Phoenix Read online

  She looked into the windshield but couldn’t see the driver. She started yelling, “You dumb ass mother fucker! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you have any idea just who I am and how badly you scared me?” There was no movement in the van, and Cynthia blurted out other obscenities as the van’s engine gunned. There was a steel frame around the front end of the van that protruded out six inches. It inched closer to Cynthia as she pushed her body against her car. The van pressed into the femurs of both her legs just above the knee. She screamed as both bones snapped. It wasn’t enough to kill her, but it was enough to send her to the concrete floor in pain.

  The driver’s side door opened on the van, and a slender figure dressed in a pair of high top sneakers, blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a dark ski mask got out, picked her up, and threw her into the back of the van. The whole thing happened in under a minute. The attacker picked up her purse and tablet case and slipped a folded piece of paper into the tight slit of the driver’s side door of Cynthia’s car and drove out of the lot quickly with Cynthia moaning and unable to move.

  “Don’t you worry, Ms. Caldwell. I’m going to take really, really good care of you.” The driver’s high pitched voice had an eerie tone to it as the van pulled out on to Santa Monica Boulevard.

  Aston Phillips was sitting in the lobby of Howard Cohen’s private condo on the top floor of his law firm’s building. Aston was the reason Howard even had a law practice to begin with, and he sat quietly with his assistant. Aston had been deaf since birth, and while he could read lips, he didn’t speak well, so he preferred to use sign language to communicate. His assistant, Paul Green, sat next to him, and the two were signing back and forth in conversation when the elevator doors in front of them opened, and Howard stepped out.

  He stopped dead in his tracks as Aston and Paul sat looking at him. He walked up to the two men and asked, “Aston, how did you get into my private residence without my knowledge?”

  Aston signed, and Paul translated, “It’s really my residence, isn’t it Howard? I let myself in with the pass code you provided me back when I loaned you the money to build this building.”

  Howard stood looking at Aston and then waved his arm and said, “Paul, please ask Aston to follow me into the drawing room.” Paul signed, and Aston nodded, and the two men followed Howard. Aston walked over to one of the picture windows that looked out over Santa Monica Boulevard and looked in the direction of the Pacific Ocean. It was dark, but Aston signed to Paul about different things that he saw.

  Howard walked into his two thousand bottle wine cellar and pulled a 2002 Domaine Leflaive Montrachet Grand Cru Chardonnay and walked back into the drawing room and showed it to Aston. “One of your favorite wines if my memory serves me correctly.” Aston nodded and smiled as Howard opened the bottle. He pulled three glasses from a cooler in the bar, filled them, and handed one to each man.

  Aston signed to Paul, who said, “Mr. Phillips says thank you, and at four thousand dollars a bottle, he is impressed.”

  Howard toasted the men, and when the formalities were finished, he looked at Aston and asked, “I haven’t seen or spoken to you in nearly ten years, Aston. What brings you to LA?” Aston watched Paul as he signed but didn’t respond right away. Howard took another sip of his wine and asked, “Paul, you have worked for Aston for thirty years. You know why he is here. What’s going on?”

  Aston had been watching Howard as he spoke. Paul looked at Aston, who simply nodded, and Paul said, “As you know, Mr. Phillips has been and remains very unhappy with you and your firm.”

  Howard sipped his wine and said setting the glass down on a corner table, “Aston, you can’t just let it go? Jesus Christ! It’s been ten years. We have been friends our whole life. The ruling of the court was the ruling of the court. It had nothing to do with me. A jury decided the case, and they acquitted.”

  Paul cut Howard off as Aston signed ferociously, anger gripping his face. Paul was talking as fast as Aston was signing. “Mr. Phillips says, ‘I do not forgive incompetence, Howard. I do not forgive ignorance and arrogance. You owe who you are to me and no one else. You would not be the rock star lawyer you are today if not for me and my money. You have forgotten your roots. Forgotten the man who gave you the opportunity to make all of this shit happen.”

