The Winners' Circle

by Gail Bowen

  “And yet Dee overturned her own ruling. That’s not like her,” Zack said. He looked again across the room. Darryl Colby and Emmett still appeared to be going head to head. “I wish I knew what those two were talking about,” he said.

  “Do you really wish you knew?” I said.

  Zack’s laugh was short. “No. Whatever it is, it will wait. My old mentor Fred L. Harney always said, ‘Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you.’ Of course, trouble often troubled Fred L., but it’s still good advice.”

  —

  Before she introduced the first speaker, Patsy Choi gave a graceful, brief welcome to the guests. After thanking everyone for coming, she touched upon the role Chris Altieri had played in her own life, saying that at a time when she believed there was nothing good ahead, Chris had worked tirelessly to get her justice and to give her a future. She explained that the mandate of the Christopher Altieri Foundation was to give young people like her a second chance. Tonight’s speakers would, she said, show how the experience of rebuilding his own life had given Zack the determination and the skills to help others rehabilitate themselves. Patsy turned so she was focused on Zack. “I should tell you that when the news that you were being honoured tonight spread, my phone never stopped ringing. Many people are grateful to you, Zack, and tonight’s presenters will be speaking on behalf of others as well as themselves.”

  The first to come to the podium was Debbie Haczkewicz, Regina’s chief of police, and as she adjusted the microphone, handsome in her off-white trouser suit, Debbie was clearly relishing the chance to talk about Zack. She began by saying that, like the orca and the great white shark, police officers and trial lawyers are natural enemies, and that until her teenaged son, Leo, was in a life-threatening motorcycle accident, the relationship between Zack and her had been one of mutual distrust. When the doctors told Leo he would never walk again, he was determined to die. He lashed out at everyone who offered to help him. Finally, exhausted and desperate, Debbie asked Zack to intervene.

  Debbie didn’t sugarcoat her account of the battle that raged between Zack in his wheelchair and her newly paraplegic son. Leo attacked Zack verbally, and when that didn’t work he used his fists and, in a moment of inspiration, detached his catheter and aimed the hose at Zack. Every day for a month, Zack showed up and Leo went into full battle mode. Finally, beaten down, Leo began to listen.

  He agreed to attend rehab, and when he was ready to handle life in a wheelchair he enrolled at the university, majoring in English with a specialization in teaching English as a second language. When he graduated, he went to Japan to teach, and met and married Myoshi, a faculty colleague. Leo and Myoshi now had a little boy named Nikko and were expecting their second child at the end of December.

  Debbie’s concluding sentence made my husband grin. “Zack will always be a great white shark and I will always be an orca, but we’ve learned to cherish the times when we’re able to swim side by side.”

  The story ended happily, but I knew there would be no happy ending for the next speaker. Morgan Dafoe was twenty-seven and completing his residency in pediatrics. Slightly built and fine-featured, Morgan seemed boyish at first glance. But guilt freighted him down, and his young face was knifed with sorrow.

  When Morgan was fourteen, one of the guests at a weekend party at his family’s cottage decided it would be amusing to get him drunk. Morgan was young and he was willing. After he and the woman had consumed most of a bottle of tequila, she asked him to drive her around the lake in the family’s speedboat. He obliged. When he attempted to bring the boat to shore, he ploughed into the dock and killed two children who’d been watching. It had been thirteen years since the nightmare, but Morgan’s voice broke as he explained how Zack had talked him out of suicide by telling him that we are all better than the worst thing we do and that we must all live larger than the pain we cause or the pain we’re suffering.

  There were four other speakers. All told stories about lives interrupted by tragedies but resumed because Zack had intervened. Each speech had been brief but emotional, and as Margot and Brock strode towards the microphone to introduce Zack, the mood in the room lightened noticeably. Margot and Brock had opted to introduce Zack together, in part to speed the evening along, but largely because, as impressive as each was individually, together they were riveting.

