Through the Storm Page 2

  Iona rolled her eyes. “Daddy, will you please stop asking me about Joey McDaniels? I have an investigator looking into everything right now – but he doesn’t even go to court until August. This is February, so I don’t have any updates. Okay?”

  Isaac’s eyes lit up as he asked Iona and Donavan, “Did you see him walk down to the altar today? That boy is saved!”

  “You didn’t give up on him, Dad. You should be proud,” Donavan said.

  “No, son, I’m not proud; I’m humbled that God would even allow me to help people like Joey.” Isaac turned back to Iona and said, “Speaking of which.” He opened the top, left side drawer on his desk and pulled out a picture and newspaper clipping. He stood up and walked it over to Iona. “I have another client for you.” He handed Iona the material and reclaimed his seat.

  Iona shook her head. “Oh no, not this again. I told you from the jump that I became a lawyer to get rich. I’m not interested in handling these pro bono cases you keep bringing me.”

  “Look at the information, Baby Girl. The man is innocent,” Isaac told her.

  “So was Vinny the three time loser and Robbie the preschool drug dealer,” Iona said without looking at the information in her hand.

  Isaac nodded. “Okay, I was wrong about those two, but you have to admit, the other clients that I sent to you have been innocent, right?”

  “Innocent and broke,” Iona whined.

  Donavan took the stuff out of her hand, turned the picture and newspaper clipping right side up and then placed it back into her hand. “This guy needs your help, Sis. We’re asking you to do this for the family,” Donavan told her.

  “There you go trying to put somebody on a guilt trip,” Iona said as her eyes fell on the photo. It was a Most Wanted picture printed off the Internet. Iona’s eyes widened. “That’s Clarence Mason.”

  “Donavan went to high school with him,” Isaac said.

  “I know that. I also know that Clarence just pulled off a three million dollar jewelry heist.” She held up the newspaper clipping knowing exactly what it was about. “He can afford the best attorney that money can buy. Why would he want me? I mean, I know I’m good, but I’ve only been practicing law for two years.”

  “First of all, Clarence doesn’t have any money, so he can’t just hire any attorney he wants. And I told him that you would be his best bet,” Isaac said, and then added. “Look, Iona, I’ve been witnessing to this guy for months, so when Johnny arrested him, he used his one phone call to get in touch with me.”

  Iona held up her hand. “Wait. You’re telling me that Johnny Dunford arrested this guy and now you’re trying to get him a lawyer?”

  Johnny Dunford was a deacon at the church and one of Isaac’s most dedicated members. He also happened to be a cop.

  “Johnny will understand. I’m just trying to help someone in need get a break,” Isaac stated.

  Iona rolled her eyes. “You’re not just trying to give a guy a break. You’re doing the minister thing; down at that prison preaching Jesus as always. When are you going to finally wake up and realize that some of these guys aren’t worth saving?”

  “Iona! What’s wrong with you? This is our life. We preach to these people because we believe God can make a difference,” Donavan angrily said.

  Holding up the five finger disconnect to Donavan, Iona said, “You are such a suck up. When will you ever have a thought that doesn’t originate in Daddy’s head first?” She then turned to Isaac and said, “I’m not mad at you, Daddy. Preach Jesus to all the criminals in the downtown jail. Hey,” Iona said with a smile, “it’s admirable.”

  “Then take the case, hon,” Isaac said.

  “Dad, do you know how busy my schedule is right now?”

  “This case will be a huge deal, Iona. Think of how it will look on your resume if you get Clarence off?” Isaac said.

  Iona sat quietly for a moment looking at the mug shot and the newspaper account of the robbery. Then she smiled to herself. She looked back up at Isaac and said, “You know what, Daddy?”

  “What, Baby Girl?”

  “I think I will take this case.” She stood up and headed toward the door. “Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have to go buy some new outfits. I bet there will be tons of reporters at the courthouse for this case, and I must look my best for the cameras. This might even end up on Court TV,” Iona said, giddy with excitement as she closed the door behind her.

  Donavan leaned back on the couch and shook his head.

