Page 6 of Two Kinds of Stranger (Eddie Flynn #9)

Jan threw his hands up in disgust.

‘Wait, I haven’t finished. Morrie pays nothing. You, or your client, pay Morrie ten grand, for expenses, today. And you buy me breakfast. Final offer.’

‘Eddie, have you had a stroke? Did you bump your freakin’ head? What the hell is wrong with you?’

‘Do you have any money on you?’ I asked.

‘Sure I do,’ said Jan quizzically.

‘Good, because here comes my breakfast.’

The food-delivery cyclist made his way through the crowd toward us.

His name was Darius Johnson, but everyone calls him Pork Chop, on account of his father who worked at a butcher’s shop in Bed Stuy and came home every night with a bag of pork chops.

Since Darius is all grown up and recently left home, he’s become vegan. But the nickname stuck.

He pulled the GoPro camera off his green bicycle helmet and handed it to me. I hit play, showed the camera to Jan.

‘Your client is hard to miss in that orange shirt. See, he got out of his wife’s SUV this morning, outside your offices, with no movement or mobility problems whatsoever.

He even leapt out of the way of Darius’s bike here then jumps to his feet straight after and shouts and screams at the bike rider.

He goes into your office, a few minutes later he goes next door with you to the orthopedic clinic, again no problems with movement or mobility.

Then there are two problems for you. One, neither you nor your client see Darius filming you from behind a parked car.

Your second problem is that when Neville comes out of the medical practice he suddenly looks like he fell off the top of a four-story building.

And Darius here got it all on video for me. ’

‘Shit,’ said Jan. ‘You set this up, Eddie?’

‘You’re damn right I did. Here’s what’s going to happen if you don’t take my offer. This video is going to the judge in this case, and then the district attorney’s office, and then you will be disbarred and prosecuted for fraud – your client too.’

‘Bullshit,’ said Jan. ‘You’re bluffing. No way would the DA look at this . . . ’

I pulled out my phone, called the Kings County central office. This courthouse is renowned for having the most friendly, informed and helpful staff. And they loved me. I sent donuts at Easter and four food hampers at Christmas.

Anne McCartney answered the phone. She was seventy-one years old, single, wise, formidable and funny as hell.

‘Eddie Flynn, when are you going to ask me out for dinner?’ she said.

‘I’m a divorcee workaholic, Anne – you deserve better. Do me a favor, please, would you page ADA Chris Doyle to the third floor . . . ’

The announcement came over the public speakers almost immediately.

‘Chris Doyle to level three, please, for Eddie Flynn.’

Jan folded his arms, but I could tell he was rattled. We had put our cards on the table. Now it was time to turn mine over.

I moved away from Pork Chop and Jan, and stood in front of the elevators. Couple of minutes later, the doors opened and Chris stepped out.

I met him, making sure to keep my back to Jan, and took Chris’s car keys out of my pocket. He smiled, took them and I made sure to block Jan’s view of this little exchange.

‘Thank you. Where did you find these? I just realized they were missing a few minutes ago,’ he said.

‘It was Jan Jeffers who found them. See that guy behind me who looks like he hasn’t eaten in six months?’

We both turned, looked at Jan.

Jan didn’t look happy. Pork Chop was covering his mouth, trying not to let Jan see his silent laughter.

I pointed to Jan, and so did Chris, making sure it was the right guy I was referring to.

‘I’ll let you get back to putting innocent people in jail,’ I said.

Chris patted me on the arm, waved goodbye to Jan and hopped back into the elevator.

I took my time making the short walk back across the hallway to where Jan was standing, his face dripping down to his knees.

‘One time offer, Jan. You did get one thing right. It is a case of res ipsa loquitor. Morrie swept that floor the night before the accident. He didn’t cut any meat or sell any prosciutto before your client fell that morning.

Your man fell on a cold cut because he put that piece of meat on the floor himself after he pretended to take a slip. ’

‘We withdraw the lawsuit and the video goes away?’ he asked.

‘And you pay ten large.’

‘Today?’

I nodded.

‘Deal,’ he said, and turned away.

‘Wait,’ I said.

Reluctantly, Jan swung around, a look of total defeat on his face. I almost felt sorry for him.

‘What?’

‘You forgot something,’ I said.

Pork Chop opened his delivery bag and handed me a sandwich wrapped in foil.

‘Pay the man. You’re buying me breakfast, remember?’

‘That’ll be five hundred dollars,’ said Pork Chop.

‘You gotta be freakin’ kidding me,’ said Jan. ‘What the hell is in that sandwich, caviar and golden eggs?’

‘Prosciutto,’ said Pork Chop.

As Jan counted out five one-hundred-dollar bills like they were his last, I went over to see Morrie.

‘It’s done,’ I said. ‘The case is dropped. That guy over there is going to pay ten grand for your expenses. Some of that has to come out to cover some filing fees and my time, but you should have about eight grand left over. You are going on a health-and-safety course to learn how to complete the proper reports so you don’t end up in this mess ever again.

Whatever is left over, and it should be plenty, goes toward your wife’s medical bills. ’

‘What the hell happened, Eddie?’

‘Justice,’ I said. ‘It makes an appearance every now and then.’

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was my sixteen-year-old daughter, Amy. Usually, I get texts. Sometimes even words instead of thumbs up or thumbs down emojis, occasionally a little red heart. I like those.

I answered, ‘Hey, sweetheart . . . ’

‘Dad, I need you to get over here right away . . . ’

She sounded breathless, and there was something else behind her tone. Not excitement.

Fear.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Mom. She’s in trouble . . . ’