On September 26 of this year, I'll be taking the LSAT. 59 days, 22 hours from this moment, I'll be locked in a room with a bunch of other people on a Saturday morning to test my ability to do some stuff that is in some way related to being an attorney. It doesn't do me any good to dwell on the question of what doing logic games has to do with taking a deposition, but I've worked in law firms for a while, and I have yet to hear an attorney complaining because he chose the wrong diagram type to use on the multiple sequencing question his client needed done in 35 minutes. I'm just putting it out there.
This is where my lack of a job becomes a plus, because I can now study pretty much everyday and not get overwhelmed with my schoolwork and my internship*. For the last couple weeks I've been going to the library for a couple hours a day (more on Friday and Saturday when there's no internship) and going through study books and doing practice tests. And my score has improved. It's not quite at the goal I set, but it now seems attainable. Which is good.
Still, though. The LSAT is hitting me in a lot of ways I didn't think it would. I used to be really good at standardized tests. I didn't really study for the SAT or the ACT. I just kind of showed up and took them. And I didn't blow them away or anything, but I did pretty well. Well enough to go to a really good school, anyway. Intellectually, I knew the LSAT would be tougher than those two, but I thought it would all come back to me. It has and it hasn't. That test-taking mindset is coming back, but that confidence still isn't there. Which I think is because I feel like there's more riding on this test than on either of those two. I knew I would go to college somewhere good. It didn't seem like a possibility that I would fail. Now, it's different. I don't think it's a big possibility that I'll stumble and mess up the test so badly that no school will have me, but it's there. And truthfully, I want to go somewhere really good. If I have to go somewhere that's of lesser regard, I'll figure it out, but really I want to go to a good law school.
But it's not just that I want to go somewhere good that makes the test more worrisome than the college entrance exams. It's also that I finally figured it out. I finally figured out what I want to do. I mean, I haven't nailed down what area of law, but I've ruled some out**. And I know I don't deserve a good score just because I've figured out at almost 32 years of age what I want to do with my life, but it's been such an odd journey for me. And to finally be able to figure out where I want to go, it's frightening to think it could be elusive because I don't read as fast as others. Or because I don't know which order the speakers at Seneca Falls should go in.***
It isn't really helping that I can get obsessed with numbers. It's partially an obsessiveness that I was born with, but it's been nurtured by a life-long love of baseball. I've spent summers wondering if a pitcher could to get their ERA under 3.00 or if a batter could notch a batting average over .300. And I remember when I in London a flatmate would leave me notes about Mark McGwire's homerun chase****. I just get obsessed with numbers. So, trying to get that magic number for the LSAT is feeding into that obsession. And it's probably not good. I mean, ultimatley, five or six years from now, that number is not going to mean that much. It's gonna be a meaningless number. I mean, numbers only represent what we let them. Right now, this number represents my future. It represents where I could be. What path I could take. And that's why I'm studying everyday and the library on Lincoln and Belmont.
******
I just set up a couple law school visits in Minneapolis. That feels good.
*Note. I have only three classes left and I've done enough hours to be done with my internship. The attorney I'm working for is letting me stick around until I find something, which is cool.
**Note2. Sorry Maritime and Admiralty law. It's not you. It's.....no. It's you.
***Note3. One of the logic games I worked yesterday was about the order the speakers must go in. Apparently, Elizabeth Cady Stanton cannot speak before or after Frederick Douglas. And if Lucretia Mott goes second then Susan B. Anthony must speak fifth. I'm sure these great people would all be comforted to know that they are making gains in the all important minutae of LSAT prep tests.
****Note4. Seriously, everyone. Let him into the Hall of Fame. He didn't do anything illegal. Ethically problematic, maybe. But there are plenty of gents in the Hall whose indiscretions were a lot more dubious than taking over the counter supplements. We're not talking about going to shady doctors who are charging thousands of dollars for their "treatment" or evading federal authorities. We're talking about something he got at a nutrition store from some dude who makes $6/hr. The hardest thing he had to evade was the child-proof cap. And this Hank Aaron talk of letting Pete Rose in and keeping the steroids guys out, is making me furious. Seriously? Mr. Aaron, I respect you and all you've accomplished, but your protests about steroids and other supplements ring a little false after watching you yukking it up with Barry Bonds (who did involve himself in illegal activities, by the way) in Pepsi commercials.
But, let's look at Mr. Aaron's argument. Pete Rose bet on baseball. That's always been the BIG NUMBER 1 DO-NOT for baseball. He bet on his team when he had the ability to affect the outcome of games. Baseball is a competition. And he would have us punish people, who in an effort to be competitive, or to gain a competitive edge, took steroids. These people wanted to compete. They wanted to win. Or they wanted the money that came from being successful at their chosen craft. They didn't do it ethically, and often did it illegally, but at least they were doing it because they wanted to play harder and do better. Rose, on the other hand, he was not looking for a competitive edge. He was the manager of a team, and he had a responsibility to put that team in a position to win every night. He has a fiduciary duty to his players and to his organization. He owes them loyalty and his best judgment. But if he's got other interests--if he's looking for cash, then can he honestly say he is not putting that interest above the interest of a player who needs a day off or pitcher who probably shouldn't go out for another inning? And I know he claims he never bet on his team to lose. But, I simply don't believe him.
The difference between the two situations is that Rose was engaging in a situation where he was threatening the basic premise of the game: that it is a competition.
McGwire, Bonds, Sosa, Clemens and all those guys who did or did not use whatever. They were trying to gain an advantage. To make the game competitive. And while it can be argued they were making the game less competitive in doing so, I think I've seen enough evidence to say that so many people were using performance enhancers that it's hard to argue an advantage existed. The only thing they threatened were the numbers. Like Aaron's 756. People argue the numbers meaningless. That's the thing. They always were meaningless. They're numbers. They only represent what we let them represent. And Aaron's remarkable journey to 756 is not now meaningless because Bonds took a more dubious path to a higher number. In fact, I would argue it's more meaningful. But. Yes, Mr. Aaron, your name is no longer the first one in the book. And I can understand why that would piss you off.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Gumshoe #8
Sorry for the long wait. This is the scene I had in my mind when I wanted to start writing the Gumshoe, so I really wanted to make sure I got somethings right. I also want to make sure I'm not being too cliche with ho
w I'm writing this. I was talking to my mother-in-law, who also loves detective novels, though I don't think she's read the Gumshoe or is aware I have a blog. But, she was talking about some of the cliches and I got a little worried I was falling into some of them without thinking. Clearly, I am using some cliche, but I'm hoping I'm doing them in a way that makes sense and is interesting and doesn't just take the cliche for granted. But ultimately I don't know. Either way, I hope you enjoy.
w I'm writing this. I was talking to my mother-in-law, who also loves detective novels, though I don't think she's read the Gumshoe or is aware I have a blog. But, she was talking about some of the cliches and I got a little worried I was falling into some of them without thinking. Clearly, I am using some cliche, but I'm hoping I'm doing them in a way that makes sense and is interesting and doesn't just take the cliche for granted. But ultimately I don't know. Either way, I hope you enjoy. It was 10 o’clock. I sat in the car outside the Holiday Inn, loving the feeling of having slept for a good long while. My plan was to sit in the El Camino, to which Ms. Fortune had been gracious enough to drive me and watch the hotel for a while. I had to see if Chance or his friend “Jim” would be there and if that led me anywhere. If I didn’t see them by 11.30 or so, then I’d head in and try to see them from across the room. There would be a big risk of being seen, because the bar was pretty small, but I couldn’t risk missing them altogether. It wasn’t much of a plan, but this whole case was making me feel like I wasn’t much of a detective.
I had parked the car out of the range of the streetlights, its warm, safe glow about a yard from my front and behind my bumper, piercing the cold fall evening. It wasn’t cold enough to freeze, but it would probably get pretty close tonight.
As I settled in, I turned on the radio to my favorite classic rock station. Not to my surprise, it had commercials running, but I remained hopeful. “Tonight is the breakthrough,” I said to myself.
