Guilty Conscience (Closed)

After the last two weeks of an assault trial that was nothing more than endless bickering between the defense and the prosecuting attorneys, thirty two year old Jeanette Park was looking forward to a hopeful few days off. Having to take over the case when the original defense attorney fell ill when the trial was still heated, she had to have nerves of steel on the outside to cover up for how frazzled she was needing to gather what evidence and testimony was available, analyze it, and be able to present it within a barely 24 hour mark.

Had it not been for the prosecution's witness having bungled the investigation, the defense would have either lost or likely end up with a hung jury. The news reports and media had a field day with that one.

Though she had been with the Law Firm of Ridley & Fielding in the heart of the city for nearly three years, she couldn't help but wonder if the higher up partners were going to take her seriously. One can graduate with honors and intern with the best of the bunch to learn the ropes but even with such accolades, passing her bar exam, and able to take on cases with some losses, victories, and barely victories. But even in a field with such accomplishments, there were days when Jeanette found it stressful to not being taken seriously. Being mistaken for someone younger at first glance can be flattering but it often puts her at a disadvantage.

At a quarter to 6pm, Jeanette was ready to pack her things in her office when she heard someone knocking at her door frame.

"Andrew," she smiled at one of the main partners of the firm. "I was just gonna ask if you want to hit the pub after I finish up. A little alcohol wouldn't hurt after that Denton case."

That enthusiasm faded when she noticed that he looked a little nervous as he swung his briefcase casually at his side.

"What's up?" she asked.

Andrew approached Jeanette's desk, putting up with a smile.

"Have to hand it to you Jeanette. If you didn't see through that witness' lies, we would have fucking lost that one. Devlin was ready to drag that one through the whole month if he wanted to."

"Come on, what are you trying to hide now?"

The firm's partner let out a sigh. "Would you mind postponing your mini vacation?"

This was the response that Jeanette dreaded. "What's wrong?"

"Bradenburg in Queens withdrew from the Livingston murder case. Apparently his client had become too much of a hassle. Uncooperative with the detectives, and I guess it was a bad day for them both but it got to the point where he started to stonewall his own lawyer. We've been brought on to represent the suspect. Unfortunately, we all have our hands full with our own cases and I know you're just fresh off from the assault trial. I know how much you've wanted to take on something solo for some time and I think you've earned it. Just that this is a huge high profile case..."

Shit. Jeanette squeezed the corner of her maple wood desk. She couldn't help but admit to herself that this was one of the few cases she was hoping to not get involved in. In its early days, she couldn't help but hoped that whoever represented the murder suspect had a damn bullet proof vest underneath. Still, taking on something of this magnitude may be able to prove her worth.

"You know that we've got your back if you run in to some trouble, especially with this one."

"I'll take it," she replied.

Impressed with her willingness to take on such a case, Andrew smiled and placed the briefcase in front of her.

"These are the files Bradenburg was able to retrieve from the reports and preliminary hearing. A few testimonies from witnesses who were there after Livingston's body was discovered. The suspect's one might be hard to read."

"Illegible text?"

"Bradenburg writes well. Just that if you read it and listen to the recordings, the suspect likes to subtly change his story every single time. If that idiot can't be consistent with what happened, he's basically begging the judge to throw him in jail."

Jeanette opened the briefcase and began to read the pages of the testimony stapled together while she listened to Andrew carry on.

"Trial won't be for several months while Clay Iverson is trying to get the authorities to find some hard evidence. Not to mention the time the suspect wasted on messing with Bradenburg. So far, all prosecution is just hearsay testimony and a suspect with a criminal past."

"Clay Iverson?" Jeanette's eyebrows raised at the sound of the district attorney's name. The very few prosecutors who were able to win out a case against her and the most hard assed to debate on.

"Guess the name still stings huh?" Andrew chuckled. "Probably wouldn't be surprising that Judge Hawthrone will be the one presiding over the trial."

As he turned to leave her office, he turned around. "Your new client will be coming in at six. You'll be the only one left here. Make sure you lock up when you leave, huh?"

"Mmm." Jeanette tried to contain herself. It wasn't too common for suspects of his caliber to literally meet in her office for they were usually in police custody by the time they were marked as such.

Still, the idea of being alone with a murder suspect who wasn't in police custody for the time being was a little nerve wracking.

The black Escalade pulled up outside the building where Ridley and Fielding's offices were located, and the passenger door opened. A man got out, well dressed, but with a thuggish face. He looked up and down the steet, and then opened the back door. Carmine Amaro got out, nodded to his man, and strolled across the street as if he owned it. He pushed the building's door open and walked across the empty lobby. The thug took a place in front of the door. Other men watched the building's other entrances. Carmine was as safe as he could be.

He took the elevator up to Ridley and Fielding's floor, got out into what seemed like a deserted law firm. That was how he wanted it. You couldn't really talk to people when there were a million things going on, like all the bullshit that went on all day long in a major lawfirm. He knew this Park guy was young blood, but the word was that he had done really well on his last trial, hammering a witness on the stand until the prosecution’s whole case had fallen apart. He also knew that the guy prosecuting him was a notorious prick, and that Park had every reason to want to take Clay Iverson down a peg. It was a roll of the dice, he knew, going with a young guy instead of one of the usual lawyers, but he knew he couldn’t grease the judge or the prosecution, so all the connections in the world wouldn’t help this case. He needed a fighter.

