“I don’t have a legal pad. I wasn’t planning on coming to the jail to talk to you until later. Who did you live with after your father died?”
“My stepmother, mostly.”
“What’s her name?”
Jessie started to answer then stopped. “I’m not going to tell you.”
“Were you staying with her before you ran away?”
Jessie shook her head. I was close to getting valuable information she didn’t want to give up.
“Where did you go to school? It would have records showing how old you are. I could contact the school officials without letting your stepmother know about it.”
“I wasn’t going to school. I graduated last year, right before I turned eighteen.”
“How could that be true if your birthday is December 22?”
“Uh, I got out in the middle of the year because I’d gone to summer school.”
I sighed. Jessie Whitewater was able to think on her feet better than some of my law school classmates.
“Okay, remember what I said about juvenile court,” I said, closing my file. “It will be a lot easier on you later in life if you don’t have a criminal record. Juvenile court proceedings are sealed to the public, and no one would ever know you got into trouble. If there are more felony charges filed against you as an adult, it will get a lot more complicated.”
I waited. I could see Jessie trying to decide whether to say anything else.
“If you stop being my lawyer, would the things I told you still be confidential?” she asked.
“Absolutely. Why?”
“I just wanted to make sure.”
I watched as Jessie Whitewater followed the guard through the door. The most important information I’d obtained was that the young woman harbored a great fear—one so terrifying that remaining hidden was her highest priority.
WHEN I ARRIVED BACK AT THE OFFICE, MAGGIE AND JULIE HAD returned and were in Shannon’s office. The secretary had a tissue in her hand. When she saw me, she turned her head away.
“Tami, you won’t believe what—,” Julie started.
“In my office,” Maggie interrupted, motioning to Julie and me.
Mystified, I followed the other two women. Maggie closed the door. Julie and I stood in the open space in front of Maggie’s desk.
“Your minister friend made another visit,” Maggie said. “What you saw out there was the fallout.”
I licked my lips.
“She wanted to see you,” Julie added. “Claims you came by her house a couple of hours ago. I checked the open files and didn’t find her name. Are you secretly representing her?”
“No, it has to do with a case Judge Cannon assigned me this morning. Sister Dabney asked him to give it to me, and I wanted to find out what she knew before beginning my investigation. She wasn’t home so I went to the jail and talked to the client first.”
“You can fill us in on that later,” Maggie said. “Whatever Dabney’s reason for coming here, she used it as another opportunity to intimidate Shannon.”
“What did she say to her?”
Julie spoke. “That if she doesn’t give her husband a second chance, he’ll marry someone else, and Shannon will regret it for the rest of her life. It may be true, but I can’t believe she had the nerve to say that to her.”
“Truth or not, tell Dabney to stop coming to the office,” Maggie said to me. “I’m not blaming you for her conduct, but if you want to meet with her, it will have to be someplace else. I’m not going to allow Shannon to be harassed by a client. We banned several people a year from coming to the district attorney’s office. I didn’t expect it to be a problem for us, but since it is, I’m taking action.”
“I agree,” Julie added with a wink in my direction. “It’s bad enough having Tami trying to cram her brand of religion down my throat. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to swallow a dose from Reverend Dabney.”
“Enough,” Maggie said, obviously not in a joking mood. “Tami, will you take care of it?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Maggie motioned for me to sit down. “Now tell me about the case Judge Cannon gave you.”
Julie left, and I told Maggie about the meeting with the judge and the interview with Jessie at the jail.
“I spent six months handling juvenile court cases when I first started working at the DA’s office,” Maggie said when I finished. “The client would get a slap on the wrist with a few months’ probation. It makes no sense to keep the case in superior court, especially if there are other charges floating around out there.”
“What should I do next?”
“File the standard motions in the superior court case and talk to Dabney. You have two reasons to meet with her. Do you know who has the file at the DA’s office?”
“No.”
“Find out. If it’s Tim Corwin, I can definitely help you out.”
I returned to my office, thankful that I had Maggie as a resource in the Whitewater case. To that extent, Sister Dabney’s word that I would benefit from working with two women was true. However, Maggie’s decision banning Sister Dabney from the office was also understandable, even if I personally believed Shannon should heed the woman preacher’s warning. Toward the end of the day Julie knocked on my door frame.
“Well?” she asked.
“If it’s about Zach and Vince, I haven’t had time to think about it. It’s been a busy day.”
“I thought about it,” she replied, “all the way back to Savannah from my hearing in Brunswick. If you don’t pick Zach, he’s going to marry someone else and you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”
My mouth dropped slightly open. Julie smiled and nodded her head.
“I wanted to see what it felt like to be Reverend Dabney. It’s quite a power trip. How did it feel on your end?”
“Scary.”
“Remember that when you talk to her. However, I really did think a lot about you, Zach, and Vinny. Maybe it’s not the best time for you to ramp up a romantic relationship with either one of them.” Julie held up two fingers. “In the past month you’ve left your home in Powell Station and moved to Savannah to start a new job. That’s a lot of new territory, especially for someone like you.”
