Chapter Four

Rial wasted no time rushing from the beauty shop to the United States Attorney’s Office at the federal building in downtown Chicago to meet Dan Frost. Since it was after hours she was forced to stop and show her credentials to every United States Marshal she encountered, even though they all knew who she was. When she finally reached the entrance to her office, she was stopped by a security guard at the receptionist’s desk. He required her to account for herself once again, even though he had to have known that it would have been impossible for her to have reached this point without the proper ID’s. Exasperated, she sighed and thrust her credentials at him. He took offense. After that, he took his sweet time. "If only we had this much security at our borders," she remarked. "Just doing my job," he said perfunctorily as he scrutinized her ID card, slowly sounding out her name and asking her what she was doing there. "I work here," she snapped. "What do you think I’m doing here." "Ok. Ok.," he replied, backing off. He had taken his power trip as far as he could. "Have a nice evening." She snatched her credentials away from him and went straight to Frost’s office. She saw the angular profile of a man seated at Frost’s desk leaning back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile on his thin lips which parted slightly to exhale a long stream of cigarette smoke into the air. It stoked what was becoming a smog filled office. Rial was allergic to cigarette smoke. She took a deep breath and leaned in to speak. "Counsel," she said, slowly letting the air out. She assumed he was there on the case Frost had called her about. "I take it your client is invoking his right to remain silent?" "No," he replied, staring momentarily at his nicotine-stained fingers. "I have a fool for a client." The man with the cigarette looked up at her and laughed ironically. His teeth were as yellow as his fingers. When he turned his face toward her she recognized him. He was a criminal defense attorney she had tried a case against several years ago when she was still prosecuting narcotics cases. He had pulled every sleazy trick in the book. And here he was now, ready to shut down whatever it was she was there to investigate. It irritated her that he had arrived before she had. "Do you sleep with a police scanner or something?" she remarked, sarcastically. "You don’t have a clue, do you" he replied. He laughed and shook his head. Then he took another drag from his cigarette. "It’s endearing, in a way." "You’re not allowed to smoke in here," she said brusquely, quickly annoyed by his inappropriate laughter and his patronizing response. He seemed remarkably at home in Frost’s office. Normally, they kept the defense attorneys in a waiting area and tried to stall them while making a last ditch effort to interrogate their clients. He took another long, final drag off of his cigarette which had burned down to the nub. Then he flicked it to the floor. Sparks flew on impact and burned their way into the carpet. Rial leaned back out into the hallway in order to take another breath. She tried to remember his name. "Would you get me another cigarette?" he asked. His voice was raspy as if he had been doing a great deal of talking. "I told you, counsel. You can’t smoke in here," she replied, looking down the hallway for Frost. She was beginning to sense that things were not quite as they appeared. "Loosen up, honey." "Do not speak to me like that," said Rial, angrily. " I could report you to the bar for that." He burst out laughing and rubbed his eyes. He needed a shave. His suit was rumpled. "For calling you honey? Well, while you’re at it, tell the bar that I always thought you were a fine piece of ass. Now be a dear and get me a fucking cigarette." "You’re going to have to leave," she insisted, turning away and storming down the hallway, not knowing exactly where she intended to go. She looked around for an F.B.I. agent or a marshal. Suddenly, she saw Dan Frost coming her way. He wouldn’t tolerate this crap from a defense attorney and she practically ran toward him to fill him in. He stopped her mid-sentence. "You better go back in there and make nice with him. That guy holds your future in his hands." "That scumbag?" replied Rial, deflated. Frost’s eyes settled on her hair and an approving smile appeared on his face. Then he looked her in the eyes and nodded. "That’s Luke Periwinkle. Chicago p.d. caught him trying to smuggle drugs into the Cook County Jail yesterday. Now he’s spilling his guts, trying to make a deal." "I thought he was here as an attorney." "Representing himself." "Then why is he sitting in your office instead of a jail cell?" she asked, irritated at what she considered preferential treatment. "Professional courtesy," replied Frost, straight faced. Then he burst out laughing and patted her on the shoulder, followed by a gentle squeeze of her arm. He had always had a habit of touching her on her arms or her shoulders or back. It seemed innocent enough, but it made her uncomfortable and she did not know how to make him stop. Frost made an imposing first impression. He was six and one half feet tall with a square shaped head and a jaw that thrust forward to emphasize every point he made. He had a barrel chest and thick arms and legs. Even though he carried too much weight, it was evenly distributed across his frame so that he appeared unmovable, like an anchor. However, he had become smaller and smaller in Rial’s eyes with each subsequent meeting. He had a tendency to complain about his health, about the judgement of his co-worker’s, about his wife, and everything else. "I’m just kidding you," he said contritely, as his laughter faded into a more business like pose. "The thing is, he’s giving us some juicy stuff. I just don’t want him to turn around later and claim he was abused." "He knows his rights." "You don’t get