Chapter 2 Victoria
Victoria
This was her life, Victoria thought checking the full-length mirror behind her closet door.
Her black suit was classic, stylish and functional all at once.
The skirt scraped a few inches above her knees, the jacket, when buttoned, created the perfect hour-glass figure.
She looked professional and serious, her dark hair cut into layers that fell in soft waves past her shoulders.
As for jewelry, she wore stud earrings that were barely visible except for a quick glimmer when she shifted and her hair moved, and her school ring on her left ring finger.
Simple and to the point. That’s how she liked to keep things.
One last turn to the side showed off her legs highlighted by four-inch heel, peep-toe pumps.
Her gaze lingered on the shoes a second or two longer as she acknowledged her one true obsession.
Some women loved ice cream, or hand bags (that was Grace) or she even knew a woman that was simply obsessed with fragrances.
She worked in one of the offices at the Justice Center and Victoria developed a headache each time she passed the woman’s desk, the scents were so strong.
So, she loved shoes. That wasn’t a crime.
And these had been a splurge for her seeing as they cost a good chunk of her paycheck.
Still, she figured she didn’t party, drink, gamble or otherwise waste the money she made.
In fact, she paid her bills and some of her retired mother’s.
Naomi Lashley refused to move into a senior home and refused even more sternly to move in with her daughter or to let her daughter move in with her.
She was a proud, independent woman and had raised Victoria to be the same way.
That’s why Victoria didn’t argue with her, but did what she could to make the pension check her mother received from the Clark County School System stretch as far as it could for her.
Not that Victoria was getting rich off her salary as assistant district attorney in Clark County.
It definitely wasn’t the paycheck that kept her going to work each day.
She would say a passion for the law, fighting for justice, and the night of her sophomore dance were the driving forces behind her career choice.
And she didn’t regret them one bit. She loved her work, felt it was more rewarding than money and privilege could ever be.
So what she rented her house instead of purchasing a condo or a home of her own.
Her car, a three-year old Honda Accord was a serviceable and attractive vehicle that she could comfortably afford.
That’s the word Victoria would use to describe her life, comfortable. And she was just fine with that.
Half an hour later she parked her car in the garage and used the walk-thru to connect to the Justice Center.
Taking the elevator to her floor she spoke to co-workers who were both happy and downright pissed that they had to be there.
She never could figure out why more people weren’t thankful to have a job, even if it was one they didn’t particularly care for.
Victoria loved her job. Prosecuting criminals was exhilarating and liberating, especially since her father’s senseless murder more than ten years ago.
Victoria had promised herself that she’d seek justice for all the innocent victims in the state of Nevada.
After graduating law school she worked as a clerk Judge January and on his recommendation was hired two years later by the Clark County District Attorney’s office.
It had been another two years since she’d been practicing, going to court to prosecute felony trials.
Today, however, she didn’t have anything on her docket.
Her day would most likely be spent reading over upcoming cases.
Walking into her office she said a warm good morning to Evelyn and Roxanne, the two secretaries who worked the reception area for the felony trial division.
“Good morning, Victoria. No calls,” Evelyn said with her daily smile.
Evelyn was a thirty-something year old, mother of three who had been with the District Attorney’s office for twelve years.
Roxanne mouthed the words “good morning”.
She was on the phone. Again. Twenty-two years old and as mature as one of Evelyn’s middle school kids, Roxanne had a lot to learn about working in a professional environment.
She was going to college, but hadn’t yet selected a major.
Victoria figured that could be attributed to the fact that she didn’t want to do anything besides talk on the phone and hang out with her friends.
If her father hadn’t been a district attorney for forty years and pulled some serious strings for her, she wouldn’t have this position.
There were days when Victoria wished he hadn’t pulled those strings.
Proceeding down the short hallway, her steps muffled by the worn carpeted floor, she passed two offices with doors closed—other ADA’s hard at work first thing in the morning.
Probably not, but it looked good. Her office was the third on the left.
Walking inside she dropped her bag on the chair situated near the door and moved to her desk where she slapped her purse down.
“Did you hear?” a woman’s voice interrupted Victoria’s morning ritual before it could even begin. “Jules had Ramone Vega indicted again.”
Grace had also gotten a position at the DA’s office.
Hers came complete with a husband who was a judge in the traffic division.
Even though Grace’s dream had been to marry rich enough so she didn’t have to work, she seemed to really love Clinton Ramsey.
And she was actually a pretty good prosecutor when she cared enough about the case to prosecute it thoroughly.
Which could sometimes be an uphill battle when she was feeling that a good number of the criminals she prosecuted would eventually be released for one bureaucratic reason or another.
“Really?” Sitting in her chair Victoria switched on her computer, then swiveled to reach for the strings that would close the blinds to her window.
It was a gorgeous, sun-blazing, temperature-rising day in Las Vegas, but the sun’s beams were a bit too bright for her this early in the morning.
