If I was stuck in my office the two choices I had were to put on headphones or walk down to the lobby, any other action would draw extra questions when the flatfoots arrived. So I slipped on headphones, dialed playlist with a large dose of Fleetwood Mac - starting with the sweet song that goes "Tell me lies..." and went back to work.
They say there is always work - billable hours in lawyer talk - for the wicked.
After a few minutes I remembered something really important. I sent a quick email telling the auto shop guys that Vicky was going dark blue again. Vamos! Thanks to the lawyers going to pieces and now being bar-b-cued in plastic and gasoline outside I could go back to my favorite color for my favorite car. Yes! Life was good.
About seventy minutes later I was rocking to the Thompson Twins song "Lies" when the cop walked in. Do you see the theme for this playlist? Given my profession, I had to be in the correct state of mind for this talk.
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Chapter 33. Preaching To A Visitor
8:16 Friday Morning
About 15 minutes after the explosion there was a building-wide announcement (intercom and a scroll on the computer) that the police had arrived; they were asking us to make ourselves available to them. That was code, all the lawyers and their PA's knew to conceal confidential data while the snoopy cops were around; "in plain sight" you know. However, I wondered about the service girls, so I shot a text to Barnes. He texted back "good catch, in the excitement I forgot them." He put Judge Stern on hiding our pet whores.
Having a cop walk in while a service girl was doing her job would be very bad.
Per standard procedure the cops went through the building, starting at the bottom and working upward (to cut off escape), asking questions and being nosy because it is their job and their natural inclination. (Good nosy people = cop;, bad nosy people = Hollywood reporter.) The detectives were each accompanied by a senior partner, so beyond the details of confirming who was where, when, it was really an exercise in frustration for them.
When they got to me I claimed I had not heard the explosion because my headphones, Sennheiser 290 "Silverbacks," had great noise isolation; they are used by professional DJs you know. The cop declined my offer to try them with some nasty Billy Idol - you can even hear the sneer.
I recalled that the building shook, but this is Southern California so really, who notices? When the "big one" comes it will be too late, and before then it really does not matter.
I said, "If the Lord in His Wisdom decides His earth should swallow the latter day Sodom," (I pointed to Hollywood - there is a big sign so all know where the End will Start), "there is not much I could do about it, is there? Look out the window? I don't think so, I really don't look good as a pillar of salt. No thank you. Nightly prayer has my destination penciled in as long as I don't screw it up at the last minute. You should consider it. Do you have a Bible by your bed? Can I give you one?" I held up a copy I keep in my desk, you'd be surprised at how often I use the line. "We could both be saved. You know, anything short of His Big Finale is just selling ads on the news and chat shows. Look, there are Satan's agents now." I pointed to a helicopter with my Bible, then had a sudden inspiration. "Care to read with me? What applies... How about..."
The offer to read got the usual response, the cop said "I'm on duty," like I was pouring him a scotch, then gave up on the rest of his questions. I have noticed that LA's finest detectives do that as soon as you bring religion shaded with a touch of zeal and/or insanity into your answers. Asking if he has a Bible is the kicker.
Once I encountered a cop who actually carried around a pocket edition Bible, so naturally I had to ask about his favorite reading. That worked too; after we trading readings for a half hour (his captain called twice) he decided I was his sort of inspired soul. So I didn't need a ticket for running a red light at 80 MPH. I was 15 at the time.
People can surprise you.
In general, a cop might actually agree with some of what is written, but that would not do for the department built on Joe Friday's "just the facts" example.
I did learn some things in the visit. In addition to the late lawyers Church and Tyson, Bill Everson and Tom Harding were also killed while sitting in the cars, and Jimmy Buckmeister was in critical condition at the hospital; he was getting into the car next to the building when Church started the car. The cops were confused about why two cars went up so close together; law enforcement's current working theory was that Bill Everson, who was formerly a member of the DA's office, was the target.
The 5 lawyers were going to a breakfast meeting with a client. It was a last minute thing, nobody knew ahead of time about it or who would travel. That made it easy for the cops to figure it was targeted at law enforcement, even if the theory was wildly improbably and impractical. Cops think that way.
The guys were taking the two new cars so they had somebody to talk to during the drive. This is an ethical point: driving time is not billable, but time spent consulting with other lawyers, whether in a car or eating a $200 breakfast with a client, must be billed by all concerned. Rich lawyers think that way, poor lawyers don't. See the connection?
By the time they got to me most of the cars left in the parking lot were inspected and cleared. I was free to go home once the Marauder was checked. Soon.
Samantha had arrived on site, weaving her spell talking to the cops about video. Barnes was right at her shoulder every moment. The cops could not have any tapes of the actual explosion or events leading up to them because the law firm didn't have any - the firm had no cameras in the lot, they had turned down Sam's proposals for cameras twice. Barnes had to show he felt bad about that.
Less than a week after Sam was hired, she presented a request for complete outside video coverage. As expected, the penny-pinching assholes partners twice rejected the proposal on the grounds of "too expense" and "a potential violation of client privacy" because there would be pictures of the clients, potential clients, witnesses and experts that might be subpoenaed, even if we do no trial work. I knew that would happen, but I wanted to cement Sam's reputation for foresight and judgement because I knew this moment was coming. Thanks Darnel.
Today, with 4.5 senior partners blown into small pieces on their own property, the partners who rejected the camera proposal all stained their tightie whities, so they smelled as bad as they felt. Plus they looked like fools who could not smell their own shit in front of the cops.
Meanwhile, Sam looked like a seeress-witch, a female Noah trying to lead the perpetually obstinate to safety and salvation. It was not an image the partners liked, but it strongly reinforced what I said about how lawyers were unsuited to deciding things outside of their narrow expertise.
I would view my private tapes of the lot later, hopefully to get a private look up Senorita Calamity's skirt.
The removal of all five partners was good news for me, I was sure to be elevated as a partner next January 2, or earlier if they speeded the process up. However, since I was not yet married, even on an emergency basis they were unlikely to do anything before my marriage ceremony to Abril in September or October. So I would still be free to travel to South America in mid-July.
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Chapter 34. Escape Adventures
9:05 Friday Morning
When I checked back after my cop interview I learned that Judge Stern had secured all the service girls (there were 5 on duty) in the top floor meeting room where he questioned them... well, like a Judge. None of them saw anything, so Stern could justify keeping them from the police. After all, the cops would ask silly questions the firm would not want answered, starting with "What do you do here?" and "Whose knees were you kneeling between?" Their contracts said that they modeled but since they worked naked, from their knees, with lawyer cocks in their mouths, by law they were prostitutes.
