The Dead Hand

by Michael A. Kahn

  “A disciplinary complaint?” Sliman appeared to mull over the question. “No, I did not.”

  “Did you tell him that if he didn’t get his client to sign that deed you would file a disciplinary complaint against him with the Chief Disciplinary Counsel of the Missouri Bar?”

  Sliman paused, repeating the question in his head. “No.”

  “Mr. Sliman, did you use that threat of disbarment to force Mr. Fox to betray his client and have her sign a deed that you knew violated the Rule Against Perpetuities and could someday be used to strip her of the entirety of her divorce settlement?”

  “No.”

  “Hah! So you say. Your conduct, sir—was it anything other than classic extortion?”

  “Objection, Your Honor.” Dathan turned to Blatz and shook his head in disapproval. “I am shocked. Shocked, sir. If any conduct is worthy of a disciplinary action, it is Counsel’s intemperate behavior, including these wild and defamatory accusations against my client. I would urge the Court to remind Counsel that this courtroom is no place for the airing of delusional calumny.”

  Blatz raised his hand. “No need, Your Honor. I’ve more than made my point. I’m done with this witness. Over and out.”

  As Blatz started to walk away, Dathan stepped up to the podium. “I have a few questions, Your Honor.”

  Blatz turned back. “What? This is nuts. Mr. Dathan does not represent a party in this case.”

  “Judge,” Dathan said, “my client has been an esteemed member of the bar for nearly half a century. Having retired after an illustrious career, he has been forced to sit in that witness box as Mr. Blatz has hurled one baseless invective after another. I beg the Court’s indulgence so that I may ask Mr. Sliman a few clarifying questions before he steps down.”

  “Fine,” Ballsack snapped. “Make it quick.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Dathan turned to Sliman. “If I understand your testimony, sir, at some point during your representation of Mr. Knight in the divorce proceedings your client told you that Mrs. Marsha Knight was having sexual relations with her attorney, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you file a complaint with the Chief Disciplinary Counsel of the Missouri Bar regarding the misconduct of Mr. Fox?”

  “I did not.”

  “Why not, sir?”

  “He was my adversary. Perhaps I am old school, Mr. Dathan, but it seemed somewhat uncouth to file a bar complaint against your adversary in the midst of that proceeding.”

  “Did you ever file a complaint against Mr. Fox?”

  “No.”

  “Did you do anything regarding his misconduct?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told his boss.”

  Dathan turned to Norma Cross. “You mean Ms. Cross?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did you tell her?”

  “After the divorce was final. After my dealings with Mr. Fox had concluded. I believe it was a few months later.”

  “Where did you tell her?”

  “At the St. Louis Club. I had my secretary set up a meeting for late in the afternoon.”

  “What made you decide to tell Ms. Cross instead of filing a complaint?”

  “I thought long and hard about that issue, Mr. Dathan. Ms. Cross was his boss, and presumably she had been actively involved in supervising him in the Knight divorce. After all, her name appears above his in the signature block in all court filings in that matter. Thus I believed that the responsible thing to do was to inform Ms. Cross and let her decide how to handle Mr. Fox’s ethical transgression.”

  “What was Ms. Cross’ reaction when you informed her of Mr. Fox’s misconduct?”

  “My goodness. She was quite upset. She did not say much at the meeting, but I could sense that she felt betrayed—betrayed on a deeper level than I had imagined.”

  “How so?”

  “Her anger seemed personal. Very personal and very emotional. She told me she would take care of it and then stormed out of our meeting.”

  “Did you hear back from her?”

  “No.”

  “Did she take care of it?”

  “You’ll have to ask her. All I do know is that a few weeks after that meeting with Ms. Cross, Mr. Fox was dead.”

  Dathan turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I have nothing further for the witness.”

  “But I do!”

  We turned toward Blatz’s table, where he was still seated. The speaker, standing and red-faced, was Norma Cross.

  She said, “I certainly have something further for this witness.”

  The judge stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  Norma strode to the podium. “I have some questions of my own for Mr. Sliman.”

  The judge frowned. “You are the client, Ms. Cross.”

  “I am also an attorney.” She was furious. “And I have questions for this witness.”

  “But you have an attorney in this matter.”

  “He is not my attorney. I did not choose him. The insurance company did.”

  Blatz stood, forcing a smile. “Well, Judge—”

  “Sit down!” Cross ordered.

  Blatz obeyed, eyes wide.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Standing at the podium, Norma Cross glared at Irving Sliman in the witness box. Behind his dark sunglasses, Sliman appeared to gaze back at her calmly.

  She said, “Adam Fox told you he wanted the property transfer to Mrs. Knight to be done by a trust, correct?”

  “So it would appear from this transcript.”

  “He said his concern was easy to resolve, correct?”

  Sliman looked down at the transcript. “If that portion of the transcript is accurate, then the answer is yes. I don’t personally recall that, but it’s been many years since that conversation.”

  “And this concern of Mr. Fox was that your deed violated the Rule Against Perpetuities, correct?”