There are two things I love about a stake-out. The first is being able to just sit in your car and listen to the radio. When I was young, before I staked out anything, I’d lie on my bed and listen to music for days at a time. This was before iPods, when radio ruled your life like a god. If you were poor or had spent your allowance money on baseball cards (which was often the case for me) or you didn’t have allowance or an album wasn’t being sold at the crappy mall near your house, and you wanted to hear a certain song, you just had to wait for the radio to play it. I’d lay on my broken-down bed, my hands behind my head waiting for the moment the new Prince or the old BTO came one. I’d wade through the tides of good songs that would ebb and flow with the pools of bad songs. Sometimes there’d be hours of good songs, and you’d feel so good. So alive. But all too often there’d be a lot of okay songs and some really shitty ones, but that’s how it was. It sounds strange to say now, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it. But, it taught you patience. It taught you a little something about living in a world with other people and their tastes. And, if I haven’t overstated it too much already, it taught you something about life.
And when your song came on, or when they piled those great songs back to back to back, there was no better feeling. The radio waves opened up and smiled on you. Or when you were just driving home after a fight or make-up sex and that perfect song came on. When it looked like I wasn’t going to graduate high school and Springsteen was there to pick me up or when I had made the football team won a game (which wasn’t often on the south side of Des Moines, believe me) and Guns N Roses was there, perfect in the moment, it’s a feeling you can’t get by dialing an iPod to the song you think you want. The problem with iPods is they cater to your every whim, playing whatever song you think you want to listen to. But sometimes you’re the last person in the world who knows exactly what it is you need.
Did I mention the other thing I love about stakeouts is the propensity to get lost in tangents?
I looked up at the Holiday Inn. It’s a high rise hotel that rams into the sky out of nowhere. It’s called the downtown Holiday Inn, but it’s technically not downtown. It’s kind of close, which is good enough for most everybody, I guess. I was staking out the main entrance figuring that was the best chance to catch one of the two going in. He probably had no idea that I was onto him. Probably is a word that seems to get me into trouble a lot.
It’s an odd place to meet, I thought. Like I said, it’s not really downtown. It’s not too far out of the way, but still it’s not a typical meeting place. Not with actual downtown not so far away and full of places both more chill and more hip. But, I’m not the Chamber of Commerce, so if this is where they want to meet, so be it. The top floor of the building rotates, which may be a draw for Chance or his friend from “San Francisco”. It’s the only place in our little city that does that.
It started to rain outside. First, it started in a light mist that reminded us of the spring that brought the bright vibrant greens that now died in the cold of an autumn night. The rain picked up speed and intensity and the wind joined in. I had to crack my window a little so my windows wouldn’t fog over. I squinted through the plops of water on my windshield as I stared at the entrance of the building.
I chuckled to myself when I remembered. This is where they held prom. The thought crossed my mind so casually, but the pangs of the memories made everything come back fresh.
Mindy James. She looked so gorgeous that night. Her dirty-blonde hair tied in a ribbon, curls busting loose over her ears and one down her forehead, bobbing close to her right eye. The green dress she wore was modest compared to many of the others I saw that night, but she looked fantastic. We’d been dating for a long time before this, so I think I’d forgotten how beautiful she was. But I remembered that night. Sitting in my car, as Purple Rain started pouring from the speakers and the cold autumn rain pattered around me, I remembered again how beautiful she looked on that warm spring night. And I remembered how much I’d loved her.
There’s something different about your life the first time you tell someone you love them and mean it. Something inside of you breaks, never to be made whole again.
I never meant to cause you any sorrow.
I never meant to cause you any pain.
The music started slowly, quietly. And it brought me to the time before the break-ups and the reconciliations. Before we started hitting each other and I got arrested and she dropped the charges. Before we split up for good. And way before she was dressed up in a BTO t-shirt to cover the torture that had been inflicted on my sweet Mindy.
It’s such a shame our friendship had to end.
I sat still and rigid on my seat in the front seat. My eyes closed and I could smell her perfume. I could see the curls of her hair as I brushed them over her ear and told her for the first time that I loved her. I felt her body go rigid against mine for a second before she kissed my neck and said she loved me. If I hadn’t known how it would turn out for her, I would’ve said this was the best moment of my pathetic life. I had meant it so much. And I could have actually been good for her. It didn’t have turn out that way. I could’ve been less controlling. Less angry and protective. We could’ve made it work on my police salary. Or I could’ve at least caught the monster who skewered her. I could’ve been strong enough for that. And I didn’t have to run to Chicago after. That cult. I could’ve been better. Stronger. Anything. I should’ve been.
I know times are changing.
It’s time we all reach out for something new.
And that means you too.
You say you want a leader,
But you can’t seem to make up your mind.
I think you better close it.
And let me guide you to the Purple Rain.
I felt the tears coming out of my eyes as the song retreated and Blue Oyster Cult replaced it, probably the song that would cause someone else to break down like a sentimental idiot.
I heard a quick pop that sounded like distant thunder, but I suddenly felt the clouds surround my brain and I was out.
**********
When I came to, I was tied to a chair in a dark room. I struggled just long enough to realize I was tied with rope and that whoever had done this really knew what they were doing. I looked around, trying to get my bearings. There was a little light coming in through the sheer curtains that hung over the windows. I couldn’t say for sure how long I’d been out, but I was betting it wasn’t too long and we were now in the downtown Hilton.
I noticed a bulky presence sitting on the couch in front of me.
“Chance,” I managed to spit out despite my swollen tongue. There was no response. “Look, I’m pretty sure it’s you Chance, so let’s dispense with the melodrama.”
The lump stayed silent. I took a breath and let it out loudly. I was considering how to get more light in here when I heard a smash and a doorway appeared to my right. Light streamed in from the hallway lights for a second until an imposing figure stepped in and yelled “Police. No one moves.”
A figure behind the first flipped on the lights and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Detective Muldoon,” I said with a crack in my voice. “I am happy to see you.”
Her eyes stared straight past me. I turned my head back to where the lump had been. It was Chance. He’d been stabbed in the chest and on the wall above him someone had written in blood, “I only wanted 2 be some kind of friend”.
I had parked the car out of the range of the streetlights, its warm, safe glow about a yard from my front and behind my bumper, piercing the cold fall evening. It wasn’t cold enough to freeze, but it would probably get pretty close tonight.
As I settled in, I turned on the radio to my favorite classic rock station. Not to my surprise, it had commercials running, but I remained hopeful. “Tonight is the breakthrough,” I said to myself.
There are two things I love about a stake-out. The first is being able to just sit in your car and listen to the radio. When I was young, before I staked out anything, I’d lie on my bed and listen to music for days at a time. This was before iPods, when radio ruled your life like a god. If you were poor or had spent your allowance money on baseball cards (which was often the case for me) or you didn’t have allowance or an album wasn’t being sold at the crappy mall near your house, and you wanted to hear a certain song, you just had to wait for the radio to play it. I’d lay on my broken-down bed, my hands behind my head waiting for the moment the new Prince or the old BTO came one. I’d wade through the tides of good songs that would ebb and flow with the pools of bad songs. Sometimes there’d be hours of good songs, and you’d feel so good. So alive. But all too often there’d be a lot of okay songs and some really shitty ones, but that’s how it was. It sounds strange to say now, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it. But, it taught you patience. It taught you a little something about living in a world with other people and their tastes. And, if I haven’t overstated it too much already, it taught you something about life.
And when your song came on, or when they piled those great songs back to back to back, there was no better feeling. The radio waves opened up and smiled on you. Or when you were just driving home after a fight or make-up sex and that perfect song came on. When it looked like I wasn’t going to graduate high school and Springsteen was there to pick me up or when I had made the football team won a game (which wasn’t often on the south side of Des Moines, believe me) and Guns N Roses was there, perfect in the moment, it’s a feeling you can’t get by dialing an iPod to the song you think you want. The problem with iPods is they cater to your every whim, playing whatever song you think you want to listen to. But sometimes you’re the last person in the world who knows exactly what it is you need.
Did I mention the other thing I love about stakeouts is the propensity to get lost in tangents?
I looked up at the Holiday Inn. It’s a high rise hotel that rams into the sky out of nowhere. It’s called the downtown Holiday Inn, but it’s technically not downtown. It’s kind of close, which is good enough for most everybody, I guess. I was staking out the main entrance figuring that was the best chance to catch one of the two going in. He probably had no idea that I was onto him. Probably is a word that seems to get me into trouble a lot.
It’s an odd place to meet, I thought. Like I said, it’s not really downtown. It’s not too far out of the way, but still it’s not a typical meeting place. Not with actual downtown not so far away and full of places both more chill and more hip. But, I’m not the Chamber of Commerce, so if this is where they want to meet, so be it. The top floor of the building rotates, which may be a draw for Chance or his friend from “San Francisco”. It’s the only place in our little city that does that.
