“I thought you were going to join me.”
“I know that’s what you want, Dad, but it wouldn’t work,” Ray said, keeping his eyes on the road.
Corbin was silent for a few moments. “Have you signed an employment contract with Simpkin?” he finally asked.
“No, we’re working out the details.”
“Then it’s not settled.” Corbin nodded. “Who do you think Steve has in mind to replace you?”
“My guess is a young lawyer from Pittman, Brett Dortch. You probably don’t know him; he’s only been out of school a year or two.”
“That’s not a smart political move for Steve. When reelection time rolls around, he’s going to need support from the whole district.” Corbin glanced at Ray. “Would you consider running against him? You could beat him.”
“No and no.”
“That would be way better than selling your soul to the Simpkin firm,” Corbin grunted. “I can’t believe you’d want to work for Darryl Simpkin. He’s always been such a pompous—”
“Stop it,” Ray cut in. “I’m taking you to the hospital. This isn’t going to turn into a debate about the merits of Simpkin, Brown, and Stamper.”
“Colonel Parker couldn’t stand him either,” Corbin continued, undeterred. “Before he hooked up with Carl Brown, Simpkin worked for a lawyer named Brookline who moved down here from Pennsylvania. A real sleazy character. We had several cases against him. I’ll never forget one case—”
Ray tuned out his father’s voice. He’d heard all these stories before. Despite years of alcohol abuse and his current state of intoxication, Corbin could still remember details of long-ago insults and slights. They neared the hospital.
“So you see that you really ought to join forces with me,” Corbin concluded. “I’m not giving up. The practice isn’t what it used to be, but the foundation is there, and with the trial experience you’ve gained at the DA’s office, we could turn it into something special. I’d be willing to cut back my draw to ease the transition—”
“Do you take a regular draw?” Ray interrupted. “I thought you were struggling to pay your overhead.”
“That was several months ago. I’ve gotten in some fees and plan on getting everything back on a sound footing.”
Ray pulled into a parking spot near the emergency room doors. He could hear the sound of an ambulance approaching.
“Let’s get your face stitched up before we talk any more about my future. Keep the pressure on that cut.”
Ray led the way across the parking lot as the ambulance, its lights flashing rapidly, approached.
“I wish I had some business cards to hand out,” Corbin said. “I could prove that all the people who’ve accused me of being an ambulance chaser are right.”
Ray managed a slight smile. “At least the blow to your head didn’t destroy your sense of humor.”
They reached the triage desk. Ray listened as his father answered the intake worker’s questions.
“When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?” the young woman asked as she typed in Corbin’s responses on a keyboard.
“Uh, more than five years.”
“And what medications are you taking?”
“I’m on pills for high cholesterol, blood pressure, and a problem I have with my stomach.”
“What kind of problem do you have with your stomach?” Ray asked. “I didn’t know anything about that.”
“Acid reflux. Nothing serious.”
The woman continued down a long litany. “Have you consumed any alcohol during the past twenty-four hours?”
“Twenty-four hours?” Corbin repeated.
Ray spoke up. “Would that include what he drank last night or just what he’s consumed since noon today?”
The woman’s eyes got big. “Uh, let’s stick to today.”
Corbin cut his eyes toward Ray before he answered. “I had a couple of drinks this afternoon. Like I told you, I slipped and fell while trying to bring in my boat.”
Ray wanted to elaborate on his father’s affinity for bootleg liquor and mention Billy’s presence on the fishing expedition. The ER was a place people came for emergencies, but the young woman at the computer wasn’t the right person to referee a family feud.
“We’ll get you back to an examination room as soon as possible,” the woman said. “Would you like a fresh piece of gauze to hold against the cut?”
Corbin lowered the white washcloth that was now mostly red. “Yeah, that would be nice.”
The woman left her station to fetch the gauze.
Corbin turned to Ray. “I know you’re upset about losing your job,” he said, “but it’s not right for you to hound me in front of that girl. It came across as petty.”
Ray didn’t respond. The woman returned with a rolled-up piece of gauze. The two men sat beside each other on beige vinyl chairs with an extra chair between them. Corbin pressed the gauze against his cheek and closed his eyes for a moment.
“I’m dizzy,” he said. “Maybe I’ve lost more blood than I thought.”
“Or drank too much ‘water’ from the mason jar.”
“It was mostly empty when I put it in the cooler,” Corbin replied. “I had Billy with me and wouldn’t drink more than a sip or two.”
“Is that how you want me to sell it to Cindy?” Ray responded tersely. “Honey, don’t be too hard on Dad. A sip or two of moonshine with his grandson in the boat is fine. And it doesn’t increase the risk of a car wreck during the drive home.”
“She needs to lighten up.”
“Really? Mom didn’t let me get in the truck with you if she knew you’d been drinking. Why would you expect us to do anything different?”
Corbin closed his eyes for a few seconds. His right eye was getting puffier and puffier.
“There’s nothing I like more than spending time with Billy,” Corbin said slowly. “And I’m worried you and Cindy are going to cut me off from him. I’ll do better. I promise.”
Ray sighed. His father didn’t know Cindy’s scissors had already come out of the drawer.
