The Case of the Meddling Attorney
Chapter 1
1
The earthquake that struck the city of San Francisco had been major. Fortunately, the damage, though extensive was not nearly as bad as expected when Ironside surveyed the city. They had only lost three buildings. The Tower had collapsed completely. So much for earthquake proof buildings. It was supposed to be able to withstand an earthquake measuring on the richter scale of 8.0. The earthquake that hit the city had a magnitude of 7.6.
Robert Ironside was driven around the city by his aide, Mark Sanger as he surveyed the damage. Plenty of damage to buildings could be seen on nearly every block. Clean up was underway and would take time to complete. The death toll was amazingly low for an earthquake of its size. It was expected to go up as many people were still reported missing, possibly under the debris of damaged buildings.
The detective looked to his right. The ruins of the Tower would take time to clear. The memory of what happened in the building came back to him. He tapped Mark on the shoulder. "Mark, pull over."
Sanger pulled the specially equipped van in front of the ruins. He could only guess what was going on in the chief's mind. The last time he saw the building, he was fighting for his life and that of his Aunt Victoria. Against his judgement, the prison review board granted a pardon to inmate, Frank Hunt. Hunt served 15 of the 20 year sentence he received for robbing a bank. The ex-con harbored an extreme hatred for Chief Ironside, the man who had arrested him and was responsible for sending him to prison. Ironside hadn't been able to prove Hunt murdered a bank employee who had helped him with inside information, but later decided to tell Ironside about what Hunt had done. Despite being under police protection, Hunt was able to get to the young man, shooting through the window of the motel where the police were guarding him. The chief reopened the case of the murder of Zack Hill. When it became clear Ironside would find the evidence to put Hunt behind bars once again, the ex-con and his escaped former cellmate, Rolland Hubbard kidnapped Ironside's Aunt Victoria in order to lure him into the Tower. An earthquake hit while they were on the 84th floor. For Ironside and his aunt, it became a race to get out of the building before they were either murdered by Hunt or buried in the debris of the collapsing building. They barely made it off the roof before it gave way to damage from the earthquake. Hunt perished with the collapse of the Tower. Rolland Hubbard was believed to have exited the building before it went down. Despite Ironside's efforts, he remained at large. The chief figured he was probably long gone. Ironside doubted he would have hung around since he was wanted for the murder of the prison guard, whose demise helped Hubbard elude the prison authority by donning the murdered guard's uniform.
The ringing of the van's police phone brought Ironside out of his thoughts. He picked up the receiver and answered in an authoritative tone. "Ironside."
"Chief, Ed here. We have a problem."
"We have plenty of problems right now. Which one are you talking about?" Ironside growled.
"Your Aunt Victoria," Brown answered. "I'm afraid she may be playing amateur detective again."
Ironside let the hand he was holding the receiver drop to his lap. He looked down, closed his eyes, and shook his head. How many times had his Aunt Victoria promised to stop meddling in police business? He would've thought she had learned her lesson after almost losing her life while investigating an adoption agency that was kidnapping children, and then selling them to people who could afford to pay thousands of dollars. He brought the phone receiver back to his ear. Using his free hand, he rubbed his temples to ward off an oncoming headache. "What is she up to this time?"
Ironside's number one man hesitated before answering. He'd been working for Robert Ironside for a long time now, and one thing he certainly hated to do was to deliver bad news. Ed had gotten use to his boss' moods, and he certainly had been in a sour one since the earthquake. The commissioner ordered the chief to oversee the police force as they dealt with the problems brought on by the earthquake. The sergeant was about to sour that mood even more. "She has been inquiring regarding the whereabouts of Rolland Hubbard. Duffy said she contacted the duty desk and asked if he had been apprehended yet."
"How is that meddling? She was put through hell, Ed. She likely just wants to know whether we have arrested him yet."
"Ah . . . I don't think that is all she is doing, Chief."
"What the blazes does that mean?" Ironside demanded. He felt like he was pulling teeth trying to get answers out of his sergeant.