It started to rain outside. First, it started in a light mist that reminded us of the spring that brought the bright vibrant greens that now died in the cold of an autumn night. The rain picked up speed and intensity and the wind joined in. I had to crack my window a little so my windows wouldn’t fog over. I squinted through the plops of water on my windshield as I stared at the entrance of the building.
I chuckled to myself when I remembered. This is where they held prom. The thought crossed my mind so casually, but the pangs of the memories made everything come back fresh.
Mindy James. She looked so gorgeous that night. Her dirty-blonde hair tied in a ribbon, curls busting loose over her ears and one down her forehead, bobbing close to her right eye. The green dress she wore was modest compared to many of the others I saw that night, but she looked fantastic. We’d been dating for a long time before this, so I think I’d forgotten how beautiful she was. But I remembered that night. Sitting in my car, as Purple Rain started pouring from the speakers and the cold autumn rain pattered around me, I remembered again how beautiful she looked on that warm spring night. And I remembered how much I’d loved her.
There’s something different about your life the first time you tell someone you love them and mean it. Something inside of you breaks, never to be made whole again.
I never meant to cause you any sorrow.
I never meant to cause you any pain.
The music started slowly, quietly. And it brought me to the time before the break-ups and the reconciliations. Before we started hitting each other and I got arrested and she dropped the charges. Before we split up for good. And way before she was dressed up in a BTO t-shirt to cover the torture that had been inflicted on my sweet Mindy.
It’s such a shame our friendship had to end.
I sat still and rigid on my seat in the front seat. My eyes closed and I could smell her perfume. I could see the curls of her hair as I brushed them over her ear and told her for the first time that I loved her. I felt her body go rigid against mine for a second before she kissed my neck and said she loved me. If I hadn’t known how it would turn out for her, I would’ve said this was the best moment of my pathetic life. I had meant it so much. And I could have actually been good for her. It didn’t have turn out that way. I could’ve been less controlling. Less angry and protective. We could’ve made it work on my police salary. Or I could’ve at least caught the monster who skewered her. I could’ve been strong enough for that. And I didn’t have to run to Chicago after. That cult. I could’ve been better. Stronger. Anything. I should’ve been.
I know times are changing.
It’s time we all reach out for something new.
And that means you too.
You say you want a leader,
But you can’t seem to make up your mind.
I think you better close it.
And let me guide you to the Purple Rain.
I felt the tears coming out of my eyes as the song retreated and Blue Oyster Cult replaced it, probably the song that would cause someone else to break down like a sentimental idiot.
I heard a quick pop that sounded like distant thunder, but I suddenly felt the clouds surround my brain and I was out.
**********
When I came to, I was tied to a chair in a dark room. I struggled just long enough to realize I was tied with rope and that whoever had done this really knew what they were doing. I looked around, trying to get my bearings. There was a little light coming in through the sheer curtains that hung over the windows. I couldn’t say for sure how long I’d been out, but I was betting it wasn’t too long and we were now in the downtown Hilton.
I noticed a bulky presence sitting on the couch in front of me.
“Chance,” I managed to spit out despite my swollen tongue. There was no response. “Look, I’m pretty sure it’s you Chance, so let’s dispense with the melodrama.”
The lump stayed silent. I took a breath and let it out loudly. I was considering how to get more light in here when I heard a smash and a doorway appeared to my right. Light streamed in from the hallway lights for a second until an imposing figure stepped in and yelled “Police. No one moves.”
A figure behind the first flipped on the lights and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Detective Muldoon,” I said with a crack in my voice. “I am happy to see you.”
Her eyes stared straight past me. I turned my head back to where the lump had been. It was Chance. He’d been stabbed in the chest and on the wall above him someone had written in blood, “I only wanted 2 be some kind of friend”.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
4th
Happy 233rd America.
And to celebrate, many drunken citizens will (almost?) blow off their fingers, eat way too much grilled meat, and enjoy the colorful explosions that will remind them of the wars past that we have sanitized and made glorious instead of thinking of the wars we're fighting now with troops who have no support once they get back and for whom we refuse to sacrifice anything for.
The founding fathers would be happy to see us now.
And to celebrate, many drunken citizens will (almost?) blow off their fingers, eat way too much grilled meat, and enjoy the colorful explosions that will remind them of the wars past that we have sanitized and made glorious instead of thinking of the wars we're fighting now with troops who have no support once they get back and for whom we refuse to sacrifice anything for.
The founding fathers would be happy to see us now.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
the 100th post of my blog career....
This'll be an extended general update....I apologize accordingly...
********
But, I want to know--is there anybody alive out there?
Bruce Springsteen asks this question on pretty much every live recording I've heard of him. (One of my biggest regrets is that I haven't seen him live in concert yet. This will be rectified when, you know, I have some disposable cash and he comes around. Lately, he's been holding his end of the bargain up--touring and performing...but I haven't been able to justify concert ticket money. Someday soon though.)
There's something to that question. Something simple and transcendental all at the same moment. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but sometimes I feel like I have been asking this question of myself and I'm just finally starting to like the answer.
********
The second week of the internship is coming to a close and I'm still really liking it. I was supposed to observe some courtroom antics this week, but that didn't appear to work out. There's a small chance it could work out today, but it's teeeny tiny. This is one thing I've been looking forward to a lot. I've never observed a formal proceeding and I'm just curious about it. I mean, surely it's gotta be different than watching Law & Order. Though, if it isn't, I'll probably be okay with that, because I really liked Law & Order for a while and it would be a little nostalgic to see one again.
Anyway, I was supposed to see the beginning of a proceeding on Tuesday. But, then I learned a little something about the justice system. Apparently, it's a little backed up these days. Okay, so we show up to what's called a "black-line room" to get scheduled a judge and a room. We're early on in the list and there's every expectation that we'll get assigned everything we need in time to start picking a jury and doing preliminary stuff the same day. Except. They run our of judges. I mean, it makes sense that it could happen, but it's not something that you'd think would happen. Of course, that's probably because it never happened on Law & Order.
So, we wait for a while. We're just sitting there while the court goes about its business. The judge is hearing motions and dealing with other things, but we're on hold there for a couple of hours. Then the attorney I'm working with decides to send us (there was another paralegal intern with me) back to the office to do some work, because we're not really learning that much (though it was interesting). He says they may end up assigning us something, but he's unsure how it'll work out.
He tells us the same thing Wednesday, but by this morning, the case is pushed back a couple months. But for two days the attorneys sat around waiting to start a trial at any moment. And so did the clients and witnesses. But, that's how things work out sometimes.
*********
Otherwise, the internship is going well, I think. I'm still looking around for jobs figuring that it'll take a while for someone to get back to me and interview me and decide to hire me, and by that time I could be done (or almost done and put in a couple weeks notice) with the internship.
So, I applied for a job through the Chicago Daily Law Bulletin. The job looked like a job with a small firm, but they didn't reveal who they were. Which is pretty common from what I've seen. A couple days later, I hear from a staffing agency. Apparently they are "handling this for a client". It is a little shady to look like you're something you're not, but okay. The agency is a reputable place, so I know it's not gonna be weird in any bad way. And the position is a permanent one, which I would really prefer over any sort of temping.
Anyway, I tried to catch on with them right after I was let go last year. I met with a nice guy there, but he never seemed to get me into any interviews. Which I sort of understand now. My resume was okay, but it's not like I was close to my degree or I had anything that particularly jumped out at anyone. And the economy was in the crapper. So, okay, I understand, I guess.
But, the guy who called me after receiving my application was a different guy. Seemed excited and thought I would be a good fit. So, he asks me to come in. I tell him Friday (the day I don't work my internship) and we agree. He's gonna send me an email confirmation and we're good to go. I'm kind of excited, because in describing the firm, he said a lot of things I wanted to hear. He even gave me a salary range that was right in the heart of the range I thought I should make, so, this sounds all good. I figure that I haven't heard from them in a while, so I've been sorted out of the computers or whatever.
But, then I don't get the email confirmation. So, I call back and I quickly see I have not been sorted out of the computer, I'm switched to the first guy I met with. So, I don't know. Hopefully he can get me in somewhere, but I'm not holding out hope.
At least someone was interested, even if it wasn't the person I really wanted interested. And it's not like I'm not making my own inquiries, I guess. So. Yeah, just keeping my chin up.
