Lethal Lawyers

by Dale E. Manolakas

  “I’m glad you came down. I needed a break. I got here at six. I’m doing interrogatories for Chet to make the world safe for Super Vacuums. It’s more complicated than it sounds, but the vacuum cleaner jokes are irresistible.”

  Sophia chuckled.

  “Thank God, Chet gave the request for production of documents to James and Anne. Vacuums suck!”

  They both chuckled.

  “I’m supposed to do something on his Mississippi vacuum cleaner case soon.” Sophia engaged in the preliminary chit-chat, working up to the Taylor bomb.

  “It’s hard to believe there’s so much intrigue in the vacuum business. But when you stop and think, everyone in America must own at least one and people who have two stories probably own two.”

  “I never thought of that. It is big business. Here’s to vacuums and big billing.”

  They tapped their lattes in mock toast.

  “Hey, moving on to more interesting events, are you going to tell me why I saw you walking down the street with Taylor when I left last night?”

  “What do you think I called for? We went to the Italian place for dinner.”

  “Nice. Who paid?”

  “He did.”

  “A date! Congratulations. You’re the first ‘non-group’ thing I know of that he’s done. And he’s hot. Hotter than that detective.”

  Sophia recounted the events of the date, leaving out everything after the kiss in the street for now.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing else to tell?” Tricia teased.

  “Nothing.” She smiled a Cheshire cat smile and changed the subject.

  Tricia respected the answer.

  “So,” Sophia moved on. “Toak just forced an assignment on me.”

  “Damn. Well, maybe Marlene will help you with that one, at least.”

  “I won’t need her to. You guys have convinced me to work around that woman.”

  “Good decision. Remember I said I’d tell you my horror story?”

  “Yeah, share.”

  “Well, I am the only associate who has ever joined forces with all my male sharing associates and forced a female-hating secretary to move.”

  “Really? You must be a legend.”

  “Don’t get so excited. Remember, I won the battle but not the war. I’m relegated to word-processing just like you. None of them will work for me now, not even the nice ones. Getting the Southern belle moved, instead of me, was not worth it.”

  “Southern belle? You mean Violet? The Violet who works for Carlisle?”

  “So you’ve met the Georgia peach?”

  “Yeah, she was really nice.”

  “She does ‘selective nice’ really well. When I first came here, she got my sharing attorneys to buy into her boycotting me because I was a ‘bitch.’ I took it personally until I learned she had done it to every other female associate before me. She’s jealous and nasty.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I’ll tell you, but let’s go. We’ll slip in the garage,” Tricia got up to go back. “I called her bluff. And we attorneys made her move instead of me. But she moved up the ladder right to Carlisle, whose secretary retired. Now, I’m screwed forever amongst all the secretaries because Violet keeps the vendetta alive. The South did rise again.”

  Sophia chuckled. “Not funny, really. Sorry, Tricia.”

  “Go to the Women Lawyers Association meeting and you’ll hear worse horror stories. Secretaries missing court filing deadlines on purpose and screwing women associates every way they can. Women hating women. It’s the professional pitfall we can't fight. Jealousy and resentment.”

  “I can't disagree. At Bode last summer, my office door was ajar and my old battle axe secretary was telling a younger secretary that all the female associates dressed alike, looked alike, and acted like stuck up prom queens. They had a good laugh until I walked out.”

  “There you have it. Perfect example. We look alike to them. But they can’t put two and two together and understand that dark suits are easy to maintain and stay clean. We have no time for their little put together girly outfits. Screw them.”

  “Toak’s doing that enough for everyone,” Sophia whispered as they got on the elevator.

  They were alone in the elevator and they both laughed.

  “Bill .5 to conference re: discovery, Super Vacuums. Oh, hell, do 1.5.” Tricia said holding the elevator door a second.

  Sophia didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

  She continued up to her floor.

  ⌘

  Chapter 50

  Sophia’s Choice

  Back at the firm, Sophia quickly and quietly snuck her taped letters off Marlene’s desk and took them to word-processing. She returned to her office. She reviewed Toak’s summary judgment motion and, intermittently and delightedly, her night with Taylor.

  Hours later, deep in thought, Sophia was startled by a heavy knock at her door.

  Detective Rutger stuck his head in. “You busy?”

  “Well, I . . .”

  “It’s important.” He walked in and shut the door.

  “Do I have a choice?” Sophia planned to close ranks on this interloper.

  As the detective made himself too comfortable in his regular chair and took out his little notebook and pen, Sophia compared him to Taylor. They were so different. She liked Taylor and all he brought to the table. In her mind, she relegated the detective to being just that, a detective.

  “I had a few follow-up questions.”

  “Shoot.”

  “You were there when Frank cancelled Roger’s deposition and took him off a case.”

  “Yes, but evidently Frank was always doing things like that.”

  “Maybe. But you were there this time?”

  “Yes. The three of us had dinner. Roger gave me deposition pointers and Frank showed off some new cigars.”

  “Why was Roger kicked off the case?”

  “They just started arguing about a client and Frank wanted to win the argument. Sometimes simple things get out of hand.”

