“You know you are going to need help when Roger finds out you were there.”
She turned away and looked out the window at the darkening sky. She didn’t owe the detective anything. He wasn’t giving her a paycheck if she got fired. He couldn’t write her a recommendation for another job. She had her whole carefully planned life on the line—a life she had sacrificed so much for.
She rotated back slowly and faced him.
“I didn’t see anything.”
“You think I believe that? I know more than you can appreciate. And one thing I know that you don’t is that this is not a game. People are dying and you should be careful. I like you, and you’re in way over your head. You can keep me at arm’s length now. I don’t care. But I want you to call me if you need me. You are more than a witness to me.”
He stood. But Sophia was silent.
“You have my cell number, Sophia.”
She didn’t turn back to him as he left.
Sophia needed to get some grounding. She only knew one person who was grounded—her mother.
She shut her door, got out her cell, and dialed as she looked out her window at the sunless fall sky.
“Hi, Mom, what are you doing?”
⌘
Chapter 79
Decisions and Delusions
After hearing about her mom’s lamb shanks and rosemary rice for dinner, Sophia spoke only about upbeat things in her life. She knew that was what her mother wanted to hear. Her mother was grounded because she selectively allowed information to register in her reality, and had trained everyone to “cherry-speak” with her—cherry pick what they shared. Sophia didn’t know if that was genius or ignorance. It worked for her mother.
Ever since Sophia had stopped teaching and committed herself to indebtedness and a legal career, her parents needed to believe it was worth it. And, that was what she constantly conveyed to them in one way or another—that it was worth it. She deflected her mother’s concerns about practicing law by telling her she was dating someone at the firm and that he was worth it, even though Sophia privately had her doubts now. Her mother exclaimed that she would tell her father the minute he came in from work. Sophia was happy that this tidbit had made her mother happy. Sophia promised to visit them after the firm retreat with her new “boyfriend”—and she would. Sophia had decided that she would get Taylor to a Sunday family dinner by hook or by crook. As much to keep him thinking she wanted to be with him as anything else. And, in fact, she really did, despite her misgivings.
After the conversation she felt better, thanks to the simplicity of her mother’s point of view and reactions. It was as if the happy scenario she had given her mother was actually true.
Sophia checked her emails. She trashed the California Continuing Education of the Bar announcements and other legal advertisements. She did look at the firm’s announcement of Dante’s death by heart attack and the funeral arrangements. His body was being buried in Akron, Ohio, where he was born, and his elderly parents and family lived. There was to be a memorial in Los Angeles Thursday afternoon—billables and profits for that afternoon would be ignored. Everyone was urged to attend. Sophia decided she would do whatever Tricia and Paul were doing.
Scanning the news on the Internet, she noted Chet’s spin was almost totally accepted across the board. Most of the reports characterized the onslaught of deaths as old, worn-out, and stressed-out partners falling on the battlefield of their legal practices. There were a few reporters who noted the coincidence was unusual, but not unheard of. Only one reporter just fell short of saying that the deaths could be more than mere coincidence. It was that Ben Kowrilsky at the Los Angeles Sun who had given her his card and called repeatedly. He was smart and couldn’t be bought off or pushed around. Sophia supposed that one more body might crush Chet’s spin and push Ben over the brink to investigative journalism.
She saw the large envelope labeled Firm Retreat in her in-box. She dug it out and tore it open. Inside was a maroon binder with gold embossed lettering, “Thorne & Chase Firm Retreat.” The introductory letter dedicated this year’s retreat to the three senior partners who had passed on.
“Are you kidding?” Sophia smirked.
She knew it was really going forward because of the almighty dollar. She remembered Paul’s conclusion that if it cancelled, Thorne & Chase wouldn’t get its hefty deposit back at this late date.
The binder had nine dividers with labels printed on the right. The first three were devoted one each to Judith, Frank, and Dante, with a portrait and biography. She was impressed, especially considering Dante’s body had just been discovered yesterday. But then, as she knew, the firm already had pictures and a biography of everyone for Internet marketing purposes. She had studied them for her interview. It was probably easy to throw this together, and even easier to draft a cover letter announcing the retreat would be a memorial to their fallen comrades—not merely for fun and firm morale.
Sophia scanned the other sections: Daily Schedules, Recreation Options, Meetings, Directions, Other Information, and Forms. The Daily Schedule accounted for every minute of the day and night. Arrival was Friday noon with a long recreation period for golf, tennis, the spa, swimming, or horseback riding. Then there was a casual firm cocktail party at five with a hayride, barbeque, and hoedown following.
Saturday morning was a firm breakfast with welcoming speakers from the New York office and then panel discussions by practice area until lunch. Each panel had five partners in a specialty area with a moderator. Taylor was in several.
“Bingo!” Sophia planned to go to all of Taylor’s. Given all that had happened, she felt she had to do that to keep up appearances, despite her doubts.
