At first the public tended to accept her announced desire for privacy, but as time went on, curious investigative reporters, always looking for that sensational celebrity item for a ‘where are they now’ type of story, continually failed to find her. That absence of a satisfactory explanation created a vacuum that the press filled in with rumors about possible foul play. The newly elected district attorney was looking for a new cause to bolster his future political career, and the prosecution of prominent Doctor Sherman Gault for the murder and disappearance of his wife seemed to be just the right opportunity.
This must have placed doc in an untenable situation. In order to easily clear his name he would be forced to violate his beloved wife’s trust and secrecy.
If memory serves me correctly, he hired the first real ‘dream team’ to defend him, and it worked. The jury was hung (meaning they couldn’t reach a unanimous decision) and the district attorney, then embarrassed but too involved with newer cases to re-file, decided not to try the case again and the doctor got off.
It’s a stunning testament to this man’s love for his wife that he allowed himself to be put through the criminal justice system and then constant district attorney harassment until his license was suspended, all to protect her desire for privacy and to live out her life in peace. That’s why he bought the boat - so he and Rita could go over to the Island to visit with her. I look at both of them in a different light now and promise that I’ll do everything I can to help them process the insurance claim.
I instruct our office to send out the usual letters putting the insurance company on notice that we will be presenting the claim, and that in the event they were planning on contesting it, that we were prepared to disclose a burial site and provide DNA samples that their lab can analyze for positive identification purposes. I don’t mention the Alzheimer’s or Catalina Island at this point, thinking it not wise to tip too much of our hand at this early stage. If the insurance company puts up a stink, we can always bring out more ammunition. I always like to feel that I know something that the other side doesn’t.
Being the consummate professional, doc tells me he informed the insurance company that if and when they ever pay his claim, they have been instructed automatically send me a check for five percent of the total payout. I tell him that isn’t necessary, but he insists, in view of the work I’ll no doubt be doing on this claim.
For a lawyer who specializes in criminal defense, I’m spending a lot of time dealing with insurance companies. Proof of this is the fact that my own carrier sent me a letter about their looking into my old boat’s fire. I decide that I’ll send whatever settlement comes in for that to Myra. I’ve had enough fun tormenting her over the past months and she deserves someone doing something nice for her.
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The dinner last night was nice, but now it’s time to get back to work on my favorite client’s matter, so I dial the asbestos defense firm’s number and get put right through to Charles Indovine, Sr.. When dealing with opposing counsel, it’s always a good idea to address them formally. If it’s going to turn into any less than a formal conversation, it should be their decision and not mine. My opening line is intended to sound formal, not too anxious, and with an irritated tone, indicating that this matter isn’t important to me and that I have other more important things to do.
Negotiations are all a game. The most important thing to remember is not to play checkers if the other guy is playing chess. My call finally is put through to the head man. “Indovine here.” The game is afoot.
“Hello Mr. Indovine, this is Peter Sharp returning your phone call. What’s on your mind?”
“Oh yes, Peter, I’m glad you called back.” Good sign, a first name response. That signals he wants something from me; let’s see what it is. I’ll try to avoid warming up, no matter how hard he tries. “You know, we were talking about your case, and I thought it would be a nice gesture towards your client if we could dispose of this matter without going through all the usual pre-trial procedures.” This is good. They must be afraid that Stuart will come walking into court looking like Osama bin Laden. I now feel that a settlement offer may be coming. “Peter, why don’t you tell us what it would take for us to make this matter go away?” Very smart approach. They want me to start the bidding for them. I might as well soften them up a little.
“Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve been so busy with a capital case I’m working on, I haven’t had the time to give it much thought. Let’s see now, if my memory serves me correctly, the statute of limitations has already run for any other people to make claims like this against your client, so there’s no danger of your setting any precedent by settling a case based on a faith healer’s report, so I’d say we can probably dump this case for anything in the neighborhood of a million or two.” I’ve really never said that sentence to anyone before, and it feels very good. As expected, there’s nothing but silence on the other end of the phone. He recovers nicely.
“Well, Peter, that’s a little more than we had in mind. Can we be a little more flexible on this one?” Fantastic! The mere fact that he didn’t go ballistic at the mention of several million-dollars may mean that Stuart might actually get more than fifty dollars out of this turkey of a case. Now the end game begins.
“Mr. Indovine, you’re a senior partner in one of the most successful defense firms in the country. I’m not privy to your billing rates, but I would think it’s safe to say that after the first round of interrogatories and a deposition or two, your meter would probably be reading at least six figures, and if this case went to even a minimum one-week trial, your client would be looking at close to a million dollars in experts and legal fees even if he won the case, so I really don’t think that a million is out of the question. And, if your firm really insists, we can get the client out to some specialists for a consult, and with an expert’s medical report, you’ll be looking at exposure of several times that amount. I’ll tell you what: you’ve been a real professional with me and I appreciate your courteous conduct and honesty so far, so I’ll be willing to recommend that my client accept eight hundred thousand, but that’s about as far down as I would advise him to go.