The young doctor who came in to stitch up Corbin’s face mentioned that he hoped to become a plastic surgeon.
“Then I’m glad you can practice on a cadaver like me,” Corbin said as the physician prepared to inject a numbing agent. After the shot, Corbin added, “I take all that back. I think you should be a veterinarian.”
Ray watched as the doctor carefully closed the wound. Regardless of the cause of the injury, Ray felt sorry for his father. The doctor finished and applied a bandage over the wound.
“Nice job,” Ray said to the physician. “When will the results of the blood test be available?”
“Within a couple of days.”
“Is it a full spectrum test?”
“Don’t answer that, Doc,” Corbin cut in. “My son doesn’t have a health care power of attorney, and I’m leaving all my estate to his sister.”
It was dark outside when Ray and Corbin left the ER.
“Do you want me to drive you home? Cindy and I could bring your truck to your house in the morning.”
“No, I’m better now that I have use of both hands.” Corbin pulled down the car’s sun visor and inspected himself in the tiny mirror. “I’d better come up with a better story than slipping in wet grass.”
They reached Ray and Cindy’s house.
“Let Billy know I’m going to find out what killed those fish at the headwaters of the pond,” Corbin said when he got out of the car. “I bet it has something to do with the pollution coming out of Colfax. That pond is part of the Cheola watershed, and I’m going to look over the file in the case you prosecuted against the company.”
“The whole case was shipped back to Atlanta per Judge Ellington’s final order. All that’s left is the accusation and the orders. Anyway, I doubt there’s a connection. It was a limited discharge on a field. There wasn’t any dumping directly into the water system.”
Corbin touched the bandage
beneath his eye. “Yeah, if you think that’s true, you won’t have any problem believing I got this cut brushing my teeth.”
Roxy and Peter left the MARTA station and ate supper at a small Mediterranean restaurant with an outdoor dining area. They both ordered salads and an aromatic soup made with pureed carrots and spices.
“This is what I needed to cleanse my soul.” Roxy sighed as she lowered the spoon from her lips.
They ate in silence for a few moments. Roxy’s phone, which was resting beside her plate, vibrated. Hoping it wasn’t Mr. Caldweller, she glanced down to read a text message.
“It’s from Ray,” she said, looking up from her phone. “My dad hit his head on his fishing boat and had to go to the hospital for stitches.”
She quickly sent a message asking about the severity of the cut, then waited for the reply.
“Ten stitches,” she said, then added, “Oh no.”
“What?” Peter asked. “Did he have a concussion?”
“It’s not him. Ray lost his job at the DA’s office.”
FIFTEEN
Corbin made it home, then leaned his head against the back glass of the truck for a few seconds. His cheek was throbbing as the local anesthetic wore off. Getting out of the truck, he unhooked the trailer and returned the boat to its place beside the carport. He ran his finger along the gunwale. The metal was smooth as when the boat left the factory. It was the sheer force of the blow that had opened the gash.
Inside the house he took the jar of moonshine from the cooler and vigorously shook what remained of the clear liquid. It had a good bead. He placed the jar on the kitchen counter and stared at it as if expecting the jar to speak. Instead he talked to it.
“If I have to choose between you and Billy,” he said, “there’s no contest.”
Unscrewing the metal top, he took a whiff of the slightly sweet-smelling liquor, then slowly emptied it into the sink. Moonshine was probably better for cleaning pipes than for pouring down his throat.
The following morning Corbin carefully removed the bandage. Not surprisingly, the whole right side of his face was swollen and discolored. After taking a shower and carefully shaving, he rummaged around his medicine cabinet for material to make a fresh bandage. He found an oversize adhesive bandage that fit nicely over the cut.
Because his face looked so rough, he spent extra time trying to make sure the rest of him was presentable. He even put on a newer tie without any food stains on it.
Roxy called as he was driving to work. “Ray told me what happened,” she said. “Are you staying home today?”
“No. I’m a lawyer, not a pro football player.”
“Does your head hurt?”
Corbin couldn’t deny he had a headache. “Yes, but . . .”
“It could be due to a hangover,” she said.
“I was banged up from hitting the boat, not the bottle.”
“I wish I could believe you.”
On the heels of his concern about losing access to Billy, Roxy’s words hurt more than they normally would.
“You’ll be glad to know I dumped my hooch down the drain when I got home from the hospital,” he said in an effort to impress her.
“You got rid of all your liquor?”
“Just the moonshine and I’m going to cut back on the other stuff.”
“I hope you’re serious. If not, it’s a cruel joke.”
Corbin stopped at a red light. Like Cindy, Roxy was as accusatory as a prosecuting attorney, but this morning Corbin wanted to hear her voice even if her words were harsh.
“Are you working on any interesting cases?” he asked.
“What?”
“I asked about your caseload.”
“Oh, I’m busy.”
She told him about Mr. Caldweller’s rare praise for her job performance. She was still talking when Corbin reached the office. He stayed seated in the truck to continue the conversation.
“That’s good,” Corbin lied.
In reality he shared Colonel Parker’s lifelong disdain for lawyers who represented huge, amoral companies. But Roxy was, after all, his daughter, and he wanted her to succeed.