He strolled down the hallway, towards the only open door.

“Hey Park,” he called out. “What do you say you and me get out of here and talk this shit over at the Velvet Bunny. Son of a bitch.” He had stepped through the doorway to the office and set eyes on the woman sitting at the desk. He took a step back and looked at the name on the door. Jeanette Park. “I’m going to fucking kill that prick.”

Andrew Fielding had sworn up and down that Park was the best new attorney in the firm. He had told Carmine everything there was to know, but somehow he had forgotten to mention that Park was a girl. Carmine sighed and held his hands up in front of him.

“Figure of speech,” he said. “You don’t have to tell the cops I’m about to break any laws, so you can fucking relax. It’s just your boss, when he was talking about what a hot shit, up-and-coming lawyer you are, neglected to mention you’re a…,” he waved his hand at her, searching for a suitable word. “A lady.”

“So you probably don’t want to talk this shit over at the Velvet Bunny,” he said, and laughed. It was funny. “You tell Fielding I’m gonna knock his fucking - sorry - his teeth out the next time I see him, though, alright?”

He looks at Jeanette Park, really looking, for the first time. She looks about nineteen, his daughter’s age, and the laughter dries up. He knows the case against him is weak, but he also knows people have done time with worse. With his priors, he was looking at doing some real time, ten years minimum, and he would have prefered to see a guy on the other side of the desk, or at least someone who didn’t look like she’d get carded if she went into a bar. He frowned as he thought about the situation.

“Look,” he said. “I got nothing against … ladies, but this isn’t a speeding ticket, you know what I mean? Any reason I should think you’re going to be able to handle this?”

The sounds of what Jeanette assumed was an older man rambling nonsense down the hall got her attention. Well, well, he was here rather early, not long after Andrew left for the evening. Her client wasn't the first loudmouth, unfiltered, cocky fellow she had to take on. Chances are that those sort of people, particularly with the men, are only putting up a tough front knowing that their guilt was imminent, no matter how hard she or her fellow attorneys defend them. Wannabe tough guys.

"Hey Park, What do you say you and me get out of here and talk this shit over at the Velvet Bunny...."

She raised her eyebrows as her client entered her doorway going on and about on how they should take their initial meeting to a strip club.*It was amusing that he would be straight forward from with where he would rather take their conversations in a place that is just as crowded.

It wasn't the first time she heard a client expressed doubts that someone like her can take on their case whether it was because she was a female or if even under the blazer can she be someone that could be taken seriously. Carmine Amore aged enough that he could at least pass off as an uncle. Unlike her previous clients, it was the first time that Jeanette felt a bit intimidated as he watched her. Almost as if he were studying her. Even when she glanced at the docs provided did she feel his eyes on her. His voice and presence were inescapable.

She was now trapped in a concrete den with a carnivorous lion.

"That all depends, Mr. Amoro," she looked up . "If you're going to take your case seriously. Maybe your previous lawyer was impressed with how creative you get with your stories but that's not going to work well for you the day of the trial."

Jeanette crossed one leg over the other under her desk, adjusting her knee high skirt.

"Have a seat," she gestured to the cushioned armchair in front of her.

"Am I going to take this seriously?" Carmine says, his voice softer, lower than it had been a moment ago. He takes a step towards her, his eyes holding hers, blank and cold. He puts his hands on the desk, leaning forward, looming over her.

"You think I fucked up, giving that asshole Bradenburg the run around, is that right?" He spoke slowly, and watched her closely, sizing her up. With every word his voice got colder, his eyes harder, and he inched closer. "Guy dropped me like a hot fucking rock, though, didn't he? So you tell me, did I fuck up by not trusting him? You think I should have bared my heart to him? Opened my soul?" He stood up straight, grabbed a chair and spun in around, sitting in it backwards, folding his arms across the back. He kept his eyes on her, calculating, considering.

"I'll tell you what I told him," he says. "I know you went to college, and law school. I know you're very well educated. I also know this is just a paycheck for you. You don't give a fuck about, and why should you? You don't know me. You just represent me. But it's my ass, so I'm going to need to know the person who represents me is going to win. Clay Iverson is no joke. Turns out, he went to college, too. He is also very well educated, and he's smart, and he's tough. Me, I dropped out of high school. I'm street smart, maybe. As tough as I need to be."

He sighed, shaking his head. "You look too young for this job, but I know guys who whacked guys before they could shave, so I'm not too worried about that. What I am worried about, are you smart enough and tough enough to take Clay Iverson?"

Closer and closer Carmine approached until he was directly in front of her within an arms reach should he dare to even so much as touch her. While she wasn't easily amused by any client of hers who seek out her services that put on an arrogant smug, it was the first time Jeanette felt a sense of terror running through her veins. Clients have gotten in her face before for one reason or another. Carmine, in his own way, toyed with her.

Jeanette could only watch when his face loomed above hers in near darkness. The desk lamp was her only source of light that contoured has shadows on both of their faces. She could have sworn he was inching closer that she could feel his breath on her face and the faint smell of cologne that clung on to his clothes. Though she kept a straight face, she dug her pointed heel on to the carpet to keep her rattled emotions in tact. Her fingers, once holding the docs that she was reading earlier, pressed on to the glazed wooden desk to keep the papers pinned. At this point, the sounds of him yelling and rambling nonsense when he first roamed the hallway wasn't as bad anymore. Her stomach was in the process of tying up small ribbon knots as she felt a strange mix intimidation and intrigue bubbling up.

