Helena knocked on the doorjamb. “Mr. Parish is here to see you, sir.”
Marcus rose and stuck out his hand, which was seized in a firm handshake. “Would you like something to drink before we get started?”
“No, thank you.”
Marcus noted the lack of nervousness normally present in his clients. Parish was calm, composed, and sure of himself. “Have a seat. Helena, hold my calls, please.”
He waited until the door closed before taking his seat behind the desk, using the time to study the man seated nonchalantly in the chair reserved for clients. Parish was an attractive man, although his manner of dress was somewhat staid. Most likely, it’s a model for the architectural business—never dress better than your potential clients—and his potential clients are all wealthy.
He pulled the legal pad toward him and reached for a pen. “What can I do for you, Mr. Parish?”
“Please, call me Warren, and I would prefer you not take notes—and no paperwork.”
That piqued his curiosity. Perhaps Parish wasn’t as innocent as his report had led them to believe. Marcus dropped the legal pad inside a drawer and sat back. “All right, Warren.”
“I assume everything said between us is confidential?”
Marcus nodded. “Absolutely.”
“I’d like to retain your services, but my name must never be mentioned, and no one can know I’m involved.”
“And who would you like me to represent?”
“Martin Harris, the man accused of killing my business partner, James Turner.”
Marcus pulled a cigar from the box on his desk. “Do you mind?”
Warren shook his head.
Marcus lit the cigar, leaned back, and placed his feet on the desk. Most of his cases were boring as hell, but this one had the potential to be interesting. “Tell me a story, Warren.”
“I’m not sure of the evidence against him, but Martin Harris was arrested yesterday and charged with murder. He’s innocent.”
Marcus puffed on the cigar, blowing out small rings of smoke. He chuckled. “All my clients are innocent. What makes Harris different?”
Warren picked up his briefcase and placed it on the desk. “There’s five hundred thousand dollars in this case, and I have more if you need it. The evidence against Harris can’t be conclusive—I know he didn’t kill James Turner.”
Marcus eyed the briefcase. It was more than he would have asked for. There was only one way Parish could be completely sure that Harris hadn’t killed Turner. An innocent client would indeed be a new phenomenon for him.
“I assume you’d like me to accomplish this without fingers pointing at anyone else?” Marcus asked.
“Yes.”
“And any evidence I should uncover that might point a finger at the true killer, what would you like me to do with that?”
“Destroy it.”
“Anyone else know the truth?”
“No.”
Marcus removed his feet from the desk and picked up the briefcase. “I’ll take the case on two conditions. One, when I meet with Harris, he agrees to my representation, and two, when this is all over, you come back and tell me why you killed Turner. Call it curiosity or a need to know.”
Warren rose and stuck out his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Dade.”
Marcus shook his hand. “Do you have a burner phone?”
“No, I’m not even sure I know what that is.”
Marcus opened his desk drawer and pulled out a cell phone. “Take this with you. If I need anything, I’ll give you a call on it.” He picked up the desk phone and dialed Helena’s number. “Mr. Parish is leaving now. Would you show him out, please?”
Marcus wrote out a letter of representation while waiting for Helena to return. She flounced in moments later. “Tell me, please.”
He tore off the sheet and handed it to her. “Type that up for me.”
“Pro bono?” Helena gasped.
Marcus chuckled. “Figured it was time I did my civic duty.”
She sat on the edge of his desk. “Is this what Mr. Parish wanted?”
“Curiosity killed the cat, Helena.” He paused for a second, allowing the true meaning behind his words to sink in. “I’ve never heard of Warren Parish, and neither have you.”
The smiled disappeared from her face, and her eyes widened. “Yes, Mr. Dade.”
“When you’re finished with that, call the jail and make me an appointment to see Harris. I’ll stop by the DA’s office and pick up a copy of the indictment before I go. I’ll also want a full report on everything you can find on Martin Harris on my desk when I get back.”
“Yes, Mr. Dade.”
Marcus puffed on the cigar as she rushed toward the front to do his bidding. She’d proven to be a good secretary and not bad in bed, but her nosiness was bothersome. If it continued, he would have to retire her.
3
Marcus whistled a snappy tune as he entered the district attorney’s office. He could have sent Helena, but he hated to miss an opportunity to tease his favorite prosecutor. He’d also been surprised to find the indictment had come down on Harris almost immediately. It might have just been the poor guy’s bad luck that the grand jury was meeting the same day he was arrested, but Marcus wanted to know if someone was pushing the case forward.
Jenna James was making his life tougher now that she was district attorney. Still, there was something about her, something sexual he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He wanted her in his bed, and if all went well, eventually, he would have her.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Marcus Dade to see Jenna James.” He leaned against the desk and gave her a sexy smile. “Tell her it’s about Martin Harris.”
“Just a moment, Mr. Dade.” The secretary rose and knocked on a closed door. She disappeared behind the door, and Marcus used the time to study the office. He had a hard time understanding why a woman like Jenna would limit herself to such stark conditions. Her conviction rate was close to one hundred percent. He might tease her a lot, but he also respected her.
“Will you be representing Mr. Harris, Mr. Dade?” Jenna came out of the office to greet him and passed him a file. “I have to be in court in fifteen minutes.”
“Beautiful day outside. Grab your file, and I’ll walk with you.” He grinned, expecting her to find some excuse to leave him. He watched her schedule as closely as he did his own, and she wasn’t due in court today at all.
She sighed, pushed her hair behind her ears, and flushed a delicate shade of pink. “Come in to my office. I’ll give you ten minutes. The Harris case is a slam dunk, and I don’t see how Martin Harris could possibly afford you.”
Marcus whistled a tune and winked at the secretary. “She hates it when I catch her in a lie.”
Jenna glared at him. “I didn’t lie. I have some papers to file.” She held the door open, and he sashayed through before she slammed it. “What do you want to know?”
“How did you get an indictment so fast?” Marcus took the seat next to her desk.
“He virtually admitted it. He has no alibi for the night in question, and he owned a gun like the one used to kill James Turner. He said he pawned it but can’t remember where. Turner destroyed his marriage, so he killed him. Case closed.”
Marcus pursed his lips. “Not like you to pass judgment like that, Jenna. Is somebody out there putting pressure on you to streamline this case and ramrod Harris through the system?”
Jenna waved a hand at the stack of files on her desk. “I have a hundred other cases that need work. I’m not going to waste a lot of time on one that doesn’t.” She raised an eyebrow. “So how is he affording you?”