  Howard stood up and walked over to the window with his back to Aston and said, “I have forgotten nothing, and I am forever grateful for your investment in my career. However, my practice has grown and prospered not as a result of you but as a result of my good litigation practices and hiring and recruiting the best of the best lawyers.” Aston made a snorting sound, and Paul laughed as Howard turned to see a hand gesture from Aston directed at him. Howard looked at Paul and said, “I don’t need that interpreted for me.” Aston had his middle finger extended, flipping Howard off. He sat back down and asked, “If you’re still so goddamn angry with me, what are you doing here?”

  Aston got up and walked over to the window, signing as Paul translated. “I want to give you the opportunity to redeem yourself. You allowed my son and daughter’s killer to walk free over a decade ago.” Howard went to say something, but Paul shook his head and said, “I would strongly urge you not to interrupt Mr. Phillips, Mr. Cohen. He just flew in this morning from New York, and he is in a mood.” Howard nodded as Aston continued signing. Paul continued his translation, “You can make all the excuses you like for the blown case, but you were the one who found the technicality that allowed a murderer to go free. Thankfully, I had the good fortune to learn that that man is now dead, and that he died badly at the hands of the vigilante known as the Iron Eagle.”

  Howard looked at Aston and said, “You’re talking about Francis Statler, aka the Basin River Killer?” Aston nodded. Howard shook his head and said, “Mr. Statler was up on charges that had nothing to do with your children’s death. He was on trial for the alleged murder of his relatives, and I didn’t get him off on a technicality. The state had no case. The jury didn’t find him guilty because all evidence was circumstantial. There wasn’t a shred of hard evidence against him.”

  “Oh, give me a fuckin’ break,” Aston signed. “You knew that Statler was dirty. You were his goddamn lawyer. You knew he killed his family members and buried them out on the land they owned in the Chatsworth hills. For fuck’s sake, you told me during the trial that you were having a serious ethical dilemma representing that piece of shit.”

  Howard looked up at Aston and said, “There is legal guilt and moral guilt, Aston. Yes, I knew that Mr. Statler had done some bad things … not to the extent that I would learn years later after he was captured by the Eagle and confessed to so many killings. Statler never told me he was guilty.” Aston threw his hands in the air, and Paul continued the translation.

  “You fuckin’ lawyers and your double talk. The bottom line is, had Statler been found guilty, my children would be alive today. Instead, they were tortured and murdered by the man you represented and allowed to be set free. Statler murdered my kids one week later, Howard. One fuckin’ week later. The son of a bitch had them alive while he was on trial, and as soon as he was freed, their mutilated bodies ended up in the LA River. Almost a decade passed before the Iron Eagle caught him and got his confession.”

  Howard sat silent with the glass of wine in his hands. He took a sip and said, “I have said it before, and I will say it again, Aston, I’m sorry. There was nothing I could do. How is it that you feel I can redeem myself in your eyes? Ten years is a long time not to speak, and here you are in my home suddenly talking to me. So, what can I do for you?”

  Aston moved away from the window and sat down next to Paul. He took a drink of the wine and signed that it was good. Howard nodded, and Paul was watching both men, waiting to translate more. Aston drank down the wine and handed the glass to Howard and motioned for more. Howard poured another glass as Aston started to sign, “You have had some unfortunate luck in the p
ast week. You lost Benton Harris III to an angry killer, I suspect, a former client of yours. I know that the LAPD, Sheriff’s department, and FBI are investigating the case. I want you to kill the investigation.”

  Howard sat back in his chair and said, “You want me to stop the investigation? I can’t do that. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. Benton didn’t do anything that would make him deserve to die the way he did.”

  Aston took a big drink of his wine and signed, “If you get the cops off of this thing, I think it will defuse itself.”

  Howard stood up and asked, “Are you telling me that you know who is involved with Benton’s murder?” Aston laughed and signed something to Paul that the two men laughed about but didn’t share with Howard.

