No Legal Grounds, page 14
“Paul was the guy Jesus appeared to,” she explained. “He was an enemy of Christians, then Jesus blinded him with light and told him to go to this town. And a man met him there and told him that God had chosen him to be a special messenger of Christianity. And so Paul gave up all the power he had and for the rest of his life went around making Christians out of people. Because of that, he was beaten, whipped, stoned. But he never gave up.”
“Whipped?”
“Really bad.”
“That stinks.”
“But he kept right on going. Because he knew what God wanted him to do.” Linda paused, making herself believe what she was about to say. “Your dad is like that. He’s had some rough things happen to him. Like that guy at the baseball game. He told you about that.”
Max nodded.
“Well, Dad’s not going to let that stop him taking care of things, or us, like he always has. Can you believe that?”
He nodded again.
“You need anything right now?”
“Nah. I just want to sit out here for a while.”
“Then you do that.”
She got up. Max lay down on the grass so Buzz could lick his face.
Lord, protect him. Protect us all.
Instead of going through the back door, Linda walked along the side of the house, checking her garden, a reliable haven, always had been for her. Flowers were one of God’s best ideas. The miracle of a blossoming rose was astonishing. Only a God of beauty could have created roses.
She passed through the gate to the front yard, where she had planted geraniums only last year. They were in full bloom now, an orchestra of color. She smiled.
And for some reason looked up.
The man was half a block away. His hair was blond and his chest and shoulders wide. He wore sunglasses and was leaning against a red car. He was looking directly at her.
He held the gaze. Intentionally.
Linda looked away and walked quickly into the house, feeling the man’s eyes on her back.
Come on, she told herself. He’s not watching the house. He’s not —
She went to the window.
With as slight a movement as possible she pushed aside the curtain with her finger.
She looked out the window at the street.
But the man was gone. Gone too was any semblance of peace she had experienced in her garden.
4.
At four thirty, Sam met Gerald Case in the empty parking lot of a closed steak house on Balboa. The property stood slightly above Ventura Boulevard, affording a view.
Sam wanted to know why this spot.
“This used to be one great place,” Case said. “Thick steaks, cold beer, gave you a sense of what the Valley used to be like. Back when there was some sense of history here. I did a lot of business in that place.”
“So why’d it close?”
“The low-fat craze did it in. Funny. Red meat’s making a comeback, but real-estate prices make this place a hard sell. One thing it does have is a nice high lot so you can see if anybody’s around.”
“Is that important?”
“From this point on,” Case said, “you’ve got to count on being followed.”
Sam took in a hard breath. “Why?”
“Let me tell you about our boy.” Case took out a small flip pad and opened it. “Nicholas Oberlin. Hometown Sacramento. Odd jobs since college.”
“He said he was into construction, I think.”
“You see any calluses on his hands?”
“No.”
“Father dead, mother still very much alive. I also imagine Mom is there to pick up his pieces.”
“What’s that mean?”
“In ’84 he was arrested for felony battery. Beat up a guy with a baseball bat. It was going to be a big deal, according to the Sacramento Bee. But the case was suddenly dropped at the request of the prosecution. Lack of evidence.”
“A guy getting beat up with a bat?”
“There’s a dozen reasons it could’ve happened. Maybe the vic was the violent type. Self-defense maybe. Who knows? So the DA drops it, but the guy sues Oberlin in civil court. The case never goes to trial.”
“They settled.”
“Mom paid ’im off. Don’t know how much, but there you go. He had two DUIs, one in ’94, the other in ’97. Did a couple days in jail on the second one. And all this time he’s living with Mama.”
“That’s a little Freudian.”
“A little Norman Bates-ish.”
“Don’t go there, please.”
“I go where the information leads. Anyway, nothing in the public record, at least in California, that I can find after that. But you need to know you’re not just dealing with some college chum. He’s a guy with a violent past and no relationships to speak of except with his mom. That kind of profile, along with all his behavior to date, spells trouble.”
Sam looked at the eucalyptus trees lining the street. They always seemed haphazard to him, these trees that were probably planted fifty years ago in the Valley. Like no one had any idea what they’d look like full grown.
“So now what?” Sam said.
“I’d like to have a look at the guy. Find out where he’s hanging his hat.”
“You want to see him?”
“You have a problem with that?”
“No, but how are you going to find him?”
“You’re going to find him for me.”
Sam shook his head.
“Set up a meeting,” Case said. “Mention that you have some information to share with him, about his mother up in Sacramento. That will rock his boat.”
“Where?”
“You pick the place. A park would be good. Plenty of room for me. My guess is he’ll try to change the place, to be in control. He may even change it when you’re on your way to see him. But I’ll be following you.”
“And what if he catches on?”
“He won’t.” Case smiled, put the pad back in his coat pocket. “Because I’m the best there is, Mr. Trask. I don’t get seen unless I decide that’s exactly what I want.”
After Case left, Sam composed an email on his BlackBerry.
Time for us to meet again, Nicky. We need to talk about the next move. Your mom up in Sacramento must worry about you. Don’t want her to. There’s a way to make sure she doesn’t. Two o’clock tomorrow, Lanark Park.