********
It turned hot this week. Which, I'm not thrilled about. It's been a long, cool spring, so I shouldn't complain, but I will. See I can walk to my internship, which is great. The thought of walking to work will forever be a goal of mine. But this week, I've seen the major drawback--being a little (or a lot) sweaty when I get to work. I'm sure it's not great in the winter either, but last week, when it was a warm spring day, with a slight breeze blowing through the trees along Ravenswood Avenue (which, despite the train tracks running along one side, feels like a calm country lane), that was worth it.
**********
Can you believe I've posted on this blog 100 times? Sure they've mostly been whiney and they've all been self-indulgent, but still 100 times is pretty decent.
So. Having written 100 posts makes me start to think about what I'm doing this for. I think at first, I wanted to have a place to publicly think about the things that were going on in my life. I especially focused on things that were going wrong, like work and family stuff. That's certainly been a theme, but I think I've tried to do more it as things have gone on. I think I've tried to show off my writing and have some fun. And during the times when I've been dow or didn't feel particularly interesting or fun, I've stayed away from the blog. I mean, it's not fun writing (or reading I'd imagine) about how I'm depressed or uninteresting.
Going forward, I think that's probably going to be how things are. I don't want to just bitch about things unless I have something interesting to add to things. I want to have a more standard schedule, but I don't want this to become a chore. Still, I think when I settle into a job and graduate from my program, I'll be able to get into a more regular schdule. That's the goal.
*******
My weight is going down. Slowly. I've lost another pound and another half inch off my tummy. I haven't been running as much, but I'm walking to work. And just being at my internship has taken away a lot of the time I'm tempted to eat stupidly. It also helps that there's no food or candy in the office. No vending machines, no dishes full of offerings. Nothing. I know where ever I next work, there will most likely be someone throwing out the candy dish, hoping to get me into their sugary, fatty cell with them, if only for a moment while I'm walking by, slowing only to grab a piece and smile guiltily. But, I'm hoping I'm getting in the habit of not succumbing to the sweet, loving goodness. We'll see.
*******
********
But, I want to know--is there anybody alive out there?
Bruce Springsteen asks this question on pretty much every live recording I've heard of him. (One of my biggest regrets is that I haven't seen him live in concert yet. This will be rectified when, you know, I have some disposable cash and he comes around. Lately, he's been holding his end of the bargain up--touring and performing...but I haven't been able to justify concert ticket money. Someday soon though.)
There's something to that question. Something simple and transcendental all at the same moment. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but sometimes I feel like I have been asking this question of myself and I'm just finally starting to like the answer.
********
The second week of the internship is coming to a close and I'm still really liking it. I was supposed to observe some courtroom antics this week, but that didn't appear to work out. There's a small chance it could work out today, but it's teeeny tiny. This is one thing I've been looking forward to a lot. I've never observed a formal proceeding and I'm just curious about it. I mean, surely it's gotta be different than watching Law & Order. Though, if it isn't, I'll probably be okay with that, because I really liked Law & Order for a while and it would be a little nostalgic to see one again.
Anyway, I was supposed to see the beginning of a proceeding on Tuesday. But, then I learned a little something about the justice system. Apparently, it's a little backed up these days. Okay, so we show up to what's called a "black-line room" to get scheduled a judge and a room. We're early on in the list and there's every expectation that we'll get assigned everything we need in time to start picking a jury and doing preliminary stuff the same day. Except. They run our of judges. I mean, it makes sense that it could happen, but it's not something that you'd think would happen. Of course, that's probably because it never happened on Law & Order.
So, we wait for a while. We're just sitting there while the court goes about its business. The judge is hearing motions and dealing with other things, but we're on hold there for a couple of hours. Then the attorney I'm working with decides to send us (there was another paralegal intern with me) back to the office to do some work, because we're not really learning that much (though it was interesting). He says they may end up assigning us something, but he's unsure how it'll work out.
He tells us the same thing Wednesday, but by this morning, the case is pushed back a couple months. But for two days the attorneys sat around waiting to start a trial at any moment. And so did the clients and witnesses. But, that's how things work out sometimes.
*********
Otherwise, the internship is going well, I think. I'm still looking around for jobs figuring that it'll take a while for someone to get back to me and interview me and decide to hire me, and by that time I could be done (or almost done and put in a couple weeks notice) with the internship.
So, I applied for a job through the Chicago Daily Law Bulletin. The job looked like a job with a small firm, but they didn't reveal who they were. Which is pretty common from what I've seen. A couple days later, I hear from a staffing agency. Apparently they are "handling this for a client". It is a little shady to look like you're something you're not, but okay. The agency is a reputable place, so I know it's not gonna be weird in any bad way. And the position is a permanent one, which I would really prefer over any sort of temping.
Anyway, I tried to catch on with them right after I was let go last year. I met with a nice guy there, but he never seemed to get me into any interviews. Which I sort of understand now. My resume was okay, but it's not like I was close to my degree or I had anything that particularly jumped out at anyone. And the economy was in the crapper. So, okay, I understand, I guess.
But, the guy who called me after receiving my application was a different guy. Seemed excited and thought I would be a good fit. So, he asks me to come in. I tell him Friday (the day I don't work my internship) and we agree. He's gonna send me an email confirmation and we're good to go. I'm kind of excited, because in describing the firm, he said a lot of things I wanted to hear. He even gave me a salary range that was right in the heart of the range I thought I should make, so, this sounds all good. I figure that I haven't heard from them in a while, so I've been sorted out of the computers or whatever.
But, then I don't get the email confirmation. So, I call back and I quickly see I have not been sorted out of the computer, I'm switched to the first guy I met with. So, I don't know. Hopefully he can get me in somewhere, but I'm not holding out hope.
At least someone was interested, even if it wasn't the person I really wanted interested. And it's not like I'm not making my own inquiries, I guess. So. Yeah, just keeping my chin up.
********
It turned hot this week. Which, I'm not thrilled about. It's been a long, cool spring, so I shouldn't complain, but I will. See I can walk to my internship, which is great. The thought of walking to work will forever be a goal of mine. But this week, I've seen the major drawback--being a little (or a lot) sweaty when I get to work. I'm sure it's not great in the winter either, but last week, when it was a warm spring day, with a slight breeze blowing through the trees along Ravenswood Avenue (which, despite the train tracks running along one side, feels like a calm country lane), that was worth it.
**********
Can you believe I've posted on this blog 100 times? Sure they've mostly been whiney and they've all been self-indulgent, but still 100 times is pretty decent.
So. Having written 100 posts makes me start to think about what I'm doing this for. I think at first, I wanted to have a place to publicly think about the things that were going on in my life. I especially focused on things that were going wrong, like work and family stuff. That's certainly been a theme, but I think I've tried to do more it as things have gone on. I think I've tried to show off my writing and have some fun. And during the times when I've been dow or didn't feel particularly interesting or fun, I've stayed away from the blog. I mean, it's not fun writing (or reading I'd imagine) about how I'm depressed or uninteresting.
Going forward, I think that's probably going to be how things are. I don't want to just bitch about things unless I have something interesting to add to things. I want to have a more standard schedule, but I don't want this to become a chore. Still, I think when I settle into a job and graduate from my program, I'll be able to get into a more regular schdule. That's the goal.
*******
My weight is going down. Slowly. I've lost another pound and another half inch off my tummy. I haven't been running as much, but I'm walking to work. And just being at my internship has taken away a lot of the time I'm tempted to eat stupidly. It also helps that there's no food or candy in the office. No vending machines, no dishes full of offerings. Nothing. I know where ever I next work, there will most likely be someone throwing out the candy dish, hoping to get me into their sugary, fatty cell with them, if only for a moment while I'm walking by, slowing only to grab a piece and smile guiltily. But, I'm hoping I'm getting in the habit of not succumbing to the sweet, loving goodness. We'll see.
*******
Monday, June 22, 2009
Post 99: It's an ugly world out there.
It's been a busy time for me lately. I've been interviewing like nobody's business, so it's a good type of busy.
Anyway, interviewing for internships has been pretty cool really. I applied for 16 or so internships (though some of these ended up not wanting to offer a position, so I'm not sure exactly how many were viable options for me) and got calls from three of them. I interviewed with the first one and it went well. Really well. In fact, the more I thought about it, it went too well. I showed up, dressed up all nice-like and it was pretty much settled that the paralegal I interviewed with wanted me to work there. Her interviewing style wasn't so much to ask questions of me as to tell me how awesome I am and how she could really use a person like me around. Which, I liked hearing, believe you me, but. Well. It was a little unsettling. I almost felt like she was trying to sell me on working there, which wasn't a tough sell. But. The problem with this internship was gonna be the long and thorough background check they do. She was hoping to "zip" me through in 6 weeks.
