Tuesday’s Child

parked.

“Why do I always get the shit detail?” Ginger groaned as she retraced her steps and took the elevator to Ryan Spenser’s office. When Spenser’s secretary told her Spenser had left to attend a meeting, Ginger almost fainted in relief. The secretary took notes as Ginger rattled off what had happened at the evidence locker and at her and Don’s meeting with Donna Holmes.

“Oh, this is not good.”

“No, it isn’t, and I, for one, don’t give a good rat’s ass, either. I’m just the messenger,” Ginger said cheerfully. “And I heard somewhere that shooting the messenger has gone out of style. See you when I see you.”

Chapter 17

KALA AULANI AND JAY BRIGHTON STEPPED OUT OF THE ELEVATOR onto the floor of the attorney general’s suite of offices. “I appreciate your coming along, Kala, but I could have handled this myself. You did tell me when you left that you were not going to stick your nose into the firm’s business and that you really were retired. And yet, here we are! You just got back from Paris a few hours ago. Why don’t you have jet lag like everyone else?” Jay groused under his breath.

Kala smoothed down the wrinkles of her white linen jacket and skirt, which now looked like she had slept in them. Underneath the jacket she wore a scarlet silk blouse that matched the flower she’d pinned above her ear. She was in battle-dress mode. “That’s all partially true, Jay. But you left off the part where I said I was going to see Sophie’s case through to the end. I don’t have jet lag because I ate almonds. I never get jet lag. Besides, I couldn’t pass up a chance to see Ryan Spenser again. You think he’ll offer to kiss my feet to make this all go away? A small wager, Jay. Mr. Spenser is going to be downright testy today. I read the headlines this morning,” Kala said, as she stepped through the doors to the reception area.

“Nice digs. Our taxpayer dollars at work,” she murmured, as Jay gave their names to the gorgeous receptionist with the two-inch-long fingernails that were painted bloodred. Kala looked down at her own French manicure, which she’d gotten at the spa before they left to return home. A lovely manicure it was and truly French.

“How do you suppose that chick wipes her rear end with those nails?” Jay hissed in Kala’s ear as they took seats in the reception area.

“And how do you think I would know the answer to that?”

Jay shrugged. Kala had to fight to keep from laughing.

“Did you rehearse a speech or anything, or are you going in cold turkey?” Jay asked in a jittery voice.

Kala fixed a steely gaze on Jay and grinned. “Here’s the deal. I’ll say, ‘Pay my client what I asked, or we’re outta here, and I’ll hold a press conference within an hour of my leaving. ’ Do you think that will work?”

“Well, gee whiz, I don’t see why not. You’re the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. Hell, they might even give you a check before you walk out of here. You do know you’re all wrinkled, right?”

“Linen is supposed to wrinkle. Don’t you know anything about women’s fashions?”

“No,” Jay snapped as he whipped to his feet the moment the door off the reception area opened. He turned to look at Kala, and as always in tense moments, he thought her one of the most beautiful women he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. She was still as beautiful as she had been the day she’d hired him light-years ago. At that moment, she not only looked beautiful, she looked intimidating as hell. No one was going to push this lady around. No one.

All the men seated at the conference table, and there were a lot of them, rose when Kala and Jay entered the room. The lone woman remained seated. No one missed the red hibiscus flower in Kala’s ear. Early on in her career, Kala had given numerous interviews and said that wearing the flower meant she was a female warrior and ready to go into battle. Red was for going into battle, and white was for victory. Of course, she had made that up out of whole cloth, but no one but she and Jay knew it was make-believe Hawaiian folklore, fully on a par with the bit about putting a hex on Ryan Spenser. She had a standing order at a local flower shop to supply her with the gorgeous flowers whenever she demanded them. One time she had refused to enter the courtroom until one was delivered to her out in the court hallway. The flower shop’s delivery truck had not been on time that particular day. She’d made headlines that day and switched to a white hibiscus when the jury came back with their verdict.

The amenities over, coffee poured, pens in hand, mostly Montblanc, the informal meeting was ready to get under way. Nothing chintzy about this group, Kala thought. When no one made an effort to be first to speak, Kala decided to take the bull by the horns. First, though, she fiddled with the flower in her ear for just a few moments. When she was satisfied the flower was secure, Kala leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. Just another folksy meeting. Not.

“This is the second meeting you’ve called with my firm, and yes, I am once again a member of the firm before you can ask. Let’s get right to it. You have our numbers. You all know what has been going on. My client is demanding restitution, and she will not budge on the numbers. So that leaves us where we were at your last meeting with my associate, Mr. Brighton, who is sitting beside me right now. I’m not here to dicker, to negotiate, or to play games, and I have absolutely no desire to play nice. Time is money, people. Maybe all of you on the taxpayer dole can waste your time, but I go by billable hours as do all lawyers.”

Kala held up her hand. “One person here at this table speak to me. Give me your position right now and don’t tell me you don’t have a position. Don’t go the route the state has no money. If you don’t have it, find it. I’m not interested in hearing any of that. The clock is ticking, people.” Kala leaned back in her chair. Her slender fingers caressed the flower in her hair.

Someone cleared his throat. Feet shuffled under the polished conference table. Eyes flinty and steely glared at Kala and her partner from around the table.

A lone voice that sounded like it was a mixture of molasses and grit finally spoke. “We have no other choice but to agree to your terms. We want a protective order on this. We’re giving in to your demands with four payments over two years. It’s the best we can do. The first payment of five million by ten o’clock tomorrow morning followed by the second payment on December thirty-first. The same payment schedule for next year.”

Kala fiddled with the scarlet flower in her hair before she slid her chair back and rose to her feet. “Nice try! Two payments, the first payable now, the second payment due December thirty-first. Of this year. Divide ten and one- half years into the total payment, then tell me if any one of you sitting at this table would spend those years in prison for any amount of money. Just one of you.” Kala looked at first one face, then another, finally coming to rest on Ryan Spenser. “What, all of a sudden you’re clams? Tomorrow morning, my office, check in hand. And have Mr. Spenser deliver it. There is nothing else to negotiate, so my partner and I will see ourselves out.”

Kala reached up and plucked the brilliant-colored hibiscus from her hair. She walked around the table and dropped it in front of Ryan Spenser. She leaned over and whispered loud enough for the others at the table to hear her. “And I haven’t even started with you yet.”

Outside in the reception area, Jay clapped Kala on the back. “Nice going in there. Do you really think Spenser will show tomorrow with check in hand?”

“Oh yeahhhh,” Kala drawled. “He might even have a bell around his neck to announce his arrival.” They both laughed all the way down in the elevator. They were still chuckling when they walked into the office at ten- thirty.

At eleven-thirty, retired Judge Ben Jefferson called Kala on the phone to tell her that Ryan Spenser had filed a suit against her, accusing her of stealing evidence from the evidence locker in the Sophie Lee trial.

“He had also conned some judge into signing a search warrant to search your house and your offices, one of those young squirts I was telling you about back in Paris. Not to worry, my dear, I still have a few loyal friends at the courthouse. And remember, I’m still a lawyer; I filed a motion to quash it on your behalf. You can take it from there.”

“Oh, Ben, thank you. Don’t you want to know how it went at the meeting?”

“Only if you tell me you lost, which I assume you didn’t; otherwise, Spenser wouldn’t have asked for a search warrant and filed the suit. Are you going to call a press conference? Congratulations!”

“Nah. I don’t want to come across as cocky just yet. You wanna take me to dinner to celebrate? Oh, one other thing, Ben. If you have time today, stop by the post office to pick up my mail. Drop it off at my house, and I’ll go