Single Jeopardy

by Gene Grossman

  The RoadRunner crushes the Coyote once again, without even trying. I wish there was some way I could explain that I never did anything to intentionally hurt her, but what’s the use? She never believed me in the past, so why should she now? If she hadn’t inherited so damned much money from her grand-father, I might actually feel sorry for her being out of work.

  I may live to regret this, but an idea just came into my head that might solve all of my problems at the same time. If destroying Myra’s career and doc’s getting away with millions after killing his wife are the problems, why not invite Myra to help me give the doc enough rope to hang himself. That way her career can be restored, district attorney Miller will be shown to be the incompetent idiot he really is, and the doc gets nailed for whatever his crimes may be, including but not limited to the murder, conspiracy, fraud and poor choice in power boats.

  A lot of ideas look good on paper, but the trick is to get people to go along with them. Myra and I differ in opinion most of the time, but there’s one thing you can’t take away from her: she’s no dummy. Other than marrying me, she’s done a good job of running her life. Her ambition gets in the way sometimes, but that’s a normal error any human can make. My job now will be trying to gain her trust to join with me in the plan.

  I call her at home. “Hi, it’s me. Wait, please don’t hang up, let me explain.” Amazingly, she’s very calm, probably under the influence of some Merlot.

  “No Peter, I’m not hanging up. There’s really not a helluva lot more you can do to me, so go ahead. What’s the bullshit line de jour? Another burnt out boat to sell? How about some swampland near the Marina… I’ve always been interested in real estate.” She’s right about at least one thing; I’ve done so much to her already that things only have one way to go from here.

  “Myra, I want you to know that when I took that sexual harassment case from Palmer’s book-keeper, I never in a million years could have realized something like this would happen.” Evidently, she knew nothing about Maggie’s case. Miller, her idol, never told her how he got the information he had obtained. I could tell she was being kept in the dark.

  “Sexual harassment, what are you talking about?”

  The way to a male lawyer’s heart is through his briefs. The way to a female lawyer’s heart is through her curiosity. I explain to her that whatever the Culver City Police detectives found out and based their case on came from statements my client made to me, overheard by the little Asian girl, who had already been doing some computer work for the Culver City cops.

  After what seems like an hour of explaining, she finally starts to believe me. In all the years we were married she knew I was the ultimate screw-up, but she also realized that I never flat-out lied to her. Not once, unless you count those times she asked about looking fat in some dress. She even goes so far now as to admit that she believes that the boat burned without me knowing about it. This is it. I tell her my suspicions about the doc and ask her to join with me in getting his fraud exposed and maybe nail him for murder. To my surprise, she doesn’t immediately turn me down. Instead, her concern is about our chances of success.

  “That’s a nice plan Pete, but me being on your dock would be like waving a cross in front of a vampire. Remember me? I’m the one who had your murdering doctor arrested and indicted last month.”

  “Yes, but when I explain how you were just following orders from your boss, he’ll understand. And besides, if I can forgive you, then he should be able to.”

  “Aw, gee… I don’t know about that. The ‘just following orders’ defense hasn’t worked so well since the Nuremberg Trials…” I can’t blame her for hesitating.

  “Don’t worry honey, I’ll handle things with the doc. I’ll tell him that I’m expanding my office staff and we want to go after his insurance company not only for the insurance policy amount, but for a huge punitive damage award on two separate grounds: first, after all the proper claim procedures were followed, they negotiated a settlement in bad faith. Second, they slandered doc by turning him in to your office. Both counts of the suit could total a multi-million dollar damage award that they’d surely like to settle without the publicity and going to court.

  “We’ll sign the doc up on only a twenty-five percent retainer. Being a doctor, he’s cheap, so he’ll jump at the bargain; they teach that at medical school. The lure of a multi-million dollar settlement and discount retainer amount will be too much for him to refuse. It wouldn’t make any difference if I associated Osama bin Laden in on the case, he’d still jump at the bargain.”