  “Out of hand! What do you mean ‘out of hand’? How ‘out of hand’ did it get?”

  “I didn’t mean ‘out of hand’ physically.” Sophia took a deep breath. “Frank wanted to win the argument and took Roger off the case to shut him up. It did.”

  “Did Roger threaten Frank?”

  “No. They were both just upset and Frank told Roger he could leave the restaurant, San Francisco, and the firm.”

  “The firm, huh?” The detective scrawled notes.

  “But Frank was just puffing. They both were.”

  “Did other people in the restaurant hear the fight?”

  “Well, of course. The waiter came over and they settled down. Then Roger left. Go talk to the waiter.”

  “Then what did you and Frank do?”

  “We had dessert and espresso. What do you think we did?”

  Sophia wished Taylor were there to shut this man up. She was not saying another word to this man.

  “I want you to look at this sketch I got from the San Francisco police. Did you see this man at the intersection with Frank?”

  The sketch was similar to Roger, but not close enough. Sophia realized what the detective was doing here. He needed her to place Roger at the scene. He had met Roger and knew this sketch was not good enough. She looked at the sketch and thought. Did this man really expect her to be his vehicle for a murder prosecution that may not be a murder? She had spent years getting here, sacrificed too much in her life, and she wasn’t going to give it up based on pure speculation that Roger had something to do with Frank’s death.

  “Do you recognize him?”

  “No.” Sophia parsed the sketch down to the millimeter. “Why would I?”

  “Was Roger there?” The detective demanded.

  “Didn’t you ask him that?”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “Well?”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “I can’t do this. I won’t do this!�
�� Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Did you see Roger there? I need to know.”

  “Leave me alone,” Sophia stood and got control. “All I want is my paycheck and my bonus. I came here less than a week ago. I don’t know these people. I can’t judge.”

  Detective Rutger walked up to Sophia and held her gently by the shoulders. She felt the same electricity as the first time they shook hands. She wiped her eyes with her hand and looked up into his deep blue eyes. The night with Taylor melted away. She wished she and the detective were sitting in his Corvette driving to dinner or a ballgame or anywhere. She wished her life were simpler.

  “You’re upset now and it’s tough for you to believe hard-working people, who don’t run drugs or use guns, can murder. I believe you saw Roger there. And I believe Roger knows you saw him. I’d be careful if I were you.”

  Sophia said nothing. She slipped out of the detective’s hold and back into her chair. She had her answer. Roger had not admitted being at the corner when Frank died. So even if she said he was there, it would be her word against his. She was not talking.

  The detective held his ground, standing over her.

  “Sophia, we have the records from the magnetic cards used in the stairwell when Judith died. Roger was there.”

  “What?” Sophia hesitated. “But everyone uses the stairwell.”

  “Of course, but I think it was not just coincidence with Roger. I need your testimony about San Francisco.”

  Sophia sat there thinking, weighing her options in silence.

  “I can subpoena you at trial.”

  “Hostile witnesses never fly, especially when they have the skills of a lawyer,” she retorted, looking down at her work. “I have to work. Can you please leave?”

  Detective Rutger paused, walked toward the office door, and then looked back.

  “I know you’ll do the right thing when you think about this. Here’s my card again, again. I can meet you anytime away from here. Dinner tonight?”

  He put the card on the corner of her desk.

  “I have to work, Detective.”

  Sophia did not look up. She was irritated he had surmised correctly that she had thrown away his card. She was more irritated at being invited to dinner.

  “Please, call me Steve.”

  The detective left, shutting the door softly.

  Work had always been Sophia’s safe haven, her escape, and her answer to anything that was uncomfortable. Riding her horse in the elements was her escape before she started law school. Now, she had nothing but chaos and trouble in every part of her life.

  After the detective left, Sophia thought about Doug’s calendar and the group of four, Taylor included. She remembered the last three standing—Carlisle, Chet, and Dante—and the fear in their eyes. She wanted to run after the detective and confess everything she knew. But she didn’t. She had no stake in this, except a paycheck. And she had Taylor now.

  Sophia went to work. She had wasted enough billable time on justice.

  ⌘

  Chapter 51

  The Young, the Restless, and the Relentless

  For lunch, Sophia went to the cafeteria to pick up a pre-made tuna sandwich, but instead ordered a piece of tilapia with steamed broccoli. When her order came, she grabbed a couple of diet colas with a large glass of ice and left. On the way out, she ran into Taylor and Joe coming in.

  “Hi.” Taylor stopped with Joe.

  “Sophia,” Joe said. “How’s it going?”

  “Great. I got an assignment from Mr. Toak today, so I’m really busy.”

  “Good. Don’t forget to record every minute,” Joe said. “We have a lunch meeting. I’ll get the sandwiches, Taylor. You get the drinks.”

  “I’ll catch up,” Taylor called after Joe and then turned back to Sophia. “I wanted to tell you that I talked to Roger like we agreed—discreetly. He said he went up the street to buy his kids San Francisco T-shirts before he left.”

  “Okay. Then that’s that.”

