The Lawyer (Part 2)
To stay sharp, I spent the wait reviewing Jimmy's "alibi" and the pertinent details about
Detective Beckett that I had transferred to my iPad. Jimmy spent his time playing with
some app on his phone. Part of me wondered if he was playing Angry Birds or Contract
Killer. It was twenty minutes before the door opened again and I stood as Detective
Beckett strode into the room. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, and it also kept me at
eye level with the woman. Her legs seemed to go on forever. Of course they weren't
really that long; it was just the effect that her high heeled boots gave her. They
obviously leveled the playing field for her by making her as tall as or taller than most of
the men in her male dominated profession. She probably hated the fact that she still
had to look a few inches up into my eyes.
She motioned with the folder she was holding. "Have a seat."
I mimicked her motion. "After you."
She walked over to her chair and stood behind it. I got the impression she was preparing
for a stand off, so I gave her a knowing smile and casually sat down. My smile brought
a flare of annoyance to her eyes. She quickly turned her attention to Jimmy.
"Mr. Karpowski, do you know why you're here?"
That was my cue. "I informed my client as to why he was being questioned."
Her eyes cut to me. "I believe I was speaking to Mr. Karpowski."
I leaned forward to meet her glare. "I'm well aware you were speaking to my client. But
seeing as Mr. Karpowski has a severe case of laryngitis, I will be speaking for him today."
She slapped the folder she was holding loudly onto the table before roughly pulling out
her chair. She sat down, opened the folder and made a pretense of scanning its contents.
"It looks like your client had laryngitis the last two times he was questioned by the police."
I controlled a smile before I replied, but I think it found its way to my eyes. "His doctor seems
to think it's brought on by stress."
She didn't find me amusing. Her hand went to her jacket pocket and came back out with my card.
"Well then…" She glanced at the card before tossing it down on the table. "…Mr. Castle,
where was Mr. Karpowski on Monday night between ten and twelve p.m.?"
"Let me see." I picked up my iPad and opened the document that had Jimmy's timeline for Monday. "Ten…ten…"
"Here it is, ten o'clock…took mother to doctors appointment…oh wait, sorry that was a.m. you
wanted p.m." I slipped that one in. She just crossed her arms and leaned back into her chair.
"Ten p.m., ah…here we are. He was with his weekly poker club that meets in Jersey at Stefano's
Bar and Grill from nine p.m. till one a.m."
The smirk that played across her lips and her reply didn't surprise me. "You expect me to take the
word of his poker buddies, that's a good one."
"Well, you could waste your time talking to his "friends", or you could talk to the employees at
Stefano's. I'm sure they will verify his alibi."
"Oh, I'm sure they will."
'Or better yet…" I pulled a leather embossed pocket portfolio from the breast pocket of my jacket,
slapped it down on the table and flipped it open. "…you could just verify his credit card receipts."
I extracted five receipts and dealt them out on the table before me. My finger hovered above them
for a second before coming to rest on the fourth one down the line. I slid it to the center of the table.
"This receipt is from a gas station in Jersey City where Mr. Karpowski's car stopped to fill up before
arriving at Stefano's. You can clearly see the time date stamp of 8:43 p.m. on October 17th."
My finger went to the next receipt in line and I slid it beside the other one. "And this is a receipt
from Stefano's Bar and Grill. My client paid his tab at 12:52 a.m. on October 18th." I looked up to
catch Detective Beckett eye as I finished with Jimmy's alibi. "He then headed home to Queens
via the Queens Midtown tunnel. I'm sure you can pull his EZ Pass records to verify the time."
Her hand reached for the receipts. "We'll verify everything Mr. Castle."
I reached out and laid my hand atop hers. I could feel her flinch and the look in her eyes had me worried
that she might pull out her gun with her other hand and shoot me, so I quickly clarified my action.
"The originals are mine, you can make copies."
Her gaze remained steady. "I intend to."