  Brock was a big man who knew how to wear a tuxedo. Red was a great colour for Margot, and that night in a shoulder-baring pomegranate satin dress she was a knockout. Brock adjusted the mic; she smiled her thanks and then spoke directly to Zack. “Before you start polishing your halo, I’m going to give everyone a peek into your less saintly side.” Margot’s expression was puckish. “Just a peek,” she said. “There isn’t world enough and time to tell all.” She pivoted to address the audience. “Zack and I have always locked horns. Since female members of the deer-elk-moose family don’t have antlers, I use strap-ons.”

  The audience took a few seconds to react, but when it came, the laughter Margot’s ribald comment evoked was full-throated. After the room quieted, she continued. “Once, after we had a real knock-down-drag-out in court, I marched into Zack’s tastefully appointed office, dumped a box of tacks onto his hardwood, told him I hoped the tacks would shred the tires on his wheelchair, and stormed out. The next morning a courier delivered three-dozen American Beauty roses to my office with an invoice for the course in anger management that Mr. Charm had enrolled me in. I passed,” she said wryly. “Top of my class.” The laughter that rang through the room after Margot’s anecdote was tonic.

  When the laughter died down, Brock began. He focused on how, from the inception of the Racette-Hunter Community Centre, Zack had insisted that the centre determine and meet the needs of those seeking a second chance. Brock ran through the statistics of the number of students who, having completed courses that prepared them for employment, had found jobs and continued to be employed. The figures were not overwhelmingly positive, but Brock pointed out that behind each number was a life that was no longer being wasted and a citizen who had become a contributing community member.

  Margot talked about Zack’s extensive legal work on behalf of young offenders. She said that lawyers at Zack’s level usually steered clear of pro bono projects, regarding them as a training ground for novice litigators, but that Zack understood the full meaning of the phrase pro bono publico. He believed that young clients facing a court appearance are at a crossroads. With guidance, they can turn their lives around and, when that occurs, a lawyer’s work has truly been done for the public good. Margot pointed to the number of what she characterized as “meaningful talks” Zack had in his office with at-risk youth. She noted that Zack’s billable rate was as high or higher than that of any lawyer in Western Canada but that when Zack was talking to a troubled adolescent, he was never on the clock.

  Margot ended her speech on a personal note. “This afternoon I talked to my stepson, Declan Hunter. He asked me to send him a copy of my remarks for tonight. Having read them, he insisted that I include one more case where Zack made the difference.

  “Declan himself was one of the youths that Zack helped to put his life back on track. On Declan’s sixteenth birthday, Zack took Declan to The Broken Rack to shoot pool and talk about his future – a future that, in Zack’s opinion, almost certainly would include jail time. Their talk that night was the first of many. Somewhere along the way, Declan got the message. He stopped indulging in risky behaviours. He buckled down at school, and he had the good sense to become friends with Zack and Joanne’s daughter Taylor. Today, Declan’s in his second year at the University of Toronto. He’s a great support to me and a terrific stepbrother to my son and daughter, and he and Taylor are a romance.” Margot twinkled at Zack. “Just think – we could be looking at a lifetime of family dinners together.” Zack harrumphed, but he was clearly pleased.

  I wrote all of Zack’s political speeches and most of his policy speeches. That night, he spoke off the cuff. I’d forgotten how s
killed he was at winging it, and it was a pleasure to sit back, relax, and watch him in action. His reminiscences of Chris were tender but on point. A client had given Chris a framed motto that said, in Hebrew and English, “In places where there are no good people, be a good person.” Zack told the audience that Chris had been Falconer Shreve’s good person, and he had made everyone at the firm better by his presence. The Christopher Altieri Foundation now made it possible for Chris’s goodness to change the lives of people he would never meet. It was a wrap-up line and I leaned forward, prepared to join in the applause, but Zack wasn’t finished.

  When he continued, his voice was low and intimate. “Since Chris died, his friends have struggled with the question of what we could have done to wrest him from the depression that led him to take his own life.” He paused. “None of us has come up with an answer. Margot Hunter’s late husband, Leland, used to say there can be no phoenix without the ashes.

