Playing Dirty Page 11

  That night ended like all the others. I was high to the point of delirium, and I ended up being put in my penthouse by God knows who.

  I awoke to my BlackBerry ringing. I grabbed for it and read the messages. There was one from Sheldon Chisholm. I sat up in my bed, wincing at my spinning head. I placed the phone to my ear and listened.

  “Ms. Lomax, I was arrested for a murder I didn’t commit. You need to come see me now!” he barked into the receiver.

  I almost dropped the phone. What the hell did Sheldon go and do now? He was supposed to keep his shit clean; I mean, he knew his ass was out on bail. I was barely prepared for his simple drug trial with all of the judges getting hemmed up by the feds, and now this.

  I stood up on wobbly legs and walked to the bathroom. When I looked up at myself in the mirror, I was horrified. My hair was standing up on my head, and my slanted Asian eyes were almost swollen shut. My cheeks were puffy and my skin was ashen. I was immediately reminded of the old…not-so-fabulous me: the Yoshi who barely had two outfits in college and who wore no makeup and never had her hair professionally done.

  Looking in that mirror took me back to a sad place in my life—to a time when I was fucking for money just to eat and to help my mother pay my way through school. I looked at myself again and remembered that although I had diamonds, cars, a penthouse, and every designer label imaginable, I was still a third-generation Korean-peasant piece of shit.

  I held my head down over the sink and splashed water on my face. I had to do something with myself; I couldn’t go back to those days and that was right where I was heading. I was at the point that I wasn’t just dabbling with cocaine; I was full out chasin’ it. And it was getting out of control. So out of control that I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I knew one thing, though. If I didn’t get my shit back in order, I was going to fall flat on my face, and no one was going to help me get back up—not even Maria.

  So I yelled for Ophelia to get me a drink from my minibar, while I took a hot shower. I knew I was going to need some type of alcohol in me to deal with Sheldon’s bullshit this morning. Immediately after I stepped into my tub, I buried my face underneath the shower nozzle for a good five minutes until I was completely awake. Moments later I bathed myself and then I got out of the shower to get dressed. I knew time was of the essence, so it didn’t take me long to throw on some attire. I ended up slipping on a pair of Chip & Pepper jeans, along with a cute little button-down Polo shirt. And since I wasn’t in the mood to do anything special to my hair, I combed it back into a ponytail and headed out the door.

  On my way down to the Miami-Dade County Jail, I told myself to stay calm. Sheldon needed me; it wasn’t the other way around. I also told myself that I would be charging his ass another two hundred thousand for this murder case. He’d paid me to get him off on those drug charges, but a body? Nah, he was going to have to come up out of his pocket for this shit. I had already placed a call to the district attorney’s office to find out who was on the case. I was told the assistant district attorney assigned to the case was Tiffany Wheatt, and she wasn’t one of the ADAs on my payroll.

  “Fuck me!” I cursed out loud when I found out who I was assigned. Where the fuck was Brad? He had taken my fucking money and promised me freedom for Sheldon, and up until now I hadn’t heard from his fucking ass. I had a bone to pick with him.

  I sat in the attorney waiting area as I waited for the CO to bring Sheldon over to me. I didn’t realize it at first, but my legs were shaking back and forth nervously. I had to catch myself—this wasn’t me. I was usually cool as a cucumber under pressure. But I had noticed that my nerves had been on edge since I started tooting again. So when I looked up and saw them approaching, I inhaled and thought of what I would say.

  Sheldon hobbled over to the chair in front of me. He was handcuffed in the front, and his feet were shackled. His face, as usual, held no expression, except for the ugly grill he was born with.

  “It’s good to know you got my message,” he said, frowning.

  “Yes, I did,” I said, and then I looked down into my folder, like I was looking over some notes.

  “So, what’s gonna happen now? What are my chances of getting out of here?”