I expected her to pull her hand away, but she didn't move. She wanted me to be the one to back
off first. I took advantage of her decision to linger and slid my fingers across the back of her hand
and gently lifted her fingers from the table and held them in mine. I held them long enough so that
I hoped she could imagine me kissing the back of her hand. My thumb glided across her fingers
before I let them slip away. I held her gaze till she looked down to pick up the receipts. I wasn't
sure but the pink of her cheeks looked a shade redder . She held the receipts up to the mirror
behind her right shoulder and in a few seconds the door to the room was briskly shoved opened.
The Hispanic detective was back.
"Esposito, make copies of these and return the originals to Mr. Castle when we're done."
He took them from her and glared at me. "You alright in here?"
He must have seen what I'd done and was acting like an overprotective brother.
"I'm fine. Mr. Castle and I are just becoming better acquainted."
The man gave me one more piercing glare as he left the room, so I had to ask.
"Are all your co-workers so protective of you?"
"Half the guys here act like they're my older brother."
"And the other half?" I ventured.
She laughed to herself as she looked down and spread her hands out on the aged Formica top.
"The other half just wants to fuck my brains out on this table."
"Ha!" Jimmy couldn't control his laugh when he heard what she said, and he now had her full attention.
"Have you recovered from your laryngitis Mr. Karpowski?"
His hand went to his mouth and he began to feign a really lame coughing fit. I took it as our cue to
leave. I picked up my portfolio and slid my chair away from the table.
"You have my client's alibi so I believe we're done here."
"Oh, I'm far from being done with your client. The word on the street is that Mr. Karpowski was behind
these killings and I intend to…"
It was my turn to laugh out loud and I think it offended her more than Jimmy's had.
"Word on the street, detective? Why not just paraphrase that with 'Once upon a time', or if you're not
into fairytales but more into sci-fi you could say 'A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away'."
She had no reply. Her face was definitely red now, but I wasn't sure if it was from anger or embarrassment.
I stood and tapped Jimmy on the shoulder so he'd follow me.
"Goodbye detective, this was…interesting."
She never moved from her chair as she watched us leave. Jimmy made a bee-line for the elevator and I
had to snag his elbow to slow him down.
"We have to wait for those receipts."
The interview was over and so was Jimmy's laryngitis. He turned and growled at me. "I don't have to wait,
you wait…it's your job. I'm gettin' out of this place."
"Fine, I'll catch a cab." I was actually relieved, relieved that I wouldn't have to listen to Jimmy as he berated
the cops and made lewd comments about Detective Beckett on the ride back to the office. She was good;
I had to give her that. If we had stayed any longer she would have had him talking.
I left Jimmy at the elevator and headed back towards the detectives' desks. Passing back by the open door
of the interview room, I saw Detective Beckett slide my card off the table and slip it back into her pocket.
She didn't notice me and I thought it best to keep on walking. Detective Esposito wasn't at his desk. Great,
he was probably going to make me wait twenty minutes for a two minute job.
I made a move to sit in the decrepit chair next to his desk, when the smell of fresh brewed coffee caught
my attention. It was coming from a break room located just ten feet behind his desk. I didn't like being
too wired, or having to pee during an interview, so I had skipped my morning espresso and right now
coffee of any kind was sounding pretty good.
There were two Mr. Coffee coffee makers sitting on the stained counter. One pot had a quarter inch
thick sludge in the bottom that must have been condensing on the burner since the night before and
the other pot, though freshly brewed had its own nasty surprise. I filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee
and began to stir in some creamer when dark brown bits of coffee grounds began floating to the surface.
"You really don't want to drink that." Her voice and her presence startled me.
"If it's not fit to drink then why do you guys brew it?" I looked over to see Detective Beckett with her arms
crossed, casually leaning against the door frame.
"We use it to torture our suspects."
I laughed and headed over to the sink to pour it down the drain. "So where can a guy get a decent cup of
coffee around here?"