it, Rial. He’s giving us Stanley Lemons. Judge Stanley Lemons." Frost laid it all out for Rial. Judge Lemons was on the take. Everything became clear in an instant. Judge Lemons was black. Rial was black. No one would be able to make a convincing claim of racism later if she prosecuted the case. For a second, she wanted to tell Frost no, but she did not have the option. "Why me?" she asked, playing dumb. "Because, you’re ready. You earned it," he answered, disingenuously. Because Rial knew that the case would have gone to Assistant United States Attorney Martinez down the hall had the judge been Hispanic. And AUSA Wong was being assigned a suspiciously high number of cases involving illegal Chinese immigrants. It almost felt like a test. As if she had to demonstrate that she was willing to go after her own before they could trust her. Frost expected her to thank him but she was silent instead and he launched into what sounded like a sales pitch. "This is the case, Rial. Pretty soon, everyone is going to know your name." "That isn’t important to me," said Rial. In fact, she preferred to fly under the radar on this one. Judge Stanley Lemons was the son of one of the most prominent African-American families in Chicago. His father was United States Senator Ezra Lemons. He was an icon, a voice for the under-privileged, a civil rights leader and a pillar of the community. Rial had always admired him. "It should be. It means prestige. Promotions. It could lead to a spot on the bench. A high paying job in the private sector. But if you don’t want it..." "I do," she insisted. Frost just stared at her, not saying a word. She knew what he wanted. She remembered how her mother used to stand behind her when friends and relatives would bring their hand-me-downs to their home. Her mother would ask her, "What do you say?" She didn’t even want them. She would have to wear their second-hand clothing to school and she could feel the other kids’ eyes on her, looking down on her. "Thank you," she murmured. The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, acknowledged a growing debt. And she knew that one day Frost would be there to collect. Rial didn’t get home until the next morning and when she opened the front door she saw Lenny passed out on the couch in his suit. The television was on. The volume was on high. She turned it off and heard Lenny snoring loudly. The room smelled of alcohol and stale breath. She bent down and shook him. It took several vigorous shakes to rouse him. When he opened his eyes they were glazed and blood shot, taking several seconds to focus. Then a loopy smile suffused his unshaven face. "Hey baby," he mumbled. "You’ve been drinking," she replied, sounding maternal and disapproving. "I’m sorry," he said, responding in kind with a sorry little boy’s voice. "Are you mad?" She shook her head no and he sat up and leaned toward her. He reached for her but she caught his hands in her own and kept him at bay. She did not want to embrace him. He smelled. "I love you, Rial." She nodded but she did not feel the same way at the moment. The place was a mess. He’d left dirty plates on the counter and newspapers scattered about. He had thrown his coat over the couch and knocked pillows on the floor. She wanted to ball her hand up into a fist and punch him. It had been a long night. Her interview with Luke Periwinkle had exasperated her. He had toyed with her. The entire interview seemed to amuse him and every time she asked him a question he winked at her or made a patronizing remark suggesting that a woman couldn’t handle it. He’d then address his answer to Frost or the FBI agent who had been assigned to work the case. Other times she caught Periwinkle watching her, smirking and dropping his eyes to her breasts or legs. Neither Frost nor the FBI agent said a word to Periwinkle about it and it was unlikely that they even noticed. They weren’t used to treating Rial that much better. However, she was the one who was going to have to work with him for he had agreed to wear a wire in exchange for a deal. If he brought down Judge Lemons, Frost promised to arrange to have the charges against him dropped. He would have to surrender his law license for five years. Rial felt Frost was being way too generous. She wanted him to take at least felony probation and surrender his law license permanently. After all, he was caught smuggling drugs into the jail. He was bribing judges. God knows what else. And she couldn’t help but wonder whether the deal would have been different had Periwinkle been African American. "I’ve been thinking," said Lenny as she helped him get up from the couch. "Let’s do it." "Let’s go to bed." "No. You’ve been hinting around about a baby. Let’s have one." "Goddam it, Lenny," she shouted, unable to control her temper. "You’re drunk. Is that what it takes?" "I’m trying to give you what you want," replied Lenny, raising his voice. "We have to both want it. Do you know how insulting it is to ask me when you’re like this? What will you say when you sober up? I guess I better screw you now before you change your mind, huh Lenny? That way you can blame me for the rest of your life." "What do you want from me, Rial. You are always angry. Everything I do pisses you off lately." "I’m tired, Lenny. Just leave me alone." "Fuck you, then." Lenny stumbled into the second bedroom and slammed the door. Soon she could hear the stereo blasting. It was pointless to tell him to turn it down. "Fine," she said to herself. If that was the way he wanted it. She could hold a grudge longer than he could. She started to turn toward the bedroom to see if she could catch a couple of hours of sleep before it was time to go to work but the mess Lenny had left caught her eye. She tried to walk away but she couldn’t. And soon she was cleaning. Wiping down counters. Washing dirty dishes. Picking up pillows and newspapers. She would not sleep at all.