Robin thought for a moment. “Fifteen hundred should cover my time. Where can I reach you?”
Chesterfield handed Robin the money and Horace Dobson’s business card. “I’m not at a fixed address right now, but you can contact me through Horace. And thank you. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to have me as a client.”
“I’m a lawyer, Robert. My job is helping people in trouble, not judging them.”
Chesterfield stood up.
“What about these people who are following you?” Robin asked. “Are you in danger?”
“I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.”
There was a back door to the tavern, and Chesterfield disappeared through it. Robin was going to leave by the front door when she hesitated. She was fairly certain that someone had followed her, and she wasn’t certain that she’d lost them.
Robin turned around. When she opened the back door, she saw Chesterfield standing against the alley wall using a knife to hold two men at bay. One of his attackers looked like a nightclub bouncer. The other man was slender.
“Don’t be stupid, Bobby,” the slender man said. “That knife won’t protect you.”
“We’ll soon see, Rafael. I hope you brought a first aid kit with plenty of bandages.”
Robin pulled out her cell phone. “What’s going on here?” she shouted as she dialed 911.
Rafael turned toward Robin, and Chesterfield struck. Rafael looked at his stomach. Blood was streaming from a cut. “What the fuck!” he screamed as he slapped his hand against the wound.
The other man stepped forward, and Chesterfield danced away.
“I’ve just dialed 911!” Robin shouted.
“You should get Rafael to a hospital,” Chesterfield said to Rafael’s partner. “What will Auggie say if he bleeds out?”
Rafael doubled over and groaned, “Marco, let’s get out of here.”
Robin stepped back as Marco helped Rafael out of the alley. She watched them until they rounded a corner. When she turned back to talk to Chesterfield, he’d disappeared again.
“What’s your emergency?” the 911 operator asked.
Robin hesitated. Chesterfield and his assailants were gone. What would be accomplished by telling the police what had happened?
“Sorry. I misdialed,” she said as she ended the call.
* * *
Robin knew Rafael was wounded and was probably not following her, but she was spooked and she stayed on high alert during the walk back to Barrister, Berman & Lockwood. The first thing she did was go to Jeff’s office.
“I just saw Robert Chesterfield stab a man in an alley behind the Stumptown Tavern,” Robin told Jeff, who was sitting behind his desk, looking over a file.
“You what!?”
Robin dropped into a seat across from her investigator. “Chesterfield called and asked me to return his retainer. I told him I’d have it here tomorrow, but he said he didn’t want to come to the office, because some people were after him and might be staking it out. He asked me to bring the money to the tavern. Two men were waiting for him when he left.”
“How bad off was the guy Chesterfield stabbed?” Jeff asked when Robin finished telling him what had happened in the alley.
“Chesterfield seemed to know what he was doing, so I’m guessing it looked worse than it was. I think he just wanted to scare off his attackers.”
“Any idea who they were?”
“Chesterfield called one of the men Rafael, and the other man’s name is Marco. He also mentioned Auggie Montenegro, so I’m guessing they work for him collecting debts. Do you remember Montenegro? He was at the premiere at Chesterfield’s mansion. He owns a casino in Vegas. And he’s rumored to have mob connections.”
“They were probably leg breakers if Chesterfield felt he had to use a knife instead of his silver tongue.”
“Chesterfield sounds like he’s in hiding,” Robin said. “He wouldn’t tell me where he’s staying. I have to go through his agent to get in touch with him.”
“Do you think you’re in danger?” Jeff asked.
“It’s possible. Like I said, Chesterfield was worried that my office was being watched. If it was, those guys may have recognized me in the alley.”
“If you thought you might be followed, why didn’t you ask me to go with you?”
“I wasn’t that worried when I left to meet him. And I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can,” Jeff said, “but it never hurts to have backup. I think you should go armed until we’re sure you’re safe.”
Robin had a permit to carry a handgun she purchased after her life had been put in danger a few years ago.
“The men who went after Chesterfield will assume you know where they can find him,” Jeff continued. “They may try to force the information out of you. I’ll try to watch your back, but don’t take any chances.”
Robin reached across the desk and touched Jeff’s hand. “Thanks for caring, but I think I’ll be okay.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“There’s a Joe Samuels on one,” Robin’s receptionist said.
Finally, Robin thought. She had been leaving messages for him for a week, and she had almost given up hope that he would return her calls.
“Thanks for getting back to me, Mr. Samuels. I want to talk to you about your disagreement with Robert Chesterfield.”
“It’s not a disagreement. The son of a bitch stole from me.”
“Mr. Chesterfield has a contract to perform a magic show at a theater in Portland. He knows that he owes you money and he wanted me to—”
“No deals,” Samuels cut in. “I want that con artist in jail, where he belongs. You tell Lord Chesterfield that I’m not dropping the criminal complaint. I’ll get my money back when the court orders him to pay me restitution.”
“Which he won’t be able to do if he’s locked up.”
“You don’t get it. I don’t care about the money anymore. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with. What I want is revenge. The old-fashioned, biblical eye for an eye. I want the world’s greatest escape artist trying to escape from a prison cell. Have I made myself clear?”
“Definitely, and I understand why you’re upset. I wasn’t too happy with my client when he pulled that disappearing act, either. All I ask is that you count to ten, take a few deep breaths, and try to put what Robert did to you in perspective. I can see that this is a matter of principle, but—if I’ve got this right—the amount he took from you was around ten thousand dollars. That’s not chicken feed, but I don’t see an Oregon court sending Mr. Chesterfield to jail for this type of nonviolent first offense.”
“Que será, será, Miss Lockwood. Seeing that son of a bitch sweat will bring me great pleasure.”
Samuels hung up and Robin sighed. She wished that she’d been able to solve Chesterfield’s problem with Samuels, but she could appreciate the investor’s position.
* * *
Deputy District Attorney Lorna Waxman learned about her promotion to the Homicide team when she went to work. Waxman’s desk was next to Peter Ragland’s, so he knew about some of the felony cases she was handling. Peter had a stack of open files and was reluctant to add more cases to his load, but Lorna had told him about a case involving Robert Chesterfield. The anger that surfaced when Ragland thought about the magician had never diminished, and he saw Samuels’s criminal complaint against his nemesis as a chance to exact a small measure of revenge.