She didn't answer right away and I watched as she looked out into the bullpen and then back into the break room.
"Where's your buddy?"
I quickly closed the distance between us and stopped in front of her so that she had to look up at me
before I answered her question. "He's not my 'buddy', my friend or my pal. Mr. Karpowski is my client
and nothing more. And if you must know, he left and I'm here waiting to get those receipts back."
She pushed off the door frame and uncrossed her arms. "These receipts?" They were in her hand and
she held them out to me.
I reached out to take them and at the last second I decided to take hold of her hand along with the paper.
"Why thank you." I pulled her hand upwards as if to give it the kiss I had hinted at earlier. This time she
was quick to pull away and I was left with the receipts and the upper hand. "So…" I gave her sly grin as
I pulled out my portfolio and slid the receipts back inside. "…about that coffee?"
She was having a difficult time suppressing her own smile. "Follow me." She turned on her heel and walked
away leaving me no option but to follow, and I found myself following her into the elevator and out of the
building. I wondered where the hell she was taking me. She kept a quick pace and there was no time to
question her or my decision follow. Two and a half blocks later she pulled opened the door to a small crowded
no frills coffee shop. What they lacked in décor and space they made up with in the speed of their service, and
we were through the heel to toe line in minutes.
The detective was obviously a regular. She never spoke, yet her coffee appeared on the counter as I
gave the Barista my order. She grabbed her cup and called out to the girl making my espresso. "He's
got this one Jen." I reached for my wallet as she turned away to survey the small café. She was looking
for a place to sit. Good luck with that I thought as I handed over a twenty. I collected my change and
my coffee and when I turned back to the detective, she was gone. Looking around, I found her sitting
on a tall stool at one of the small pub tables by the front window. With my coffee held high, I carefully made
my way through the crowded maze of tables, chairs and people. One wrong bump in here and someone
could wind up with second degree burns…and a lawsuit. I reached the safety of our table and set my coffee
across from hers.
"How'd you manage to get a table?"
"This place is so small you're expected to share a table, but I've discovered that most young men between
the ages of nineteen and twenty five never want to share a table with a cop." She gave the badge that
was sitting next to her coffee a twirl. "They all seem to be guilty of something, probably more of thought
than action. How about you Mr. Castle, what were you guilty of at that age?"
"Thought, definitely thought." My unhesitant admission made her laugh.
I took a sip of my coffee, and somehow the next few minutes passed with us drinking our coffees in silence.
I glanced around the coffee shop as I drank so that she wouldn't be uncomfortable with me just staring at
her while I tried to come up with something to talk about. My eye stopped on the pastry case at the front
of the store. It would be a lame way to restart the conversation, but it was all I could think of.
"You forgot something."
My comment made her brow furrow and she looked down at her coffee and badge before looking back up at me. "What?"
"Your donut."
"I didn't forget; I chose to skip my bear claw today."
"Why's that?"
"Coffee is just coffee, but letting you buy me a coffee and a donut…that boarders on a date, and I don't date suits anymore."
"Ah."
"No offense to you…you actually seem to have a sense of humor, but I find most lawyers to be self serving
pretentious boors with silver spoons stuck so far up their asses that they can't bend at the waist any more."
I laughed so loud most of the people in the coffee shop were staring at me, and so was Detective Beckett.
"Sorry…" I continued to chuckle. "…but that was the best dead on balls accurate description of the majority
of the lawyers in this city that I've ever heard."
She arched an eyebrow at my reply. "Dead on balls accurate?"
I couldn't keep the grin from my face. "It's an industry term."
"It's more like a movie line,"
"One of the greatest movie lines ever.'
She rolled her eyes at my reply. "Whatever. So tell me, what makes you so different?"
"That silver spoon you mentioned, it didn't get shoved in my mouth until I was fifteen so it never really had
enough time to find its way up my ass." She snorted a laugh, and I felt tit-for-tat was only fair.
"What I'd like to know is how you managed to lose yours?