  Silence. I go into my ‘I’m not okay mode.’ After the ten seconds that seems like an hour, she finally bites. “How do we spring the trap?” Good, now to reel her in.

  “Simple. He’s already convinced he’s gotten away with it, so with an additional big bucks settlement as extra incentive, he’ll open up like a sardine can, giving us all the info he’d normally never give the authorities in a million years.”

  “I know in my heart he’s guilty Peter, but what finally convinced you?” This is the moment of truth. Either I trust her or I don’t.

  “Will you agree to work on this case with me or not, because anything I tell you has to stay strictly confidential. I don’t want any of it to leak to your former boss.”

  “Oh, Peter, don’t worry, I’m through with that louse Miller. I should have followed your advice about him a long time ago. Now let’s hear what you’ve got.” I have to trust her. There’s no other choice, so I tell her about the second DNA sample that the kid sent in for analysis and how it established that who we thought was the nurse was actually the wife, who is not dead, but alive and in on the whole conspiracy. At first she balks, because if the wife is still alive, there’s no way to put him away for murder.

  “Myra, you amaze me. I’m handing you a chance to get your career back on track, snooker your ex-boss and nail a bad guy, and all you can do is complain that it’s not enough. Don’t forget, there’s an unknown victim in a grave on Catalina Island. Maybe you can get lucky with that case. If you don’t want in on this, that’s okay, I’ll do it myself. Watch the evening news.”

  When I first started practicing criminal law, quite often a client would ask, “do we have a chance to win this case?” After a while I learned how to give the client an answer he could identify with. “You’ve got the question wrong, pal. It’s not ‘are we going to win,’ it’s ‘are you going in or staying out?’ It might take a little while, but soon it would sink into their thick heads, when explained a little more graphically. The clincher to my argument would probably be this question: “Listen Einstein, which would you rather do - plead guilty to a petty theft charge and do sixty days in county jail, or plead guilty to second degree murder and get out on probation?” That usually did the trick, and they’d finally catch on. It doesn’t make a difference what the final outcome of the case is: it’s the sentencing that counts, so it’s not winning or losing, it’s going in or staying out that makes the difference.

  Myra must have realized the logic of my argument to her and she finally agrees, as long as she can show up Miller and put away a guy who he failed to convict.

  “Okay, I’m in. What’s next? Oh, and by the way Peter…”

  “Yes my dear?”

  “I don’t satisfy the fantasies of lawyers any more.”

  “Neither do I, honey.”

  “Peter, you stopped doing that many years ago.” I can always depend on her for a compliment.

  We get together at her house and after mapping out some of our strategy, I call doc and make an appointment to meet with him and Rita on his boat.

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  The electricity in the air on doc’s boat is intense. Rita and I look at each other like a lion tamer looks at his favorite big cat when he steps into the cage to start the circus show. There may be some mutual affection, but not enough nerve to get too close. I lay out the basic elements of the bad faith and slander cases to them, but they want to know why I want to
go over the top with these new requests, including the one about exhuming his wife’s body. I do my best to explain the strategy.

  “Listen, there are a certain amount of people who still remember your being charged with your wife’s murder years ago. Juries are usually populated with people who are old enough to remember things that happened ten years ago. And if you recall, the whole case was re-visited by the press during our recent indictment fiasco. If people didn’t notice the two lines of news on the back page of the paper where our indictment was reported as having been quashed, they still think you’re guilty of something. That means this case is more than just going in and proving up damages to a fair and impartial jury - it also mean proving that the murder case was bogus and that you’re a completely innocent guy.

  “You’re the victim here, and we have to establish it, so that the judge, jury, courtroom spectators, reporters, and everyone watching the case on Court TV believe it. It’s the only way we’ll ever get serious money out of the jury. At one time or another, everyone has had a bad experience with an insurance company, and that includes the members of the jury. If we can convince them that you’re really not a bad guy or someone who beat a murder charge on a technicality, then we might be able to give them a sub-conscious way of getting back at their own insurance companies. The other side knows this too, so if everything goes as planned, we’ll probably get a generous settlement offer before the case gets to trial.”