5.
At home, Sam found Linda wound tight. She told him about the man who was staring at her from across the street.
“You sure he wasn’t scoping out something else? The house?”
“Why would he be staring at the house?”
“Could be any number of reasons. Maybe he’s house shopping.”
“Our house isn’t on the market, Sam.”
“He could have been checking out the neighborhood.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Sam sighed. “I don’t know what to believe. I didn’t see him. I don’t think this has anything to do with Nicky Oberlin.”
“Why not?”
“Because Nicky’s a lone wolf. That’s what I think. I met with Gerald Case today, and it sounds like he’s a bit of a mama’s boy.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s got a mother in Sacramento who always gets him out of trouble. Anyway, Case is going to follow him and figure out where he’s staying.”
“How is he going to find him?”
“I’m going to meet with him.”
Linda stiffened. “Did he contact you again?”
“I contacted him.”
“But why?”
“Honey, this is what I have to do. I have to meet with him so Case can tail him. I also want to tape our conversation. He may say something that we can take to the DA.”
“Sam, what are you doing?”
“Huh?”
“You’re not a detective. This is dangerous.”
“I’m not about to let it go on any longer.”
“What if he tries to hurt you?”
The possibility had crossed Sam’s mind on more than one occasion. “If I just wait and do nothing, he could try it anyway. Linda, we’ve got to take action now or he won’t stop harassing us. We can’t let him be the one in control.”
Linda laughed. It was the sort of laugh that carries sadness and hilarity at the same time.
“What’s so funny?”
“Control. God’s supposed to be the one in control of everything, right? This is some sort of funny control.”
And then she began to cry. Sam took her in his arms and held her.
6.
“Sammy!” Nicky’s voice was ebullient over the phone. “Thanks for the email, good buddy. I’d love to get together.”
“Lanark Park. You know where it is?”
“Sure! Looked it up. Can’t wait to see you face-to-face.”
Gamesmanship. “Tomorrow,” Sam said. “Two o’clock.”
“We have lots to talk about.” A hard tone now.
“Oh, yeah,” Sam said. “You are so right about that.”
Sam was shaking when he closed his phone. What was he doing? Linda was right. This was no time to play detective.
Or was it? It beat sitting and waiting.
Which is what he had to do now. The night lay ahead, and he was sure he wouldn’t sleep again. Maybe he’d pop a Benadryl. That seemed to help sometimes.
Drugs.
Trust. The word popped into his mind with neon brightness.
Sure, trust. But he wasn’t feeling God-trust in his body and bones. Didn’t he have a book somewhere on that topic?
Sam loved books, collected too many. His bookshelves were overstuffed. When he became a Christian he dove into the study of Christianity, like he had clamped his jaws on the law. He bought books he knew he wanted to read someday, and they piled up.
He scanned the shelf and found the volume he was looking for. A simple tome entitled Trust in the Lord, a collection of various authors.
He took it and sat, opening to the table of contents. His saw a section written by Charles Spurgeon. He’d heard that name. Don Lyle mentioned him sometimes. He was apparently a famous English preacher from the 1800s.
Sam turned to the page.
In seasons of severe trial, the Christian has nothing on earth that he can turn to, and is therefore compelled to cast himself on his God alone. When his vessel is on its beam-ends, and no human deliverance can avail, he must simply and entirely trust himself to the providence and care of God. Happy storm that wrecks a man on such a rock as this!
Happy storm? A bit odd, wasn’t it? How could anybody be happy in a storm? Maybe that was just a quaint way of putting it back then. But then there was that bit about wrecks.
Be strong and very courageous, and the Lord thy God shall certainly, as surely as he built the heavens and the earth, glorify himself in thy weakness, and magnify his might in the midst of thy distress.
Glory in weakness. Might in the midst of distress. It sounded like something only God could do.
Sam closed the book and his eyes. He wasn’t sensing any glory in any of this. When he finally went up to bed, it was weakness he felt most of all. After whispering a prayer for Heather, he fell into a fitful sleep.
7.
“Sammy, what a nice gesture to want to meet me. Maybe we can end up doing some business together after all.”
Nicky Oberlin wore his fake wide smile, as open as the area where they were meeting. Lanark Park was on the corner of Topanga and Roscoe. It took up an entire block, with ball fields and a pool, and a large grassy area with plenty of trees.
It was a little run-down. The city, strapped for funds, didn’t keep it up as well as it used to. Sam remembered bringing the kids here when they were little. There was considerably more trash strewn about, and patches of dry ground, than in those happier times.
Heather had loved the swing set here. It was a big one, and you could go high. It was also in a wide-open space, which is why Sam chose it for this meeting. On a Wednesday afternoon, it wasn’t as heavily trafficked as it would be on a weekend.
Gerald Case, parked on Roscoe, could very easily see the two of them.
“Let’s cut the pretend stuff, all right?” Sam said. “You went too far when you broke into my house with that flower stunt.” Sam had his micro tape recorder in his side pocket, had pressed the record button just before Nicky walked up to him.
