Silicon Beach by Davis MacDonald

Author:Davis MacDonald [MacDonald, Davis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-12-13T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

4:00 PM Tuesday

The afternoon lingered as the Judge soldiered on, doing legal research online for a client. Not his favorite task. After a while he put the work aside and took a break, closing his eyes for a moment, settling back in his large overstuffed chair in his small office. A half hour later the Judge’s cell phone rang, startling him out of a comfortable nap. It seemed he needed a power nap more and more these days when his schedule could accommodate one. Some said as you got older you got tired more quickly, but it was okay because when you worked you worked smarter.

The Judge suspected you just got older.

He was old and a little beat up. As he reached for the phone, flashes of pain shot up his arm, reminding him of just how deep the knife had struck. The doctor said he’d been lucky. What sort of luck put you in a knife fight with an unknown assailant? He needed no more luck like that.

“Judge, we need to talk.” The gravelly voice on the other end was vaguely familiar. It suggested smoke damage, too much booze, and late nights partying until you’d exhausted everyone you could party with and were alone. Who the hell was it?

The voice answered the unspoken question in low growls. “This is Randall Hicks.”

It was the Plaintiff in the patent case! The Judge immediately started to protest the call, but was cut off.

“Look, I know all the attorney bullshit about not talking to the judge, and I waive all that. And that little squirt, Carl Greene is dead, so I know he doesn’t care. And I don’t want to talk about the case anyway. At least not the part you’re arbitrating.”

“This is against all judicial procedure and ethics,” sputtered the Judge.

“Just hear me out, Judge. Just be quiet a minute and listen.”

“Go ahead.”

“I think I’m in deep doo-doo, Judge. I just heard about your law clerk, Wolin. Murdered! I think I might be next.”

“The police don’t know yet whether it was a suicide or what,” said the Judge. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Oh I know, Judge. And so do you. You’re no fool. This thing has gone way far beyond what was intended. First Greene gets killed. Now your clerk. And I’m being shadowed. I think I’ve been set up. I may be next to have a sudden accident. I want to talk to you now Judge, private, close by, and quick. There’s more involved than you know.”

Against his better judgment, the Judge assented. “Meet me around the corner at Chaya Venice in a half hour Mr. Hicks, and bring your attorney along. I don’t want to talk to you alone. I’ll see you there.”

“I’ll be there,” said Hicks.

The Judge finished the legal point he’d been researching when the nap struck, saved his work, grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

He’d met Randall Hicks when he’d appeared at the start of the case, and twice more, once when he testified, and once when he sat in to listen to Carl Greene’s testimony.

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