  “I don’t have to look far to see that a new life started for me on the day Chris died. I met the woman who would become my wife, and a life more fulfilling than anything I could have asked for or imagined began for me.”

  Zack was a loving husband who made me feel cherished in a hundred different ways, but a public expression of affection was unlike him, and, surprised and touched by his words, I found myself blushing.

  Pleased at my obvious pleasure, Zack gave me a quick smile and carried on. “There are times when we’re all faced with the ashes of what we’d hoped for. People will tell you to be grateful for what you have left, but when all you can see is ashes, gratitude isn’t an emotion that comes easily. So I’m not saying be grateful. I’m just saying, ‘Don’t walk away. Wait. See what happens next.’ ”

  —

  The stream of guests coming over to our table to congratulate Zack after his speech was steady, and our dinner companions drifted off to make room for the newcomers and do their own visiting. When the last well-wisher left, Zack turned to me. “Time to say our farewells and pack it in?”

  “Yes, but it was a nice evening, wasn’t it?”

  Zack brushed my shoulder with his lips. “The evening’s still young.”

  “I’ve wanted us to be alone together since you said how much our marriage meant to you.” I touched his cheek. “I’ll find our driver.”

  “I’m guessing Angus will be where Patsy is,” Zack said.

  “And Patsy will be overseeing the lines of people signing cheques in the Portrait Gallery,” I said.

  We started towards the Portrait Gallery but detoured when we saw that Delia, Noah, Margot, and Brock were still sitting at their table and that the Webers had stopped by to visit.

  Margot stood and held out her arms when she saw Zack. “Hey, it’s the man of the hour,” she said. “Great speech, but what was that last part about? Have you been watching Oprah reruns again?”

  “No. That was a pre-emptive strike. Before the speeches started, I ran into Emmett Keating in the men’s room. I said, ‘How’s it going?’ and he told me to go fuck myself. I didn’t have a clue what was going on, but when I spotted Keating in the audience, the story of the phoenix and the ashes came to mind and I thought I’d give it a shot.” Zack wheeled closer to Delia. “You’re going to have to help me out here. After I got your text reversing your veto, I assumed the situation was in hand. So what changed, Dee?”

  Delia shook her head. Her face registered genuine confusion, not an expression I had seen on her face in the years I’d known her. “I don’t know,” she said.

  Brock had stood when we joined them. He was positioned with a view of the tables to our right and something had captured his attention. “We may be about to find out,” he said. “Emmett Keating is coming our way.”

  I turned just as Emmett stopped, removed a disinfecting cloth from his seemingly inexhaustible store, and began cleaning his hands. When he finished he dropped the cloth on a nearby table and strode towards us. He homed in on Delia.

  “You lying bitch,” he said. “You broke our deal, and now I’m going to break you. All the firm’s dirty secrets will be revealed, and everyone will know the truth about the sainted Christopher Altieri and the rest of the partners at Falconer Shreve.”

  Delia had gone dead white. Noah was out of his chair. His eyes were blazing. He was a physically powerful man, and I knew he could do real damage to Keating. Brock obviously shared my concern. He was moving towards Noah when events took an unexpected turn. Annie Weber had been standing next to Keating. Her eyes were steely, and so were her biceps. In a quick, graceful move Annie took hold of Keating’s arms and pinned them behind his back. “Time to go,” she said with a voice that rang with the authority of a woman who, until she married, had managed a biker bar. Without a single unnecessary move, she frogmarched Emmett Keating across the room and through the door that led to the foyer.

  The rest of us were clearly shaken, but Warren was calm. “Annie will handle the situation,” he said, “but I’ll check the foyer to make certain there’s no unpleasantness. We’ll come back to say goodnight.”

  CHAPTER

  8

  Delia was shaking. Noah took off his jacket and draped it around his wife’s slender shoulders.

  “Okay,” Margot said. “Can anybody tell me what just happened?”

  Delia’s silence lasted so long that I wondered if she was in shock. Finally, ignoring Margot’s question, she looked straight at Zack. “After the list was circulated, Emmett came to me. He’d seen what I’d written beside his name and he was so angry he was barely coherent. He told me he had devastating information about Chris Altieri and unless he was promoted, he’d make what Chris did public and destroy Falconer Shreve.”