"I got a call from the warden at the prison. He said she called there inquiring about everything they had on Hubbard. And Chief, she used the Ironside name to get it. The warden thought the request was coming from you."
The headache at his temples was beginning to pound. "How much information did the warden give her?"
"His entire file which contained his relatives, acquaintances, as well as anyone he associated with in prison," Ed reported.
"She tells him she's Victoria Ironside, and he turns over the man's entire file. He knows better than that!"
"She used the Ironside name, Chief. Whether you realize it or not, your name can open a lot of doors."
"Ed, that is no excuse for not verifying I wanted the information in the first place. Well, don't worry about it right now. I'll head over to her house and put the fear of God in her."
Ed chuckled at the thought of the chief as God. No doubt he had the ability to put fear in the hearts of criminals, but he had failed to do so with his Aunt Victoria. She didn't seem to fear her nephew at all. That sort of put a damper on the chief's God complex. "All right. How are things out there?" Ed asked, changing the subject.
"The city's a mess, but we'll recover. We always do."
"Oh, I almost forgot. Dunlapp called. He wanted your permission to use Otto to help sniff out anybody trapped in debris. It is now pretty much a recovery mission. It is doubtful that they will find anybody alive under the debris at this point. The city reached out to Dunlapp for help, and he says Otto is the best dog in the kennel when it comes to his sniffer."
"Call him back and tell him he doesn't need my permission to take advantage of Otto's talent."
"Yes, sir. Chief, when will you be back in the office? The commissioner has called several times."
"The commissioner will have to wait." Ironside hung up the phone. "Mark!"
"I heard. Head to Aunt Victoria's house," Sanger said.
Ironside wondered what he could say to get his aunt to stop playing detective. Nothing so far he said or did seem to get through to her.
2
Perry Mason sat at his desk reading the briefs Della Street left for him to proof. He had not had a murder trial since they arrived back from San Francisco. Mason returned from the Golden Gate city where he had gone to protect his brother from an Internal Affairs investigation. The mayor and the city council demanded it due to an article Howard Jergens had written in Spicy Bits, an online internet gossip site that paraded as a legitimate news site. It was, of course, nothing but a means for Jergens to dig up dirt on the prominent individuals, in order to blackmail them into keeping their dirty laundry off his trashy site. It had cost the blackmailer his life. When Alexandra Hughes, a former lover of his brother, Chief Robert Ironside, was accused of the crime, Bob had insisted he take her case and defend her. The renowned attorney from Atlanta, Ben Matlock was brought in to take over his brother's defense. With the staffs of Robert Ironside, Ben Matlock, and Perry's private detective, Paul Drake, they were able to clear both Chief Ironside and Alexandra Hughes of the crimes they were accused of.
Mason's specialty was murder. Although he performed many other legal activities, he preferred cases in which he defended innocent people of murder. His law office was as busy as ever, but Mason was becoming restless. He enjoyed the mystery of investigating, along with the help of the Drake Detective Agency. Putting the pieces together, clearing his client, and exposing the real murderer was what he did best. It was also where he made the most money. Due to his phenomenal success, Mason had become a millionaire. He was known as the attorney that never loses. As a result, it wasn't possible for him to take every murder case that came along.
Mason had such trust in his secretary, Della Street, that he allowed her to scrutinize potential clients and decide who would be allowed to see him. Unfortunately, he was spending his time proofing briefs, answering mail, and seeing clients with all sorts of problems. All of them were important, but none of them involved murder. Not that the lawyer wanted to see people murdered, so he could immerse himself in a murder trial, it was just that Mason could not resist a mystery. And murder provided that mystery. Maybe he should call up Paul and see if they could come up with a dead body. After all, Lieutenant Tragg was always tantalizing them about the number of dead bodies they came upon. Mason chuckled at the image of Tragg and his frustration when he wouldn't tell him what he knew because he was protecting a client.
Well, right now he had no client to protect, and it was making him restless. The intercom buzzed beside him. He picked up the phone, pressed the intercom button and responded to his secretary. "Yes, Della."
"Perry, you have a call from a man by the name of Pascal Bouvier. He says he needs a lawyer. He has been accused of murder."
