The Dead Hand
Page 20
“What about the rest?” my mother said. “I thought the judge awarded more than five million dollars?”
“He did. The law firm is a sole proprietorship. That means Norma is personally on the hook for the rest.”
“But will she pay it?” my mother asked.
“Good question.” I smiled. “We’ve turned the answer to that question over to Sonny Sardino.”
Benny laughed. “Fucking aye! I love it.”
“Who is Sonny Sardino?” Abe asked.
“Norma Cross’ worst nightmare,” Benny said. “Sardino is the debt collector from hell. He’s known around town as Sonny the Shark.”
Samuel “Sonny” Sardino, Jr., now in his fifties, had started off as a smalltime collection lawyer for one of his uncles, a used car dealer in North County. Brilliant, savvy, and relentless, his reputation grew, as did the quantity and quality of his clients. He now represents national banks, art dealers, high-end jewelers, plaintiff’s personal injury lawyers, and others chasing wealthy deadbeats.
“Sonny seemed particularly eager to take on this case,” I said.
“Really?” my mother asked.
I smiled. “Guess who represented his former wife in their divorce case?”
“Beautiful,” Benny said. “At least there’s some justice in this world. When he gets done with Norma, she’ll wish she’d been indicted.”
We finished dinner. Abe and Benny put the dishes in the dishwasher while I boiled water for tea. When we returned to the table, my mother had given each of us a large slice of chocolate babka.
“Mom,” I said, pointing at my dessert plate, “this is humongous. No one can eat this much.”
“No one?” My mother turned to Benny. “Nu?”
“Looks just about the right size to me.”
“That’s because you could eat the entire cake,” I said.
“And your point is?”
I poured each of us a cup of tea and took a seat.
“By the way,” I said, “guess who wants to see Cyndi Mulligan and her daughter, Carson?”
“Let me think,” Benny said. He took a forkful of the babka and washed it down with some tea. “Rush Limbaugh?”
“I’m serious, Benny.”
“I give up. Who, pray tell, wants to see Cyndi and little Carson?”
“The biological father.”
“The Grim Reaper, eh?” Benny said.
“That horrible son who sued her?” My mother shook her head in disgust. “Trinkn zoln im piavkes.”
Benny chuckled. “That sounds like a doozy, Sarah.”
Abe smiled. “It is a good one.”
Benny turned to Abe. “You speak Yiddish?”
“My grandmother did. She lived with us.”
“So tell us what the sweet and gentle Sarah Gold has wished upon Bert Grimsley.”
“That leeches should suck him dry.”
“Absolutely,” my mother said. “The sooner the better. Okay, who needs more babka?”
Benny raised hand. “Me.”
“What did your client say?” Abe asked. “Is she going to let him see his daughter?”
“Not yet. Grimsley called her last week to apologize for everything. He asked permission to come visit.”
“And?” Benny said.
“She told him no. Told him it was too soon.”
“What do you think?” Abe said. “Should she?”
I leaned back in my chair and frowned. “I don’t know. He’s a total creep. Total. But he is Carson’s father. And thanks to his own father, he’ll never be able to have a kid of his own.”
Benny took a sip of tea and shook his head. “Old Bert was one first-class prick. That bloodline trust scheme was brutal. Like throwing down a challenge to his son, who picked it up and walked right into a buzz saw. Even worse, the old bastard stole his own son’s sperm in the process. All of it.”
“I feel bad for Cyndi,” I said. “Her own husband used her to get revenge on his son.”
“Nothing’s black and white,” Abe said. “Your client wanted to have her husband’s baby. Once he died, the closest she was ever going to get to that baby was through his son’s sperm. She didn’t know it back then, of course, but look how it turned out. She has a healthy daughter in the same bloodline as her husband. At least twenty-five percent of that little girl’s genes are from her husband.”
“And,” Benny added, “that little girl is going to be set for life.”
I shrugged. “I suppose.”
I took a sip of tea.
I shook my head.
“What?” Benny asked.
“D.F.W.B.”
He nodded. “Fucking zombies.”
To which my mother added, “Some more babka, Benny?”
“How can I say no to you, Sarah?”
I looked across the table at Abe, gestured toward Benny, and rolled my eyes.
Abe smiled, reached across the table, and took my hand in his. I gave it a squeeze.
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