The mere thought of wanting to explore that strange feeling startled her.

She bit her tongue when he inquired about his previous lawyer. Bradenburg does all right for himself but even she knew that he had his moments of cockiness.

As Carmine pulled away, Jeanette let out a slow sigh of relief. He grabbed a nearby chair and spun it before he took a seat, never once taking his eyes off her. He was still close enough but at the very least, she didn't have to feel his breath caressing her skin.

Jeanette pulled out her smartphone, tinkering with it for a few seconds before she opened a recording app. With his snippy remarks especially regarding a particular prosecuting attorney, she understood why Bradenburg got frustrated with his antics. With Carmine's past, he should be very familiar with what Iverson was capable of as the prosecutor's efforts landed him in jail before.

"Iverson has to be able to prove to the judge that you actually had something to do with Livingston's murder. You're familiar with client-attorney privilege. Whatever happens or what you share with me will not be used against you. What I need you to do is to get your story straight, especially since he's familiar with your antics."

She didn't need to get in to the case she lost against Iverson: What was headlined as an abuse case between a manipulative ex-wife and a husband who, despite his intimidating stature, was defending himself when a simple shove turned in to a broken arm and a fractured rib. Trying to secure a self defense for her male client wasn't easy when the prosecution used that drama queen victim as his star witness.

He watched her closely, smiling the whole time. He had known plenty of lawyers in his time. Most of them were smug, self-important pricks like Bradenburg had been, soft men who thought that years of ivy league education made them smart, and that years on the street made Carmine stupid. He could see the same arrogance on this girl's face, as she disregarded everything he said and plowed on relentlessly to make her point. At the same time, he gave her credit. She stood up to him, which most men did not.

Sure, she breathed a sigh of relief when he got out of her face, but having balls wasn't about not being afraid. It was about not giving a shit, doing what had to be done, even if you were afraid. So, the girl had balls. He chuckled softly, smiling as he looked at her.

"I'm familiar with attorney-client privilege, yes," he confirmed. "It's some big words that mean you're not supposed to rat me out. Like you said, 'Whatever happens will not be used against me.'"

He stood up, walking around her desk, a predatory look in his eye as he looked the young lawyer up and down. He put his hand on her head, gripping her hair in his fist. He pulled her head back, and stood over her, looking into her eyes.

"Whatever happens?" he says, softly. With his other hand, he brushed her cheek, almost tenderly.

"So, Miss Park," he said. "What do you want to know?"

Jeanette hit the record button on her phone. It was strange, though not surprising, that Carmine could keep that damn smile. Previous clients who have sought after her or her co-workers for their services come in with that same arrogant smile thinking they got their innocence in the bag. From her sideview, she noticed his figure approaching closer. She distracted herself by gathering the bundles of paper that Bradenburg kept. Anything to keep that nagging curious feeling at bay.

Usually, it was easy to ignore the clients as long as they behaved themselves and kept their hands away from her things. Usually a cop or another attorney if they were in her office would be nearby in case the client liked swinging sharp or heavy objects.

But they were alone. Security cameras were not within their reach inside the confines of the office until they stepped out of the firm's floor and in to the main halls and elevator.

"Like I said Mr. Amoro," said Jeanette. "Whatever you're willing to share will be kept between the two---"

She let out a yelp when he grabbed hold of her hair. Jeanette tried to move away but Carmine had a firm grip on her hair. It wasn't enough to make her feel too uncomfortable but if she bobbed her head certain way, she was afraid it would be enough for him to yank her hair out of her head if he wanted to. He forced her head back, giving her no choice but to meet him face to face.

Jeanette felt his finger trace down from her cheek to her jawline. Each inch he caressed slowly revealed just how vulnerable she was under his grasp.

"What do you want to know?" his voice dripped in her ear as he spoke.

"Tell..." Jeanette's voice shook a little. She cleared her throat and let out a fake cough to cover up her slowly crumbling mess that he was making her feel. "Tell me how you are connected with Keith Livingston."

Though she struggled to hide that slip up, there was one thing that she couldn't cover up due to the hold he had on her: her flushed cheeks which were now tinged with a bright red in contrast to her light skin.

"The Keith Livingstone that I'm accused of beating to death with my bare hands?" Carmine asked, in a low, mellow tone, as if he was talking to a lover. His eyes noted the flush in her cheeks. He gently ran his fingers along her throat, down to the first button on her blouse. "The one whose face had been slammed into a door frame so many times they had to identify him from his fingerprints? There is no connection. I never heard of him until I was arrested for his murder."

He kept the one hand holding her hair, and unbuttoned his jacket with the other. He slipped it off, letting go of her, and then he folded it and set it on top of her phone. He kept her crowded, so there was no way for her to get out of her chair except to move directly into him. Then he leaned down and put his hands on the arms of her chair. His face was inches from hers, and when he leaned forward, he very nearly kissed her.

Instead, he whispered, letting his warm breath caress her ear. "Do you honestly expect me to talk to you seriously when you're recording me? Phones get hacked. Offices get bugged. If you want to ask me questions about the case, questions that the answers to, should Clay Iverson hear them, could put me in prison for a very long time, we'll do it someplace that I know is safe."