Mason almost smiled. The monotony of the last few weeks was about to come to an end. Without even asking for any details, Mason said, "Put him through, Della."
Mason waited for the call to be transferred to him. It didn't take long with the efficiency of his secretary. The phone rang, and Mason grabbed the receiver immediately, "Perry Mason speaking."
"Mister Mason, my name is Pascal Bouvier. I need your help. I have been accused of murdering my wife. I need an attorney. Will you see me. Please, I need you."
"Are you calling from jail?" Mason asked.
"Yes. They would only allow me one phone call. I thought of you. I know you are the best there is, and I need the best."
"All right, I'll have my secretary clear my schedule and I'll be down shortly."
"Oh, thank you, Mister Mason. You don't know the relief that brings me; a weight off my shoulders."
Mason hung up the phone. He pressed the intercom, and Della came on the line. "Yes, Mister Mason."
"Della, you don't have to be so formal."
"I do when we are in the office. We have employees you know. What do you need, Counselor?"
Mason shook his head. Della was not only his secretary, she was the love of his life. It amazed him how she turned completely professional in the office. He was not as adapt at it as she was in his interaction with her. Then again, he had this beautiful secretary that quite often made his mind wander to more pleasurable extracurricular activities. "See if you can get Paul on the line. Have him come down to my office as soon as possible."
"All right, Perry."
Mason smiled. "You slipped. What happened to Mister Mason?"
"Not even I am a perfect secretary," she said in her defense.
"You could have fooled me." Mason hung up the phone and then dialed police headquarters. When he got an answer, he asked the officer at the duty desk, "Which detective is in charge of the Bouvier case?"
"That would be Lieutenant Tragg. Do you have information for him?"
"No, this is Perry Mason. Can you put me through to the lieutenant?"
"Oh, Mister Mason, I thought that was you. Right away, sir."
Mason waited a moment before the unmistakable voice of Lieutenant Arthur Tragg came on the line. "Well, hello, Counselor. I was beginning to wonder if you left town for good. You haven't discovered any dead bodies lately, or have you? You aren't calling to report a murder, are you?"
Mason chuckled. There was that old fashion ribbing Tragg just couldn't resist. "No, Tragg. No dead bodies. I understand you are in charge of the Bouvier case."
There was hesitation on the other end of the line before Tragg finally said, "What's your interest in the case, Perry?"
"I just got a call from Pascal Bouvier. He asked me to see him."
Tragg butted heads with the attorney, but had come to respect his abilities as a criminal lawyer. He would even go as far to say he had developed a friendship the him. "As a friend, Perry, I have to tell you this is one you should stay away from. The man is guilty. He killed his wife. Believe me, there is nothing Hamilton would like more than to see you take this case, but I feel as a friend, I should warn you to stay away from it. It is a slam-dunk winner for the prosecution."
Mason scratched the end of his nose and said, "Where have I heard that before?"
"Look, I know you have blown Burger's cases out of the water every time so far, but this is one you can't win. Let it go."
"Sorry, Tragg. Everyone is entitled to a defense. So, I am officially telling you there is a chance I will be taking this case, so don't talk to Bouvier without me there."
Tragg shook his head. "Okay, it's your funeral, but don't say I didn't warn you."
"What have you got on him?"
"The wife - her name is Erica Bouvier was having an affair with a co-worker at a real estate agency. Apparently, she wanted a divorce so she could marry the man - his name is Ryan McCarthy . . ."
"Of McCarthy Real Estate?" Mason interrupted.
"That's right. Anyway, she was working late with McCarthy. Bouvier suspected she was having an affair. She seemed to be showing a lot of houses, but not getting many sales. Spending a lot of time at the office. Well, she called home the other night and told him she had to work again. Bouvier decided to go through her home office. He found a cellphone in her desk. You know, one of those burner phones. When he checked it, there were dozens of text messages between them. Both declared they loved the other, and she told McCarthy she was seeing a lawyer to file for divorce. That sent Bouvier into a rage. He got in his car and went to the McCarthy Real Estate to confront his wife. They got into a fight, and he strangled her. McCarthy came back to the office and found her. He called the police, and well, it was assigned to me."