  “Mr. Chisholm, they are denying bail this time. You were lucky to get out on bail on those drug charges, but they are not having it this time,” I said somberly. I didn’t want to admit to him that I couldn’t pull one fucking string that day to get him out. It was usually nothing for me to get my clients out on bail, even on fucking murder charges. I had no idea what the fuck was going on. There were new judges everywhere, and when I made some phone calls to my old connections on my way down here, I got nowhere.

  It was as if all of my connections had either left abruptly or gotten into some kind of trouble. If I was paranoid, I would think someone was setting them all up just to fuck with me.

  “I did not do it,” Sheldon said coolly.

  “I believe you, but what exactly happened?” I asked. I needed to know all of the circumstances surrounding his arrest.

  “I don’t know. The police came to my business in the afternoon with a warrant for my arrest. They said they had information about a body that turned up in the ocean two months ago, and that information developed that I was the killer. This fucking murder was a year old,” Sheldon explained.

  This encounter was the first time I’d really looked him in the eyes, and beyond his tough exterior, I saw a scared little boy. A little boy who’d been wronged by others all of his life, just like Maria had said. Maybe Sheldon and I did have something in common after all.

  “Who were the detectives?” I wanted to know.

  “Wilson and Maxwell.”

  “Why didn’t you have them contact me before they brought you here?”

  “They didn’t let me say shit! All they were concerned with was putting me in the back of their squad car.”

  “Did you answer questions, or did you invoke your right to remain silent?” I shot questions at him like rapid-fire bullets.

  “Fuck no, I didn’t answer any questions.” Sheldon answered me in the same manner.

  A dangerous gangster, yes; stupid, no. Sheldon was very smart, and that was why I knew I had to be careful representing him. He had already made things clear for me.

  “Listen, I apologize I didn’t get here sooner. I was in court all day yesterday on another case. Plus, I’ve changed offices. I became partner, so I have a new office.” I told lie after lie and didn’t even blink. That was the telltale sign of an addict, lying without thinking or blinking.

  “Well, what’s the plan? I can’t be in here. I have too many enemies,” Sheldon complained, concern underlying his words.

  “I’m going to try to get bail set again. But for murder, I’m not so sure. Your record isn’t exactly squeaky-clean. I’m going to see what I can do…,” I said hesitantly, sending him a clue that I meant I needed more money.

  “How much is this new case going to set me back?” Sheldon asked, catching on quickly.

  “My retainer and billable hours are each one hundred thousand more than the drug case,” I informed him, looking around, to ensure our privacy.

  “Call my brother Karumbo, and he will give you your money. Now I want you to remember that I am still paying for my freedom, so don’t bullshit me on this one,” Sheldon said in a low, harsh whisper, threatening me. He tapped the table, signaling the CO to come get him. I sat there and watched them carry him away.

  Believe me, my mind was racing a mile a minute, so I had to think quickly. Since Brad hadn’t made the federal case go away yet, now I had to deal with the fucking state case. Although I had connections in the Dade County District Attorney’s Office, I didn’t know the bitch who was assigned to Sheldon’s case. I still needed to find out from Brad what he could do. The feds always had the option to step in and take over a state case. That was exactly what Brad better do.

  As I walked to my car, I dialed his number. The first time
I dialed it, I got a disconnected message. I thought I had the wrong number, so I redialed it. The same message played, so my blood started boiling.

  “This motherfucker disconnected his phone number? What kind of shit is this?” I questioned. And since I knew I would get the answer only from him, I headed right over to his place, going at the speed of one hundred miles per hour. Unfortunately for me, though, when I finally got there, I realized that the bastard wasn’t home. How fucking convenient. But it was okay, because I knew where the fuck he worked. So he would be seeing me sooner than he realized.

  New Problems

  I left Brad’s place, drove around the block a few times, and then I turned back around and went right back up to his doorstep. I banged and banged on his door, but still there was no answer.