  Aston signed, “All lawyers are corrupt, Howard, and that includes you. You and your firm as well as all other law firms put a premium on billable hours not the truth of a case. I know every judge you have in your pocket. I know how you tamper with juries. I know all of your political affiliations from the House in Sacramento to the halls of Congress, as you play both sides of the aisle as well as the White House.”

  Howard stood up with an indignant look on his face and said, “Aston, you are my client and have been from day one. I know that you use your billions you inherited from your father’s oil investments to intimidate people all the time, but that won’t fly with me.”

  “Mr. Phillips wants you to sit and listen.” Howard was about to say something when Aston said in a high pitched voice, “Don’t press me, Howard. I can speak, and I read lips. I just choose to engage in conversation through sign language. Now, please sit down.”

  It was the first time since Howard met Aston when the two men were at Harvard together that he had ever heard Aston’s voice. It was loud and not easily understood, but Howard sat down in stunned silence as Aston signed to Paul.

  “You have a problem, Howard. Someone is out there gunning for you. One of your high profile attorneys was killed, and you know why he was killed. I’m not going to get into that. What I want from you is access to the Iron Eagle.”

  “Why on earth would you think that I have any access to the Eagle?”

  “Because it seems like every time there is an Eagle case, you are involved in some legal aspect with someone connected to an investigation that either becomes a victim of the Eagle or is saved by him.”

  Howard just shook his head and said, “I have no damn idea who the Iron Eagle is, and if I did know, I would not be withholding it from the police.”

  Aston laughed and signed, “Oh, fuck you, Howard. Even if you don’t know directly who the Eagle is, you have contacts that do.”

  “Suppose that I do. What do you want with the Eagle?”

  Aston stood up and swallowed the rest of his wine and directed Paul to stand as well. Aston signed, “First, I want to thank him for getting Statler and avenging the death of my children … and two … I want to hire him.”

  Howard sat back in his chair and said, “You can’t be serious?” Aston nodded and Howard said, “Well, I don’t think that the Eagle is one of those killers for hire. If anything, you and I want to stay as far off the Eagle’s radar as we can. I’m not the only one with deadly skeletons in his closet.”

  Aston headed to the foyer and the elevator, signing as he walked. “That’s true, Howard. That is very, very true. However, of the two of us, you are the one who has more to lose by the Eagle learning your demons. I’m staying in my villa in Beverly Hills. You know the number and address. Call me when you know something.” The elevator doors opened, and Aston and Paul stepped inside, and the doors closed on a speechless Howard Cohen.

  Chapter Three

  “Shit, John. It’s not who wanted

  the guy dead; it’s who didn’t.”

  The fog hugging the Malibu coast was thick as John pulled into the driveway of his home. He saw that Sara’s car was in the garage as well as Karen’s, and he got out of his truck and walked around the side of the house in silence.

  Sara and Karen were sitting in the living room with the sliding doors to the pool open, talking, when they saw a large shadow in the thick fog. Sara stopped talking and pointed at the doors. Karen had her back to the doors but said, “Hi, John. How was your day?”

  Sara laughed as he walked into the living room with a smile on his face and asked, “So, what now, Karen? Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”

  She laughed and said, “Nope … I could tell by the look on Sara’s face that you were going to try and spook me.”

  John put his hand on her shoulder and said, “All in good fun, kid.” Karen nodded and asked where Chris was. John shrugged, walking over to the wet bar and said, “Well, he better be working up a profile on the Harris killing because we have people screaming from the roof tops over the situation.”

  Sara laughed, taking a sip of wine, and said, “Well, if you ask me, whoever killed Benton Harris did the world a favor.” Both John and Karen looked at Sara in a moment of stunned silence.

  John sat down with a bottle of water and asked, “You knew Mr. Harris?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. He was a son of a bitch, John. A real asshole. He did a lot of malpractice litigation. He was always targeting doctors and hospitals in LA.”