"What proof do you have that he did it?" Mason asked.
"Now, Perry, you don't expect me to give away Burger's entire case, do you?"
"What has he been charged with? Second degree or manslaughter?"
"No, first degree."
"In the heat of an argument?" Mason questioned in surprise.
"Sorry, that is all I can tell you."
"Thanks, Tragg. I remind you not to interrogate him without an attorney present."
"Thanks to you and your lectures around town, perps are lawyering up, and saying they heard you say they should never talk to the police without a lawyer present."
"My experience is they don't always listen," Mason said.
"This one did."
"Okay, I'll be down in a while."
"You can ask for me when you get here. Just remember, I told you so."
Mason could almost see the smirk on Tragg's face. He hung up the phone. Della entered the office. "Paul is on his way down."
"Thanks, Della."
Drake's code knock sounded on the door. Della went over to the door, opened it and greeted the tall handsome private eye. "Hello, Paul"
Drake smiled. "Hello, Beautiful. I hear Perry wants to see me."
"Come in, Paul," Perry called from behind his desk.
Drake entered the office and walked over to the overstuffed chair. Sitting down, he threw both legs over the arm of the chair, and rested the small of his back on the other one. "I was beginning to think you left town. I haven't heard from you since we got back from San Francisco. So, what's up?"
"Do you know anything about Pascal Bouvier?" Mason asked.
"Not much. It was in the paper this morning that he has been arrested for the murder of his wife. I understand Tragg was the arresting officer."
"That's right. I just got off the phone with him; he says Burger has a slam-dunk winner."
Paul laughed. "That's what they always say. So are you taking the case?"
"I won't know until I talk to him. I'd like you to ride over to police headquarters with me. Find out what you can while I see what Bouvier has to say."
"Right now?" Drake asked.
Mason grinned. "Right now!"
Paul sighed. "It's lunch time, Perry."
"You can grab a burger on the way." Mason got up and headed for the door. He turned around. "Della, you'll have to reschedule my appointments."
Della smiled. "I know, murder comes first."
Mason and Drake left the office.
3
Conrad McMasters entered the office of Ben Matlock. He walked directly over to the private office door and peaked in. Ben was nowhere to be seen. Conrad really wanted to talk to him. Frustrated, he went over to Leanne McIntyre's office. Poking his head in the open door, he asked, "Have you got a minute?"
Leanne smiled at the private detective. "Absolutely. I've always got time for you."
Conrad walked in and sat down in a chair that was placed in front of her desk. He sat there for a moment gathering his thoughts. He wanted to be very careful about what he said.
Leanne studied the private eye. Obviously, something was bothering him. She had a pretty good idea of what it was. Leanne decided not to say anything until Conrad was ready to voice his concerns.
Finally, the young man spoke up. "I don't know exactly how to say this, so I will just come out and say it. Is there something wrong with Ben?"
Leanne had noticed that Ben had been quiet lately, and that was unlike him. She too thought something was wrong, but when she approached Ben about it he said he was fine, and would not discuss it any further. "I thought it was my imagination. I even asked him about it. He assured me there was nothing wrong. I don't believe that, but I don't know what we can do about it. If Ben isn't willing to talk to us, then that's that."
"He hasn't given you any clue whatsoever what the problem is?" Conrad asked her.
"Not a peep. Like I said, I tried. He wouldn't talk to me. If you have any suggestions, I'm all ears."
Conrad looked out the window and momentarily watched a cardinal that was sitting on the sill. He couldn't think of anything. Leanne was right. If Ben wouldn't talk, there wasn't any way they could help him, if there was a problem at all. "Well then, I guess we just wait until he says something."
They heard the main office door open. Both turned and looked toward the lobby. They saw Ben Matlock as he passed Leanne's office door. He disappeared into his own office and shut the door. Leanne and Conrad looked at one another. It was unlike Ben to enter the office and not say good morning.