At noon Saturday, there was an open-seating lunch and then more recreation to sign up for. Saturday night included a six o’clock cocktail party and a formal dinner at eight with music and dancing. Sophia was excited about the dancing, and still even a little about the possibility of being with Taylor. She had to think of ways to be together discreetly, to give him a chance to dispel her misgivings, to show he really did care for her.
The firm retreat would end Sunday after a memorial breakfast with speeches. But anyone could stay the rest of the day for more free golf or the other activities.
Sophia was truly impressed by the entire retreat and the way it was presented and organized. Again, Thorne & Chase showed it was top drawer. She would use the weekend to recommit publicly to the firm.
Reinforced with the simplicity of her mother’s way of thinking, Sophia knew what she had to do. She decided to go confer with the only other really clear-eyed person she knew, Tricia. She grabbed the binder and went down to Tricia’s office to plan her Toak apology and their activities. She wished Jay were not coming, then they could make it more of a girl’s weekend.
* * *
Down at Tricia’s office, the door was open and she was on her cell.
Tricia pressed the mute tab. “Come in. I’ll be off in a sec.”
Sophia came in, shut the door, and plopped in a chair.
Tricia unmuted her cell phone. “Don’t worry, Mom, everything is fine here. I’ll call in a couple of days. I love you. Bye.”
“Your mom?”
“Yeah, she’s calling me everyday now. You’d think the sky had fallen.”
“I placated mine.”
“I try.” Tricia leaned back and took a deep breath. “Oh! I see you got the retreat binder. It’s an amazing weekend, isn’t it?”
“It is. I read the whole thing and that’s why I’m here. I’m going to use the retreat to recommit to the firm and get on Toak’s good side—I use the term loosely.”
“Sophia, no more of the sarcasm.”
“I am not being sarcastic. I mean it.”
“Really?”
“Yes. What do you think? I have nothing to bill. I’m getting further and further behind every day. And I have to be nice. I have to succeed here . . . and get my paycheck. I will do anything I need to do
it.”
“Good. Great decision. All I want is a paycheck . . . pay off my student loans . . . and, of course, marry Jay. Who cares who’s right and wrong or good and bad? I’m just keeping my head down so I don’t get weeded out. You should, too. We’ve both had a taste of being stonewalled. Me by Frank. You by . . . well, I guess everyone?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Let’s do whatever we can. I want you here. So does Paul.”
“I got caught up in personalities and politics and my own ego. I sacrificed everything to get here and I want to succeed . . . I have to. I like you and Paul and, most of the time, Taylor. And every one else is okay. Really. I want to have fun at the retreat and mend fences.”
“Sophia, I’m so glad you think that way. We all just suck it up here. And Taylor is an okay guy just trying to make it, like we all are.”
“Sure,” Sophia agreed, knowing that was not exactly true.
Tricia’s phone rang.
“Tricia Manning.”
Tricia hung up without a word. “Just a reporter. Damn them.”
The two took their retreat packets and went to the cafeteria to get salads. They talked about men, getting outfits for the retreat, and fun.
⌘
Chapter 80
Dante’s Peak
Paul, Tricia, and Sophia went together to Dante’s memorial service Thursday evening. Paul drove and took surface streets to Hancock Park, to a large gothic Catholic Church commensurate with the long-established neighborhood. The press people were contained across the street by L.A.P.D. and Sophia thought she saw Ben in the morass of reporters. Security guards stood at the steps of the church. Paul was guided into the parking lot by a flashlight-waving parking attendant.
* * *
On the church steps, James and Anne were arriving, too. The small group met with a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd inside.
James reconnaissanced his way through the wall of dark suits and then back again.
“All the seats are taken,” he whispered.
“I hope the speeches aren’t going to be long.” Anne looked down at her spiked heels. “I wore the wrong shoes.”
Sophia glanced at Anne’s four-inch heels and thought of Judith. Sophia couldn’t help but think that if Judith had lived, she would have counseled her against some of the bad decisions she had made. That advice would have been worth fifty percent of any client Sophia got. Now, she could end up with nothing.
“Earth to Sophia.” Paul poked her on the shoulder. “Let’s move over to that side. We can lean on the wall. Hurry, before someone else grabs it.”
“I’m going to get a seat. Someone will make room. See you after,” Anne whispered.
Anne made her way through the crowd and up the pews. More than one male admired her as she wound her way in search of a seat.
“She’ll find one.” Tricia’s eyes followed Anne.
“I know.”
“We’ll stand,” Tricia said. “We can go sit outside on a stone bench if the speeches are too long.”
As the group transferred to the corner to stand, they lost James to the same group of first year associates Sophia had seen with him at The Edinburgh Grill.
On the way, she caught a glimpse of Taylor standing with Roger. Joe and Marvin were nearby. She veered right to say hello.
Sophia touched the back of Taylor’s shoulder. “Hey.”
Taylor turned and a big un-funeral smile popped across his face. He looked around, making sure no one had seen it, and put his proper funeral face back on.
“Hey, yourself.”
He caught Sophia’s hand and squeezed it. “Do you want to get together tomorrow?”