Everything was in order, it seemed. So why was he shaking?
Because he knew Nicky Oberlin was capable of anything. But it was time to turn up the heat. The law, after all, was on Sam’s side. He’d made sure of that.
“Stunt?” Nicky said. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“You follow.”
“But breaking into your house? That’s a crime, isn’t it?”
“You should know all about crimes, Nicky. Crimes involving baseball bats.”
When Nicky didn’t respond right away, Sam took comfort in a point scored. Maybe Nicky wouldn’t be such a hard one to scare off after all.
“Sammy, you’re talking funny for an old friend.”
“Funny or not, you entered my house. Why?” He wanted to get it on tape, an admission. Something he could take to Cam Bellamy.
“You’ve got to get off that, Sam. I would never do anything like that to you.”
“You’re lying. You have a criminal record. I know all about it. I know all about your mother too.”
Nicky’s cheeks twitched. “You better tread lightly, Sammy. You could hurt a guy’s feelings.”
“I wonder if Mom knows what you’ve been up to down here. Maybe I ought to — ”
“You best not mention my mother again.”
“Oh, Mommy wouldn’t like that news?”
Nicky snorted. “You’re not too good at threats, Sammy.”
“No, I guess you’re the master, huh? That’s what you want to be. You didn’t make it in life, so you want to tear down those who have. Well, it’s over for you, Nicky. You can’t win. I know all about you and Mom and I will seriously — ”
“I told you to shut up about her. You better, you hear?”
“Or what, Nicky?”
He smiled. “I will take you apart, bit by bit. You and your family.”
At that moment Sam wished more than anything that he had a gun. He would have used it. The truth startled him. It was wrong, it was murder. Oh, maybe he could justify some sort of self-defense or heat-of-passion argument, but he knew his heart was pumping cold blood and he could do it right now.
“It’s over for you, Nicky. This is my last warning. The DA knows everything about you now. You’re persona non grata in LA. I know too many people. Better run home where it’s safe. And don’t show your face to me or anyone I know again.”
A kid screamed on the swing set, and Sam almost jumped out of his shoes. He hoped the fright wasn’t flashing on his face like a cheap restaurant sign. Nicky just stared at him.
Finally, shrugging, Nicky said, “Have it your way, Sammy. It’s a real disappointment that you treat old friends this way. A real bad disappointment. Because I was willing to be friends, to let bygones be bygones. I guess human beings will always let you down. I thought you were better than that. I really did. But now I see you’re just like everybody else, just like you were back at the dorm. Looking out for number one. Some Christian you turned out to be.”
Nicky Oberlin shook his head derisively, then turned his back and walked toward the parking lot.
Sam watched him go and for a split second almost felt sorry for him. The guy had no life, and somewhere he’d gone diving into a pool filled with darkness.
Maybe that would be the last of Nicky in his life. But he wasn’t counting on it. At least now he had a tape recording, and Gerald Case was taking things from here.
Pile up the ammo for a rainy day.
8.
Sam went to the office to box up all the files in the Harper case. He thought it more efficient to work on this at home. Doreen helped him.
“It’s not going to be as fun around here with you gone, Mr. Trask.”
“Fun? You’ll have a blast.”
“Are you okay?” She sounded like a little sister, and he was happy she did.
“I’ll be fine, Doreen. I’ve been practicing law without a break for twenty years. Maybe I deserve some time off.”
She started organizing the files in the box, setting them in order. “You know, I was thinking of going to law school.”
He looked at her. She raised her eyes, young eyes, fresh and clean. She was a good kid, Doreen. A tremendous help around the office. Working here while she finished up at Cal State at night, supporting a mother who was not doing well.
“Do you think that’s a good idea, Mr. Trask? Law school? I mean, there are so many lawyers out there.”
“Not all lawyers are created equal. We’ll always need good ones.”
“Is it worth it?”
Sam paused, leaning on the file cabinet. “How do you mean? Time and money?”
Doreen shook her head. “No, I mean is it something worth doing with your life?”
That was the big question for this generation, he thought. They were all about wanting to do something meaningful. Even Heather. She didn’t want to go the college way. Maybe he should resign himself to that.
But here was one who could have been his daughter. He felt very fatherly all of a sudden.
“I wanted the same thing when I went into law,” he said. “There’s always been a lot of cynicism about lawyers. Remember what Shakespeare said in one of his plays? ‘First thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.’ ”
“That would be a lot of killing.” She giggled.
“And all the lawyer jokes. Like, what do you call a thousand lawyers at the bottom of the ocean?”
Doreen laughed. “A good start.”
“See that? Everybody knows ’em.” He paused a moment. “But when I really started to think about what I was doing with my life, I found an old book in the UCLA library. It was a book of reflections on life and the law, and they had a quote by John Locke. He said, ‘The end of the law is not to abolish or restrain, but to preserve and enlarge freedom.’ I wanted to be part of that kind of thing.”
“And have you been?”
He thought about all the big cases he and Lew had done over the years, the major corporate clients. The memories didn’t move him. But then he thought of Sarah Harper, and her mother and father.