The second internship was with an attorney who had me in class. He sent me an email telling me I was accepted, no interview was necessary. I went in just to talk about when I'd come in and such , but I started the next Monday.
And it's mostly been awesome. I've been doing a lot of research and some organizing...but a couple days I got to work on some petitions for clemency and expungment. Which was really nice. It was the first time I really got to feel like I was helping someone do something meaningful. And the attorney really seems to like the way I write, which is also thrilling. It's been a long time since I've felt this good about what I've been doing. And so when I have to do the organization stuff, I don't mind. I actually kind of enjoy it because it means I can find the other stuff I need easier. I mean, I sort of knew this line of work was the right move for me, but I didn't expect it to feel this good.
And the feeling of accomplishment and happiness from helping (even though it's in only a small, small way) someone who has turned their life around like the gentlemen who we're helping get their records cleared, that's a good feeling. Good enough that I'm sure that when I get out of law school, that's a feeling I want to have about the type of law I choose. So, yeah. That's good. Very good.
Of course, today was not so good. It all started out so well. I was proof-reading a brief that we were going to file today and I got to take it to the people we were gonna have file it for us. Things got a little sticky, when some of the materials we needed weren't in the filing (which I don't think was my fault, but it wasn't not my fault either...if that makes sense), but I quickly dealt with the parts of it I could and headed back to the office.
And then I started working on the case I'd been dreading. It wasn't anything pressing, but he'd given it to me Thursday (I don't go in on Friday) for me to do today. Obviously the brief that gets filed today takes precedence, but even if it hadn't, this was something I was saving for the end of the day. I can't really say what the case is about because of confidentiality concerns, but it's not a pretty case. And there are some not pretty pictures I saw today that shook me up a bit.
Intellectually, I know that everyone deserves a good attorney, especially since the accused in this case may not be guilty, I mean, I really don't know. But, wow. I wish I could have not seen the pictures. I was reading through the rest of the case and it wasn't good, but I could think of it as almost fiction. Or with the same way that I view documentaries on true crimes. There's a distance. But seeing it like that, right up in my face, and especially because I didn't know those pictures existed or were there, it takes the distance right out of it. I wasn't sitting on my couch eating popcorn and wondering how in the world this happens, or reading a book in a clinical library setting. There suddenly wasn't anything standing between me and the meanness in this world.
Well, I just haven't figure out a way to get past it yet. Which makes sense, I guess.
Anyway, tomorrow I get to observe a case, which will be awesome. I haven't ever seen a formal proceeding, so I'm looking forward to it. I just can't decide what to wear...
Anyway, interviewing for internships has been pretty cool really. I applied for 16 or so internships (though some of these ended up not wanting to offer a position, so I'm not sure exactly how many were viable options for me) and got calls from three of them. I interviewed with the first one and it went well. Really well. In fact, the more I thought about it, it went too well. I showed up, dressed up all nice-like and it was pretty much settled that the paralegal I interviewed with wanted me to work there. Her interviewing style wasn't so much to ask questions of me as to tell me how awesome I am and how she could really use a person like me around. Which, I liked hearing, believe you me, but. Well. It was a little unsettling. I almost felt like she was trying to sell me on working there, which wasn't a tough sell. But. The problem with this internship was gonna be the long and thorough background check they do. She was hoping to "zip" me through in 6 weeks.
The second internship was with an attorney who had me in class. He sent me an email telling me I was accepted, no interview was necessary. I went in just to talk about when I'd come in and such , but I started the next Monday.
And it's mostly been awesome. I've been doing a lot of research and some organizing...but a couple days I got to work on some petitions for clemency and expungment. Which was really nice. It was the first time I really got to feel like I was helping someone do something meaningful. And the attorney really seems to like the way I write, which is also thrilling. It's been a long time since I've felt this good about what I've been doing. And so when I have to do the organization stuff, I don't mind. I actually kind of enjoy it because it means I can find the other stuff I need easier. I mean, I sort of knew this line of work was the right move for me, but I didn't expect it to feel this good.
And the feeling of accomplishment and happiness from helping (even though it's in only a small, small way) someone who has turned their life around like the gentlemen who we're helping get their records cleared, that's a good feeling. Good enough that I'm sure that when I get out of law school, that's a feeling I want to have about the type of law I choose. So, yeah. That's good. Very good.
Of course, today was not so good. It all started out so well. I was proof-reading a brief that we were going to file today and I got to take it to the people we were gonna have file it for us. Things got a little sticky, when some of the materials we needed weren't in the filing (which I don't think was my fault, but it wasn't not my fault either...if that makes sense), but I quickly dealt with the parts of it I could and headed back to the office.
And then I started working on the case I'd been dreading. It wasn't anything pressing, but he'd given it to me Thursday (I don't go in on Friday) for me to do today. Obviously the brief that gets filed today takes precedence, but even if it hadn't, this was something I was saving for the end of the day. I can't really say what the case is about because of confidentiality concerns, but it's not a pretty case. And there are some not pretty pictures I saw today that shook me up a bit.
Intellectually, I know that everyone deserves a good attorney, especially since the accused in this case may not be guilty, I mean, I really don't know. But, wow. I wish I could have not seen the pictures. I was reading through the rest of the case and it wasn't good, but I could think of it as almost fiction. Or with the same way that I view documentaries on true crimes. There's a distance. But seeing it like that, right up in my face, and especially because I didn't know those pictures existed or were there, it takes the distance right out of it. I wasn't sitting on my couch eating popcorn and wondering how in the world this happens, or reading a book in a clinical library setting. There suddenly wasn't anything standing between me and the meanness in this world.
Well, I just haven't figure out a way to get past it yet. Which makes sense, I guess.
Anyway, tomorrow I get to observe a case, which will be awesome. I haven't ever seen a formal proceeding, so I'm looking forward to it. I just can't decide what to wear...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Another General Update...or I'm working on interesting stuff, but don't have anything ready...
- Started my last semester of paralegal classes this week. It's off to an odd start as one of the classes I may end up dropping if I get an internship. The program is offering 30 or so of them, and I applied for 16 of those, so...we'll see. Of course, there's always the prospect that I'll get one of the jobs I've inquired into, in which case I will keep the class I would drop and not do an internship. Of course, that's only if everything works out in a neat and timely fashion. If it doesn't and I've already accepted an internship, then I'll probably have to look at how to either drop my internship or finish it up quickly enough to start my job. But if it happens early enough I may be able to switch back into the class and call no harm no foul. We'll see. It's a lot of balls in the air.
- Only two classes (or one and the internship) left. So far I've gotten honors grades in the other six courses. So that's good. I only need to get honors in one class (or the internship) to graduate with honors and join the secret paralegal fraternity. (It's not a secret, but I cannot remember what the name of it is.) I really want this, so it feels nice to be getting close to this.
- It was nice to have reading to do today. I've found I really like having things to do and having some structure to my day. This being unemployed thing gets in the way of that. And having a week off (like last week) wasn't as relaxing and rejuvenating for me as it seemed for others in my program.
- I've been running a lot lately. About 14+ miles the last three weeks and I'll probably hit that again this week. Been feeling pretty good about it and I am losing a bit of weight (though my eating hasn't been as disciplined as I would've hoped), but I tell you I can't see it most of the time. I feel better, I guess. But when I look in the mirror, I go right to my belly and see all the trouble spots, so I'm trying to focus on the numbers. I'm trying to shed 15 pounds this summer and bring my stomach in about 3 inches. So far I'm down 1 pound and 1 inch. So. That's good. I'm gonna keep updating this here to keep track and to keep somewhat accountable. Or something.
- I've started studying for the LSAT, which I will be taking in September. I'm not yet completely afraid of the test, but I can see why I will be as it gets closer.
- I also requested a lot of information from law schools I'm interested in. Now, that frightens me. I don't look back on applying to colleges and wish I could do it again, but now I'm looking to get into even more discerning places (though Grinnell was pretty discerning) feeling a lot less confident about my ability to get in (not to mention paying for it). But signing up for the test and getting information is good. It makes me feel like I'm doing something to move my life forward.
- That's the worst thing about being unemployed for me. I feel like my time is slushing by me and I'm not doing anything of note or importance. I'm not working toward anything. And because there's so much in the air (what lawschool will I end up at, will I get in where I want to go, will I do well on the LSAT, will I land a good job, will I get a good internship, will I get a good internship then a good job, and on and on), I'm just a little anxious about everything.