Grace was nodding as she gave Victoria her bag that she’d removed from the chair where she was now preparing to sit. Grace was also seven-and-a-half months pregnant. Standing was not a good idea for her at any time of day.
She folded her hands resting them on the bridge of her protruding belly. “Grand jury convened first thing Wednesday morning. Indictment was filed just before the clerk’s office closed last night. Jules is happy as a jaybird.”
“Wow,” was all Victoria could say at the moment.
She looked at her watch, it was barely nine thirty.
“That was a first degree murder case, a witness statement but no witness to testify and no prints on the gun. But Vega’s a known criminal.
He’s Pena’s hit man, everybody knows that.
I can’t believe that jury refused to convict him. Damn.”
“You said it right there, Vega is well-known in this area. There’re more people out there afraid of him and Louverde’s gang than there are in this entire city. Who’s going to find him guilty and risk retaliation?” Grace asked dryly.
“Even if he’s a drug-dealing killer?” Victoria couldn’t believe it. This man had a rap sheet as long as both her arms put together. He was dangerous and he was cocky as hell. He belonged behind bars. “You think Jules is going to re-try the case himself?”
Grace began fanning herself, the wispy bangs of her blonde-frosted hair lifting with the effort.
She looked completely miserable, Victoria had to admit.
Her once pert nose was now pudgy and was always red at the tip.
That coupled with her light brown complexion, made her look like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer even in the midst of summer.
She was always hot, so there were no sleeves to her black dress, which fanned out into a full skirt beneath her heavy breasts.
Once Victoria’s shoe shopping buddy, Grace now wore ballet flats whenever she didn’t kick them off and simply put on her house slippers.
“He doesn’t have a choice,” Grace replied. “The mayor and the DA will be on his ass if he doesn’t.”
Victoria nodded. “True.”
Two seconds after that acknowledgement Julius Talmadge, III, the felony trial division chief, was standing in her doorway.
“I need to see you in my office. Now,” he said to Victoria.
Then he was gone. Grace shrugged and braced her hands on the sides of the chair attempting to push herself up. After watching her friend’s unsuccessful efforts, Victoria chuckled and stood before walking around her desk. Reaching out she grabbed Grace’s hands. “On three,” she prompted.
Grace nodded.
“One. Two. Three.” She pulled and Grace basically pushed all her weight forward until Victoria took a couple steps back with Grace coming up to her feet. “Girl, you can’t last much longer,” she said as Grace let her hands drop to her side and tried to catch her breath.
“I know that’s right,” she said. “Now get on down that hall and call me the minute you come out of his office.”
She waddled out of the office and Victoria took a deep breath. Heading toward Jules’ office felt like walking to the principal’s office.
Of all the things in the world he could have said, Victoria would have never guessed this would be it.
“You want me to handle the new murder trial?” she asked, befuddlement clear in her tone.
“That’s right. Enter your appearance. File it and hand-deliver, along with a stack of discovery motions, to that cocky ass defense counsel at the end of the day. I want a new trial date ASAP and I want Vega picked up again and held on a no-bail status,” Jules said.
She’d taken her legal pad and pen with her into Jules’ office and was scribbling furiously as he talked. He, unlike her, had not closed his blinds so the glare shot across the room landing right on her bright yellow paper. The annoying glare making everything she wrote look like blurry lines.
“What were the specific grounds for the mistrial?” she asked.
“Because he’s got a cocky, rich attorney who thinks all he has to do is smile at the jury and they’ll believe whatever he says,” Jules spat, contempt dripping from every word.
Most prosecutors didn’t like defense attorneys. That was nothing new. But Victoria had a feeling this went a little beyond normal camaraderie. “Is that what the jury said?” she asked cautiously.
Jules could be very temperamental when he was working a case. He could also be a bit arrogant and on the better side of being an asshole himself, so she was taking his comments about defense counsel with a huge grain of salt.
His response was to slam both his palms down on his desk. The keyboard shook and his pencil holder tipped over, spilling its contents onto the blotter. But Jules’ dark gaze stayed fixed on her. She only realized when the silence alerted her something was wrong and she looked up from her notepad.
“I just meant—” She started but stopped when he began shaking his head.
“He’s got a silver spoon stuck up his ass and thinks that makes him invincible. The jury said they couldn’t reach an agreement. Half of them thought he was guilty and the other half thought innocent, because that damned attorney gave them some bogus alternative scenario in his closing.”
Victoria nodded. It sounded to her like defense counsel had done his job. But she wasn’t about to say that to Jules. “And the problematic defense counsel is?”
“Benjamin “I’m the King of the World” Donovan,” he said with pure, unadulterated disgust.
Normally, Victoria made a valiant attempt to be on Jules’ side whenever possible, just because they worked together and an allegiance to the justice system should come before personal opinions—at least when it had to do with work issues.
This time there was another reason entirely to stand on the man’s side.
As he’d said the name, Victoria’s insides did something weird and if she’d been standing she might have faltered.
Instead she tapped her pen against the pad and vowed this was going to be the best case of her career.