That caught her off guard. "What do you mean?"
"You're not Bridge and Tunnel; there's no trace of the boroughs when you talk, so that means Manhattan,
that means money. You had options, better options than this, and yet you became a cop. Why?"
"I always wanted to be a cop." The answer she gave was so rote that even without my knowledge of her
past I would have been able to tell she was lying. I decided to call her on it.
"Come on detective, you never wanted to be anything else? I did. I remember when I was six I wanted to
be a cowboy and then at nine a spaceman, and then around fourteen thought I wanted to be a writer.
So come on detective, you can't honestly expect me to believe that as a little girl when your friends were
dressing up like princesses and playing with their Barbies you were thinking, 'I wish I could dump these
losers so that I can go arrest some scum bag pimp who just beat to death his prostitute druggie girlfriend'."
This was the first time I noticed her laugh making it to her eyes. "Alright, you got me there; I didn't always
want to be a cop. But you won't believe me when I tell you what I wanted to be."
"Try me."
She was nothing but serious when she spoke. "I wanted to be a lawyer."
I believed her. She must have wanted to be like her mother, and when her mother was taken from her
so was her dream. I had the answer to my question, but I couldn't let on to her about all that I knew,
so I lied.
"You're right, I don't believe you. Little girls do not grow up wanting to be lawyers. Ballerinas or fashion
models, yes. But lawyers no, trust me on this one."
"Oh yeah, and what makes you an expert?"
A vague answer was all I was willing to offer up. "I have my sources."
"Well, you're wrong about me, my mother was a lawyer and I wanted to be like her."
I had to ask the next question just to see what she would say. "What changed your mind?"
She looked pensive. I almost expected her to tell me the truth but she replied with her own vague answer.
"Let me just say 'life', and leave it at that." She took a long drink of her coffee to squash any further
comment on the subject and though she didn't want to talk about her past it didn't stop her from probing
me about mine.
"So how did you manage to get from the wrong side of the tracks to the right side?"
"I owe it all to love." I could tell by the questioning look on her face that I would have to clarify that explanation.
"I went from being the street smart only child of single mother to being the prep school teenage stepson of an
orthopedic surgeon."
"Lucky you." She saluted me with her coffee and I returned the salute.
"Yep."
We drank more of our coffee and I could tell by the tilt of our cups that we were both close to finishing.
I wondered if she would run out the same time as the coffee. I wasn't ready for this to end. There was
only so much I could learn about her from reading a file, and the chance to get to know her was an
opportunity not to be missed. Luckily she continued the conversation.
"So, street smart, huh?"
"I had a bus pass and free run of the city by the time I was eight."
She shook her head in disbelief. "So your mother just let you roam the city?"
"Well no, I was only supposed to go to the library, and I did for a while, till one day I decided I wanted
to see and do all the things I could only read about. So I hopped on a bus and went exploring"
"And what did you find?"
I could have talked for hours about what I discovered as a boy but I didn't want the conversation to
become all about me so I simplified my answer. "More than I could have ever imagined."
"No one place stands out?"
"Quit a few do. Chinatown, the bus depot, Drakes Magic Shop, the meatpacking district, the sanitation
department, Comicadia…"
She interrupted me mid-list. "I used to go there."
"You used to go to the docks to watch them load the garbage scows?" I knew it wasn't the place she was talking about.
"No, Comicadia. I bought my first comic there."
We had something in common; it would allow me to steer the conversation back to her. "Really, so tell
me detective, who's your favorite comic book hero?"
She finished off her coffee before she answered. "My favorite comic book "heroine" is Elektra."
I tried to make my next comment seem innocent as I tested her mettle. "Interesting choice, a shrink would
have a field day with that one."
Her brow furrowed and she shifted in her chair. She tried to take another drink of her coffee, but it was empty
and she had to set it back down. She went on the defensive instead.
"What wrong with Elektra?"