My head is now racing. If he comes back with anything more than five hundred dollars, I might consider it, but my last response approached the genius level, so let’s see where he goes from there.
“Peter, I appreciate your working with us. If you’ll recommend three quarters of a million to him, we can messenger the check and release form over this afternoon.” I’m struck speechless. This case was a loser from the get-go. After learning about the faith healer’s involvement in the diagnosis process I thought we’d never have a chance to recover the couple of hundred advanced for the filing fees and service of process. If this works, I may be making history. Seven hundred and fifty big ones with only a faith healer’s report to prove up the specials? I lose track of the time and don’t realize that Indovine is holding a silent phone waiting for my response. He finally brings me be back to reality. “Peter, are you there? Are you all right?” I wait another beat and then play out my final scene.
“Yes, Indovine, I’m here, and I’m all right, sorry about that, I was just handed an important memo on some other case. As for the seven fifty you’re offering, we weren’t planning on going that low, but okay, send it over. I’ll recommend that he accept it. He gave me the final authority to settle, so it’s a deal.”
For some strange reason, the only thing I’m feeling at this moment is sympathy for my ex-wife. If she would’ve only been reasonable and hung in there for a while, we both could’ve shared all this. The sentimentality comes to an abrupt end when the phone rings again and the caller ID display shows my dear departed’s private office phone number.
“Hello sweetheart, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call? Her response brings me be back down to earth. She’s not in a good mood today. Why am I not surprised?
“Don’t sweetheart me, you rotten crook. I just want
to let you know that we’ve finally nailed you. The insurance company had a red flag on Mrs. Gault’s file and guess who’s name appeared with the filing of a claim? Yours, you ambulance-chasing sleazeball. I’m going to be on you like a cheap suit, and we’re going to put you and that murdering rat Gault behind bars, where you both belong!”
I’ve got nothing to lose now, so I might as well inquire. “So I guess dinner is out?”
My response doesn’t serve any purpose, because all I’m talking to now is a dial tone.
This is really unfortunate. It seems that there’s just no way to save her from herself. She’s under the spell of that nitwit boss of hers, and doesn’t even realize she’s been brainwashed. It must be like some sort of cult when you work in that district attorney’s office. Not only do I think she’s prosecuting the wrong guys in the parking lot murder, but she’s going to make another fool out of herself with the doc’s case too. I’m sorry, but I just can’t waste any more time worrying about her. Stuart’s settlement is on the way over here, and between dealing with him and processing the doc’s insurance claim, my plate is completely full for a while.
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Traffic to the boat has been getting heavier in the past week. Detectives are going in and out almost every other day, and now they’re bringing uniforms with them, and staying more than a few minutes in the forward stateroom. They’re also having conferences in the main saloon. It’s so crowded when Stuart shows up that we have to go topside to the enclosed flybridge. ”What’s going on here? What’re the police doing on your boat?” I don’t blame him for his curiosity. With all the cops hanging around, it looks like the boat is being raided for something.
“Good question, Stu, I wish I had the answer. I think it’s some charity matter that Suzi’s organizing.” At this point he doesn’t know about the settlement of his case. When I called him, all he was told was that there might be some good news and that we should meet to talk about it.
“What’s up with the case, Pete? Do you think we’re going to ever get something out of it, or should I just forget about it and write a check out to my faith healer?”
“Relax, Stu, in a little while a messenger will be here with a settlement offer and I want to talk to you about how much the case is worth. First of all, how are you feeling? Have you been to the doctor? I mean, a regular one?”
“Yeah, I finally went to the VA and had a chest X-Ray. I hope I’m not screwing up the case, but the doc there told me that I was in the process of recovering from the worst case of bronchitis he’s ever seen, so I guess I was wrong about that asbestos stuff. Sorry, Pete, I’ll get a check off to you for your time and expenses in filing the suit.”
I used to think that Stuart was the biggest loser in the world, but my feelings about him have changed drastically over the past months. He’s worked hard. It may have been with some lame-brained schemes, but he finally made something out of himself. He’s got a nice income now, and aside from still having some strange personality traits, he’s even developed a little class.
His admitting he was wrong about the asbestosis is the first time I’ve ever heard him confess to a mistake. This is definitely a good sign. “Stuart, I really appreciate your wanting to be fair with me on the filing fees, but it won’t be necessary. I think we’ve got the case sewn up and there’ll be some money in it for you.”
“Pete, no matter how much it is, I want you to have half of it. No, don’t argue with me. You’ve been great with me, and I want you to take a full fee; even if it’s only on a small settlement.”
I’m living on my dream boat, which will only cost the firm one dollar to exercise that option to buy; my ex-wife is off my back for a piece of my future earnings, my girlfriend and prospective future spouse is going to come into a few million bucks from her mother’s life insurance policy and future royalties, and Laverne is leaving me alone. What else can I ask for? I’ve been treating Stuart pretty badly for the past twenty years, so maybe now’s the time to do something nice for him. “Stu, I’m going to accept your offer to take a fee on this case, but not the fifty percent you offered: I only want the minimum retainer amount that any lawyer would take for settling a case before the discovery process commences; twenty five percent, partly payable in merchandise of my choice.”