  Zack’s shoulders tensed visibly. “Did he say what the information was?”

  Delia’s lips barely moved as she uttered her reply. “No. But, Zack, we both know there are things that happened in the past that have to stay in the past.”

  “And that’s why you reversed your decision.”

  “Yes, and I thought the problem was solved,” Delia said.

  “It was,” I said. “Blake, Kevin, Tina, and I were talking to Emmett Keating before dinner. He told us you and he had settled his offer of an equity partnership to your mutual satisfaction.”

  “We had,” Delia said. “Something must have happened tonight during dinner.”

  Zack and I exchanged a look that was quick but intense enough to let me know we shared the same thought: Darryl Colby. He turned to the others. “We have to move quickly. I’ll text Blake and Kevin.”

  “I’m assuming that, as an equity partner, I’ll be included in the meeting,” Margot said, and her tone was icy.

  Zack leaned forward and splayed his hands on his knees. “You should have been included in this long ago,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry is not going to cut it,” she said. “You need to tell me what the hell is going on.”

  I looked around. Guests still in the dining room were watching our table with interest. “We need to get out of here,” I said.

  “Our condo is five minutes away,” Brock said. “Okay with you, Margot? We told the sitter we’d be home by now. I’ll take care of the kids. It’ll be easier for you to handle this privately.”

  Margot picked up her evening bag, shot Zack a poisonous glance, stood, and slid her arm through Brock’s. “Thanks,” she said. “It’s reassuring to know that there’s someone who’s looking out for me. Let’s get out of here.”

  Annie and Warren returned looking fresh as the proverbial daisies. “The doorman was going to call a taxi for Mr. Keating,” Warren said. “But someone from Falconer Shreve stepped in. He said he had his car here and if Mr. Keating was amenable he’d drive him home.”

  “And Mr. Keating was amenable?” Zack said.

  “According to the doorman, Mr. Keating was past caring, but he didn’t object. The doorman waited with them while the valet brought the Good Samaritan’s car around and they le
ft without incident.” Warren handed Zack a business card. “The Falconer Shreve employee left this for you, Zack, in case you had questions.”

  Zack glanced at the card and turned to Delia. “Lorne Callow,” he said. “I didn’t know he was here tonight. Anyway, I’ll call to thank him tomorrow morning.”

  In her husband’s tux jacket, Delia looked like a child playing dress up, but her voice was firm. “I’ll call Lorne. This is my mess.”

  Zack shook his head. “He left the card for me, Dee. I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get through tonight.”

  Delia stood. “I’ll meet you all at Margot’s.”

  Warren was quick to read the situation. “This is obviously Falconer Shreve business,” he said. “Zack, text our driver when your meeting is finished and he’ll drive you and Joanne home.”

  Zack turned his chair towards the Webers. “You’re a good friend, Warren. And thanks, Annie, for stepping in. I’ll call and let you know where matters stand before I leave for the airport tomorrow.”

  Blake was on his way home, and Kevin had just dropped Tina at her hotel when they received Zack’s texts. Both men agreed to meet us at the condo on Halifax Street. I found Angus, told him something had come up and that Warren’s driver was on call.

  When I explained the change in plans, my son gave me the thumbs-up sign. “Great. Patsy and I will go back to my place, have a beer, and see if the Blue Jays are still in the World Series.”

  “Zack checked the final score on his phone,” I said. “Do you want me to tell you?”

  Angus clapped his hands over his ears. “Patsy would kill me. We’ve watched all the games together and I PVRed this one for us.”

  “Sounds like you two are having a lot of fun.”

  “We are, and it just keeps getting better and better. We’re both really happy about the way things are going.”

  I felt a frisson of unease. Patsy idolized Chris Altieri. If she learned he had feet of clay it would be a blow to her. Angus waited for my reaction and when none came, he frowned. “I thought you’d be pleased, Mum.”