  Sliman read the two-page transcript. “No, he didn’t say that. He didn’t mention the Rule Against Perpetuities.”

  “But he cited the statute that was designed to solve that problem, right? The one that enables you to avoid the Rule Against Perpetuities by making the transfer via a trust, correct?”

  Sliman shrugged. “He apparently cited a Missouri statute, Counsel. I don’t know what it says, and, according to this transcript, he didn’t explain it to me.”

  “Look at the transcript, Mr. Sliman. He cited that statute and then he said, and I quote, ‘It solves the issue,’ close quote. Correct?”

  “According to this transcript.”

  “And the issue was the Rule Against Perpetuities, correct?”

  Sliman studied the transcript. “Again, Ms. Cross, I don’t see that rule mentioned.”

  “Quit playing word games.”

  Sliman stared back at Cross. “I think you may be the one playing word games, Counsel. I’m sticking with what is in this transcript. Many years have passed since then. I confess that my memory isn’t what it once was. But fortunately we have this contemporary record of my conversation with Mr. Fox. My secretary may not have gotten down every word, but I’m fairly sure that she got the gist.”

  “We all got the gist, Mr. Sliman. And the gist is that you were blackmailing Mr. Fox, correct? Make Marsha Knight sign this defective deed, you were saying, or I will file a disciplinary complaint against you and destroy your career.”

  “Blackmail, Ms. Cross?” Sliman asked, his tone calm. “My goodness, Counsel. Those are strong words.”

  “Do you prefer extortion, sir? Or shall we call it a good old-fashioned shakedown?”

  “Objection.” Dathan stepped to the podium, a stern look on his face. “Good heavens, Your Honor. Ms. Cross has traversed all boundaries of decency here. This slander is
nothing short of intentional infliction of emotional distress in the guise of cross-examination. I expressly reserve the right to restore Mr. Sliman’s reputation before he is dismissed as a witness.”

  “Objection sustained. Rein it in, Ms. Cross. If you have a genuine question to ask, ask it. Otherwise, sit down.”

  Ignoring the judge, Cross continued to stare at Sliman. He gazed back her, unruffled.

  “Counsel?” the judge asked. “Either ask a question or sit down.”

  “And when it was all over,” Cross said, still staring at Sliman, “and when Mrs. Knight had signed the deed and the divorce decree had been entered and sufficient time had passed to make that decree final and beyond the deadline for an appeal—in short, when nothing could be done to undo what you had accomplished—you contacted me, correct?”

  “You lost me somewhere in there, Ms. Cross.”

  She turned to the court reporter. “Read him my question.”

  The court reporter did so.

  Sliman shrugged. “I still can’t follow that timeline. All I do recall is that you and I did meet after the case was over.”

  “At your request, correct?”

  “I believe so.”

  “We have the e-mail from your secretary to me requesting that meeting, Mr. Sliman.”

  “Okay.”

  “That e-mail is roughly three months after the judge entered the divorce decree.”

  “Okay.”

  “In other words, beyond the time for any appeal.”

  “If you say so.”

  “We met at the St. Louis Club, correct?”

  “I believe we did.”

  “And during that meeting you never once mentioned the Rule Against Perpetuities, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “But you did tell me that Mr. Fox was having sex with his client during the course of the divorce proceedings, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “You told me that because you believed it was unethical, correct?”

  “I was concerned that it might be.”

  Cross gave him an incredulous look. “Might be? Really?”

  “Yes, I was concerned that it might be an ethical violation.”

  “But you never filed a complaint against him, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  She shook her head in anger. “And what did you expect me to do?”

  Sliman smiled. “I didn’t expect you to do anything one way or the other. I felt it was my duty to provide you with notice of the misconduct of your employee. Period. What you did with that information was entirely up to you.” He tilted his head slightly and smiled. “By the way, Ms. Cross, what exactly did you do with that information?”

  “You are the witness, Mr. Sliman. I ask the questions, not you.”

  “Would you prefer not to answer my question, Ms. Cross? And if so, why?”

  “That’s all.” She turned to the judge. “I’m done with this witness.”

  She spun on her heels and stomped back to her seat.

  All eyes turned to Judge Ballsack, who sat motionless, a baffled look on his face. He looked down at this notes, then up toward the clock on the back wall, and then he raised his gavel. “Court will be in lunch recess. We will resume at one-thirty.”

  Bang!

  “All rise!” cried the bailiff.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Marsha Knight, Jacki, and I exited the courtroom on our way to lunch.

  “Rachel, dear.”

  I turned.

  Seated on a bench in the hallway on the far side of the courtroom doors were Irving Sliman and Myron Dathan. Sliman was paging through some notes on a legal pad, head down, sunglasses pushed back on his bald head.

  Dathan stood and gestured, giving me one of his smarmy smiles. “A moment of your time?”

  I looked up at Jacki, who raised her eyebrows.

  “Rachel, dear,” she mimicked.

  “Let’s go see what he wants.” I turned to Marsha. “Wait here. We’ll be right back.”

  As Jacki and I approached, Dathan stepped toward one of the attorney conference rooms. He held the door open as we entered, closed the door behind him, and turned to us.