  Sophia was satisfied with that explanation because she chose to be, and she was tired of being the central character in the drama of the deaths of two people she didn’t really know. She was focused on Taylor. She wanted to reach up and touch his smooth morning-shaved face.

  “He told the Management Committee and the detective the same thing.”

  “Good. Then I have nothing to add, and everyone knows everything.”

  Sophia believed now that the oh-so-sincere, concerned detective had kept this information to himself to manipulate her.

  “I’m through with all this. I have work to do.”

  “Smile,” Taylor showed his own great smile and touched her chin. “Let’s have dinner. I’ll touch base later.”

  “Sounds great.”

  As Sophia went back to her office, she wanted things to be simple and wanted to believe in Taylor. She balanced the detective’s credibility and Taylor’s. The detective lost because she believed beneath his blue-collar façade of intimacy, he was playing her. He was as ambitious as the rest of them. Roger had admitted to the detective and everyone that he was still in San Francisco. The detective had the police composite sketch. Her conclusion was that no one really needed her to identify Roger and put him at the scene.

  And what else had she seen? Nothing important. Roger put himself in San Francisco and the detective could do his police work from there. At the intersection, or not. She didn’t care where Roger was. She was tired of the firm’s problems and did not want to make those problems her own.

  * * *

  Back in her office, Sophia saw the librarian had delivered a huge pile of books and CD’s on writing summary judgment and summary adjudication motions. She buried herself in them. Billing money for studying. She loved it. She had paid to study in law school.

  She enjoyed her lunch, which was beautifully boxed with utensils, napkins, salt and pepper, lemon wedges, some kind of mango salsa for the fish, and shallots in butter for the broccoli. There was even a little bag of miniature lemon cookies. She opened a diet cola, watched the CD on her PC, and relaxed.

  Winning a summary judgment motion is one of the most exciting things to accomplish as a litigation lawyer. It takes great skill—and sometimes great creativity—to isolate and use all of the uncontested facts from your discovery to your advantage, and to set them forth in the motion to win a case in this pre-trial motion. It is a simple concept, but one that is very tricky and must be executed with precision.

  Briefly, if facts are true and uncontested on the record presented to the court and show the other side has no case because they cannot prove an essential element of any claim or defense under the law, then their case or their defense is dismissed and the winning side gets a judgment. If even one “material” fact is contested by the other party, and there is supporting evidence for the challenge, then the court denies the summary judgment motion and lets a trial proceed to determine which side is correct in its version of the facts. However, even if a summary judgment motion is lost, a summarily adjudicated single issue could help shorten any eventual trial or prompt a favorable settlement.

  Sophia decided after several hours that she would read Toak’s motion so that she could narrow her research. It was a thick document. There was a memorandum of points and authorities, which consisted of the legal arguments and the cases and statutes in support of those arguments. Then there was the lengthy statement of undisputed facts taken from the discovery produced by the other side. Generally, a lawyer wanted to kill the opponent’s case with the opponent’s own words or documents. There was little to dispute when your own words condemned you.

  Sophia took a couple of hours to get through the points and authorities. Toak, or more likely an underling, had done a good job focusing on getting the case dismissed, zeroing in on Mr. Higgins’ scienter. According to the papers in the motion, Mr. Higgins knew nothing about the alleged fraud and could not be held liable.

  But Sophia was waning. She needed food. Her lunch was t
oo healthy to stick with her. She texted Paul.

  “Hey, Paul, need a break?”

  He did. He wanted to meet at the deli and reminded her to go through the garage. Sophia texted Tricia, who Sophia knew would take a break anytime from her drudgery.

  She left to meet them.

  ⌘

  Chapter 52

  Splitting Hairs and Pastrami Sandwiches

  At the deli, Tricia and Sophia shared a bread pudding. Sophia got a coffee as a pick-me-up. Paul ordered a bread pudding for himself.

  “I’m billing a lot of hours on Toak’s Higgins case.”

  “What are you doing?” Paul asked. “I thought he filed that summary judgment.”

  “I’m just a fresh pair of eyes.” Sophia didn’t want Toak to dominate the lunch.

  “Good for you.” Tricia said. “Pile on those hours, but be careful, he’ll write off your hours or steal them.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Sophia scoffed. “How’s your discovery going in Super Vacuum, Paul?”

  “I’ll get it done. It’s boring.”

  “Again, why am I not surprised?”

  The three chuckled.

  “Detective Rutger came to see me today,” Paul said.

  “You didn’t tell me that.” Tricia stopped downing the bread pudding.

  “He was there when you called, Sophia. And thank you for your call . . . that got him up and out. We should have a system for rescuing each other.”

  “Not for me. He’s cute. And I know nothing,” Tricia teased. “But why you, Paul? What do you know? Fess up.”

  “Hold on. Hold on. He wasn’t interested in me. He wanted to know about Doug this time. Someone told him we were still friends.”

  “I didn’t tell him.” Sophia sipped her coffee.

  “Or me.” Tricia followed suit.

  “Don’t worry. I trust you guys. Besides, unfortunately it’s common knowledge. The detective had a lot of questions, but the funny thing is I could tell by his questions he already knew the answers.”