He stepped back then, straightening up, and he picked his jacket up.

"How many murder cases have you handled, Miss Park?" he said in a much louder voice.

If Jeanette could melt in to a puddle of sheer embarrassment, she would do it quick. She felt his fingers trail further down than he dared down to her neck as he questioned whether the murder victim was the one whose face was bashed multiple times. A part of her anticipated with fear that he will emphasize his point by grabbing her neck. While some of her clients were known to cause trouble, her newest one carried the aura that any mistake in or out of court was bound to haunt her in more ways than one.

Her eyebrows raised at his response. In the short amount of time that she looked over Bradenburg's notes, Carmine vaguely mentioned that Livingston's name sounded familiar but claimed that it was likely he heard the name in the news. There were other scribbles and scrawls that his previous attorney made but she wasn't able to make note of it when Carmine walked in.

Law school may have taught her the fundamentals of how to be able to counter debate and defend your client regardless of their guilt. They do advise not to let the client, especially with a litany of crimes, get to their heads. None of her classes focused too much on the psychological aspect when it comes to handling someone on Amoro's level.

Her head felt relieved when he let go of her hair to take off his jacket. Before she could make a move for her things, at least for her phone, he covered it with his jacket and quickly trapped her in her seat with both hands on each arm rest. As Carmine leaned in closer, Jeanette wanted to scrunch up her legs on to the seat as a desperate tactic to block his attempts on getting too close. His body was leaned in enough to trap her legs. If she dared to move, she would end up kneeing him in the gut or perhaps the groin. So close did he lean in that his lips were a mere few inches from touching hers making her nerves almost shot.

Luckily, he moved his head to the right, making her skin crawl when he whispered about his conditions of talking about the case. Her fingers scrunched up the hem of her skirt as it was becoming difficult to put a facade of not being intimidated.

It took Jeanette a moment to come to her senses when he finally stepped away from her.

"Where did you have in mind?" she asked.

She reached out to grab her briefcase with the documents and was just about to grab her phone from underneath his jacket when Carmine took both the jacket and confiscated her phone.

The question of the type of cases she worked on caught her a bit off guard. Aside from cases stemming from abuse, civil, and the occasional manslaughter that occurred not long after the event the firm partners or the other higher attorneys usually took on murder and homicide cases straight up with her assisting and giving her usual analysis when needed.

I've done murder cases before. She wanted to say. She can easily bullshit it but the way he had been studying her the past fifteen minutes, what if he saw through her lies? Not to mention that if she lied to him now, he was likely going to fuck the case up.

"Actually," Her voice changed from one with a small mix of arrogance to a bit more soft spoken. "You'll be my first."

Carmine studied the girl for a second, then smiled. Fielding had already told him she hadn't done any murder cases, but it was important that she told him the truth. He reached down and pulled her to her feet. He saw the flush on her face, the way her chest was rising and falling. It could have been fear or desire. In his experience, they weren't so different. It was a matter of perspective. He held her eye, and ran his fingers along the side of her face, an intimate gesture. It was nice, seeing how she reacted to him, but he needed her to get her head together if she was going to represent him.

"It's ok," he says. "Everybody has to pop their cherry sometime, but you need to be on the ball on this one, ok? I don't like it when I get sent to prison over other people's fuck-ups."

He glances at his watch, then slid his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. He frowned for a moment, thinking. Strip clubs were ideal for these kinds of conferences, because they were too loud and dark for anyone to run any kind of surveillance in, none of the customers ever took any interest in each other, and the view was nice. If he walked into the Velvet Bunny with Jeanette Park, though, people would notice.

So, plan B.

"Come on," he says. He takes her by the arm, pulling her towards the door. He's not rough, exactly, but he's not giving her a choice. "We'll drive over together, my guys can bring you back here after. You won't need anything. You're not going to record this, you're not going to take any notes. When we get there, you can ask me all the questions you want. You're going to listen to the answers, and you're going to remember. Can you do that?"

If he was considering the Velvet Bunny place as a safe haven to open up, Jeanette would consider him crazy. Sure it is more crowded and for the most part, customers don't give a shit to others as they are more entertained by the strippers and the occasional bouncer who have no problem throwing out the drunkard.

Most of the strippers there are in it for the money, the power they have over a male's psyche when showing off their assets, or both. But from what Jeanette learned over the years, there will always be one willing to speak that could make or break the defense.

Meanwhile, Amoro was getting a little too hands on with her as he went back to running his fingers down her face. With a bit of reluctance, she moved a step back. Things were getting a little too comfortable that she was afraid she might not be able to focus. And he was pushing it.

Lucky for Jeanette, he did pull away but not before taking his newly startled attorney by the arm. She tried to take her briefcase with her but he pulled her away from it. The only thing Jeanette was able to grab before he got her out of the door was her coat hanging by the hook near the doorframe that contained her key card and keys. She managed to lock her office door but when he dragged her out of the main door of the firm's office, Jeanette tugged at her wrist hoping he would stop. Amoro immediately turned around, giving her a suspicious look.

"At least let me lock up the office," she said.

Without saying much, she made her way to the door and quickly punched in several numbers on the numeric keypad. The green speck of light switched to red. Making her way back to him, she pressed the button to summon the elevator.