Matlock dropped his briefcase on his desk. Sitting down heavily into the chair, he placed a hand over his mouth and leaned his elbow on the desk. Ben had always been an individual that was proactive. Right now, he wasn't sure what he was going to do. He opened his briefcase and pulled out four sheets of paper. They were blackmail letters. None of them were hand-written. The letters had been cut out of magazines and pasted to the paper. Ben had not considered telling Leanne or Conrad about them as of yet. Right now, he had no idea why he was being blackmailed. Each one of them demanded $2 million or they would turn over material to the police that proved he threw the case of one of his clients who was convicted of murder.
Ben Matlock rarely ever lost a case. But, he lost the case in which he defended Baron Stover. Stover had been accused of killing his girlfriend. There was proof that he had been abusive. Yet, he had sworn to Matlock that he didn't kill her. Becky Morris was found in apartment strangled to death. The prosecution claimed that Stover's prints were on the door handle, as well as the barrel of the gun that was found beside Becky Morris. They contended that there had been an argument, and Morris pulled a gun on him in order to make him leave her apartment. The prosecution claimed that he was able to jerk the gun out of her hand, surprising her by grabbing the gun by the barrel. To further complicate the case, the neighbor across from Becky Morris's apartment claimed to have seen Baron Stover leaving her apartment at approximately the time the murder had been committed.
According to Stover, he had been at the apartment, but he insisted that Becky was alive when he left. As hard as Ben tried, he could not discredit any of the evidence. Even the strangulation marks on her neck match the size of Barron's hands.
As soon as the verdict was announced, the client accused Ben of throwing the case. What he had to find out now was whether it was Baron Stover who was sending the blackmail notices. Furthermore, they contained no evidence that he had done so. Ben did not know exactly what he was looking for since he had no idea of what he was actually being accused of. Later today, he would go see Baron Stover and ask him straight out if he was the one sending the blackmail letters. Actually, he knew Baron hadn't sent them himself, but that didn't mean he wasn't having someone else send them. Ben would check at the prison to find out who who if anyone had been visiting Baron Stover.
With all of the circumstantial evidence, the jury was convinced that Matlock's client was guilty. Since the client had not been very honest with him, Matlock was not completely convinced that he was innocent. Yet, he gave him the best defense he possibly could, despite the fact that he could be turning a murderer loose on the streets. If he had proof he did it, then he would have insisted that the client plead to a charge, and would've drop the case if he refused.
Matlock went to see Stover after the verdict was announced. Stover agreed to see him. He again accused Matlock of throwing the case.
Ben had never thrown a case in his entire career as a defense attorney. The argument got heated, and Ben lost his temper. He voiced the concerns he had that Stover was actually guilty. He told him that he was exactly where he belonged, behind bars. The argument had been so loud, that the guard outside of the interrogation room heard almost all of it. Matlock finally slammed his fist on the table and insisted he would see to it that Stover spent the rest of his life in prison. He stormed out of the room passing several people who had been drawn to the area due to the loudness of the argument.
Ben did not believe their was any evidence of wrongdoing, since he didn't do anything wrong. What worried him, was that the American Bar Association would not see it his way, since Stover got another attorney who just got the conviction overturned. Baron Stover would soon be a free man. Matlock was more convinced than ever that Stover actually did kill his girlfriend. Ben was using his spare time to try to prove it. Not that it would make much difference, he couldn't be tried again because it would be double jeopardy. They found him innocent in the second trial.
A homeless man's DNA had been found on the door, as well as inside. The prosecution had hidden the fact that a second set of prints were on the gun. They belong to the homeless man. He was seen in the area right around the time of the murder. It was enough reasonable doubt, that the jury found Stover not guilty, and overturned the original sentence.
Ben just had to know. Did they just turn a cold-blooded killer back on the streets. And if so, would he do it again. He had to know if it was Stover who sent the blackmail letters. If it was, he could at least have him tried and put behind bars for a period of time. It wasn't as good as a murder conviction, but that had gone out the window. The only way he was going to find out was to confront him.
He made up his mind. He was going to find him, and ask him straight out.