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with Elektra. It just seems an odd choice, that's all."
"Odd how?"
"It's odd in comparison to the career you've chosen. You've sworn an oath to serve and protect, yet secretly
you wish to be a paid assassin who kills without conscious. If anything, I thought you'd be more of a Punisher
fan." If she knew her comics she'd pick up on the reference.
She had, and her reply was stern. "I hate bust your psychobabble angle, but my choice isn't all that complicated.
I just like her badass ninja skills."
I laughed. "They are badass." I needed to bring some levity back to the conversation. I was surprised at how
easy it was to rile her, so I smiled as I rested my elbows on the table and leaned towards her. "Ok, it's your turn."
She looked confused. "Turn for what?"
"For you to guess my favorite comic book hero."
'Pttht, that easy."
"Go ahead."
"Batman."
She surprised me. Her emotions may fail her but her mind was sharp. "How'd you…"
"This." She pulled out my glossy black and gold business card from her pocket and set in on the table. The
ostentatiously gilded image of a chess piece printed on the left side of my card said it all. I busted out
laughing again, only this time she joined me.
"You can't play a player Mr. Castle."
"You can't blame me for trying."
I expected her to use this moment to leave, but what she did instead surprised me again. She put my
card back into her jacket pocket and when she pulled her hand out she held a quarter between the
first two fingers of her hand. She passed her left hand over the quarter and it disappeared. She then
pointed with her now empty right hand to her clenched left hand. The quarter obviously had to be there.
When she opened her hand it was empty. She then reached behind my left ear with her right hand
and when she pulled her hand back the quarter had magically reappeared.
"My grandfather taught me that one. I went with him to Drakes on Sundays. That place is amazing"
"Isn't it!"
My professionalism quickly disappeared as we reminisced about Drakes and Comicadia for the next
thirty minutes. I noticed that the more we talked the more she began to twirl her hair between her
fingers. It was her tell. She was flirting. A few minutes later, as we shared a laugh over one of my
magical mishaps she reached out and touched my hand. Oh yeah, she was flirting. I had to end this
now, but I didn't know how. I wasn't about to look at my watch and say, "Oh is that the time", that
would have been my tell. Luckily, my reprieve came a few minutes later when her phone rang.
"Excuse me." Her phone was in her hand and opened in seconds. "Beckett." She never had a conversation,
she just listened. "I'm on my way." She looked disappointed.
"Sorry, I've got to go."
"Dead body?"
"Yeah."
She slid off her chair and I followed suit. We tossed our cups into the trashcan by the doorway and I
followed her out of the coffee shop. The cacophony of voices that had filled the small space inside made
the din of the city outside sound almost pastoral. I held out my hand to her in parting and the handshake
she gave me was both cool and firm.
"It was pleasure meeting you Detective." Her reply wasn't what I expected. I expected to hear "Nice to
meet you too" or even "Likewise", but definitely not what she said next.
"Have dinner with me tonight."
"Um…I...uh.."
My hesitant reply had her slipping her hand from mine. "Sorry."
I had to fix my blunder. "No, I'm sorry Detective; it's just that with me being Karpowski's lawyer, I really
don't think we should fraternize any more than we already have, especially with your current investigation.
It wouldn't be very professional of us."
"You're right, I shouldn't have." She tried to hand back my business card but I waved her off.
"Keep it; you never know when you'll need a good laugh…or a good lawyer."
She smiled and slipped it back into her pocket. "I will, and it was a pleasure to meet you too." The fingers
of her right hand began to absentmindedly twirl her hair again as she turned and walked away. She made it
several feet before turning around.
"It's too bad about tonight," she called out above the traffic. "It would have been great!"
I felt had to say something in reply. "You have no idea!"
She smiled one last time and then disappeared among the mingling of bodies passing to and fro on the sidewalk.
I shook my head as I walked off in the opposite direction. 'You have no idea', did I really just say that? 'You have no
idea how impossible that would be' is more like it.