  They look at each other and doc asks the sixty-four dollar question.

  “Does Robin’s body really have to be exhumed?” Oh boy, I was right. This must be his weak spot. He can’t back out of allowing the exhumation, because that would almost amount to an admission of guilt. I’ve got him backed up against a wall, but I don’t want him to feel cornered just yet.

  “Yes doc, I’m afraid so, and just so you’re not shocked with any surprises, I intend to have a camera crew shooting the whole thing. We want to get some sympathy out of the prospective jury pool, which is everyone watching the six o’clock news every night from now until the trial or the gag order, whichever comes first. And those viewers also include the judges and insurance company lawyers.” After a couple of minutes of hand holding they both agree. I have carte blanche, and they will notify the alleged nurse Judy to be cooperative: not just politely cooperative, but one hundred and ten percent cooperative, because she’ll be told that she’s going to be cut in for a little taste of the damage award.

  Now that we’re all on the same page, I break the news to them about the identity of my new associate. Rita is not pleased by this announcement. “That horrible lady who had us arrested? Your ex-wife?”

  “Yes, that’s her, but she’s seen the light and come over from the dark side to help us.” They look at each other. “Please, let me handle this. I promise you that she agrees with me on this case, and having the former deputy district attorney who tried so hard to prosecute you now on your side can only help you. It may get the public to believe that your being prosecuted was wrong from the get-go. All that we both want is for you to get the justice you deserve.” That last part is no lie. They finally agree to leave it in my hands and work with Myra.

  First Myra joins the team, and then both the doc and Rita buy in. I love it when a plan comes together like this.

  I call Jack Bibberman and tell him to get his video camera kit ready: we’re going to Catalina Island. Myra insists that we fly over there. I know that her fear of seasickness is probably behind the suggestion, but it winds up being a good idea. Not only does it save us a lot of time, but any plane we hire can land at the airport on top of the island, which isn’t too far from Nurse Judy’s convalescent home and the burial grounds.

  Also at Myra’s suggestion, we bring with us a lady from the independent lab that did all the district attorney’s DNA analyses. Her job is to get a sample from whoever is buried there in Robin Gault’s grave, protect the legal chain of evidence custody, bring it back to the lab, and run every test on it known to mankind. She also took samples from doc and Rita before we left, so she’ll have some fresh stuff for comparisons.

  Doc and Rita decline to join us, which is just fine, because I want to avoid any awkwardness between them and their former persecutor. They agreed to work together, but I know in my heart that Myra still believes he is a murderer and doc believes she’s on an unjust crusade, so the distance between them will work well for us.

  Once on the island, our primary job is to document the exhumation and DNA extraction. Behind the scenes, we want to get a look at the convalescent home’s records to see who came in, when, who went out, when, and by what means. We’re hoping to get a lead on who is buried in Robin Gault’s grave.

  I learned a good technique from Daniel Vincent, so on this trip I brought along a laptop computer and a portable scanning device. Those handy items worked well for his law practice and they will do just fine for mine. Any documents we find can be scanned into the computer and e-mailed back to Suzi at the office. No fuss, no waiting. The office will have them immediately and probably have a complete analysis and background check on everything and everyone involved before our plane returns to the Santa Monica Airport.

