Deadlocked

Chapter 14

Mason finished proofreading the lawsuit against Whitney King, increasing the amount of compensatory damages sought from five million dollars to ten million, doubling the prayer for punitive damages from fifty million to one hundred million. He'd spent the morning drafting the papers, coming to the office early, giving up on sleep after King's wake-up call.

King wanted to shake Mason up. Not a problem, Mason muttered, double-checking the lawsuit a third time. King would be more than shaken up when Mason served him with the papers. Mason looked forward to delivering King's invitation to the courthouse party in person. Look for the story in the Kansas City Star, Mason would tell King on his way out the door, another copy under his arm for Rachel Firestone.

"Come on in, Nick" Mason said when someone knocked at his office door close to noon.

"How'd you know it was me, Mr. Mason?" Nick asked, leaving the door open. He was wearing baggy cargo shorts, a T-shirt, and sandals. Sunglasses were perched on top of his head.

"You're on time. I told you to be here at noon, and you're here at noon. Have a seat," he said, pointing to the couch and taking the chair next to it.

Nick settled into the couch as Mason handed him a copy of the lawsuit. "Is this it?" Nick asked, eyes wide.

"You bet it is," Mason said. "I wanted you to see it first. I'm going to file it this afternoon."

"Wow," Nick said softly, taking his time, reading each numbered paragraph on each page, Mason watching, smiling, taking pride in his authorship.

"The law is a beautiful thing, Nick. It holds people accountable. It makes them answer for what they've done and it gives people like you the chance to see justice done. The money won't bring your parents back. Nothing can do that. But Whitney King will pay for what he did and the rest of the world will know him for what he is. A murderer."

Mason had rehearsed the speech in the back of his mind as he drafted the lawsuit. It was what he believed. It was what kept him from calling the cops or picking up the gun in his bottom desk drawer and going after King. Whatever else he was, Mason was a true believer in the system of law. King could threaten him, and wake him up in the middle of the night, but Mason could drag King into court, cut off his head, and put it on a pike outside the village gates as a lesson to anyone else who thought they could intimidate him.

"Nice speech," Blues said, standing in Mason's doorway. "Bad idea, but nice speech."

Mason had been so focused on delivering his closing argument to Nick that he hadn't noticed Blues, a big man to overlook, loose fitting slacks and shirt disguising his power build, soft-pedaling his capacity for sudden violence. Blues had bailed Mason out of more than a few jams, using a mix of rough justice and hard muscle that filled the gaps left by the niceties of the law.

Blues's presence was a swift reminder to Mason that his speech sometimes looked better on paper than it did when the other guy refused to play by the rules. Mason wanted the rules to be enough this time, but Blues's comment was a reality check.

Mason hadn't talked to Blues about the King case, or much else, since Blues told Mason he wouldn't help him. While drafting the lawsuit, Mason had convinced himself that he didn't need Blues's help after all. He would win this case the old-fashioned way: in front of a jury. It might not be enough to bring Abby back, but it felt right.

He wasn't surprised at Blues's attitude, though he didn't want Blues to share his doubts with an eighteen-year-old kid who would be easy to shake up.

Nick looked at Mason. "Who's he?"

"Wilson Bluestone Junior," Mason answered, punctuating the name with a reluctant sigh. "He's a piano player and my landlord. People call him Blues because he's got such a positive outlook on life."

Nick jumped to his feet. "You were one of the detectives who caught Kowalczyk and King." He stuck out his hand, Blues taking it. "I never got to thank you for everything you did. I mean I was just a kid then. I didn't realize you two knew each other."

"Oh yeah," Blues said. "We know each other real well. Let me see that lawsuit you're so excited about."

Nick handed Blues his copy, standing between Blues and Mason, hands on his hips. "Wow! What a team! Mason and Bluestone. We're going to kick Whitney King's ass, man!"

Blues tossed the papers on the table in front of the sofa. "So long as he doesn't kill you first, Nick."

Mason started to protest, Blues holding up his hand, Nick interrupting, his jaw dropping. "What are you talking about?" Turning to Mason, "What's he talking about?"

"I'll tell you what I'm talking about," Blues said. "Are your grandparents still alive?"

"Yeah," Nick answered.

"What do they think about you filing this lawsuit?"

Nick rolled his shoulders, shaking his head, looking at the floor. "They don't want me to do it. They say it will only stir up bad memories."

"They could have filed the lawsuit for you anytime you were growing up, but they didn't. Whitney King knows that. He knows without you, there's no case," Blues explained.

"What are you are trying to say?" Nick asked.

"You hired the best lawyer in town, as far as I'm concerned," Blues said. "But if you file that lawsuit, you're going to need a bodyguard, not a lawyer. If King is the bad man you think he is, he's bad enough to kill you, son, maybe even go after your grandparents to make sure they don't have any second thoughts. The way a killer thinks, that's a lot simpler than letting Lou kick his ass in the courtroom. Cheaper too. Like I said, Lou. Good speech. Bad idea."

"Kill me and my grandparents?" Nick asked. "You've got to be kidding, man! If I file this lawsuit and anything happens to us, King is the first one the cops are going to come after."

Blues nodded. "That's the way you and I think, but not King. He's been down that road already. He beats one murder rap, he starts thinking he can beat them all. Killing people isn't a risk to someone like him. It's the way to solve problems."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Nick pled. "Let him get away with it? Forget about it? That's bullshit, man!" Nick said, hands at his sides, fists clenched, eyes flaring, bouncing between Mason and Blues. "Come on, Mr. Mason! Help me out, here!"

Blues cut Mason off again. "It's not a perfect world, son. A lot of bad things happen and some of them can't be put right. Getting you or your grandparents killed would just be another one."

"That's enough, Blues!" Mason said, standing, putting his hand on Nick's shoulder. "No one is going to get killed over a lawsuit." Mason stepped in front of Nick, shielding him from Blues's warning, ignoring his duet with King the night before. "If we have to, we'll get a restraining order to keep King away from Nick and his family."

"That so? How many pieces of paper does it take to stop a bullet?" Blues asked. "Rachel called me this morning. Said you and King had a little dust up last night at Camille's. Said she was worried about you. Said King threatened you if you filed that lawsuit. Rachel said he would've killed you on the spot if he could have figured how to get away with it. Lou, you want to do the dance with Whitney King, that's your business. Dragging this innocent boy into the mix, putting him in harm's way. That's something you should think twice about."

Nick crossed his arms, pressing his fists against his chin, blood flushing his face. Mason reached out to him. Nick turned away. Mason couldn't believe Blues was trying so hard to torpedo his case. He'd understand if Blues had voiced his concerns privately, but doing it in front of his client had only one purpose: frighten Nick into walking away. Blues had his own reasons for discouraging Mason, but Mason wouldn't let him hide behind concern for Nick's safety to sabotage the case.

"It's kind of late for you to be worrying about putting innocent boys in harm's way, don't you think, Blues," Mason said. "Or are you just trying to balance the books. Scare the piss out of Nick to make up for what happened to Ryan Kowalczyk."

Blues gave Mason a hard stare, his unblinking eyes erecting a wall between them. "The past is past, Lou. The dead don't need anybody else to die for them."

"Well, I'm not going to die for fucking Whitney King!" Nick said. "He might die, but not me!" He stormed out of Mason's office.

Blues shook his head and followed him.