  John asked, taking a drink of his water, “And I assume that you were on the receiving end of one of his suits?”

  Sara sipped her wine and said, “Yes … and I bet there are a lot of doctors and hospital administrators sleeping better tonight, knowing that son of a bitch is dead.”

  Karen nodded slowly as John put his bottle on the table and asked, “Have you had any run-ins with this victim?”

  Karen said, “Not directly. I know his name and reputation. He was a high powered ambulance chaser who had the backing of a large LA law firm doing his dirty work.”

  “Well, the man was brutally murdered. Chris is going over the guy’s cases to see who might have wanted him dead.”

  Sara couldn’t help herself. She started laughing and said, “Shit, John. It’s not who wanted the guy dead; it’s who didn’t. Jesus. I don’t know of a doctor in LA who is shedding a tear over his death. I don’t know anyone who would have killed him, but I for one am not sad to see him gone.”

  John picked up his bottle and said, “A man is dead, and he was brutally murdered. I mean, I understand your dislike of him, but the damn guy wasn’t a killer.”

  Sara was about to speak when Jade said from the other room, “He might not have been like other killers that the Iron Eagle has dealt with, but make no mistake, Benton Harris the third was a killer in a different way.”

  John looked up to see Jade and Jessica walking into the living room. The two women were dressed in sheer robes with nothing on underneath, and John looked on and said, “Explain.”

  Jade asked Sara if it was okay to pour a scotch, and Sara nodded. She poured two and handed one to Jessica, and John asked, “Is she old enough to drink?”

  Jade shook her head and said, “Nope … but she’s lived ten lifetimes in her short years on this planet. She has done a hell of a lot worse. I’m not going to be her mother. She drinks and has for years.” Jessica took the drink and was a little sheepish as she sat down on the arm of the chair that Jade had sat down in. Jessica took a sip of the drink, and Jade said, “Benton Harris was an extortionist.” John looked on as Sara and Karen nodded. “He would press and pull people in a hundred directions to get what he wanted. Over the years, I have had several corpses come through my office who were direct victims of Benton Harris.”

  “Are you telling me that this Harris guy was killing people?”

  Jade nodded, taking a sip of her scotch, “Oh yeah. He was a really, really good killer, and his killings were legal. He drove many a good doctor into bankruptcy with his litigation and settlement tactics, and in the end there were more than a few doctors who ended their lives becaus
e Mr. Harris ended their ability to practice medicine.”

  John sat back and asked, “And you know this how?”

  Jade laughed, swigged down her drink, and stood up, dropping her robe. “I know this because I did the autopsies on at least a dozen men and woman who were at the top of their medical careers until Benton Harris got a hold of them. They left his name in their suicide notes as the reason for their deaths.” Jessica followed suit, dropping her robe and swigging down her drink, and followed Jade out to the pool.

  Sara and Karen walked out to the pool area and undressed as John sat and watched. He looked at Sara as she slipped into the Jacuzzi with Karen and asked, “Did you know any of the doctors who committed suicide as a result of Mr. Harris’s litigation?” Sara nodded her head as she slipped down under the bubbling water and reemerged with her hair slicked back.

  She called to John and asked, “Honey, would you please bring me my glass of wine? I left it on the coffee table.” John stood up and took the half full glass out to the pool and handed it to Sara.

  Karen was sipping a soda and enjoying the jets on her back. John looked at the four women and said, “Well, I guess I won’t find many people crying over this man’s death, but it’s still my job to investigate. What he did in his life is one thing. Whoever killed Mr. Harris will kill again, and what the killer did to him was beyond brutal.”

  Sara laughed and said, “Not really. I know you would think that burning to death would be the worst thing in the world, but in all honesty, Harris got off easy.”

  “How the hell do you figure that?”

  Jade laughed as did Jessica, and Karen said, “The killer could have burned Mr. Harris within an inch of his life and left him to linger for days, even weeks, on a burn ward in horrific agony. Harris really did get off lucky.”