- Gumshoe should come out early next week. Or later next week. But most likely next week.
- Sorry this entry is a bit of a downer. I'm mostly doing okay. I've just never been someone who deals with change or transition without getting nervous. And there's a lot of transitioning and a lot of change. I think I'm getting better at it. But you know, strikes and gutters man.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Gumshoe 7
It's extra long today. It probably won't be this long in the future, but I hope you enjoy.“Well, what do you know about this?” Clarence said once Chance and Edna had left the room. The color had left his face and I could see this shook him up. Clarence stood by me during the havoc my life became after Mindy James died and everything was turned upside down. But. Even after you’ve been proven innocent beyond any doubt, being suspected of something like that still rests in everyone’s mind. They associate you with murder, even long after it’s been settled. He could have done it. If it weren’t for someone else actually having done it, it could have been him. It’s not logical, but when you’re dealing with the ending of a human life, very few things are logical.
“Search me.” I said. Jane Hernandez had been my last girlfriend. The one whose leaving depressed me enough to listen to Phil Collins for a couple days. And during one of those days ‘Simon Flettering’ came into my life.
“Are you still…were you still dating?”
“We’d broken up less than a week ago. It had been very amicable. She wanted to go, I’d wanted her to stay, but she left anyway. There wasn’t anything more to it than that. I didn’t harbor any ill will. I was hurt and I missed her, but not in an angry way.” My voice was shaky and I found it hard to look into Clarence’s eyes. It’s never easy for me to open up to someone about my feelings. Even though I’ve known Clarence for pretty much all my life, we’ve never talked too much about how we feel about things. The closest we got was when he told me he was thinking about marrying Brenda. I remember him clearly saying she was “a treasure”, before clamming up, probably afraid I was gonna give him some shit about it. I stayed quiet though. Mostly because I was embarrassed that he’d been so busy with his life but still managed to find his perfect woman and I’d been knocking around being stupid and refusing to grow up.
“Okay.” He said, his composure seeming to come back to him with every breath he took. “Okay. So.” We went over everything quickly. The last time I saw her. Everything we said during the break-up. My version of events. Where I had been and who I had been with for the last week. Everything. And when we were ready, he went to the door and knocked.
After a minute or two, Edna opened the door and she and Chance walked through and sat at the table. Edna was carrying a pad of paper. They let the room settle for a second and Clarence spoke first.
“My client broke up with Ms. Hernandez less than a week ago. It was an amicable break-up. She initiated the break-up, and [gumshoe] tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted. She walked away without any incident. He’s had no contact with her since then. If you narrow down the time of…well, we are willing to provide you with his whereabouts since the break-up.”
For the quickest second, I thought I saw a grin cross Chance’s face. I suppose seeing the tone of one of the biggest attorneys in the state turn so quickly will do that to someone who was so recently on the bad end of it.
“That’d be great,” Edna said as she pulled a pen from inside her coat pocket and clicked it quickly. Clarence and I rolled through everything with her. Apparently, Jane had been murdered three nights ago, two days after our break-up. Which was good for me, because I had an alibi. But it was bad for me, because Clarence was my alibi. Which meant, I’m out of a lawyer, because he’s now a witness in this investigation. And just as I was thinking that, I got another sinking feeling.
“I’ll just let you know now,” Clarence said, his bluster back up, “just in case it comes up. Anything we said in here, is still covered by attorney-client privilege and I can find dozens of cases that say that as long as we both believe we’re protected by the privilege we are.”
“Unless you’re aiding and abetting a crime.” Chance looked at me for the first time since the interrogation started. “But, how about we let the attorney’s sort that out.”
Clarence had his phone out and was dialing. “Exactly.”
It took twenty minutes for three lawyers from Clarence’s firm to arrive. Twenty minutes of Clarence telling me not to say anything and Chance asking questions anyway. Edna, for her part, sat quietly watching everyone, the look of a curious cat fixed to her face.
Attorneys come running when one of their own is in trouble. And they bring out the big artillery. They’re like cops that way. When Chance and Edna heard the attorneys were here, they left Clarence and I in the interview room where we sat quietly listening to the argument grow and fall outside.
It took Clarence’s friends about an hour of yelling at Chance and Edna. Having them call their higher-ups, who called their attorneys, who got together and debated, called the higher-ups back who then called Chance and Edna. Finally, the attorneys came into us. Leading the way was a young attorney wearing a smart blue suit. Her eyes sat behind thick black glasses and her hair was pulled away from her face. She carried a dark leather messenger bag, its strap hanging underneath. Altogether, if I had to pick someone out of a crowd to be my attorney, I’d pick her. The two who followed could’ve been clones. Black suits, black sculpted hair and the boyish good looks of kids just out of law school. Still, though, they had the confident look of people who know they’re going to walk into a shitty situation and come away with a win. I was suddenly feeling a lot better about this situation.
They were followed in by Chance and Edna—both of whom looked like they’d just been smacked around for a couple weeks.
“Fortune,” Clarence said in a greeting that was more an order.
“Mr. Knox. The police have been kind enough to release you and Mr. [Gumshoe]. You’re free to go.” She turned to me, “[Gumshoe], you’re not allowed to leave the state.”
She paused, so I said, “sure.”
“Great. Any further contact they want with you is to come through my office.” She extended her hand to me. “I’m your new lawyer. Stella Fortune. It’s nice to meet you.”
We exchanged a good firm hand shake. “Good to meet you.”
“Thank you Ms. Fortune.” Clarence said. “[Gumshoe], we still on for drinks this week?”
“Far as I know,” I said with a shrug.
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone with your attorney.” He said as he moved toward the door, the two clones falling in line behind him. As he was about to touch the door, he looked directly at Chance. “You’ll want to leave him alone with his attorney as well?”
Chance leveled his face at the Big Man, a look of sheer anger on his face. Whatever had started between these two tonight was something big. The whole room was silent as the two men stood looking at each other, waiting for the other to back away.
Chance’s upper lip curled as the door to the room opened. A young uniformed cop stuck his head in with a chipper edge that said he’d probably just come on duty and had no idea how tense this situation was. “Mr. Greer? Jim from San Francisco called the front desk looking for you. He said to tell you he’ll meet you at the Holiday Inn hotel bar at 11 tonight.” He started to close the door, but stuck it back in quickly. “Downtown,” he said before he turned and left.
Chance blinked and took a second. “Thanks.”
Clarence and clones walked quickly through the door following the uniform. Chance gave them a ten second head start before heading out. And Edna stayed long enough to give me a stern look of disapproval before I was alone with Ms. Fortune.
The door had barely shut behind Edna when my attorney asked, “So, did you do it?”
I smiled at her, “Not even a little bit.” Clarence had once told me he never asked his clients if they did it. He said it made him a better attorney to believe they didn’t, even when the facts overwhelmingly pointed out that they did do it. But, from my point of view—you know as someone who’s being investigated for murder—there’s something nice about telling your attorney you aren’t guilty. It helps that it’s true, but still.
“Good. Why don’t we go somewhere that’ll be a bit more comfortable and we can go over everything I’m assuming you told Mr. Knox.” It felt good to get out of the interview room. Just the space of the room outside felt so liberating and I stretched my arms above my head.
When I was outside, I was surprised to see the streetlights had retreated into the grayness of another cloudy day. Another day starting out leaving a police station. Great. This was a habit that needed breaking.
We ended up heading to a diner not far away. It was a cute little dinner. Stools and a counter sat in front of the grill and booths laying by the windows. The waitress was about 55, maybe less—I have a hard time taking off the aging the chronic smoking had done to her. She had wrinkles around everything and her gray hair had been died a beautiful shade of orange. She took our orders, calling me ‘honey’ and Ms. Fortune ‘dearie’ and coughing into her notepad every four seconds. I ordered coffee and a donut. Stella eggs with a side of hash browns and toast. An old jukebox sat in the far corner next to the unisex bathroom and a door that had a sign taped to it which read, “Employee’s Onley”. All in all, this was the perfect place to be right now.
After we went over everything I’d told Clarence and she asked pretty much the same questions, she flipped her notepad to the first clear page and asked me, “So, what the hell is going on here?” I rubbed my suddenly droopy eyes. “I haven’t the foggiest. But it seems like I’m right in the middle of all this.”
