Lethal Lawyers

by Dale E. Manolakas

  “I vote no. If we won’t be missed,” Tricia said.

  “I’ve had enough,” Sophia agreed. “Especially if that detective is going to be hanging around.”

  “Command decision time,” Paul announced. “No one will miss us at the interment. We’ve done our thing and I vote we go get lunch and get back to work so we can be out of the office at a decent hour.”

  “I vote for a burger and fries,” Tricia approved.

  “Okay,” Sophia settled it. “But takeout. I have to get back and bill.”

  “Perfect,” Paul declared. “I know the place to go for good takeout.”

  “Of course, you do.” Tricia laughed freely away from the mourners. “Bachelors always do.”

  ⌘

  Chapter 65

  The Unholy Quest for Sample Answers

  Back at the firm in the parking garage, there was a blue-jump-suited Bell Security and Surveillance crew installing security cameras in the garage.

  “You were right.” Paul pushed the call button to get to the lobby and then transfer to another elevator to go up to the firm. “The Management Committee acted fast when they started falling like flies.”

  “They’re afraid, Paul.” Sophia grabbed two fries out of her take-out bag and bit into the crispy hot delights with thick soft centers.

  Paul and Tricia got off on their floor and Sophia at hers. She was ready to be a worker-bee in this gilded, confining honeycomb, which was still her dream, despite everything.

  On the way to her office, she peeked into the stairwell to see if the security cameras had been installed. A camera recorded her peek. She didn’t like it. She shut the door.

  * * *

  At her desk, Sophia ate her burger and warm fries dipped in cool ketchup. She intermittently sipped her ice-packed bubbly diet cola. She stared at the Super Vacuums files and then Dante’s Safe Baby Seat files. She decided she would start work on Dante’s antitrust answer for a change. It was due in a week, after all.

  She read the Safe Baby Seat complaint in the pleadings file. It was massive and looked to Sophia like a bunch of confusing causes of action. She panicked. She hadn’t taken any antitrust courses in law school, because they looked too hard and she only cared about her class standing and keeping her GPA high.

  The plaintiff was a small retailer making several claims: price-fixing, resale price maintenance, and monopolization under the federal Sherman and Clayton Acts; price and promotional discrimination in violation of the federal Robinson-Patman Act; and claims under California’s Unfair Practices Act, as well as a number of other claims under California law. Sophia had a lot of learning to do, and little time in which to do it.

  She started down to the library to get antitrust litigation books and practice guides to help her prepare answers to antitrust complaints. Taylor was her senior on the case, but she was sure he was at Frank’s interment. She decided she would learn antitrust law until he came back, and then she could knowledgeably ask the right questions to get advice and sample antitrust answers from him. No use in reinventing the wheel. Besides, she wanted to see Taylor. He was her knight in shining armor on the steps. It felt good when he protected her, even though she knew his motivations included Roger’s safety, too.

  On the way down to the library, Sophia remembered Dante had not been at the funeral. She went to his office to see if he had sample answers to start with. She knocked and he didn’t answer. She would try later.

  At the library, she found the volumes she needed. She took a cubicle in the stacks and sat down to read. It was quiet. She was alone and able to absorb antitrust law without disturbance. It was complex, and she knew she needed help.

  Sophia was actually enjoying herself for the first time since she did the goddess research. She felt comfortable in libraries. Her mother took her as a child to check out books and she remembered the purple date stamp they put on the checkout slip in the book cover. She wanted to be a librarian back then, so she could be the one pounding the stamp from the inkpad to the book.

  After reading a few chapters on the basics of antitrust actions, Sophia put her head down on the short stack of books on the cubical desk to rest for a minute. The next thing she knew her head slipped from the stack and she woke up with a start. She sat a moment and realized she had been in a deep sleep. She grabbed her books and again went in search of sample answers.

  She endured the new probing surveillance cameras and took the stairs to Taylor’s office. Outside his office door, she hesitated. She realized her heart was racing, not from the stairs but because she liked him so much. He made her happy. She loved him. She wanted to love him and she wanted him to love her, too. Any transgression he had committed was history with her.

  Sophia knocked. No answer. She was disappointed and knocked again hard. Silence. Then Sophia put her ear to the door to see if he was on the phone. He wasn’t.

  She took her books and went up the stairwell to Dante’s office on her quest for antitrust answers. At his office door, she put her hand up to knock, but didn’t.

  She heard a muffled thump and a whispered, “Hurry. Hurry.”

  Then a voice that was unmistakably Roger’s raspy voice said, “It’s going well. It’s going well.”

  “Good. Get those files together and let’s get out of here.”

  That was Taylor. Sophia recognized his voice. She didn’t hear Dante, though. Instead, she heard a calliope of voices she knew well.

  Joe barked, “That’s enough, Roger. It’s done.”

  “Keep it down.” Marvin whispered.

  “Just making sure,” Roger rasped.

  Sophia heard clatter. They were searching his office. She was sure of it. She suspected they were getting evidence for their court action.

  Good for them, she thought, and walked away down the hall. She had learned not to be a witness to anything, meritorious and justified or not.

