and throw it back on the pile.
“Spot on about what?”
“The nature of your problem. In her words, it’s something so personal that you might wear out your carpet before you find an answer. Which brings me to my question—as a friend, what is going on with you?”
I wave my hand.
“Nothing. Nothing that you should concern yourself with. And you should stop listening to Brenda. She’s not right about everything.”
But it is uncanny how she knows me so well.
Peter shakes his head. “That’s not true. Brenda knows you better than you know yourself. Whatever she says, I believe. And I’m asking as a friend, not your employee.”
My eyebrows crease.
“You’re more than an employee to me, Peter. I’m sure you know that.”
“Yeah, I do. That’s why I’m using that privilege to find out what is wrong. I’m certain it’s a personal matter, and I’ve never seen you get so worked up over anything.”
“Even if you don’t want to tell me in detail, at least tell me something to get it off your mind,” he insists.
That wouldn’t hurt.
I blow out breath from my puckered lips and crack my knuckles.
“Alright. Here goes. Let’s say you run into the most infuriating person you’ve met in your entire life. You decide on the spot that you want nothing to do with that person, but then a part of you realizes that you’ve never met anyone who intrigues you so much.”
“That you secretly want to meet up with that person again.”
I tap my desk. “And somehow, your paths cross again and again. At some point, the two of you have to be together for a certain amount of time because you agree to help them with something.”
“Are you worried that you might like her?” Peter asks concerned.
My eyes dart around the office.
“Maybe?” I confess.
“Wow.” He says surprised.
“I know. I know. I don’t want to feel this way, vulnerable. I hate it, and if I could change my mind I would but… I think it’s my heart. Not my mind.”
Peter laughs, and I look at him puzzled.
“What was that for?”
“For as long as I’ve known you no woman has had the power to make you pace around your office. You’ve never sweated over anyone before, Michael. So, for you to be this way? It’s rather entertaining.”
I roll my eyes. “Really? That’s what you get from all this. That I’m your new source of amusement.”
He laughs. “Not really. But it’s fun, I have to admit. You never had a hair out of place, never break a sweat, you’re always so calm and confident. One might say you glide through life, or at least that is the way it seems.”
“Well, I basically do,” I say. “My dad always had my back. He paid my tuition through school so all I had to do was get the grades and make time for fun, no worries.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter rolls his eyes. “The struggles of being an only child. Who is she, though?”
“Who?”
“The woman. The one that has you all out of sorts? I’d like to meet her.” Peter says.
I chuckle.
Wouldn’t you? I wonder what would happen if you find out that she’s your sister—but also that I’m representing her in a murder case where she’s the prime suspect.
“Soon,” I say instead, knowing that it’s better to give him hope than to keep on denying and get continuously pestered.
“If you say so. Alright then. The reason why I’m here…” Peter resumes a business-like tone.
“Let’s get down to business.”
***
Two hours after I meet with Peter, Brenda knocks on the door.
“Sir. There’s a policeman here to see you.”
“A cop?” My eyes widen with curiosity.
“I think he’s a detective since he’s in plain clothes.”
“How do you know, then?” I ask. “Your keen sense of observation? The magic that has kept you working for me longer than any other secretary?”
Brenda rolls her eyes.
“No. He did not have an appointment, and I wouldn’t let him through, so he showed me his badge.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Fair enough. Let him in.”
The man walks in a minute later, wearing a horizontal-patterned black and gray shirt with washed jeans.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Stone.”
“Afternoon. Please sit down.” I gesture towards the chair.
“How may I help you?”
“I’m working on the homicide case.”
I know which case he is referring to, but as a lawyer, I know I must never jump to conclusions.
“Which case, now? My firm handles hundreds of homicide-related cases every year.”
“The one involving Brandon Portman and Savannah Richmond, one of your employees.”
“And you’re here because…?”
He leans forward.
“I should introduce myself first. My name is Ben Stuart. I’m a detective on the case, and I heard that you are representing Miss Richmond.”
I nod slowly, studying his tone and his expression to figure out where this conversation is going. Whether he’s about to give me helpful information or he’s here to let me know they have more evidence against my client.
“As you know, Elaine Rogers is the lead detective on this case. She’s the kind who likes to close cases based on what she thinks are the facts. If all fingers point to a certain person, that person becomes her main suspect. That’s how she operates.”
“I know,” I say sarcastically.
“Good. However, certain facts have come to light in the course of our investigation. We found out that Mr. Portman’s friend, Eric Windsor, had been to his house the night before his body was found.” Ben divulges.
“They argued, and then a neighbor said she heard Eric threaten to kill Mr. Portman if he did not pay his debt or something to that effect.”
I cross my arms.
“And you think Eric Windsor might have killed Brandon?” I ask.
Stuart shrugs. “It’s possible. It is a part of the puzzle, but Elaine is bent on nailing Miss Richmond for the same reason. The only difference is only one person saw Mr. Windsor leave the apartment, and a lot of people heard Miss Richmond’s words at the crowded restaurant.”
I sigh, leaning my back on the chair.
“I need to know why you’re telling me this, Mr. Stuart. I know it’s not because you like me.”
“I believe we can help each other out,” he says.
“OK,” I chuckle. “Help each other out. You have a problem, don’t you? And you need my help.”
He nods.
“I have exceptional attorneys working here, Mr. Stuart. You don’t need a recommendation from me; all you need to do is make an appointment, any one of them would be happy to hear you out. As long as you can pay the rate.”
He looks a little disappointed, as though he expected a deal.
But the truth is—
“I hired a private investigator to look into Mr. Portman. I have a list of everyone he knows—more than just casual acquaintances—and everyone those people know. I know Mr. Windsor met with Brandon the night before the superintendent found his body.” Ben continues.
“Even though the CCTV cameras that were working that night did not have him on record,” I say.
When a look of shock crosses his face, I snort.
“Surprised? That’s my job, Detective Stuart. Like you said, I have a personal stake in the matter. So when you find something that completely exonerates Miss Richmond, then we can make a deal.”
“Until then, I’m good with Elaine Rogers threading her own noose. Thank you.” I say.
“Okay,” he nods, pushing the chair back to get up. “I let you know what I find.”
“I hope so,” I reply. “It’s good to have the police in my corner.”
As he opens the door to leave, Savannah walks in, looking frantic.
“You can go,” I say goodbye to the detective, and he hurries away, closing the door behind him.
“I’m going to jail,” she says.
My jaw drops.
“What?” I reply puzzled.
“Yeah. They—it’s a full-blown investigation now. And since I don’t have any evidence to prove that I didn’t do it, Elaine Roger has filed a petition to the court to arrest me.
I’m going to jail, Michael! I’m going to prison for the rest of my life for something I didn’t do!”