Chapter Five: "Good News Comes in Small Packages"
During the phone call, Mr. Doyle was gracious and pleasant, but he insisted on seeing me in person to go over the details of the case. I wasn't sure how long it was going to take and I didn't want to make Ami late for a class, so I went alone.
His office was located in one of the taller buildings in the metropolitan area of the city. It had taken me a while to find a free parking space although there was no need to rush. I didn't have a determined appointment time with the man. He'd simply asked me to 'stop by' at my earliest convenience. However, I did feel the need to talk to him as soon as possible, not only to ease my conscience but to discover if he was willing to help. If not, I'd be forced to seek other legal counsel.
After lobby security told me where to go, I took the elevator up to the tenth floor and stepped out into another world. There were surfaces covered with metal; copper maybe, while others were comprised of dark wood. The carpet beneath my feet was lush and clean, and there was even expensive-looking art hanging on the walls. In short, there was a lot of money being made here.
I smiled to myself as I stepped through a double glass door etched with the attorney's name as well as two other partners. What a relief it was that I had declined Mr. Doyle's offer. I didn't feel comfortable in luxury such as this. It just wasn't my style.
After I'd announced myself to the receptionist behind the long pristine desk, I was asked to wait. Several minutes passed while I watched clients as well as employees walk to and fro. They all seemed busy but were courteous and either smiled at me or told me hello.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, the man I was waiting to speak with approached me. I stood and extended my hand which he immediately accepted.
"Mr. Noble, a pleasure it is to see you. Come. Follow me to the conference area."
As we walked, two women stopped him; one to ask him to sign a document and the other to tell him someone important was waiting on the phone.
"Tell the governor I'll call him back," Doyle told her.
My eyes widened by the unexpected and surprising answer. I was sure I was in for another wait, but apparently, Doyle felt my time was more important. As a result, I was the one who felt important. I'd have to remember to do that myself when dealing with a client of my own.
He settled not at the head of the massive table in the room, but in one of the side chairs, motioning for me to sit in the one next to him.
"Care for a beverage? I can offer you a variety of teas or coffee. Ice water as well if that's your preference."
Along the far wall was a buffet table that displayed the refreshments he had offered as well as an assortment of fruit and bakery items. I wasn't hungry, but I could sure use a refresher.
"I'd take some coffee," I told him. "Black, please."
Instead of calling for one of his interns or secretaries, he got out of the chair and retrieved the item himself. If I had known he was going to do that, I wouldn't have bothered.
"Wait, it's all right. You don't have to…"
"So tell me what kind of trouble Iris has gotten herself into. I remember meeting her in the restaurant and she didn't seem to be the type of girl who has such a checkered past."
He had interrupted me to obviously stop me from refusing his courtesies. I accepted the mug with the design of his office logo on it and thanked him. I took a sip and realized I had never tasted a brew so smooth in my life! Not an ounce of bitterness! I'd ask him about the brand but didn't think I could afford it, so I didn't bother.
"Iris and I grew up in the same neighborhood, but after I left to start working with Mr. Quinn, she fell in with the wrong crowd and started using illegal drugs. Her mother called me a couple of times to come and help her with Iris. A neighbor would find her collapsed in the front yard or someone would bring her home and leave her on the porch. She never used at home apparently and didn't have employment at the time, so I'm not sure how she afforded to get high as often as she did."
Doyle listened intently to every word. He'd probably heard a story like this a thousand times and yet I got the feeling that didn't matter. He actually cared about me and Iris.
"You'd be surprised how a young woman in her position can manage to afford to partake in these types of recreation."
I knew what he was talking about and it was something I had suspected but didn't wish to believe.
"You told me at some point you helped her mother and intervened with her recovery. When was that?"
"Around two and a half years ago, Mrs. Archer suspected that Iris was using stronger drugs. She found some paraphernalia in Iris's room and noticed bruises on the inside of her arms. One night, Iris didn't come home and the next morning, I went out looking for her. She'd been arrested in the next county over for public intoxication. I kept her in my apartment for a while after that, but she ran off. The next time I found her, she was lying in a hospital bed. Apparently, whatever she had used was laced with something dangerous. We almost lost her then."
"That was the night of young Mr. Skye's death, correct?"
"I didn't know about that at the time. In fact, even during her treatment and recovery, she'd never mentioned the name of Gareth Skye."
"Does Iris recall the events of that night?"
I'd already gone over most of this with Doyle over the phone, so I was unsure why he was asking me again. I doubted it was because he didn't trust his memory. He was probably testing me for accuracies in my story. It was a lawyer thing and I didn't mind.
"She remembers shooting up with Gareth but nothing after that."
"And this was two years ago. You suspect Mr. Gunter has an ulterior motive in his involvement in this case, don't you?"
"I do," I answered.
"I've already read the arrest report and not only does Mrs. Skye claim Iris participated in using the heroin that killed her son, but she also claims Iris provided the drug that killed him. The autopsy report on Mr. Skye showed not only toxic levels of diacetylmorphine in his blood but strychnine as well. Sometimes, drug dealers cut in more dangerous substances to provide a quicker and stronger high for their customers."
The more Mr. Doyle talked, the smaller I began to feel. I knew it wasn't intentional on his part, but it proved to me how harder I needed to work. I hadn't even considered contacting the health department for Gareth's autopsy report. At least not yet.
I already knew about the toxins dealers added to their drugs. An addict rarely was sold anything that was pure nowadays. After all, dealing drugs was a business and a competitive one at that.
"You know all the details," I told him without mentioning he actually seemed to know more than I did. "What I need to know is if you would be willing to help Iris by representing her in court."
"The city provides an attorney for such purposes and Mrs. Powers is one heck of an attorney."
I sighed and leaned forward, resting my arms on my legs, giving Mr. Doyle my full attention. "I realize Mrs. Powers has a good reputation, but Iris is more than a friend to me. She's family and family isn't something I have much of. I can't afford to lose what little I do have. She needs your help, Mr. Doyle."
Of course, his work would have to be pro bono, but that went without saying.
"Do you think Miss Archer intentionally wished this young man harm?"
"No, I don't," I answered immediately and with conviction.
"Do you think she is in any way responsible for his death?"
"No."
He grinned at me and stood. "That's all I need to know. My secretary will be in contact with you soon."
My heart rate dramatically increased. "Does that mean you'll take her case?"
"I will represent Miss Archer, yes."
If it had been appropriate, I would've jumped for joy. Instead, I shook Mr. Doyle's hand and thanked him several times.
Mr. Slimeball had no idea what he was up against.
