"Whatcha drinkin'?" asked Rick.

"I'll have one of those chick's martinis."

"Cosmo," Rick said to the bartender, who nodded and went to work on it.

"Drinkin' the chick's drinks, means you're getting horny, dude," said Rick.

"You know me, I'm always horny." Rick laughed. "Look, I need you to take a look at a case for me," said Brent.

"Who's the client? Gotta know so there's no conflict."

"April Marsh."

"Doncha mean March April?" Rick prided himself as the master of puns. Of course, after a couple of drinks, his corny jokes got even better, or so he thought.

"Very funny."

"So, what's she look like?"

"Rick, come on, man."

"No, you come on. One to ten, a five? Seven? Is she hot?"

"Rick, I didn't come here to talk chicks."

"Since when do we not talk chicks? Plus we're in a bar for fuck's sake. What else do guys talk about in a bar?"

"Dude, I can't get involved with a client."

"Oh, so she is hot?"

"Can't say."

"What? What happened, did your dick go on vacation or something?" What's she look like?" Brent was stoic.

"Blonde hair?" asked Rick. Brent said nothing, giving it away. "Blue eyes? Green?" Again nothing. "Whoa, I'm on a roll now. Smokin' hot body too, right?"

"If you must know..."

"I must."

"Yes, all of that." Rick whistled.

"Can we be serious now?" asked Brent. The bartender slid the pink martini to Brent across the sticky counter. Rick pointed to his own glass with a "pouring motion" and the bartender topped it up.

"Serious is too boring."

"It's no boring case."

"Yeah, you told me." He covered his mouth, as if to yawn. "Financial fraud, whoopee!"

"This is different."

"How so?"

"Her parents' house was in foreclosure, Prudent Bank major fraud.

"So?"

"Her mother was murdered. Father beat within an inch of his life."

"You told me. And?"

"She says the bank VP did it."

"Why would a bank VP want to murder her mother?"

"That was my initial reaction too. Seems the bank was up against a Grand Jury investigation for all their dirty little mortgage dealings and the parents were witnesses."

"Now that is interesting. Well, banks are the biggest mafia, you know, except for the government of course."

"Of course."

"Calls for a toast," Rick said, lifting his glass. Brent took the cue and raised his class as well. "Give me everything and I'll sniff around for you." Rick slammed his drink as Brent took a sip from his martini.

"Come by the office tomorrow afternoon. Melinda should have your copies of the files ready by then," said Brent.

"Don't have to talk me into it. That Melinda is one helluva fox."

"Dude, nobody says fox anymore."

"Yeah, well nobody says dude anymore either. Hey, whatever happened with that nut case and the restraining order?"

"Joshua Banks? They served him on Monday."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I told the Sheriff he was dangerous, so they asked the cops for help. They brought out the whole freakin' SWAT team served the guy at gunpoint and everything he even gave up his whole gun collection."

"No shit."

"No shit. I think that one is under control."

"Just watch your back, man. You never know."

"I know."

"And Brent..."

"Yeah?"

"You know you can always call me if it gets too hairy."

"I know, thanks."

"No need." Brent knew that was true. The mark of a good friend. Someone who asked for nothing, and gave everything. Someone you could call up at 3 in the morning who would never be pissed off at you. And he could do the same.

7.

April was ecstatic when Brent told her the news on the phone. "Now, we have to investigate, we have to prepare..." she said.

"Wait a minute. Remember, I told you I run the case?"

"Yes, of course."

"Your role is to provide information when I need it, not to investigate. You've done a great job so far, but I have my own investigator who used to work for the FBI."

"Okay, well then we should meet to discuss the case."

Normally, Brent liked to have as little client contact as possible. Talk to the client, find out what is necessary to find out, get paid and go to work. With April, it would be easy to make an exception, but that could turn into breaches of other rules he had set for himself, so he decided to play by the book, instead of by the seat of his pants.

"I should have you sign the contract and, of course, we need to settle the matter of my retainer."

"No problem. When can I come by to sign and drop off a check?"

This was the exception to the infrequent contact rule. Clients with checks were always welcome, no matter how much of a pain in the ass they may be. If a client was holding a check, Brent could listen to the same story for the third time with the patience of Job. He even had a box of Kleenex on his desk for the teary-eyed moments.

