Pamela Samuels-Young

Chapter 3

I

  tried to ignore the knots forming in my stomach as I followed O’Reilly and Neddy out of the conference room and into O’Reilly’s spacious corner office. As soon as he closed the door, his face took on a childlike elation. “L.A.’s long overdue for another big, juicy murder trial and this is it.” He sat down in his cowhide leather chair and propped his feet up on the desk. He was smiling so hard his cheeks looked like they had been stuffed with grapefruits.

Neddy and I took seats in the matching Queen Ann chairs in front of his desk. We had yet to acknowledge one another.

“The police tried to question Montgomery’s wife last night, but she refused to talk without representation.” He turned to face Neddy. “She called us because she remembered that acquittal you got in the Langley murder case last year. But it was my idea to pair you up with Vernetta.”

O’Reilly was definitely satisfied with himself. I almost expected him to stand up and pat himself on the back.

This kind of case was right up Neddy’s alley. She’d spent fifteen years at the Public Defender’s Office before O’Reilly & Finney recruited her four years ago to strengthen the firm’s criminal defense practice. Since joining the firm, she had successfully defended a string of high-profile criminal cases, including two wealthy murder suspects and a string of accountants and bankers accused of securities fraud. My practice, however, was strictly employment law.

I was the first to speak. “O’Reilly, have you forgotten that I’m not a criminal attorney?” I couldn’t exactly tell him I didn’t want to team up with Neddy just because she walked around looking like the Wicked Bitch of the West.

“Wait a minute,” O’Reilly protested, “didn’t you tell me you’d be open to learning other practice areas when I hired you? Well now’s your chance.”

I hated having my own words thrown back at me. “You’d actually want me to cut my teeth on a case this big?”

“Why not? You’re an incredible litigator, Vernetta. You just won one of the biggest verdicts this firm has ever had. And without a doubt, Neddy’s sharper than ninety-nine percent of the prosecutors down at the D.A.’s office. You two have Dream Team written all over you.”

Neddy’s left eye began to twitch.

“And anyway,” he continued, “Tina Montgomery was elated when I mentioned your name. She’s been following the Hayes trial on TV.”

O’Reilly was leaning forward now, his elbows planted on his desk like a pair of upside down turkey legs. “Think about it? Two smart, attractive African-American, female lawyers defending a prominent, African-American socialite accused of murdering her rich husband? Hell, the defense team’ll get more publicity than the trial.”

So that was it. We would no doubt be the first all-black, female defense team handling such a high-profile case. That would mean coverage in the mainstream media, the legal press and the black community. And O’Reilly was banking on all that publicity bringing a lot more clients through the door. But teaming up with Neddy would leave me relegated to second-class citizenship. That definitely wouldn’t work. I had to find an escape clause and quick.

“So let’s be clear here,” I said, feigning indignation. “Are you assigning us to this case because we’re black or because we’re women . . . or both?”

“Aw, don’t give me that politically correct bullshit, Henderson.” O’Reilly swatted away my question with one of his mammoth hands. “You two know me better than that. I’m all about getting whatever mileage I can out of any case that comes through this door. Do you know how many attorneys would kill for a case like this?”

“But I’m not a criminal attorney, O’Reilly.” Of course that hadn’t been a concern for me when he first mentioned the case. I took in a breath and hoped I didn’t sound too whiny.

“Yeah, but Neddy is. And she can teach you all the procedural stuff you need to know inside of two weeks. The real job in trying a case like this is analyzing the evidence. It’s all about how you present the good facts and how you spin the bad ones. You’re a whiz when it comes to the nuts and bolts of a case. And don’t quote me, but after the Hayes verdict, with this case on your resume, when your name comes up for partnership next year . . .” He arched his eyebrows and smiled.

Finish the sentence, I wanted to say. But O’Reilly wasn’t stupid enough to make that kind of binding oral promise with a witness present. I knew he was right. After the Hayes victory and an attention-grabbing case like this, win or lose, my fate as far as partnership was concerned would be happily sealed. I’d become the firm’s first African-American partner.

I wondered why Neddy was playing mute. I doubt she wanted to work with me either. But O’Reilly couldn’t dangle a partnership carrot in front of her face. She had negotiated a deal for a permanent Of Counsel position and seemed satisfied with that arrangement.

While I was still pondering my predicament, Neddy finally opened her mouth.

“Hold on a minute,” she said. I couldn’t tell from her tone exactly how she felt about O’Reilly’s proposed arrangement. “You only said the police wanted to question Montgomery’s wife. Who says she’s even a suspect?”

O’Reilly smiled. “C’mon Neddy, don’t bullshit me. We both know innocent people don’t go calling lawyers just because the cops want to talk to them.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Neddy challenged. “Anybody with any sense knows you don’t talk to the police without a lawyer present. Thank God she was savvy enough to demand one. It doesn’t mean she killed the man. If you ask me, it just means she’s smart.”

O’Reilly frowned. I could tell he was alarmed that his visions of a media feeding frenzy might be vanishing before his eyes.

“I agree,” I said hurriedly. “Maybe she’s just being cautious. There’s no reason for us to assume the police plan to charge her with murder.”

O’Reilly leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin. “Well,” he said, with a sly grin, “I don’t know about you two, but I’m sure hoping like hell they do.”