Sophia smiled discreetly. “Sure.”
She liked this expensively suited man on the way up. She liked him enough, at any rate, and the overall package.
Roger snapped around and put his hooked nose near Sophia’s face. He grinned, exposing his crooked yellow teeth. Then, he greeted her in his raspy voice with no affect at all.
“Hello, Sophia,” Roger said.
“Hi,” she stammered.
“We need to talk,” Roger whispered to Taylor.
“Just for a sec,” Taylor said.
When Taylor turned to confer with Roger, Joe and Marvin converged on Sophia from behind. As they moved past her, Marvin bumped into Sophia, hard. She almost went down.
“Excuse me,” Marvin said. “I didn’t see you.”
“It’s all right,” she insisted, but it wasn’t—she believed he had done it on purpose, as a warning.
By the time Taylor turned back to her, Marvin had moved on.
“Roger says that detective is here. Stay away from him.”
“All right.”
“Good. We’ll connect later.” Taylor turned back to his group.
Sophia made her way back to Tricia and Paul, who had found spots along the wall for the service. With her new commitment to the firm, she had no intention of talking to Detective Rutger anyway.
“What happened?” Tricia asked. “You almost hit the ground.”
“Nothing. Marvin just bumped into me.”
“Jerk,” Paul said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It was an accident.”
Sophia made light of it, but she knew she wasn’t fine, because it had been no accident. She thought of Judith and Frank.
“Those assholes think they are big now because they are getting a junior partner on the Management Committee,” Paul murmured.
“How do you know?” Tricia exclaimed.
“Later,” Paul shushed her.
“Why didn’t Taylor tell me about that?” Sophia whispered to Tricia.
“I don’t know, but this is the first I’ve heard of it, too.”
⌘
Chapter 81
Buzz Cuts, Condolences, and Apologies
At the memorial, Carlisle and Chet sat in the front pews with their private security men behind them. The buzz cuts announced the security detail’s identities.
The packed church showed Dante was well liked by the legal community, even though he had been feared as an opponent. The service was not on the Westside, but in the centrally located Hancock Park, which helped attendance.
“They’re shipping the body back to Akron, Ohio tomorrow,” Paul said. “If I die in this accident epidemic, please remember that my parents are in New York.”
“Very funny,” Sophia said.
The speeches were long. Dante was not only a great lawyer and a managing partner at Thorne & Chase; he volunteered for everything that didn’t take a physically strenuous presence. He worked on three American Bar Association committees and early in his career—in thinner times—had been president of the Los Angeles County Bar Association. He organized Los Angeles lawyers to serve Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless and established a shelter for runaways in Hollywood. Dante’s life was accomplished, charitable, and impressive. This window into his life of service further validated Sophia’s renewed commitment to be a success in this firm and not to make any more foolish mistakes in judgment.
After the service, most people did not go by the open casket. It was a business memorial and no family was present to pay respects to. It was a work night and some people left quickly. Others mingled in the crowded foyer reception area. Sophia held down a spot in the foyer while Tricia and Paul went to get the waters being served.
Much as at Frank’s funeral service, the group of hardworking, very accomplished people chatted in groups renewing old relationships, forming new ones, and exchanging cards. Sophia thought that she was more like them than any group of people she had ever known, including her family, her relatives, the teachers she worked with, and the attorneys at Bode. She felt she belonged here with the overachievers, each motivated by their own demons that made them political and aggressive. As she examined the group, she found it hard to believe that any one of them would want to destroy the firm—their feeding ground, their power base for money, and their key to accumul
ating wealth.
“So there you are,” a voice said from behind.
Sophia turned around quickly. She recognized Detective Rutger’s voice.
“Yes, here I am. Excuse me.”
She turned and walked away. Her closest haven was with James Tang who was telling a small group of first years what a waste of billing time this was. He always had a deadline breathing down on him. She knew he was not overworked, just inefficient. She wanted to get some of his work and to tell him to stop complaining, but she didn’t.
As Sophia listened, she watched Detective Rutger circle the room and approach several other groups of attorneys. No one would talk to him. They either walked away or tightened their circle. The firm and the legal community had closed ranks.
She spotted Taylor and Toak, who were talking with animated conviction. She decided to use this moment to begin mending fences and approached them.
“Hello.”
Taylor responded. Toak did not, but Sophia spoke directly to Toak anyway.
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am Dante passed on. He was a lovely person and I enjoyed him.”
“Thank you. Dante and I did have a special relationship, a lot in common.”
“I believe you did. He was a wonderful litigator and I was doing some work for him. I’d like to talk to you tomorrow . . . about that . . . and about other things.”
“I’ll be in.”
There was ice in Toak’s voice. She knew now that apologizing would do no good. She would still try, but she knew in her heart that she needed to bypass Toak to survive.
An awkward silence followed. Sophia needed to exit artfully, but she had no art at that moment. Evidently, neither did Taylor. Tricia saved her.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, Sophia. But we have to go. Are you ready?”
Lethal Lawyers Page 30