“Someone’s framing you.”
“Maybe.” The jukebox in the corner kicked on. A little Blue Oyster Cult. I was liking this place even more.
“You don’t think you’re being framed?” She said as she started to doodle on her notepad.
“I did. But now I’m wondering. If you wanted to frame me, you’d have to get something better on me than being near the first place and having my fingerprints of the second. It doesn’t look good, but I can explain both. You’d need hard evidence.”
“Jane was the first victim, so your fingerprints were at the first. And that’s pretty hard evidence.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I guess it is. But, there’s still a lot that doesn’t make sense.”
“Like why is this killer killing people the same way as Aaron Masters did back in the day?” I looked at her pad of paper and saw she was drawing a picture of a stick figure chained up.
“I hate to sound narcissistic, but that’s gotta be to get at me.”
“Well, hold on. Maybe this killer is related to him. A son or something, you know, carrying on the family business.” She looked up from her drawing.
“Yeah, but then everything else is a coincidence?” I said.
“No. Maybe. Well, they could be after you because you put their father—or maybe it’s just someone they look up to and you put them away.”
“But, I didn’t. I was gone by then.”
Her face dropped and I wasn’t sure if the disappointment was from not being right or because I had to remind her that I ran away before Aaron Masters was caught. Someday, I’m hoping I’ll have to remind people of my mistakes less. “That’s true.”
A still moment settled over the diner as Blue Oyster Cult left and the jukebox was still for a second. “Hey,” she looked up at me again, “what is up with writing lyrics on the walls of the crime scenes?”
“After they caught him, Masters said he liked to whistle while he worked, and he wanted everyone to know what song he was killing the person to.” I said.
“Gorgeous.” She said as she went back to her doodling.
“Yeah. We spent hours trying to think about how the lyrics would help us find him or assess his state of mind or figure out where he was meeting these people, but we came up with nothing. Even after talking to him, state doctors think it was completely random. I mean on lyric was Van Morrison, another was something the Andrews Sisters sang. The last one was Meatloaf. It just never came together to mean anything.”
She let that hang in the air for a second before saying, “So, you’ve been following this case, well, Masters really, but you’ve been following it for a long time.”
I glared at the jukebox as I heard the opening of “I Would Do Anything for Love” come on. Just my damned luck.
“I’m sorry,” she said after I’d stared at the jukebox for an uncomfortable amount of time. “I was just—“
“No. It’s not you,” I said hoarsely. Something in my head moved. “The last victim had a Meatloaf lyric. These two victims have Meatloaf lyrics. Why?”
“That’s a good question.” She said and looked at me.
“I was out on the prowl down by the edge of the track --And like a son of a jackal I’m a leader of the pack.” I spoke the lyrics quietly as she looked at me quizzically. “It’s from All Revved up with No Place to Go by Meatloaf. It’s what they found on the wall there.”
After her eyes shifted, I said, “It’s off Bat Out of Hell.”
“Okay.” She thought for a moment. “There’s something about that last kill then. Something that this guy is fixated on.”
“Yeah.” I said. The tired was starting to crash on me. We sat there for a while quietly finishing up our breakfasts. Well, I’d finished my donut and had started begging off the coffee, hoping I’d get some sleep in later, but she was still working on her hash browns. It took an hour or so, but Meatloaf stopped and some Electric Light Orchestra came on making me smile. A good, honest smile. I hadn’t smiled in a long while.
After she’d scooped up the last of her food, she said, “Flettering. That’s such an odd name. You think that’s dutch?” She started scribbling his name with a big S and F.
SF. I was feeling that thing in my head move again.
San Francisco.
“Why does a man who’s never been out of the state have a friend from San Francisco staying at the downtown Holiday Inn?” I said as something started to click together in my head.
“What?” She said.
“Chance told me he’s never been out of the state, but he’s got a buddy in from San Francisco? Seems a bit odd. And it might be just a coincidence that San Francisco and Simon Flettering have the same initials.”
“It’s probably a coincidence. It’s probably a friend who has been out of the state.” I knew she was being very logical, but it had already rooted in my mind.
“But, it was so odd. Jim from San Francisco. If it’s his friend, then why not just say ‘Jim called’?” It was all starting to click in my mind. “And he’s from Indianola.”
“Indianola?”
I put down some money on the table and stood up. “Sorry, I’ve got a hunch I’ve gotta play.”
“Where are you headed?”
“First I’m going home to get a nap. Then, I’m gonna stake out the Holiday Inn.”
“As your attorney, I would have to advise you to keep away from anything having to do with this case.”
“As your client,” I said smirking at her as I backed toward the door, “I would have to advise you to be ready for a call in the next couple of days. Cause I’ve either figured this out or I’m getting into a lot of trouble.”
I started toward the door, but turned back to her quickly. “Oh, can I get a ride back to my car?”
“Search me.” I said. Jane Hernandez had been my last girlfriend. The one whose leaving depressed me enough to listen to Phil Collins for a couple days. And during one of those days ‘Simon Flettering’ came into my life.
“Are you still…were you still dating?”
“We’d broken up less than a week ago. It had been very amicable. She wanted to go, I’d wanted her to stay, but she left anyway. There wasn’t anything more to it than that. I didn’t harbor any ill will. I was hurt and I missed her, but not in an angry way.” My voice was shaky and I found it hard to look into Clarence’s eyes. It’s never easy for me to open up to someone about my feelings. Even though I’ve known Clarence for pretty much all my life, we’ve never talked too much about how we feel about things. The closest we got was when he told me he was thinking about marrying Brenda. I remember him clearly saying she was “a treasure”, before clamming up, probably afraid I was gonna give him some shit about it. I stayed quiet though. Mostly because I was embarrassed that he’d been so busy with his life but still managed to find his perfect woman and I’d been knocking around being stupid and refusing to grow up.
“Okay.” He said, his composure seeming to come back to him with every breath he took. “Okay. So.” We went over everything quickly. The last time I saw her. Everything we said during the break-up. My version of events. Where I had been and who I had been with for the last week. Everything. And when we were ready, he went to the door and knocked.
After a minute or two, Edna opened the door and she and Chance walked through and sat at the table. Edna was carrying a pad of paper. They let the room settle for a second and Clarence spoke first.
“My client broke up with Ms. Hernandez less than a week ago. It was an amicable break-up. She initiated the break-up, and [gumshoe] tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted. She walked away without any incident. He’s had no contact with her since then. If you narrow down the time of…well, we are willing to provide you with his whereabouts since the break-up.”
For the quickest second, I thought I saw a grin cross Chance’s face. I suppose seeing the tone of one of the biggest attorneys in the state turn so quickly will do that to someone who was so recently on the bad end of it.
“That’d be great,” Edna said as she pulled a pen from inside her coat pocket and clicked it quickly. Clarence and I rolled through everything with her. Apparently, Jane had been murdered three nights ago, two days after our break-up. Which was good for me, because I had an alibi. But it was bad for me, because Clarence was my alibi. Which meant, I’m out of a lawyer, because he’s now a witness in this investigation. And just as I was thinking that, I got another sinking feeling.
“I’ll just let you know now,” Clarence said, his bluster back up, “just in case it comes up. Anything we said in here, is still covered by attorney-client privilege and I can find dozens of cases that say that as long as we both believe we’re protected by the privilege we are.”
“Unless you’re aiding and abetting a crime.” Chance looked at me for the first time since the interrogation started. “But, how about we let the attorney’s sort that out.”
Clarence had his phone out and was dialing. “Exactly.”
It took twenty minutes for three lawyers from Clarence’s firm to arrive. Twenty minutes of Clarence telling me not to say anything and Chance asking questions anyway. Edna, for her part, sat quietly watching everyone, the look of a curious cat fixed to her face.
Attorneys come running when one of their own is in trouble. And they bring out the big artillery. They’re like cops that way. When Chance and Edna heard the attorneys were here, they left Clarence and I in the interview room where we sat quietly listening to the argument grow and fall outside.
It took Clarence’s friends about an hour of yelling at Chance and Edna. Having them call their higher-ups, who called their attorneys, who got together and debated, called the higher-ups back who then called Chance and Edna. Finally, the attorneys came into us. Leading the way was a young attorney wearing a smart blue suit. Her eyes sat behind thick black glasses and her hair was pulled away from her face. She carried a dark leather messenger bag, its strap hanging underneath. Altogether, if I had to pick someone out of a crowd to be my attorney, I’d pick her. The two who followed could’ve been clones. Black suits, black sculpted hair and the boyish good looks of kids just out of law school. Still, though, they had the confident look of people who know they’re going to walk into a shitty situation and come away with a win. I was suddenly feeling a lot better about this situation.