Brent had heard every story that could be imagined in the human experience over the last 20 years women who were beaten by their husbands, parents who molested their children, women who wanted to be men, men who wanted to be women, same sex couples who wanted a 'divorce.' The variations on human misery that he had witnessed could keep a psychiatrist busy for life.

When April came by to sign the agreement and drop off the check for the retainer, she was dressed to make an impression as usual, in smart black slacks and a red silk shirt. Melinda showed her in, taking silent wardrobe notes.

"You look wonderful," Brent told her. "Please have a seat."

"Thank you," April said, sitting down. She dug around in her purse and pulled out the check, handing it to Brent. He accepted it, said "thank you," and put it on the desk, like it was not as important as it was. Then, Brent slid the two page retainer agreement over to her.

"So, once I sign this, you take over, right?"

"Yes, it will then be in my hands."

"Before I do, I just want to be sure of one thing. I have your word that you will take the murder allegation seriously, right?"

"We can still plead RICO without it, but, if there is a shred of probable cause that Bernstein had anything to do with your mother's murder, we will plead it and try to prove it."

It was Voltaire who said that all murderers had to be punished unless they kill in large numbers to the sound of trumpets. If you believed the Bible, the first murder was committed by the victim's brother. We were put on the earth for so short a time. It was absolutely unconscionable for someone to arbitrarily decide that our time was up, and to make it so. Brent vowed to make sure that if he and Rick discovered who murdered April's mother and attempted to murder her father, they would be punished. No extra charge.

8.

Charles Stinson used to tell Brent, "Nothing is easy," and, with respect to legal work, that was absolutely true. Most people had no appreciation of what went into a letter or a legal brief; they only saw the result. To get to that result was a tedious process, of legal research to find the law, analyzing the facts, and then applying the law to those facts in a concise legal argument. Legal arguments were like fingerprints. No two were ever completely alike. That was why the bar examination was so tough - only about 40% of people who took it passed it and even less on the first try.

Brent had been working on the complaint for about a week, while Rick sniffed around. Night and day, he toiled at the office, thinking about each critical piece of the case and putting together allegations that were supported by his research. The case would be filed in federal court, and the bank would hire the best legal team they could to try to quash the complaint on a motion to dismiss. Everything had to be carefully worded and every cause of action carefully supported by the appropriate law.

As a provisional remedy, Brent would ask the court for a preliminary injunction to stall the foreclosure sale until the case could be finalized. In the case, he would ask for the court to declare that the mortgage, or deed of trust, as it was called, was void, because it was not assigned to the Trust pool of mortgages by the closing date of the Trust. A technical argument, but one that had some limited precedent.

Because the note and deed of trust were void, Prudent Bank had no right to collect on them as the servicer of the loan, as the mortgage had never been properly assigned to the Trust. He would plead fraud and bad faith, and that the bank was violating the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act.

But, the weakest link was RICO. That was the part the bank would work the hardest to throw out; not necessarily because they were guilty of murder, but because they were guilty of bank fraud and RICO carried a punitive damage penalty of three times the actual damages you could prove. It was like 2-1 odds at the horse track.

To Brent, it seemed like he had just finished breakfast at 7 am, came to the office, and checked his email, but it was coming up on 4 pm and he had not even eaten lunch yet. He was developing a headache from eye strain. Brent knew there were others besides April and Melinda counting on him. There was also Calico, his orange and white cat. He decided to take off early, which meant that he would pack up his laptop and head home, taking a short break to feed and pet the cat before getting back to work.

The phone rang just as Brent was leaving the office. Brent generally hated talking on the phone, and considered it a nuisance, except for the conveyance of absolutely essential information, which was better done by email anyway, so before Melinda announced who it was, he said, "Take a message."

"Mr. Marks, I think you should take this one. It's Mr. Penn."

Brent picked up the phone. "What's up, Rick?"

"Can you come down to the cop shop right away? I've gotta show you something."

"Does this mean I can put the 'M' word in the complaint?"

"Come down and see for yourself. Meet me in homicide."

Brent packed up his laptop, said good-bye to Melinda, and headed for the police station.

9.