“Thanks. While you were in the fishing boat with Billy, I was interviewing a shadow expert in Chicago, a chemist. We hired him to help us get a better handle on a big pharmaceutical patent case.”
“Shadow expert?” Corbin asked. “What’s that?”
As he listened to Roxy’s explanation, Corbin realized how out of touch he was with high-stakes litigation.
“Yes, he’s also an expert in pesticides and herbicides,” Roxy continued. “He grew up on a farm in Texas.”
Corbin sat up straighter in the seat of the truck. “Does he testify for plaintiffs or defendants?”
“Probably for whoever pays him. In our case we’re the plaintiff trying to protect a patent.”
“What about the one involving pesticides?”
“The defendant, I think. We didn’t go into detail about it.”
Corbin’s thoughts stayed with the chemist. “Last week Colfax pleaded guilty to a criminal charge of pollution.”
“You’re kidding,” Roxy said. “Colfax? Evidence of a guilty plea would expose them to all kinds of liability if there’s ancillary damage to a private party.”
Corbin took a deep breath. “Yeah, and someone contacted me about a claim.”
“What kind of claim?”
Corbin quickly laid out what he knew about the two boys with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He felt a surprising degree of nervous excitement as he talked.
“The mother of the older boy is the one I talked to the other day,” he finished. “Her son goes to school with Billy. Getting Branson Kilpatrick to meet with me about his grandson should be easy, and I could file the two cases together.”
“Who’s going to finance the litigation?” Roxy asked sharply. “The out-of-pocket costs could quickly reach six figures.”
Corbin swallowed. It was hard to accurately guess the litigation expenses, but his rough estimate had been much lower.
“I guess part of it would fall on me. Branson could probably pony up some money, but not at that level.”
“I think you should steer clear of it,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s way out of your league. This isn’t a fender bender in front of a grocery store with a client who has a sore neck and goes to her chiropractor.”
The excitement drained out of Corbin as quickly as air from a punctured balloon.
“Maybe you’re right,” he sighed. “Janelle said the same thing. I asked her to schedule an appointment for the mother of the older boy with Foxcroft and Bartlett in Gainesville.”
“That’s no good. Do you want me to locate a firm in Atlanta willing to meet with them? A lawsuit for a couple of kids with cancer has emotional appeal, but there won’t be a claim for lost wages. That’s what drives up the value in a way a jury can sink its teeth into. Future medical expenses won’t work because of the statutory insurance offset if there’s health coverage in place and the Medicaid lien deduction for the woman who’s on the verge of bankruptcy.”
Listening to Roxy break down the case so succinctly increased Corbin’s respect for her more than any compliments she’d received from her boss.
“Yeah, if it’s not too much trouble, send me a few recommendations.”
“Sure, I’ll research it this morning. Oh, and Dad . . . don’t pester Ray about coming to work for you. I know you don’t like Simpkin, Brown, and Stamper, but let Ray find his own way. He needs to come out of your shadow.”
“How’s he been in my shadow?” Corbin asked, startled.
“Come on, Dad. You got him the job at the DA’s office because you were drinking buddies with Jimbo Sanders. Who else was going to hire Ray after he failed the bar exam the first time?”
“Steve Nelson kept him when he took over from Jimbo.”
“Because Nelson barely knew the way to the courtroom himself. Even Ray is more qualified to try a case than he is. At
the Simpkin firm, Ray will get a chance to be trained by lawyers who’ve been successful by Alto’s standards for years. That’s what he needs to give his career a boost.”
“I’m at the office,” Corbin said, trying not to blow up at the blatant insult to his mentoring ability. “Gotta go.”
Still fuming, Corbin stormed into the office. Janelle was on the phone and looked up as he entered. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes bugged out when she saw him, and she quickly ended the call.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Roxy,” Corbin replied. “She really knows how to push my buttons.”
“Roxy hit you in the face?”
Corbin touched the bandage on his cheek. “No, no,” he said. “I slipped taking my little fishing boat out of the water yesterday afternoon and hit the gunwale. I went to the ER and left with ten stitches in my cheek. But I was just on the phone with Roxy, and something she said ticked me off.”
“Uh, okay.” Janelle nodded in a way that didn’t signal she completely understood.
Corbin pressed his lips together. “Did you set up an appointment for Millie Watson with Foxcroft and Bartlett yet?”
“Yes, I talked to Mr. Bartlett yesterday afternoon, and he seemed very interested. He told me the firm handled a case involving contaminated chicken feed with similar issues.”
“Chicken feed? How is that similar? We’re talking about people getting sick, not chickens.”
“I didn’t cross-examine him,” Janelle sniffed. “Anyway, her appointment is this morning. I called Ms. Watson, and she told me to tell you thanks again for meeting with her.”
“Whatever,” Corbin sputtered as he turned away and went into his office.
Ray and Cindy sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee after Billy left the house to catch the school bus.
“At least I don’t have to rush out and get ready for court,” Ray said as he took another sip.
“It’s really hard for me to see a bright side to this,” Cindy replied.
A House Divided Page 10