  “That’s my Baby Girl,” Isaac said sarcastically. “Always doing the right thing for the right reason.”

  Chapter 2

  Iona strutted into the Dayton Municipal Courthouse at 8:50 am, ten minutes before the judge would be seated. She was wearing a Michael Kors eyelet trench with a matching MK satchel. Underneath her coat she wore a pale blue pants suit that gave her that J-Lo butt look. Her hair was neatly and professionally pulled back, giving her face an exotic look that caused the handcuffed, red jumpsuit wearers and the gun totting boys in blue to stop and stare. Hey, if she was going to be on TV, she might as well look good. She might even end up with her own TV show like Star Jones. From attorney to television personality – woohoo!

  “Good morning, Ms. Walker. You’re looking very nice today,” a dreadlock wearing security guard told Iona.

  “Thanks, Malcolm, how’s that new baby?” Iona asked the security guard as she handed him her satchel and briefcase and prepared to go through the metal detectors.

  “He’s about thirteen pounds now,” Malcolm told her as she walked through the metal detector.

  “Thirteen pounds? I thought he was only two months?” Iona asked as she took her satchel out of Malcolm’s hand.

  Malcolm smiled and rubbed his big stomach. “What can I say? He got his appetite from his old man.”

  Iona laughed as she got on the elevator heading to the third floor. She was never nervous when going through the medal detectors because she kept her gun in the glove compartment of her Lexus. She had a license to carry the gun, and with all the criminals she worked with, Iona thought it quite prudent to have it handy when she was out and about.

  She walked into courtroom B, where Clarence the jewel thief was shackled and in a red jumpsuit waiting for her to arrive for their first date. That’s what she called the court appearances she made with her felony clients – dates. She smiled at the bailiff and sauntered over to him. He’d actually asked her out a few times. So she was a little uncomfortable that she couldn’t remember his name; if he would just wear his name tag like a normal person. Poor bailiff with the afro. Hey, maybe that’s what she should call him, Afro Man. She rubbed her chin as she wondered if he would respond well to his new name. Anyway, she had turned Afro Man down every time he’d asked, She just hadn’t had the heart to tell him that for the last two years, she’d only dated her clients.

  Afro Man smiled as she inched closer. Iona’s smile brightened when she noticed that Afro Man did indeed have his name tag on today. “Hey, Stan, how’s it going?”

  “Not too bad. But I would be a lot better if you’d go to dinner with me,” he replied.

  Iona leaned in as close as she could without touching him and whispered, “Stan, you know I would love to go out with you.” She lifted her briefcase. “But I’m just so busy trying to clear all these cases that I don’t have time for myself, let alone a dinner and a movie.”

  Stan leaned down and whispered into her ear. “Well, you let me know when your load gets lighter, okay?”

  That’s what she wanted to hear. She smiled coyly at him. “Actually, my load could get a little lighter right now if you want to help me.”

  Stan opened his arms wide. “Hey, you name it. If I can do it, it’s done.”

  Too bad he wore an afro, Iona thought as she said, “I need to speak with my client in the holding cell.”

  He took a step back. “You’re too late, Iona, Judge Eden is about to come to the bench.”

  Iona had a prob
lem with time. Her law professor and her hair stylist told her that she didn’t respect other people’s time. She was working on it. Iona put her hands together in a steeple as if praying to the bailiff god. “Please, please, please help me. I’ll never ask again.”

  He hesitated, but only for a moment, then said, “Okay, two minutes and that’s it. What’s your client’s name?”

  “Clarence.” Iona almost called him Clarence the jewel thief, but managed to rein herself in long enough to say, “His last name is Mason.”

  The guard led her back to the holding area. Iona sat down next to her shackled client and took out her notepad. Clarence was a high yellow freckle faced man. He stood about five-seven and weighed no more than a hundred and sixty pounds; definitely too short and thin to do a dime in prison.

  She didn’t bother to introduce herself – if he didn’t remember her from high school, too bad. Iona took a pen out of her purse and asked Clarence, “Do you have family? A wife? Children?”