Stuart sticks out his hand and we shake on it. There’s no need for a written retainer agreement between us, because one good thing about Stuart is that like me, his word is his bond.
The police have finished their meeting down below and start leaving the boat, just as Indovine’s messenger arrives with the settlement draft and release. Stuart looks at the sealed envelope like he’s one of the nominees for an Academy Award and the winner is about to be announced. He sees the smile on my face. “C’mon, Pete, please don’t make me go through this again. The last time was unbelievable. I don’t think I can take the suspense again this time.”
“Stuart, this case was not like the last one, so don’t expect to see a telephone number on that check, because it’s definitely less than seven figures. All I’ll tell you is that it’s more than the fifty bucks I thought the case would settle for. And don’t worry about the costs for filing; my fee will cover that.”
He opens the envelope and stares at the check with disbelief. More tears, another thank you, and another hug for the lawyer that lasts longer than I want it to.
We celebrate for several hours. Next morning, true to his promise and per my instructions, Stuart delivers two items to me at the boat: an envelope containing most of my retainer fee, and something big and yellow. The envelope never really got as far as my hands, because the little one appeared out of nowhere and intercepted it. I had originally brought that case in as a referral to Melvin, so the fee belongs to the firm. All I’m entitled to is the normal one-third referral fee, which in this case is quite sufficient. I take the pink slip to the yellow Hummer, and she takes the money.
*****
Chapter 14
The problem with driving a Hummer is that it’s tough getting it into designated parking spaces. The people who designed our Marina must have imagined that people with million-dollar yachts all drive compact cars. If your vehicle hangs over the painted white lane markers, everyone complains. Fortunately my income has reached a level that affords the additional expense of special underground parking, so I rented two spaces where the adjacent apartment building’s residents park, and now have plenty of room for my yellow tank. Extra space isn’t the only advantage, because by paying to park under the building, my designated space is just a few feet away from where George C.’s limo driver parks when his boss is on the boat. This will no doubt give me a much better chance of bumping into my celebrity neighbor. I hope he enjoyed that DVD I gave his to skipper for him.
Now that I’m done wiping the Hummer’s windows, I’m going up to the boat because it’s time to completely read through the Hummer owner’s manual. This is a ritual that every new car owner usually does so they can look really smart when showing the car off to some friend whose envy is being solicited. I only get up to the part about how to regulate the air conditioning when more cop-types of people approach the boat and come aboard without even asking permission. Leading the parade is my ex-wife. Once inside the saloon, she points a finger at me and declares in her best official voice: “Peter Sharp, we have a warrant here for your arrest on the charge of attempted insurance fraud. You will be taken to the Culver Boulevard Pacific Division of the Los Angeles Police Department, where you will be processed. Your bail has been set at one hundred thousand dollars.” That having been said, she instructs the armed district attorney investigators who were with her to put me in handcuffs and take me away.
On the way out of the boat I notice that Suzi has been peeking through her slightly open stateroom door and taking the whole scene in. It’s embarrassing. Even though we’ve never really spoken to each other, I feel ashamed to be taken away like this with her watching. This isn’t a very good example for her legal guar
dian to be setting.
By the time Myra and her gang drive the five miles or so to the Police Station, I realize that the word must have gotten out about my arrest, because the media is out in front of the station waiting for us. When I see my dear ex-wife parading in front of the news cameras, the mystery of how word must have leaked out is solved. She’s in her usual rare form.
Every time you open your refrigerator door, you can be confident that the little light inside will go on. The same type of reliability can be said for my ex-wife. Every time you stick a microphone in front of her face, she starts making a public statement. This time it’s no different, except for the fact that today’s sounds a little more rehearsed.
“Our office is pleased to announce that we’ve solved an almost ten-year-old murder case. This afternoon we have arrested a prominent Marina del Rey attorney, who will be charged with conspiring to perpetrate a fraud upon the victim’s insurance company. His co-conspirator, also arrested earlier today, is none other than the actual murderer, Doctor Sherman Gault, who had formerly been acquitted of the crime. We can’t try him again for the murder, so this time he’ll be sent away for the insurance fraud conspiracy. Our office will be issuing a formal statement tomorrow morning. Thank you.”
Once I get handed over to the jailer, Myra and her investigators leave, and I’m pleasantly surprised to be treated quite well here. I’ve known the jailer from past dealings in this police division, but this is my first time as a prisoner. His courtesy surprises me.
“Well, Mister Sharp, it’s nice to see you finally decided to give my little domain some business. Why don’t you sit down over there and relax. Once we’ve finished with the booking process, you can go out into the lobby and wait. Your bail has already been arranged and your sponsor will be picking you up in a few minutes. Sorry to see you go so soon. Maybe the next time you’ll stay with us a little longer.” I remember seeing this jailer recently. He’s part of the lunch crowd at the Chinese restaurant, and also no doubt a big fan of Suzi’s. No wonder I never see the inside of a cell today. That little kid’s got more juice on this side of town than the governor.
Single Jeopardy Page 14