They rode down the elevator in silence. Carmine kept his eyes on her the whole way, enjoying the effect he had on her, but also admiring the way she stood up to it. She needed to be tough in court, and he was glad to see she wasn't going to crumble the instant anyone pushed her.

Still, he thought, it would be nice to see her crumble a little. That's when he knew where he would take her. He took out his phone and made a call.

"Carmine here, I'm coming in for a private dinner... Right now... Yeah," he laughed. "No, that sounds perfect. Thanks... Yeah, no problem... I'll take care of it."

He led her out to the car, and the driver took them downtown. They were driving past a construction site when the car slowed. A waiter in black and white was carrying a table across the street from an Italian restaurant, followed by a pair of bus boys carrying chairs. A gate in the chain link fence opened, and the car pulled into the construction site.

They drove straight onto the freight elevator and rode up to the 5th floor. There were no walls or windows, just bare concrete. Heavy tarps closed off a "room," and the bus boys were setting up the table as though it were in the middle of the restaurant. The waiter lit candles and set them on the table, and Carmine held the chair for Jeanette.

He and the waiter spoke in Italian, and then he ordered dinner and wine for both of them, without looking at a menu or consulting her, and the waiter nodded. A moment later, they were alone.

"They do things to linguini here that should probably be illegal, but you're going to love it. Now, it's going to be a minute before he gets back with the wine, so what do you want to know?"

Jeanette knew the next several months, if not a few years depending on how long the case would drag out, was something she needed to get used to. Not because she had someone of Carmine's caliber as a client but having to feel his nearly overwhelming presence following her. From being trapped in an elevator to her office, she didn't have to look up at him and she could already feel him studying her every move.

As they exited the building, she was a bit surprised that there were others waiting for them. She wasn't able to get a good look at the other men as they either clamored to the front seat or to the other Escalde parked across the street. The only thing she managed to catch was the driver having wha a scar line beneath his ear.

Carmine didn't say much on where this dinner was going to be held. Her eyebrows raised when the car slowed down by a construction site. Even more bizarre were the waiter and busboys from an Italian restaurant across the street filed out one by one carrying chairs and a table.

Great, she said in her mind. Her client was already a character in itself. He didn't have to take it to the next level by having dinner on top of a near rubble.

The car pulled in the construction site: A building that in city's standards, wasn't close to complete. What was supposedly a 35 story building only had about six of the floors finished.

She followed him inside the dimly lit room, sitting down on the chair that he offered her. Aside from the faint sounds of footsteps coming from the area where the tarp had been set up, they were completely walled off from the outside world. Jeanette crossed one leg on top of the other, keeping her eye on him to see if he would stick to his story this time.

"What do you know about Livingston?"

Carmine looks down at the table. Then slowly raises his head. "Livingston?" he asks. Answered question with one of his own. " Livingston may be dead, then again maybe not." He giver her a tight lipped smile. " Listen lady lawyer, there are things that are known and then there are things that are not. " He pauses as a waiter arrives with a narrow 750 ml bottle of wine. He shows the bottle to Carmine. "Che andrà bene, che si può servire che "

The waiter pours a small amount it to each of their glasses. Then places the bottle on the table. "Some French wines like Blanc De Noirs should be served from an ice bucket to keep them chilled. I prefer the Italian table wines, they are meant to be served at room temperature." he sips a bit of the wine and smiles. "This vary good light and airy. I think you will enjoy it." When he is sure the waiter is back in the restaurant he continues.

"Where was I, ah yes, Livingston. What do I know about Livingston ? Well very little really. Now Marco Marinzzi I knew, quite well. At least that is what I knew him as. Then one day the fed picked him up off the streets and Keith Livingston appears, then disappears, then turns up dead. Some one beat the living shit out of him. The DA got no brains and no ideas, looks around for the wop he can find and fingers me."

Carmine finishes his wine and looks at her glass. " The papers say he was found in Monroe Park on the west side." He chuckles as if to remember a private joke. " Fucked a fine piece of ass in that park years ago. That was the only body I ever laid down in that fuck'n park. And I never left no dead body there. Stained panties yes, dead body, no!"

Just them one waiter raises away the tarp and another brings in two large plates of linguini. Then like magic a third appears with two large gravy boats. One with a dark rich red sauce the other a creamy white.

" Your choice red or white?"

In the several years from law school to working for a firm, Jeanette thought she saw it all: Smart alecks, an occasional druggie, clients who did not take her seriously or showed off a desperate tough demeanor. The roller coaster he was taking her on for the past hour and a half from getting touchy feely with her in the office to changing his damn his story, to running his mouth in circles was slowly irritating her. Here they were in what could be considered a secure place after he insisted that her office was set up to be bugged and caught on video and Carmine continued to speak in riddles.

The fact that he brought up someone else unfamiliar perked Jeanette's interest a little. She didn't have a lot of time to go over Brandenburg' notes or the case file when he showed up to her office unannounced. Perhaps this Marco Marinzzi knew Livingston.

Or perhaps Carmine was throwing random names out there.

She looked down at the glass of wine that was poured for her. Occasionally, she would steal a glance here and there at her newest client. Between now and the next court hearing, the next few months are going to be wrought with confusion.