  “Hey, Iona, thanks for helping me. It’s nice to see you,” Clarence said with a smile and a friendly tone.

  “Family? Wife? Children?” Iona repeated.

  The smile left Clarence’s face as he responded, “I’ve been married for nine years. We have two boys and a new born baby girl.”

  Iona jotted down the information. “Do you have a job?” Iona asked, trying to ignore the loving way Clarence said ‘Baby Girl’.

  “Yeah. That’s why I don’t understand why the police think I would jeopardize a job I’ve worked on for seven years to pull some robbery.”

  She didn’t look up. Her face and ink pen were still trained on her note pad as she told him, “Save the outraged indignation stuff for the witness stand.” Then she asked, “Place of employment?”

  “I’m a computer analyst for Rite Stop.”

  Iona put the pen down and finally looked at her client. “Okay, I’ve got what I need. Today we’re going to enter a plea of not guilty and try to get you out on bail. We’ll discuss our strategy once you’re out of here.”

  Exasperated, Clarence clenched his fists. “I didn’t do it. Just get me out of here. I don’t belong in jail.”

  “Whatever,” Iona said, and then added, “Look, if the judge grants bail, will you be able to come up with it?”

  “My wife and I already discussed this; we’ll put up our house.”

  Iona stood. “One last thing.” She pointed her finger indicating the direction of the courtroom. “This right here, it’s our first date. And it’s on the house. You can thank my father for that.” She put her hand on Clarence’s shoulder and added, “But if you want to go steady with me, it will cost you a minimum of twenty-five thou. So either get my money, or find yourself another lawyer.” With that, she went back into the courtroom to handle her date’s bail hearing.

  It took two hours for her case to be called. There was definitely too much crime in this city, Iona thought as she shook her head. Once before Judge Eden, it only took fifteen minutes to plead and have a hundred thousand dollar bail set. It might have been a lot of money for some, but Iona was sure a jewel thief like Clarence could come up with the ten percent bond without batting an eye.

  Clarence shook Iona’s hand with one of his shackled hands. “Thank you. Your dad said you were the best. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  Iona smiled as she leaned closer to Clarence’s ear while still holding his hand. “You like what I did for you today? You want to take me to the prom? Then get my money when you get the bail bondsmen his.” She let Clarence’s hand go, put her file back in her briefcase and then attempted to walk out of the courtroom to get her five minutes of fame with the reporters that awaited her outside.

  Assistant District Attorney Jerome L. Tyler tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned he asked, “I thought you were trying to build your career. Why would you take on this loser of a case?”

  Iona stared at the three piece suit in front of her. His wire rimmed glasses only further displayed how uptight he was. His mustache and sideburns were trimmed and well groomed. And although he claimed he had Indian blood mixed with Negro, his hair had been processed so that it was combed over like a white man’s.

  “Jerome, please refrain from meddling in my business,” Iona told him.

  His face tightened. “I’ve asked you not to call me Jerome.”

  Oh yeah, that’s right. Jerome preferred to be called JL, because Jerome was too urban. But who was she to judge? If her mother had named her Chiquita or something equally fruity, she probably would have had her name legally changed rather than just using initials. “Look, JL, I’ve really got to go.”

  He lightly wrapped his hand around her arm, halting her exit. “All I’m saying is, this is the wrong case to try to build a name for yourself. Clarence Mason robbed that jewelry store and you’re going to look like a fool in court.”

  She pulled her arm from his grasp. “Get off my back. I’m doing a favor for my father, so whether it’s a dud or not, I have to take the case. Okay?”

  When Iona stepped outside, the paparazzi were waiting. The bulbs of cameras flashed in her face as she recited, “No comment” to every question asked about her client or the case. By the time she reached her car, Iona’s adrenaline was pumping. Forget Star Jones, she was going to be the next Johnny Cochran, and Clarence the jewel thief was her very own OJ. She just hoped that the prosecution would find the gloves used for the jewelry heist. “Lord, God if you’re listening, please don’t let the gloves fit,” Iona mumbled as she drove off.