They were followed in by Chance and Edna—both of whom looked like they’d just been smacked around for a couple weeks.
“Fortune,” Clarence said in a greeting that was more an order.
“Mr. Knox. The police have been kind enough to release you and Mr. [Gumshoe]. You’re free to go.” She turned to me, “[Gumshoe], you’re not allowed to leave the state.”
She paused, so I said, “sure.”
“Great. Any further contact they want with you is to come through my office.” She extended her hand to me. “I’m your new lawyer. Stella Fortune. It’s nice to meet you.”
We exchanged a good firm hand shake. “Good to meet you.”
“Thank you Ms. Fortune.” Clarence said. “[Gumshoe], we still on for drinks this week?”
“Far as I know,” I said with a shrug.
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone with your attorney.” He said as he moved toward the door, the two clones falling in line behind him. As he was about to touch the door, he looked directly at Chance. “You’ll want to leave him alone with his attorney as well?”
Chance leveled his face at the Big Man, a look of sheer anger on his face. Whatever had started between these two tonight was something big. The whole room was silent as the two men stood looking at each other, waiting for the other to back away.
Chance’s upper lip curled as the door to the room opened. A young uniformed cop stuck his head in with a chipper edge that said he’d probably just come on duty and had no idea how tense this situation was. “Mr. Greer? Jim from San Francisco called the front desk looking for you. He said to tell you he’ll meet you at the Holiday Inn hotel bar at 11 tonight.” He started to close the door, but stuck it back in quickly. “Downtown,” he said before he turned and left.
Chance blinked and took a second. “Thanks.”
Clarence and clones walked quickly through the door following the uniform. Chance gave them a ten second head start before heading out. And Edna stayed long enough to give me a stern look of disapproval before I was alone with Ms. Fortune.
The door had barely shut behind Edna when my attorney asked, “So, did you do it?”
I smiled at her, “Not even a little bit.” Clarence had once told me he never asked his clients if they did it. He said it made him a better attorney to believe they didn’t, even when the facts overwhelmingly pointed out that they did do it. But, from my point of view—you know as someone who’s being investigated for murder—there’s something nice about telling your attorney you aren’t guilty. It helps that it’s true, but still.
“Good. Why don’t we go somewhere that’ll be a bit more comfortable and we can go over everything I’m assuming you told Mr. Knox.” It felt good to get out of the interview room. Just the space of the room outside felt so liberating and I stretched my arms above my head.
When I was outside, I was surprised to see the streetlights had retreated into the grayness of another cloudy day. Another day starting out leaving a police station. Great. This was a habit that needed breaking.
We ended up heading to a diner not far away. It was a cute little dinner. Stools and a counter sat in front of the grill and booths laying by the windows. The waitress was about 55, maybe less—I have a hard time taking off the aging the chronic smoking had done to her. She had wrinkles around everything and her gray hair had been died a beautiful shade of orange. She took our orders, calling me ‘honey’ and Ms. Fortune ‘dearie’ and coughing into her notepad every four seconds. I ordered coffee and a donut. Stella eggs with a side of hash browns and toast. An old jukebox sat in the far corner next to the unisex bathroom and a door that had a sign taped to it which read, “Employee’s Onley”. All in all, this was the perfect place to be right now.
After we went over everything I’d told Clarence and she asked pretty much the same questions, she flipped her notepad to the first clear page and asked me, “So, what the hell is going on here?” I rubbed my suddenly droopy eyes. “I haven’t the foggiest. But it seems like I’m right in the middle of all this.”
“Someone’s framing you.”
“Maybe.” The jukebox in the corner kicked on. A little Blue Oyster Cult. I was liking this place even more.
“You don’t think you’re being framed?” She said as she started to doodle on her notepad.
“I did. But now I’m wondering. If you wanted to frame me, you’d have to get something better on me than being near the first place and having my fingerprints of the second. It doesn’t look good, but I can explain both. You’d need hard evidence.”
“Jane was the first victim, so your fingerprints were at the first. And that’s pretty hard evidence.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I guess it is. But, there’s still a lot that doesn’t make sense.”
“Like why is this killer killing people the same way as Aaron Masters did back in the day?” I looked at her pad of paper and saw she was drawing a picture of a stick figure chained up.
“I hate to sound narcissistic, but that’s gotta be to get at me.”
“Well, hold on. Maybe this killer is related to him. A son or something, you know, carrying on the family business.” She looked up from her drawing.
“Yeah, but then everything else is a coincidence?” I said.
“No. Maybe. Well, they could be after you because you put their father—or maybe it’s just someone they look up to and you put them away.”
“But, I didn’t. I was gone by then.”
Her face dropped and I wasn’t sure if the disappointment was from not being right or because I had to remind her that I ran away before Aaron Masters was caught. Someday, I’m hoping I’ll have to remind people of my mistakes less. “That’s true.”
A still moment settled over the diner as Blue Oyster Cult left and the jukebox was still for a second. “Hey,” she looked up at me again, “what is up with writing lyrics on the walls of the crime scenes?”
“After they caught him, Masters said he liked to whistle while he worked, and he wanted everyone to know what song he was killing the person to.” I said.
“Gorgeous.” She said as she went back to her doodling.
“Yeah. We spent hours trying to think about how the lyrics would help us find him or assess his state of mind or figure out where he was meeting these people, but we came up with nothing. Even after talking to him, state doctors think it was completely random. I mean on lyric was Van Morrison, another was something the Andrews Sisters sang. The last one was Meatloaf. It just never came together to mean anything.”
She let that hang in the air for a second before saying, “So, you’ve been following this case, well, Masters really, but you’ve been following it for a long time.”
I glared at the jukebox as I heard the opening of “I Would Do Anything for Love” come on. Just my damned luck.
“I’m sorry,” she said after I’d stared at the jukebox for an uncomfortable amount of time. “I was just—“
“No. It’s not you,” I said hoarsely. Something in my head moved. “The last victim had a Meatloaf lyric. These two victims have Meatloaf lyrics. Why?”
“That’s a good question.” She said and looked at me.
“I was out on the prowl down by the edge of the track --And like a son of a jackal I’m a leader of the pack.” I spoke the lyrics quietly as she looked at me quizzically. “It’s from All Revved up with No Place to Go by Meatloaf. It’s what they found on the wall there.”
After her eyes shifted, I said, “It’s off Bat Out of Hell.”
“Okay.” She thought for a moment. “There’s something about that last kill then. Something that this guy is fixated on.”
“Yeah.” I said. The tired was starting to crash on me. We sat there for a while quietly finishing up our breakfasts. Well, I’d finished my donut and had started begging off the coffee, hoping I’d get some sleep in later, but she was still working on her hash browns. It took an hour or so, but Meatloaf stopped and some Electric Light Orchestra came on making me smile. A good, honest smile. I hadn’t smiled in a long while.
After she’d scooped up the last of her food, she said, “Flettering. That’s such an odd name. You think that’s dutch?” She started scribbling his name with a big S and F.
SF. I was feeling that thing in my head move again.
San Francisco.
“Why does a man who’s never been out of the state have a friend from San Francisco staying at the downtown Holiday Inn?” I said as something started to click together in my head.
“What?” She said.
“Chance told me he’s never been out of the state, but he’s got a buddy in from San Francisco? Seems a bit odd. And it might be just a coincidence that San Francisco and Simon Flettering have the same initials.”
“It’s probably a coincidence. It’s probably a friend who has been out of the state.” I knew she was being very logical, but it had already rooted in my mind.
“But, it was so odd. Jim from San Francisco. If it’s his friend, then why not just say ‘Jim called’?” It was all starting to click in my mind. “And he’s from Indianola.”
“Indianola?”
I put down some money on the table and stood up. “Sorry, I’ve got a hunch I’ve gotta play.”
“Where are you headed?”
“First I’m going home to get a nap. Then, I’m gonna stake out the Holiday Inn.”
“As your attorney, I would have to advise you to keep away from anything having to do with this case.”
“As your client,” I said smirking at her as I backed toward the door, “I would have to advise you to be ready for a call in the next couple of days. Cause I’ve either figured this out or I’m getting into a lot of trouble.”
I started toward the door, but turned back to her quickly. “Oh, can I get a ride back to my car?”
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