Her mind drifted to the incident back in the office where he trapped her in her chair. His voice, still ringing in her ears, combined with the way he touched her...she wated to kill him for reducing her to his prey when she wanted to prove that she can be taken seriously.

Yet strange enough, a small part of Jeanette found it exciting where those sort of thoughts sparked a dangerous thrill that wanted to explore just a little further. Years of law school, a bar exam, and working for a firms until she landed on one of the more well known ones in the city didn't leave a lot of room for a social life.

She shook her head. What the hell was she thinking?

Jeanette was startled when she noticed Carmine returning the favor by watching her. Trying to think fast, she grabbed the glass of wine and drunk half of the contents in hopes of easing her slowly knotting stomach.

Not bad, she thought of the wine.

Before she could say something, another waiter wheeled in with a cart topped with two gravy boats. Jeanette pointed to the red sauce, watching the waiter plate both of their plates of pasta and sauces. Only when the waiter left the two alone did she speak again.

"Did you and Marinzzi get along?"

"Get along? With Marco!" Carmine stabs his food with an intensity. " What can I tell you." He pauses and rolls some pasta onto his fork. " The bastard was like a brother. Like the ying to the yang. Both the same yet both different." Carmine pushes a roll of pasta into his mouth. He chews a bit and continues.

"You see its a matter of how you want to look at this. Someone beats the lov'n shit out of Keith Livingstone I don't give a fuck." He stops eating and looks straight into her face. " Then again, you beat on Marco Marinzzi we got a problem." He picks his glass of wine and bores into her eyes. " I know what your think'n. They are the same guy. Just the name has changed, same guy, same body, true?" He breaks the stare.

"Yeah, that what I thought. You don't see any difference. In the eyes of the law it does matter, the guy got beat to death." He pours them each more wine. " But on the street it does matter." He pauses and puts on a crooked smile. Lets put it a different way so then maybe you will understand."

He put his glass on the table and looks at her as his lips get an evil thinness and he lowers his brows so his fore head wrinkles. "Your in your bed with your legs spread wide and you want to get fucked in the pussy. The guy rams you in the ass. You think wrong hole asshole. But to him he hits the ass because he knows its fuck'n tight. Will he fuck you in the pussy? yeah maybe, then maybe not." He leans back in his chair and gives her a relaxed grin.
"Now did you get fucked. No doubt about it. Was there a difference? Not to him, but to you, yeah big difference. Now you see?"

As Carmine spoke, Jeanette twirled the pasta around her fork until it formed in to a mini pasta ball. On a random note, he was right about one thing: the pasta dish was quite delicious that it may very well be, in his own words, illegal to have on a menu.

She listened on as he spoke of the closeness between him and Marco, all while trying to remain at least poised. Even when she broke away from his intimidating gaze just to get another helping of pasta did she feel his eyes watching her every move.

As Jeanette helped herself to another glass of wine, Carmine veered the conversation in to a rather disturbing turn. He compared the whole situation to her getting fucked, not wasting any time getting in to the graphic details on the difference between being fucked in the ass and pussy that, along with his behavior back in the office almost caused her to spit out her wine. Still, she kept the glass to her lips, forcing the wine down her throat. Jeanette would rather not have him see her face turning almost the same shade as the pasta dish.

Stay focused, Jeanette. She told herself.

After a moment when he ended his spiel, Jeanette set her glass down and watched him grin at her. She recounted the last several minutes of their conversation when she noticed something peculiar in the way he described Marco that she didn't catch the first time around.

Carmine was free to play his games his way but if he wanted to keep out of jail, he needed to tell her what he knew. Jeanette was determined to do what she could to get the story. If he was guilty, it will at least give her time to figure out how to help him.

"Interesting, Mr. Amaro," she helped herself to another forkful of pasta, wiping her lips and chin when she swallowed the noodles. "Something I noticed, though. You speak of Marco in past tense. Did something happen between the two of you?"

Keith Livingstone

Carmine smirks smugly" Do I? " Carmine watches as the lady lawyer eats. 'You can tell a lot from how some eats. He thinks. He notices she had had two glasses of wine and they had no effect on her. She was still very shape. He would have think of something else.

Carmine has an idea. He sees the waiter returning. He waits for the waiter to lift up the tarp. Bring us a bottle of Le Diciotto Lune Stravecchia*Grappa. And two more glasses. " After dinner I like to have an after dinner drink. it can be very relaxing."

"Si Sì, signore". The waiter nods and closes the tarp. Carmine takes the last fork full. "Any way, to answer your question, Keith Livingstone is what happened. Marco is like a puff of smoke. On the street one minute. Puff, then gone. No one knows where he is. And I mean no one. People say he was on Gardenia Street near Monzo's Deli. Never made it to the deli. " Carmine pauses. "I had people inside the deli. He never showed."

The waiter return with the bottle of Grappa and two small brandy sniffers. "Just put it on the table. I will serve it when we are ready. " The waiter smiles. " Si Signore." He turn toward Jeanette and bows slightly and backs out.

"Two days later he is seen on the west side. Calling himself Keith Livingstone." Carmine cracks the seal on the bottle. " This is some what stronger, but I think you will like it, I know I do." He pours out a half inch in to the sniffer for Jeanette.