  Chapter 3

  When Iona arrived at the offices of Smith, Winters & Barnes, her secretary, Vivian Stellar, handed over a stack of pink telephone messages. Iona put her briefcase on her desk and sat down to go through the messages. There were two from her mother. But Iona just simply couldn’t deal with Cynda Williams right now. She sat those messages on her desk and continued to sort through them. Three calls came from Larry the contract killer. Iona laughed as she crumbled up the messages and threw them in her waste paper basket. Iona might represent thieves, dope heads, drug dealers and the like, but she absolutely refused to represent anyone who killed people for sport.

  The Porsche dealership had left her a message. Iona currently had a two-year old creamy white Lexus. She loved her car, but felt there was no harm in keeping her options open. Never know when the right case would land in her lap and offer up enough money to make it possible for Iona to upgrade. She would call him once Clarence the jewel thief paid up. The law firm would get their cut, but she’d still have a hefty amount to put in her bank account. All the other messages were from her second, third, fourth and fifth offender clients.

  She picked up the telephone and started returning calls, only to discover that her clients needed her assistance yet again. Whoever said crime doesn’t pay hadn’t checked a defense attorney’s financial records. The last call she returned was to Stan, the TV star. He had been caught on tape and millions of people viewed him on America’s Dumbest Criminals. And now he wanted her to get him out of the jam a water pistol and saggy pants got him into.

  Stan had walked into the All-Night convenience store on Main Street, demanded all their money while holding one side of his pants up with his free hand. The clerk gave up the money, but as Stan was walking out the door, he accidentally squirted his water gun, slipped, fell in the puddle of water and then couldn’t get up because his pants kept falling down. The store owner grabbed his bat and commenced to beating Stan like he’d stole something, which he had, until the police showed up. Now Stan wanted to sue the store owner for attacking him. She was in the middle of explaining to stupid Stan that they needed to get through his criminal case before worrying about suing the man he was caught on tape robbing when she heard a commotion at her secretary’s desk. Iona and Vivian took karate classes together, so Iona knew that Vivian could take care of herself, but she still wasn’t going for anyone messing with Vivian.

  Iona got up and angrily swung the d
oor to her office open. Vivian was saying, “I have already told you that I gave your messages to Ms. Walker. I cannot make her return your calls.”

  Larry Harris or better yet, Larry the contract killer, leaned his big bulky linebacker body over Vivian’s desk and got in her face. “And I already told you, I demand to see her right now!”

  Vivian stood and got back in his face. That’s what Iona liked about Vivian. She didn’t back down from anybody.

  “Like I said-”

  Iona interrupted. “I got it, Vivian.” Iona then turned to Larry and said, “Come into my office, Mr. Harris.” She opened the door wider so Larry could get his meaty head and bulky shoulders through the door.

  Larry had to be at least an inch shorter than Iona, no more than five-six, with a shiny bald head and muscles that made Mr. Clean look like a wimp. He sat down in front of Iona’s desk and said, “Thank you for seeing me. Now, can we get down to business?”

  The last time Larry had been in her office, Iona had wanted to give him a lecture. Something like: Killing is bad, stop it! Iona sat down behind her desk. She stared at Larry for a moment. He was totally self-absorbed and in love with his whole persona. Iona, however, was not impressed. She had never liked men with big bulky biceps; always thought they had to be compensating for some physical or mental flaw. With this guy, she got the impression that he was definitely compensating for mental flaws. “What business do we need to get down to, Mr. Harris?”

  He snapped at her. “Would you cut the Mr. Harris crap? When we spoke last week I told you to call me Larry.”

  Iona nodded but said in a calm even voice, “I prefer to keep this meeting as professional as possible if you don’t mind, Mr. Harris.”

  “Whatever.” Larry scratched his nose. “You gon’ take my case or what?”

  “The last time we spoke you had not been arrested for any crimes. Has that changed, Mr. Harris?”

  “Naw, the police are still clueless. But who knows what tomorrow brings. Any minute one of the dudes that hired me to murder a rival could get popped. Hustlers don’t always go gently into that goodnight if you know what I mean.”