  “What is it, Myron?” I said.

  “I believe Mr. Blatz will rest his case after we return to court, assuming—” and here he chuckled “—that his client doesn’t fire him during the lunch recess.”

  “He has one more witness on his list,” I said. “Shannon McCarthy, Adam’s sister.”

  “He will not be calling her, Rachel.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Call it a wild guess.” Another chuckle. “Let us assume that I am correct and that Blatz does indeed rest his case after lunch.”

  “Okay.”

  “I would like you to call Norma Cross to the witness stand,” Dathan said.

  I frowned. “Why?”

  “If you didn’t already plan to call her, I am certain that you can dream up a valid reason to ask a few questions. After all, she is the head of her law firm—indeed, its sole proprietor, and you have sued that firm for malpractice.”

  “And proven my claim, too. Again, Myron…why?”

  He smiled. “I have a few questions for the lady, and since my client is not an actual party to this lawsuit, I need a pretext to examine her.”

  “So I’m the pretext?”

  “In a way, yes. But you’ll be quite pleased with the result.”

  “And again, Myron, why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want Norma on the stand? What do you want to ask her?”

  “I can’t answer that, Rachel. Attorney-client privilege. But you will be pleased with the results. I promise that my questions will in no way harm your claim, and in all likelihood her answers will strengthen your client’s position.” He raised his right hand. “I swear to you on Hashem that this will be so.”

  Hashem is the term Orthodox Jews use for God.

  “What makes you think Judge Ballsack will let you ask her any questions?”

  He smiled. “Irving feels confident regarding that issue.” He chuckled. “Quite confident.”

  I shrugged. “I suppose I have a few questions for her.”

  “Excellent.”

  Jacki stepped forward. “That promise of yours, Myron? The one we’re relying on?”

  Dathan looked up at Jacki, who towered over him. “Yes, Miss Brand?”

  “The one you pledged on that Hash thing.”

  “Hashem.”

  “You better not break that promise.”

  Dathan scratched his goatee. “I don’t plan to.”

  “Because if you do break it, Myron, you will regret it.”

  Dathan raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

  “Oh, yes.” Jacki leaned forward. “I will personally make you regret it.”

  “And exactly how would you propose to do that?”

  “For starters, I will shove your head so far up your ass that when you fart your lips will quiver.”

  Dathan forced a smile. “That would be quite an anatomical accomplishment, Miss Brand. But until then, young lady, to quote my Bobba Eva, Vaksn zolstu vi a tsibele mitn kop in dr’erd.”

  And he turned, opened the door, and left.

  I looked up at Jacki. “Lips will quiver, eh? Benny would be proud.”

  “What an arrogant dick. And what was that gibberish he said at the end?”

  “An old Yiddish curse. My grandmother used to say it.”

  “What’s it mean?”

  “May you grow like an onion with your head in the ground.”

  Jacki repeated it to herself silently. She smiled. “Not bad.”

  “Let’s go get Marsha,” I said. “We can fill her in over lunch
.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  Dathan was right. Larry Blatz rested his case after the lunch recess.

  Judge Ballsack turned first to Tom Sterling. “Anything further, Counsel?”

  Sterling stepped to the podium. “Nothing further, Your Honor. Plaintiff rests.”

  Ballsack turned to me. “Ms. Gold?”

  “We have one rebuttal witness, Your Honor.” I stepped to the podium. “Defendant calls to the stand Norma Cross.”

  Norma turned to Blatz, puzzled. He shrugged. She stood, adjusted her skirt, walked around counsel’s table, and gave me an icy stare before she stepped toward the witness stand.

  As the courtroom clerk began administering the oath, I turned again toward the courtroom gallery, trying to make sense of the four new faces there. Three I recognized, one I didn’t. The latter was a middle-aged woman in a cream-colored blouse and navy pantsuit seated on the right side of the center aisle in the third row from the front. She’d been reading something on her iPhone when I walked past her toward the front of the courtroom.

  Of the three that I did recognize, they were, in increasing order of surprise, Duncan O’Malley, Shannon McCarthy, and Detective Mario “Mouse” Aloni.

  “…you do solemnly swear…”

  Duncan O’Malley, seated in the second row, was the longtime courthouse reporter for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Perhaps it had been a slow news day in the courts—or perhaps someone had told him that the legendary Irving Sliman had been on the witness stand that morning and O’Malley was hoping to catch some Sliman testimony this afternoon.

  “…that the testimony you are about to give in this matter…”

  Shannon McCarthy, Adam Fox’s sister, was seated in the fifth row along the right side. Perhaps Blatz had failed to let her know in advance that he wasn’t going to call her as a witness, and, after finding out, she’d decided to stick around as a spectator.

  “…shall be the truth, the whole truth…”

  Detective Aloni was seated on the far left side of the back row. All I could think was maybe a prosecutor had called him to court on an unrelated matter that would be heard before our trial resumed—perhaps an emergency request for a search warrant. Such matters typically were heard right after lunch recess. Perhaps the prosecutor was running late.