Chapter 6: Conflict of Interest

Joe

Dolores was sheepish when she showed up in my office on Monday.

"I'm sorry about the call, Mr. Dresdner. I ... I was with my old high school friends. It was girls only, a real pajama party. I was so happy, I had to call you. You made it possible."

"Don't apologize. You may not believe me, but your call made my day. Next time, you better call me while you are still sober. I was thinking of having Sheriff Cramer perform an alcohol test on you, Ms. Jorgensen."

She froze for a second, but then she saw my grin and slapped my arm. That made her freeze again. "Sorry!" she squeaked.

"Let's see, consumption of alcohol and assaulting a law enforcement officer," I began to count with my fingers trying hard to deadpan. "I may even have to count that pajama party as adult entertainment."

Her relieved giggle made me happy. "I wouldn't be so sure. Let's face it, most of my former class mates did not keep their figures, and two of them were very pregnant."

I sucked air between my teeth. "Oh, kinky stuff! Okay, not my idea of fun, but there is a market for everything."

"You're being an ass, Mr. Dresdner, but I like you better this way," she answered with a big smile.

"Yeah, well, back to my parole agent persona."

Dolores mock-groaned, but I had my usual list of queries. After that, I asked whether she had questions.

"Yeah, I've been thinking a lot, you know, about my future. I may have one after all. My job with your sister, is that one for parolees? What I want to know is, can I keep working for her when I finish my parole?"

"That's between Ruth and you. Can you imagine me telling my sister what to do with her shop?"

"Yes, but I can also imagine how she'll respond to that," Dolores smiled.

"Right on. Talk to her. If she agrees to keep you, I may even get you released from parole early. Good prognosis and all that."

"That's not why I'm asking. It's just, there is not much else I can do, and I like the work. I was thinking of maybe getting some more training in crafts, and then one day open my own refurbishing shop. It beats the other options I have, being a felon and all."

"If you want to go that path, some evening classes in small business management will be helpful, too," I advised. "You may even think of attending community college."

"That's something to think about," she conceded. "Do you think I can make it?"

"Dolores, you can do anything if you just want it enough. You were given a raw deal in your trial. Your defender was lazy. He should have gone for temporary insanity. Instead he went with what the DA offered."

I was blushing a little, realizing that I had called her 'Dolores'.

She had noticed it too, but she smiled. "Thanks. I know that I was screwed over by that clown. Maybe, it was better anyway. If they'd acquitted me, I would still be in the business. I like my life better as it is now."

Her smile held something, something I could not define.

"You have changed over the holidays," I remarked, but she shook her head.

"It already happened before the holidays," she said enigmatically.

Over the next weeks, her Monday visits became increasingly informal. I spoke with Ruth almost daily, and I knew that Dolores performed well at the shop, getting better and better with her work. I also knew that she worked long hours, and that alone kept her out of any mischief. The one thing that caused some worry was the fact that according to Ruth she still had no social life to speak of. I brought it up once but Dolores told me that she did regular chats with two of her friends in Montana using Skype software. Obviously, some broadband service was now available, even in that Clearwater place.

With the summer semester starting, she enrolled in a number of evening courses, extra credit affairs towards a degree in art history. At first I thought what a waste of time, but then, during one of our Monday morning talks, she confided that she hoped to become a real art restorer. Okay. Not something I would spend my time with, but it sort of fitted with her penchant to fix things. What did I know after all? Nevertheless, her attending evening classes in Rockville brought about a major upheaval for our lives.

It was early June, and I was visiting Ruth. We hung out a lot in her garden these days. Ruth would also sometimes invite single friends in the vain hope that I might take a fancy to one of them. Most were nice, but none rang my bell so to speak. On that particular evening we were alone. I had charred a few chunks of dead animal on her monstrous Weber grill, and we enjoyed a nice glass of Chilean Red when my cell went off.

"Fuck!" I swore seeing that it was the number of the State Troopers. "Dresdner."

"We have a situation involving a young woman by the name of Dolores Jorgensen. She asked that you were informed and claims that you are her parole agent?"

"That's correct. What's up?" I asked grimacing at Ruth. 'It's about Dolores, ' I mouthed.

"She was involved in an attempted rape on the Montgomery College campus in Rockville."

Jesus! Talk about saying nothing with so many words.

"Okay, officer, what exactly happened? Was she raped or did she rape somebody?"

"Neither. It would seem that she came to the assistance of a student who was assaulted. The problem is that the perp was severely injured by her actions. Her prior is for manslaughter, isn't it?"

"Oh shit!" I swore. "Was is justified self-defense?"

"The young woman she assisted is under shock, and the perp can't answer any questions. She sort of crushed his larynx. Can you come over?"

"Guess I have to. Where is she?"

"The Rockville station. Ask for Detective Riordan."

I signed off and looked at Ruth.

"She did it again. A girl was assaulted on campus, and she whacked the attacker into pulp."

Ruth rose to her friend's defense. "I guess he needed whacking then," she snarled. "I'll come with you."

I shrugged. Whatever. I called a cab seeing that I'd had two glasses of Red already, and Ruth dressed. The cab ride took fifteen minutes. Inside the station, my attention was immediately directed at a tall, grey-haired, Black man in his fifties who argued loudly with a female plainclothes officer.