  ⌘

  Chapter 66

  From the Fat Into the Fire

  Sophia hurried down the stairway one floor and to her office. The only criticism she had was that they should have been quieter, but she wasn’t going to knock and tell them that.

  At her desk, she focused her thoughts on Safe Baby Seat. This firm intrigue was not going to rob her of more billable hours.

  After a good two hours, she called Taylor for help, sample answers, and perhaps that dinner invitation. He had rehabilitated his betrayal on the church steps. She just wanted to be with him.

  “Taylor, it’s me. Sophia.”

  “I know. What’s up?”

  “Thank you for saving me from that detective. He cornered me.”

  “I didn’t see any corners . . . but I was happy to be of service.”

  “You’re right. I never should have stopped. Give them an inch and they take a foot. No good deed ever goes unpunished, and all that.”

  Taylor did not laugh. “Look, I have people in my office. Can I call you back?”

  “Sure, but I just called for sample antitrust answers,” Sophia said feigning a primary business purpose.

  “Sure. Later.” Taylor abruptly hung up.

  As she sat holding the receiver, a hollow feeling overwhelmed her. She knew Roger and his band of brothers were in Taylor’s office. Taylor should have been nicer, especially in front of them. She wondered if Roger had used the trump card he held; that moment of weakness Sophia had indulged with the detective in the stairwell.

  She called Paul to see if he had some sample antitrust answers, so she could at least get started on the format and the basics. The equitable defenses, like unclean hands, were probably the same for all answers. Paul was there and told her to come down.

  * * *

  “Hey,” Sophia said, walking into Paul’s office. “I really appreciate this.”

  “Come in. Sit down. I need a break.”

  She did.

  “Is Tricia gone?” Sophia asked.

  “Yes. Big date night with Jay. They’re going to the Disney Music Hall to see
Gustavo Dudamel conduct some Bartok and Stravinsky pieces. Talk about a dull evening’s entertainment.”

  “I have to agree with you. Bartok and Stravinsky are sometimes too staccato and plucky for me.”

  “Oh, you know this stuff?”

  “My Mom likes it.”

  Sophia remembered her mother forcing her to take piano lessons and listen to classical music. She thought her mother deserved more than she got out of her life with Sophia’s father. He was a somber, uneducated man and had no magic in his heart that Sophia ever saw.

  Paul picked up his Nerf balls and landed three baskets.

  “The only thing wrong with this thing is that you have to get up and get it.”

  Sophia leaned over and grabbed two of them for him.

  “Here.”

  “Thanks,” Paul said, setting them on his desk. “So what did you think of the funeral?”

  “I felt badly for the family.”

  “I guess. At least they’re all rich. That’ll make it easier. I’m sure he had several big, fat whole life insurance policies with double indemnity for dismemberment. Too bad his head wasn’t severed since he had to die. You should have cut off a pinky finger for them.”

  “Paul! How horrible. Stop it.”

  “Fine. You have no sense of humor today.”

  “Funerals do that to me.”

  “You want antitrust answers?” Paul wanted to get back to work because Sophia was not on his morbid-humor brain wave. “I have some hard copies in here. I can never find anything on my PC.”

  “I called Taylor just now to get some but he said he was with people. I know it was the fabulous four. He said he’d call me later. I think he’s miffed about me talking to the detective at the funeral.”

  She didn’t mention the stairway escapade with the detective.

  “That’s nuts. The detective cornered you.” Paul dug through his files.

  “That’s exactly what I said, but Taylor didn’t see it that way.”

  “He’s got his own agenda. Ignore him. Here are some general federal court answers. You can use the general stuff to start. And let me get my antitrust file. I think I have a couple of answers set aside with the complaints we answered.”

  “That’s great. Thanks. Now I can at least start to get a draft of this done.”

  Paul handed Sophia a stack of files and sat down again.

  “Don’t worry about Taylor. He’ll come around. And don’t worry about his friends. Those four are always cooking something up.”

  “I’d better get back.”

  “Yeah. Don’t stay too late.”

  “You either.”

  Sophia kept the episode in Dante’s office to herself. She stuck to her new anti-intrigue policy and her continuing presumption that Paul was repeating things to friends, inadvertently or not.

  * * *

  Back in her office, she went to work on the answer with Paul’s forms. The phone rang. Sophia picked it up quickly, assuming it was Taylor.

  “Hi, sorry I interrupted you,” Sophia said quickly to preempt Taylor’s excuses.

  “Interrupted? What do you mean? It’s Steve.”

  “I obviously thought you were someone else.”

  Sophia was disconcerted and angry with herself for being caught unguarded. She took the offensive.

  “What was that stunt on the steps?”

  “I wanted to ask you for dinner and then . . .”

  “Then?”

  “The vultures descended.”

  “They aren’t vultures. They are my friends.”

  “Look, I just thought we might have dinner tonight. It got out of hand.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  Sophia hung up.

  She went back to work. But the feel of the detective’s kiss crossed her lips and interrupted her focus. She buried it and thought of Taylor. She wanted Taylor to call. Despite his friends and foibles, Sophia wanted a man like him. He was the better choice for her and her new life. She was not sliding back toward her blue-collar roots for anyone. Besides, the detective’s actions on the church steps were reckless for her career and her future at the firm.