“But what if Zach did meet someone else—”
“I’d take a bet at 1,000 to 1 on that,” Julie interrupted. “If he wants a girl like you, it’s going to take him years to find another one. Zach’s standards are your best safety net.”
“But I’ve got to say something to him. This morning you told me I needed to go to Zach and repent.”
“Repent of that singleness nonsense. Anyone can look at you and see motherhood written across your forehead.”
“Huh?”
“Hear me out. I know about these things. In relationships women want feedback. Men benefit from space. The more you think about Zach, the more stressed you’ll get. The more he thinks about you, the more he’ll miss you. Vinny is a little bit fuzzier to me. He’s not shown his hand, but the same holds true for him. For a man, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Trust me. I’m right about this.”
Julie left me confused. When I walked to Shannon’s office and handed her the information needed to open the Jessie Whitewater file, I assured her that I would talk to Sister Dabney.
“Will that stop her?” Shannon asked.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But in the past she’s recognized the point when a person doesn’t want her input and backed away.”
“In those situations was she right?”
“Do you really want to know?” I asked.
Shannon paused. “No, I guess I don’t.”
THE FOLLOWING MORNING I TRIED AGAIN, WITHOUT SUCCESS, TO contact Sister Dabney, then worked on some other matters. A couple of hours later, Shannon buzzed me.
“Judge Cannon on line one.”
I rushed to Shannon’s desk, retrieved the Whitewater file, and made it back to my chair in a matter of seconds.<
br />
“Yes, sir,” I said, somewhat breathlessly.
“Your defendant doesn’t write like a high school sophomore,” the judge said. “Did you help her compose this letter she sent me?”
“What letter?”
“I received a letter this morning in a packet from the jail. Ms. Whitewater demands I appoint someone else to represent her.”
“Did she give a reason?” I asked in surprise. “I met with her the first time yesterday afternoon.”
“It’s similar to a pro se habeas corpus motion alleging ineffective assistance of counsel,” the judge grunted. “Usually, the defendant waits until the lawyer loses the case to claim incompetence. Whitewater can’t wait to get rid of you—claims you’re biased against her because of religious reasons and can’t competently represent her. Can you help me understand what she’s talking about?”
“I’d be guessing.”
“Go ahead.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s probably related to Sister Dabney, who, as you’ve observed, is a woman with strong religious convictions. Ms. Whitewater may see me as an extension of that effort.”
“A little religion is good for anyone.”
“Yes, sir. More is even better.”
“Unless it compromises the integrity of your duty as a lawyer to your client,” the judge replied. “Would your religious beliefs prevent you from providing competent representation to this client?”
I hesitated. Saying yes would be an easy way to get out of the case. I held a quick internal debate.
“No, sir, unless she asks me to do something unethical.”
“The rules of professional responsibility will guide you in that event. Ms. Smith has experience in criminal law cases. Consult with her; that’s one of the benefits of a firm.”
“I already have.”
“Good. One other thing, the defendant claims she has an uncle who is a retired lawyer in Birmingham. Did she mention that to you?”
“No, we talked about an aunt in Savannah, but she said she couldn’t remember where she lives. The defendant has an active imagination, which makes me wonder—”
“Counselor, don’t breach the attorney-client privilege.”
“Yes, sir.” I swallowed.
“Ms. Fletchall checked the active roster of attorneys with the Alabama State Bar and couldn’t find him. Of course, if he’s inactive it would be harder to track him down. The defendant insists I contact him about the case, but I’m going to leave that up to you.”
“Yes, sir. How are you going to answer her letter?”
“I’ll treat it as a motion to remove you as her attorney, issue a onesentence order denying the request, and send it over to the jail. Tell your client she’d better cooperate with you if she wants the benefit of a lawyer in her case.”
I flipped over to a page of notes I’d made after meeting with Jessie.
“Your Honor, since I have you on the phone, there are a couple of things I didn’t get to bring up in chambers yesterday—”
“Follow proper channels, Ms. Taylor. I don’t like ex parte communication with attorneys on active files, but the defendant’s letter raised an unusual issue.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hung up the phone. Judge Cannon’s idea of teaching a young lawyer to swim was simple—throw her in the water and watch her flail about without a word of guidance from the shore.
13
JULIE CAME INTO MY OFFICE SHORTLY BEFORE NOON.
“Do you want to grab lunch?” she asked.
“Only if we can go to Gillespie Street. I’m still trying to locate Sister Dabney.”
“I didn’t sign up for that field trip. And I have a good reason you should reconsider. I’m on my way to pick up Vinny and thought you would want to be included.”
“You invited Vince to lunch?”
“No, he called me. I can pretend he enjoys my company, but he always uses these times to pump me for information about you.”
“What would he want to know?”
Julie rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he knows about your conversation with Zach, and Vinny wants to know whether or not he’s in the running for the Tammy Lynn Taylor Sweepstakes.”
“You think Zach told him about that?”
“Zach said he and Vinny are best buddies, didn’t he? Dumping the decision into your lap is their way of avoiding having to settle the matter in a fistfight.”