  “Brad, open this door. I know you can see me on those fucking cameras,” I called out. I stood there for a good ten minutes; no light was shining from under the door. I pressed my ear to it and no sound came from behind it, either. This was weird. I hadn’t given him enough money to say that he had run off with my loot and left me hanging, so I really needed to find out what the hell was going on.

  After standing on his front doorstep for an additional five minutes, I decided to leave. Just as I left, I got a call from Maria. I wasn’t going to answer it because of our beef with one another, but I really needed some questions answered. I picked up the call. “Hello,” I said.

  “You finally answered,” she commented in a sarcastic manner.

  “That’s because I feel like talking to you now,” I responded.

  “So, how have you been?”

  “I’ve been fine, but cut the bullshit and tell me what you want.” I got straight to the point. I mean, there wasn’t any reason to beat around the bush. I wanted to know why the hell she was calling.

  “I called to see if you were ready to confess.”

  “Confess about what?” I barked.

  “Come on now, Yoshi. You and I both know you had something to do with the disappearance of my agents’ informant.”

  “Are you still on that same bullshit, Maria?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Whatcha playing—detective now?”

  She sighed. “Yoshi, kill all of that and come straight with me, please. You know I know your ass like a book, and you’d do anything for a fucking dollar, so tell me what went down.”

  I laughed right in the receiver of the phone. “What is this, a fucking joke? You have got to be kidding me, right?”

  “No, Yoshi, this is a serious matter.”

  “Well, if it’s that fucking serious, then you need to go out into the field and start your investigation, because you aren’t going to get anywhere on this end. I had absolutely no connection with Juan Alvarez’s case blowing up in your guys’ faces, and I had no connection with the disappearance of your informant. I am an attorney. And like I’ve said many times over, I get paid to represent my clients in a courtroom. I don’t run around town sabotaging criminal investigations. That’s just not what I do. So I suggest you turn off the recorder and get off the phone with me and start investigating your own agents, because that’s where the deception lies.”

  “Yoshi, I’m not recording this conversation. What kind of person do you think I am?”

  “The same one who had her agents bust into my office and search it from top to bottom for some bullshit that wasn’t there.”

  “I’m sorry that had to happen. It was out of my control.”

  “Bullshit, Maria! You know you made that call.”

  “Seriously, Yoshi, I didn’t.”

  “Well, who dropped the ball then?”

  “I can’t get into that.”

  “Well, there’s nothing else for us to discuss then.”

  “Well, okay, that’s fine. But let me give you a word of advice, and this is off the record,” she said; then she paused.

  I let out an irritated sigh. “I’m waiting,” I murmured.

  She hesitated for a moment and then she said, “Yoshi, it is going to be in your best interest to give up Sheldon Chisholm’s case.”

  Right away I felt that what she was saying was utter bullshit. “Are you fucking nuts? I’ve got my head buried so far in this fucking case, it’s insane, so I can’t drop it like that!”

  “Yoshi, it’s a lot of shit going on, and I think the best thing for you to do is to walk away right now.”

  “Are you out of your mind? I can’t give that case up,” I replied, indignantly taken aback by her candor in telling me which case to take and which case to let go of. Who the fuck did she think she was?

  “I’m telling you that case reeks of a setup. My agents weren’t even notified about the body Sheldon was charged with until this morning. And there are rumors circulating that someone very important wants Sheldon out of the picture and would do anything to do it. I’m telling you, Yoshi, that case stinks, and you better get out while you’re ahead,” she informed me and warned me, all at the same time.

  “Alright, is that it?” I asked, sounding a bit agitated. At this point I wanted nothing else but to get off the phone with her. She was beginning to freak me out, and I wasn’t liking it one bit.

  “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You got caught in the cross fire once. These drug wars involve a lot of unsavory shit, and the bodies start piling up fast…lawyers too,” she warned again.

  She was starting to piss me off, so I ended the call. “Alright, I’ve heard enough. Talk to you some other time,” I said, and disconnected the line.