  Sophia started drafting an answer mirroring Paul’s samples. Every few minutes, she glanced at the phone as if that would make Taylor call. It finally did. Either he had just finished with his friends or decided he had time for her. She didn’t care. He called.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me. Sorry it took so long.”

  “That’s all right. I was just billing, billing, billing. Dante’s Safe Baby Seat client. If I’m not defending vacuums then I’m defending baby seats.”

  Taylor laughed and she liked it.

  “Dinner?” Taylor asked, obviously responding to Sophia’s friendly cues. “I’m starved and my treat. I’ll be ready to leave in an hour. Meet you in the lobby. Is that good?”

  “Great. I’ve billed enough today.”

  “I feel like our Italian place.”

  “So do I.”

  Sophia decided she would never discuss Taylor’s betrayal again. Even if it really was that—a betrayal—she simply chose to believe it wasn’t premeditated or intended.

  ⌘

  Chapter 67

  Unjust Desserts

  Taylor and Sophia met in the lobby. As they walked to the Italian restaurant he was quiet, but held her hand. Sophia was upbeat and entertaining, making jokes about drafting her answer and falling asleep in the library. She wanted him to forget about the detective, their fight, and his friends. And, of course, he had no idea she had gone to Dante’s office or heard him and his cohorts rummaging.

  They sat at their same corner table. It was a Saturday night downtown and the restaurant was not full. The black granite bar which was usually crowded with suits had two couples sitting on the bar stools talking and a lone, older man reading a book at the end, nursing a red wine.

  “Can I get you something before you order?” the waiter asked.

  “A double eighteen-year-old Glenlivet. What do you want?”

  “Just wine.” Sophia watched Taylor open the wine list, unusually subdued.

  The waiter got the sommelier.

  “Let’s try the 2001 Tenula dell’Ornellaia. You’ll like this one, Sophia. It’s a Bordeaux blend from Tuscany. Fruity. I feel like fruity.”

  Taylor ordered the wine.

  “I could use fruity after today,” Sophia said. “I felt very badly for Frank’s family.”

  “I’m sure he was well insured.”

  “That’s what Paul said. That isn’t all there is to getting past a death you know.”

  “It can make it a lot easier. Besides, I’ve seen him and his wife go at it at during a couple of firm parties after he cozied up to the female associates. No love lost there.”

  The waiter came with Taylor’s scotch and the sommelier with the wine.

  Taylor took a drink of his scotch and, without tasting the wine, nodded it was fine.

  “Well-insured or not, that doesn’t stop the hurt,” Sophia said. “Besides, all couples have their problems. It doesn’t mean they don’t still love each other or wish each other ill.”

  “I don’t know. My mom was in hog heaven when my dad left her with a paid-for house and three big life insurance policies. All she kept saying was that she never needed to remarry again and kiss another man’s ass.”

  “That’s sad.” Sophia tasted her wine.

  “Maybe, but at least she was honest. Do you like the wine?”

  “Yes, it’s delicious. It has a hint of licorice. I love licorice. My dad always brought it home when I was a girl.”

  “You still are a girl, Sophia. And a very beautiful girl whom I like very much.” Taylor lifted his scotch, gazed into her eyes, and clicked Sophia’s wine glass. “To no more arguments.”

  “To no more arguments.” She basked in Taylor’s words and lost herself in his ebony gaze.

  They skipped
the antipasto and stuffed artichokes and started with a house salad. Taylor ordered a New York steak and Sophia a big plate of spaghetti with meatballs.

  “No bread for me. You?” Taylor asked.

  “I shouldn’t either.”

  “It’ll spoil our appetite.”

  Sophia smiled at Taylor, thinking he had never dated a Greek before—nothing spoiled their appetites. She couldn’t think of a time in her life when she couldn’t eat. Nor could she remember a time in her life when her parents were not eating and feeding everyone through happy times, sad times, births, deaths, weddings, christenings, and big family dinners after the long Sunday services at the St. Sophia Greek Orthodox Cathedral in downtown Los Angeles. You name it, and food was the threshold and catalyst for dealing with it. Her grandmother “γιαγιά,” [yă yă] used to call the family to come and eat shouting, “φάε” [fă ēē], with the long “e” resounding. It was the boisterous Greek way. It was Sophia’s way, which was totally out of place in this professional environment.

  By the time their salads came, Taylor had finished his double scotch and started on the wine. He was more relaxed.

  “I missed you,” Sophia risked.

  “I thought you called for sample answers.”

  “Hardly. I just wanted to make sure you’d call back.”

  “Smart.”

  “Yep.” Sophia finished her second glass of wine.

  “So what did Detective Rutger want, again?”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  She didn’t like the way her mind registered the detective’s kiss every time his name was mentioned now.

  “Fine.”

  Taylor backed off.

  “He’s an ass,” Sophia blurted out, taking a sip of her third glass of wine. “Roger’s an ass, too.”

  She drank more wine. She needed it to wipe the detective and his kiss out of her thoughts.

  “Seriously though, we can get a stay-away order against Detective Rutger if he doesn’t back off.”