The second glass of wine finished, Jeanette was starting to feel the buzz slowly build up. inside of her. It actually occurred halfway down her second glass but she was struggling to remain poised and alert, trying to take in whatever information and riddles Carmine was throwing at her. If she ended up too drunk or relaxed, she may not be able to get the information she needs to build a case in his favor. It didn't help that Carmine did not allow her to bring along a recorder or something to write on, insisting that she remember what he told her.

Something about the way he smirked at her was rather unsettling. Taking on the last few scraps of pasta, she watched as he poured her a glass in the sniffer with not a lot of the wine.

All she has to do is not forget the name and have one of their own investigators look further in to the case while she deals with her own copies of the paperwork.

She took the glass and sniffed the new drink Carmine poured in for her. It was a lot stronger than the previous wine. Then again from her experience, half of the strong smelling liquors she had sampled in the past turned out not as bad as she would expect.

With some reluctance, she drank down some of the liquor. This was one of those drinks that tasted exactly like how it smells. The warm buzz in her head was slowly festering after a combination of two full glasses of wine and the new one that Carmine brought in.

Within fifteen minutes, as Carmine spoke of Marco's disappearance, she felt her body unravel, loosening up from the poised professional simply doing her job to someone more relaxed, slightly slouching in her seat. Still, she tried to hang on to whatever logic she had left.

"What do you think happened to Marco?" She asked, her voice lightly slurred from all the wine.

Grappa effect

Carmine could tell the wine was having an effect. She is more relaxed and is slouching in her chair slightly. The Grappa slowly crept on her and she started to slur her speech. Carmine could just barely make out what she asks.

"What do I think happened to Marco? The Feds got a hold of him. " Carmine replies slowly. After a minute the waiter lifted the tarp and look at Jeanette. "Signore?" He asks when he returns his gaze back Carmine.

"I think the lady has had too much to drink help her to my car." Carmine slides off his chair. Jeanette's eyes are half closed. She mumbles something.

The waiter had seen this kind of thing many times before. The Grappa is 100 proof and very relaxing. Carmine looks at Jeanette. " You don't appear to be able to walk. Tony is going to put you in my car." Tony picks up Jeanette in his arms and carries her to the elevator. Carmine closes the gate. It is a slow ride down to the ground floor. On the way down Carmine fishes out his phone.

"Yeah its me, ah listen, The lady lawyer has had a little too much to drink. I'm going ta take her to the Westchester estate. Have the boys get the place ready. And make it look nice. We should be there in 40 minutes."

Tony carries Jeanette to the black Escalade. One of the men open the door and Tony places her on the seat. Carmine gives the waiter $100 bill. "Tony your a good boy, see you next week. Oh and give my regards to your mother. Tony smiles and backs away.

"Where are we going boss?" The driver asks as they climb in to the Escalade." The castle." Carmine replies. The driver smiles. "Yes Sir! The castle it is. Forty five minutes later they pull up to black iron gates. BLACK STONE ESTATES.

As they drive up the half mile drive to the "Castle" Jeanette stirs. " Carmine smiles. " You wanted to know what happened to Marco? We have a few ideas, and this is just the place to explore some of those concepts."

They pull up to the front door. The 'Castle" is made of gray stone with towering walls and arched door way. Twin flickering light that bracket the door way, give off an eerie luminescence. Two men in black suites wait at the door.

Jeanette had not blacked out, staying lucid enough to hear Carmine respond that the feds have gotten to Marco and said nothing of the matter after that. Or at least none that she can recall. Other than that, her body began to warm from the effects of two glasses of wine and a strong liquor that her new client wanted her to try.

As the waiter picked up a noticeably relaxed Jeanette with her arm loosely dangling on the side. She heard Carmine say something about her not being able to walk, his words fading in and out. But the moment that Carmine said that Jeanette had too much to drink, that was when the young lawyer went on a mini drunk tirade.

"N-no I'm not," her voice a little higher as the alcohol fumes swam in her head. "I'm not drunk. I just wanted something to relax. I promise, I'm not an alcoholic."

Jeanette babbled for another minute about completely random things, though her words weren't exactly inteligible to any around her.

She didn't hear where Carmine said he was taking her. Less than half way in to the trip, a very relaxed Jeanette rested her head on the headrest before resting on Carmine's shoulder, mistaking it for the head rest.

When they finally pulled in close to their destination, Jeanette stirred. She wasn't quite sober but she was at the point where she familiar with her immediate surroundings. When she slowly snapped to, she was startled to be resting her head on Carmine's shoulder. How long did she rest on him? What did he do? What if...no he couldn't.

"Shit," Jeanette immediately pulled away, sitting almost in an upright position with her posture still slouched and relaxed, still feeling the effects of the alcohol. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. How long was I sleeping. I..."

She trailed of mid sentence, turning her gaze to the coat on her lap. First day and she made herself the fool numerous times already within the span of a couple of hours.

Black Stone Estate

When Jeanette becomes more lucid Carmine walks her around to a small brick house on the grounds. There are two green doors with the Black letters AandB on the doors. "This is the guest house. I hope you will stay here tonight and in the morning we can go over the case in detail."

Jeanette appears some what bewildered. "Maybe I should explain where you are. This was called The Glen Manor and that building over there was the Mental Hospital built during the Civil War by Dr. Burgus Glen." Carmine smiles to himself. "You being a lawyer and all should know your Latin."* Carmine walks her back to the guest house.