“But Vince called you. He didn’t invite me to lunch.”
“Trust Dr. Julie. If I show up with you hiding behind me, Vinny isn’t going to run screaming out of the restaurant. I think you need to get a current vibe from Zach’s competition while I’m there to chaperone.”
I hesitated.
“You can get with Dabney later,” Julie continued. “She’ll know when you’re coming and be sitting on her front porch in that green rocking chair.”
“It’s blue. I don’t think she has a green one. The one at the church is purple and there is a yellow one and a red one in her living room.”
“Which is weirder than I thought.” Julie checked her watch. “Are you coming to lunch or not? The only way you can defend your maiden honor is in person. If you’re not there, I’m prepared to tell Vinny anything I want.”
“Okay.” I leaned over and picked up my purse. “Judge Cannon should have appointed you to represent the young woman accused of burglary. You both have overactive imaginations.”
“Burglary? What did she break into?”
“Bacon’s Bargains and stole a bag of donuts. Remember when you abandoned me there because you were afraid to get out of the car?”
“Oh, yeah,” Julie answered, making her eyes big. “I would have wanted to break out of there, not break in.”
On the way to lunch, Julie mapped out an entire conversation with Vince.
“You can’t predict what people are going to say,” I protested. “It doesn’t work with witnesses; it won’t work with Vince.”
“How did you get to be such an authority on witness psychology? Have you been secretly taking depositions?”
“No.”
“Then leave Vinny up to me. The purpose of lunch is to put you in close proximity to him and find out if he makes your blood boil with passion.”
“No one has ever made my blood boil with passion.”
“Then I’ll settle for a slight tingle in the uppermost layer of skin.” I thought of the few times I’d felt tingly around Zach. Julie, who was driving, glanced sideways.
“That’s familiar territory, isn’t it?”
“Not familiar, but I’ve been there.”
Julie took both hands off the steering wheel and clapped.
“At last, scientific evidence that you’re not a department store mannequin.”
WE DROVE TO THE RIVER DISTRICT TO MEET VINCE AT A DELI THAT was one of his favorite lunch spots. It was a short walk to the restaurant across uneven cobblestones that had originally served as ballast for sailing ships coming to the new world. I felt more and more nervous as we drew closer. Vince was waiting for us inside the front door of the deli.
“I brought along a street person who hasn’t eaten a good Reuben sandwich in weeks,” Julie said as soon as we entered. “I hope it’s okay with you.”
“That’s fine,” Vince replied a bit awkwardly.
We ordered our sandwiches and drinks at a counter where the meats were displayed then joined him. Julie sat down first and maneuvered her chair so that I would have to be closer to Vince.
“How’s life at the old law firm?” Julie asked.
Vince, who was wearing a nice blue suit, white shirt, and yellow tie, furrowed his brow slightly.
“It’s different being an associate than a summer clerk. I worked hard for Mr. Braddock last summer, but now that I’m responsible for billable hours, the demands have gone way up. He doesn’t ask me if I have time to work on the project; he gives it to me and expects me to figure out a way to get it done.”
“It’s been the sam
e for Tami at our place,” Julie replied seriously. “I only allow her to use my first name when we’re in a social setting like this, but at the office she has to call me Ms. Feldman and bill at least nine hours a day.”
Vince looked at me and smiled. “I know you’re doing great.”
“Not completely,” Julie added.
“What do you mean?” Vince asked.
Before I could kick Julie under the table, she blurted out, “Judge Cannon appointed Tami to represent a defendant in a criminal case based on the recommendation of that crazy woman preacher we sued last summer.”
“Dabney?”
“The one and only,” Julie replied. “The only way I could keep Tami from skipping lunch to talk to Dabney about this new case was to tell her you would be here. It was touch-and-go, but you won out in the end.”
Vince picked up his sandwich to take a bite.
“I’m not competing with anyone.”
Julie cut her eyes toward me. I pretended that I’d found the perfect potato chip and closely inspected it before putting it in my mouth.
“When are we going to have another night out with the boys?” Julie asked, breaking the silence.
“Not for at least a week. Zach’s going to Washington, D.C., with Mr. Appleby. I’m on my way to Atlanta later today for a dinner meeting with an estate client.”
“By yourself ?” Julie asked.
“Yes. The client is a wealthy individual the firm has represented for years. He has children our age, and they’re going to be at the dinner. Mr. Braddock hopes the firm will continue to represent the family in the future and wants me to develop rapport with the next generation.”
“Wow,” Julie said with big eyes. “Tami and I are trying to convince the poorer cousins of the present generation to give our firm a try.”
“I saw Maggie’s ad in the paper,” Vince said. “How is that working?”
Julie leaned in. “Tacky, isn’t it? She didn’t ask my advice, which ticked me off, but the cases have been rolling in. People pay when they’re in danger of losing their driving privileges. It’s hard to believe, but every defendant charged with DUI only admits to drinking two beers. Some of them must have been barrel-size mugs.”
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