  The plane we charter is a twin-engine Cessna Crusader, complete with leather interior, air conditioning, refreshment center, and other luxuries. It carries two crew and four passengers, with room left over for luggage, but not enough for an office manager and Saint Bernard. Other than me, our four-passenger list includes Myra, videographer Jack Bibberman, and the DNA technician, and we’re all flying in first-class comfort. We don’t care how much it costs, because part of the doc’s retainer agreement includes my using his titanium American Express card to cover all expenses in getting the goods on the insurance company. Surprisingly, it isn’t that much. The charter company sells 1/16th timeshares, with monthly payments of less than two thousand dollars. By doing some Internet searching, our office manager found one of the participants who let us use it this week, so we got the trip for a really fair price, which is probably just a little bit more than we would have had to spend for all of us to come over on commercial flights… but on our own travel schedule.

  If you’ve never flown to Catalina’s mountaintop airport, make sure you’re heart’s in excellent condition before you try it. Approaching the landing strip, you’re faced with a sheer vertical cliff. If for any reason there’s a downdraft and the plane drops twenty feet or so, the plane doesn’t go onto the runway, it slams into the face of the cliff. Fortunately, Myra and I are seated in the two seats that face to the rear of the plane, so we don’t have a chance to see the death-defying airport approach that Jack and the DNA techie watch with eyes and mouths wide open. Surprisingly we make it. No crash, no airsickness, no problems of any type, until we all climb into the rented Volkswagen van that is hired to transport us to the convalescent home. It’s a long winding road down the mountain, and our driver must have been trained as a Tijuana taxicab driver. By the time we get to nurse Judy’s establishment, I’m ready to check in for an extended stay, but after remembering what happened to the unknown guest now buried in Robin Gault’s grave, I change my mind.

  The place isn’t bad. It has a beautiful view of the California mainland, and on a clear day you can see the cloud of brown smog hanging over Los Angeles. You can also see down to Avalon Harbor, where boaters from all the Marinas in Southern California come to spend their weekends. The weather in this part of the country is ideal and perfect for all year boating, but there’s just no place to go. People on the North East Coast only have about five good months to use their boats, but at least they’ve got some really nice destinations and ports to visit during their shortened season, plus the entire Intracoastal Waterway for a nice cruise up and down the whole eastern seaboard. All we’ve got here in our paradise is Catalina Island, so we try to make the best of it.

  Down in Avalon Harbor, there are about 400 leased moorings, each privately painted with the name of the boat that has the right to tie up
to it. When not being used by their lessees, the city of Avalon has the right to rent them out to visiting boaters on a first-come-first-serve basis for anywhere from twenty to eighty dollars per night, depending on the size boat that each mooring can accommodate. The moorings are leased to boaters by the city on a long-term basis for only a few hundred dollars a year, but having your name on one of those mooring cans means that you have first right to use it any time you want. All you have to do is call the harbormaster’s office and tell them when you’ll be here. I’ve heard rumors that to get an ‘owner’ to transfer the lease on a fifty-foot mooring can cost up to one hundred thousand dollars. I personally know of a nice fifty-foot Grand Banks that would really look good tied up to its own private ‘can,’ not far from the island’s large round casino building where the island’s only movie theater is located, along with the Catalina museum of its own history.

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  The phony Nurse Judy is extremely cooperative. She tells us we can see the books, copy what we want, snoop and pry to our hearts’ content, and interview the other guests. Myra does the interviews. Some of the attendants do the digging, the DNA lab lady does all the tests, Jack Bibberman does the videography, while I concentrate on going through the records, scanning and e-mailing everything I can find back to the office by using a device that hooks the small laptop computer to my cell phone. Don Paige, our dock’s Internet guru felt guilty about the misdelivered emails on his network, so he fixed us up with this device, hooked it up and showed me how to use it, all at no charge.

  I have to hand it to Myra. She talked everyone at the home into giving up a DNA sample, including phony Nurse Judy and the attendants. I don’t know what spiel she used, but whatever it was, it worked. Our lab tech’s sample case is completely filled up by the time she’s through. At over a thousand a test, I don’t want to think of what it’s going to cost the doc, but since he’s sure that he’ll recover his costs when we win the lawsuits, he doesn’t seem to care about advancing the money for this dog-and-pony show.