  After Maria’s little lecture I pretty much rode home in silence. I realized that things between her and me would never be the same. Even though she gave me leads, she was on one side of the law, and I was indeed on the other. For me, there was no going back. All I could do was wish her the best, because I was going to be fine with that extra five million I had sitting in my account. Too bad Maria didn’t have enough sense to get in on the scheme of things. She could’ve been sitting pretty with a cashier’s check, too. But no! She wanted to play all diplomatic, like she had always upheld the law. Well, I had news for her; times had changed and I had turned over a new leaf. I was always going to look out for Yoshi, and there were no ifs or ands or buts about it.

  As I drove in the direction of my penthouse, my hands began to shake because I wanted to get high off some of that coke I had in the bottom of my handbag. I knew I had only about four blocks left, but my mind was telling me that was too long a drive. So I reached inside my bag and fumbled around for my drugs, but I couldn’t get to it. “Shit!” I cursed. I needed it bad. Finally I stopped at a red light and dug around in the bag a little deeper. “Yes! Found it!” I mumbled.

  Now I was going to sniff a quick pinky-nail-full right there in my car. Just a quick toot before I pulled up to my building. But just as I was about to stick my finger into the plastic bag, the red light changed, so I pulled my foot back from the brake. I pressed down on the accelerator really hard, because at this point I was frustrated. I was this close to feeling the potency of that magic dust, but the fucking light changed before I could blink my damn eye. When I sped off, I lost control of my wheel, trying desperately not to drop a speck of my shit. And right about the time I was trying to regain control of my car, flashing red lights broke up my party as quickly as it was about to start. Startled to death, I looked into my rearview mirror and noticed that an unmarked police car was dead on my ass. It seemed like they just popped out of nowhere.

  “What the fuck are they pulling me over for?” I screamed, banging my hands on the steering wheel. My nose was dripping snot and my mouth was watering, waiting for a hit of that snow.

  I pulled over and put my hazards on. When I peered through the back windshield, I saw a plainclothes officer step out of his car. I was dazed and confused. I threw my coke under my seat. I was so heated. This was a major inconvenience, and I would bet every dime in all my accounts that this bastard knew who I was. Shit, everybody at the
Miami-Dade Police Department knew who I was. My license plate spelled out the very letters of my name. I wasn’t worried about him giving me a ticket. I wasn’t even worried about the cocaine. I was a damn lawyer, I knew my damn rights, and I knew he couldn’t search my car without my consent, an arrest, or a search warrant—all of which were distant thoughts in my mind.

  “What’s the problem, Officer?” I asked as soon as he approached my car.

  “Ma’am, I’m stopping you because I witnessed you swerve your vehicle over the yellow line,” the cop said as he stood before my window.

  “Swerving? That’s crazy! I wasn’t swerving,” I tried to lie, hoping he’d buy into my lie and give me a warning. Shit, I had only two blocks to go before I reached home. So I knew it would not have been much for him to let me go without any more hassling.

  “Ma’am, can I have your license and registration, please?”

  “For what? I wasn’t swerving, I told you,” I began to protest.

  “Have you been drinking, ma’am?” he asked.

  “No, I haven’t.” I lied, knowing damn well I had a drink right before I left my house hours ago. I was hoping the shots of Patrón had worn off by now.

  “Can you turn off the ignition and step out of the car?” the officer asked. He did not wear a name badge, and he spoke with a really horrible Cuban accent.

  “Are you arresting me? If not, I am not stepping out of my car.” I both asked and told him at the same time.

  I watched as he spoke into a small shoulder microphone strapped to his right shoulder. Before I knew it, there were about five cop cars, marked and unmarked, surrounding me like I was a mass murderer. Finally I relented and got out of the car. I failed the Breathalyzer, which, of course, placed me under arrest. In turn, it gave those fucking pigs probable cause to search my car. It was known as a search incident to arrest. This was something I’d helped numerous clients get out of. Cops are so fucking crooked, I thought.