"The hour is late, in the morning we will start fresh. After breakfast I will give you a full tour of the grounds and while we walk, we can talk about the case. I realize that you are at a difficult point in your career. This being your first murder case and all. And there are many points that you don't understand."


*A burgus (Latin, plural burgi ) or turris ("tower") is a small, tower-like fort of the Late Antiquity, which was sometimes protected by an outwork and surrounding*...

Although Jeanette was a little more aware that she was in a different place, the 100 proof alcohol still burned warmly all over her body. A normal, sober Jeanette would be a little intimidated on why Carmine insisted on driving almost an hour away from the city. Despite that, the place would have been interesting given its history. If the sober Jeanette heard Carmine go about on how it's late and that they will talk more in the morning, Jeanette would have immediately shut that suggestion down and insist he opened up, assuming that he would have several hours to twist and change his story.

Drunk Jeanette was a different story with a few similar tones to her sober side. She aged several years younger in her demeanor and giggled at the most inopportune time when she needed to focus on her job or if it were something serious. She was more relaxed and less snippy as how she usually is when focused on her work. Depending on the amount of alcohol in her system, her colleagues have told her that she had a tendency of not having a filter.

Tonight Jeanette was a little mix of both: Trying to focus on whatever information Carmine was willing to give her on where she was and simply desiring to relax and unwind. Jumping from the end of one major case in to another out of nowhere was bound to put a strain on her.

Jeanette staggered here and there, not realizing until too late the extent of how strong the last alcohol that Carmine had given her was.

Surprisingly, they reached the guest house without Jeanette falling over.

"You try going through life where you can do a lotta things and people still give ya shit," Jeanette babbled while Carmine unlocked the door leading in to the guest house. "They didn't expect me to nail Delvin's case, balls to the wall...I mean Delvin does pretty good with the prosecuting until his star witness fucked it all up."

Jeanette giggled and hiccuped, babbling nonsense while leaning against Carmine who stopped her from falling over. She didn't realize he was leading her to the guest bedroom until he laid her down.

The bed room is dimly lit. The recessed lighting makes ghostly shadows on the walls. Carmine looks down on Jeanette. "You will be my guest tonight. The Delvin's case is behind you now. And the only balls you need to concern your self tonight and the next few days will be mine. Mr. Clay Iverson is looking for a hole in the ground to put me in. This will not happen." Carmine lifts the hem of her skirt slightly to see her stocking thighs.

"As you stated earlier, being familiar with client-attorney privilege. Whatever happens or what you share with me will not be used against you." Carmine pauses "What ever happens. What do you think will happen? I mean here tonight?"

Carmine takes off his jacket' "You know when we were in your office, I thought I sensed an awareness that you might not approve of me, yet your womanly virtue was intrigued. And while I may have not had the high learning that you possess. I do have an innate ability to read people. You are not an open book, my dear, that is plain to see. Yet it did not take much to get you to 'let your hair down'."

Carmine runs a single finger up her leg raising the hem a little further. "Tell me what privileges are available to me?"

Jeanette propped herself up on the bed, leaning up against the wall for support. Thankfully the light in the bedroom wasn't too bright at all, otherwise her drunken state would be highly irritated. The minute she heard Clay Iverson's name, Jeanette was almost revving up to shit talk about the tough prosecutor and despite how much they respected each other, is one of the few attorneys that was able to get her firm's clients in jail or forced to make a plea deal.

However, Carmine kept talking rather calmly, repeating the words she told him back in her office on how with their client-attorney privilege, anything that he did or shared with her will only be kept between him. The giggles stopped. Even in her drunken scramble, she can still recall parts of what happened today. She remembered when he trapped her in her seat and the way he gripped her hair. Or when he had almost kissed her but instead went for her earlobe to whisper words that were supposedly for intimidating purposes.

"I don't know," she replied. "What's gonna happen?"


Jeanette felt Carmine's finger gently lifting the hem of her skirt, exposing her knees and coming dangerously close to exposing her inner thighs. Perhaps it was from the effects of the alcohol or from Carmine's finger slowly trailing up her thigh that Jeanette's face flushed a scarlet red. She didn't tell him off or at least slap him but her legs shifted slightly. She hoped that he wouldn't continue on, afraid that if he continued to trail his fingers upwards, he would expose her red laced undergarments for his view.

Yet secretly, a small part of Jeanette dared to see how far will Carmine go; if this will be another mind game that he was playing just like he did back in her office in the city.

"Not sure how many more ways you'll spin your story like how you did with your previous counsel. If you want me to help you..." she let out a sweet, nervous laugh as the alcohol still had her body flushed. "Then we...we just gotta trust each other."

Jeanette scooted a little bit away. It was one thing to find herself being drawn in to Carmine's manipulation of the situation they were in now. It was another for her arousal to stir, feelings that she tried so damn hard to keep in check, especially during the number of times he teased her.

After a few minutes, Jeanette was feeling a little daring. The innocent smile turned in to a grin, letting out a laugh at Carmine's inquiry to the kinds of privileges he was entitled to. She leaned closer to her client and placed her finger on his shoulder, poking the cloth covered flesh lightly before drumming her fingers on him.

"How 'bout you tell me what I have to do to get you to tell me everything you know about Marinzzi and Livingston? And the murder? Hmm?"