"I don't give a rat's hairy ass what she did before. Today, she came through for my girl, and if that piece of shit got hurt, I say, 'well done, girl!'"

I recognized him. State Delegate Mornington was a known force in the General Assembly, being Chair of the House Appropriations Committee. He was also a hardliner on crime. I stepped up.

"Detective Riordan? I'm Joe Dresdner, Dolores Jorgensen's parole agent."

Mornington gave me an intimidating stare. "Leave the girl in peace!" he snarled at me.

I raised both hands. "Mr. Mornington, I was called by Detective Riordan. My parolee was involved in a violent altercation, and it is my duty to ascertain that she did not violate her parole conditions."

"Well, she didn't. That trash had my daughter pinned down behind the shrubs pressing a knife against her throat, and your girl waded right in. Broke his hand and whacked him a coupla times for good measure. As far as I'm concerned, she's in for a medal."

I looked at the detective who shrugged. "We are still taking statements. Miss Mornington has recovered somewhat, and so far her testimony exonerates Miss Jorgensen. I pulled her file. Her conviction was about excessive violence following her rape, right?"

Mornington snorted. "You're kidding me, aren't you? How can there be excessive violence after something like that?"

"That's what the courts decided," I shrugged. "I have the feeling that her attorney sucked. It should have been possible to get her off with a temp insanity plea. No provable intent to kill either. The DA wanted her convicted for the headlines is my guess, and her Public Defender just rolled over."

"Headlines?" Mornington asked.

"Miss Jorgensen was an adult actress at the time of her rape. The case made the news."

"Any complaints about her after?" Mornington queried.

I shook my head. "No problems with her. Only in her first job. She caught her employer watching her through a peephole in the changing room. She hit him through the dry wall and broke his nose. No charges were filed."

Mornington shrugged. "Served the pervert right. Now, Detective, can I speak to her?"

"All right, let's go. Who's the lady?"

"I'm her employer," Ruth stated. "Ruth Dresdner. She works in my antique store."

I had to suppress a smile. To call Ruth's second hand shop an 'antique store' was just too funny. We found Dolores in an interrogation room. She looked resigned, almost absent. That changed when Ruth rushed her and hugged her fiercely.

"We're here to help you, Lori. Don't you worry. Look, this is Mr. Mornington. He is a State Delegate and he is the father of the girl you saved."

Mornington stepped forward. "Miss Jorgensen, my daughter and I are deeply in your debt. Should you need competent legal assistance, just let me know and I'll find the best criminal defense lawyer for you."

"Th–thank you, Sir. I ... I saw what happened, and I just reacted. I didn't mean to..."

"Sshh! My daughter is alive and well, thanks to you. I've heard of your past problems, but that doesn't change a thing. You'll have my full and unconditional support."

Dolores just nodded, but then she looked at me intently and pleadingly.

I shrugged and smiled. "Looks like you have powerful allies. Let's wait for the reports. I may have to let you take anger management classes depending on the outcome."

"I won't have to..."

"Go back into stir? No, doesn't look that way. I mean, with Mr. Mornington in your corner, I'd be crazy. The man controls our budget."

"That's not even counting the trouble he'd have with me!" Ruth added.

Another detective entered and handed Riordan a typed report. She looked it over and gave a tight smile.

"Miss Jorgensen, we'll release you. The DA may still have some questions, but with young Miss Mornington's testimony," she held up the typed report, "it is pretty clear that you acted to prevent a very serious crime. In the name of the department, I would like to thank you for your courageous behavior."

"Now, that's more like it!" Mornington boomed. "I'll make sure to let your superiors know how ably you have handled this investigation. Now, if you will excuse me, I had better bring my daughter home. You'll hear from me, Miss Jorgensen. I promise."

Then he was gone, and Detective Riordan snorted. "Listen, Jorgensen. I suggest you had better take those anger management classes Mr. Dresdner was talking about. Any other scenario, like another victim with no delegate for a father, and you'd be facing charges. You hit him at least four times, and two of them were when he was down already. As I said, you're lucky. The DA told me no way he's going to charge you, not with Mornington backing you. That was your one and only get-out-of-prison card."

Dolores looked down at her hands, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

"Detective, how tall is that attacker?" I asked, a little riled over Riordan's attitude.

"Six-three, give or take, and two-forty," she answered.

"Well, Miss Jorgensen is five-six and maybe one hundred ten. She was fighting a knife-wielding rapist more than twice her weight. Can we really expect her to show restraint in such a situation or concern for that perp's health? This was a life and death fight. She's not a trained law enforcement officer used to deal with situations like this. She did not have any cuffs or other restraints to immobilize the perp. She needed to assist the victim and get help, and she couldn't do that while there was a chance for the perp to get on his feet again."

"She crushed his larynx with her foot. That means he was down already when she kicked in his throat."

Dolores looked up and shook her head. I had to smile remembering the diner incident. I held me hand up at neck level. "Miss Jorgensen, kindly kick my hand."

Dolores stood and moved towards me. She moved like a cat of prey and for a moment, defensive reflexes tugged at my nerves. Then her right foot shot up, she twisted her hips, and the side of her foot chopped against my hand bouncing it hard. I gave Riordan a wry smile, but she only shook her head.