CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

 

Natalie Pena walked steadily into the interview room. The defense attorney had been appointed by the court to represent Manuel Gonzalez, who faced multiple murder counts and related charges. She was there to tell him that the situation looked bleak at best, in spite of her best efforts to do what she could to try to at least spare his life.

Under other circumstances the thirty-one-year-old Latina beauty might have been easily mistaken for a model. Five-ten and streamlined, her flaxen hair was smartly cut above the shoulders and contacts made her eyes seem even bluer. Though she had put on a fresh coat of plum gloss, her lips still felt dry. She wondered if it had anything to do with taking the case of a man who Natalie had little doubt was as guilty as he seemed.

Her client was already seated at the table. He was still handcuffed and fidgeting, as if he had to use the bathroom. She often wondered why people like Manuel resorted to such violence in their lives.

And why others like her managed to escape lower class beginnings, a dysfunctional family, and ethnic discrimination to make a life other Hispanics could be proud of.

Maybe she would never know.

“Hello, Manuel.” Natalie gave him a much-practiced smile that she used with all of her clients, most of whom couldn’t afford a private attorney. Often it was to keep from crying, for usually it was a depressing situation she found herself in as a public defender.

This time was no different.

“What’s up?” he said, as if they were just hanging out as old friends.

At first he had sought to ridicule her as his attorney, insisting that only a man could help him. But gradually she had gained his trust, and maybe even admiration.

Natalie sat across from her client. “I just talked to the D.A.,” she said levelly. “I’m afraid the news is not very good, Manuel. I tried to get the charges reduced to first-degree sexual assault and second-degree murder, which could have allowed you to avoid the death penalty. But he insisted that the charges stand.”

“Meanin’ what?” Manuel kept his eyes planted on her like they had nowhere else to go.

Natalie avoided his stare, focusing instead on the dreary wall behind him. “Meaning that unless there is something else you can give me that might influence their position, we’re looking at an almost certain death sentence...if you’re convicted—” She knew that given his confession and solid evidence, this was a more or less forgone conclusion. But she owed it to him and her profession to do whatever she could, which wasn’t much at this point.

Manuel continued to gaze at her attentively. “Maybe I do have somethin’ else to say—”

“I’m listening.” Natalie tried to read his mind, but couldn’t see anything that might give her a clue as to where this was headed.

Manuel moved restlessly in the seat, as if it were vibrating. “You heard about that judge that was killed last October, right?” He paused, adding, “His old lady was raped—”

Natalie mused. Of course she had heard of the case. Who hadn’t? She had actually been considered to represent the accused, since Hispanic public defenders were in short supply in the state of California. But the case went to another lawyer named Conrad Ortega.

Personally, she believed they had a problem with a Latina representing a Latino male accused of killing a criminal court judge. The same judge the suspect had threatened years earlier.

Was this case any less? Natalie wondered, while knowing the answer spoke for itself.

She locked eyes with her client. “Yes. I’m familiar with it. The trial is underway right now.”

Did he know something about that crime?

Manuel gave her a deadpan look and said as though it had been weighing heavily on him, “I was responsible for it—”

“What do you mean responsible?” Natalie separated her lips. “Were you involved in the attack?”

A half grin formed on his mouth. “I killed the judge and raped his whore of a wife!”

Natalie sat back, stunned. Was he trying to manipulate his way out of a really tight jam? Or was he being straight with her?

“Manuel, there’s a man on trial for his life right now,” she said, her voice on edge. “Are you saying he’s innocent? Or did you commit the crime together?”

Manuel did not flinch when he met her gaze. “He didn’t do it,” he responded succinctly. “I did—period!”

Natalie swallowed, her mouth gone dry. “Assuming you’re telling the truth, what do you want me to do?”

“Use it to cut me a deal,” he said bluntly.

“What kind of deal?” She elevated a brow warily. Multiple murderers were not in much of a position to bargain. Adding more murders to his resume was hardly worthy of a commuted sentence.

Manuel reached across the table and took her wrists, holding them tightly between his cuffed hands. Natalie’s first thought was to scream. But something made her feel that it was not his intent to hurt her. Maybe he just wanted her to listen.

“I decided I don’t wanna die,” he muttered with trepidation. “Not till I reach the ripe old age of ninety-nine. Even a hundred. Maybe I can sell my life story and be a millionaire in prison.” He loosened his hold on her. “You can save me. And him—”

Natalie sank back as he removed his hands from her wrists. “Can you prove this?”

Manuel leapt up so fast, shackles and all, that for an instant Natalie thought he was attempting to escape. Or assault her before anyone could stop him.

Instead, he yanked down his pants like they were ablaze. Staring across the table at Natalie was Manuel Gonzalez’s erect penis.

She actually flushed at its enormity.

“What are you doing, Manuel?” she asked for lack of more appropriate words to come to her.

“Just showin’ you somethin’.” He crossed to her side of the table in two steps before the guard could come rushing in. He forced down his penis so she could focus instead on the area above it. “Have you ever seen anything so pretty in your life?”

Natalie’s eyes widened with surprise. His pubic hair had been shaved. In its place was a beautiful multicolored tattooed lizard.