“I trust you’ll like this one,” Lucy cooed as she handed Larry his fourth martini of the long afternoon.
“Trust is bullshit,” Larry roared grabbing the stubby glass and hurling it toward a filled trashcan without even sampling the contents this time. “I’ll mix it myself and get it right, like in the old days.” Lucy moved quickly toward his chair to intercept him as he tried to stand, knowing he was in no shape to walk to the kitchen.
“Get out of my way!” he bellowed, his red and swollen eyes searching for something to focus on but not seeing anything clearly. Over the recent months, Martorano’s drinking had gone undeniably out of control, but Larry remained in stubborn denial and did nothing to acknowledge the problem or quit to help himself.
This time, he made it to a standing position and then struggled to move his feet forward. Neuropathy interfered with his gait and balance. Consumption of alcohol only compounded his problems. He stumbled, and Lucy reflexively moved to fill the breach, hoping to hold him upright till such time as he could adjust to the effects of his sudden change of position and recover his balance if not his senses. The tactic was unsuccessful. They both went down in a heap, but unfortunately for Lucy, a firm 110 pounds and in good physical condition, she found herself trapped under the full bulk of Larry’s comparatively massive 245 pounds of leaden weight.
They remained in this macabre unanimated motionless pseudo-wrestling position for some time with Larry’s foul breath, occasional farting, and belching punctuating the otherwise penetrating silence. Gradually the room darkened, and Lucy struggled unsuccessfully to free herself from the human mantrap that was crushing her like a fragile insect. She realized the fruitlessness of any efforts to free herself, much less get some help to try to put Larry to bed. She had never experienced such a terrifying but totally ridiculous episode in all her years of giving patient care. She did not panic and undertook to make the most of the situation, hoping that just possibly someone would happen along to give the much-needed assistance she required to be freed. It turned into a very long night instead.
Ultimately, after what seemed a lifetime plus half an eternity, Lucy heard Larry’s breathing pattern change. Early morning light began to filter into the room. Lucy guessed she might actually have slept some during this unbelievable episode, but couldn’t swear to it. Larry’s body twitched and showed its first signs of life, and he abruptly awoke.
“What? What? What’s going on?” he growled half in bewilderment, the other half in befuddlement.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” he mustered, with some suggestion of indignation.
His body seemed to involuntarily lurch to a new position, and Lucy instantly grabbed her ticket to freedom from her nocturnal prison. She scrambled to her feet and ran from the room as fast as she could.
“Hey, where’s my breakfast?” Larry bellowed, “and my Bloody Mary, too, goddammit!”
Lucy had no intention of answering any of his questions. She grabbed her belongings from her bedroom, literally threw them at an open overnight bag, and made straight for the door.
“Hey! Hey, are you going somewhere?” he shouted some more. But Lucy made her exit without comment. Indeed, what words might even begin to fit the occasion? She made absolutely no response to him. With all night to think about what she would do if and when she might be freed, she made straight for her automobile and drove downhill to the nearest public telephone. She called the resident deputy sheriff in Three Rivers to report this so-called incident as law enforcement chose to refer to it and then called Bill Martorano to give formal notice of her resignation, effective immediately. Lucy cashed her final check from the family and was never heard from again.
***
Years later, when Larry recounted this story to Marti, he became wistful.
“I have to confess that my unfortunate experience with Lucy triggered in me a sense of urgency to attempt recovery from abusive alcoholism,” Larry explained somewhat ponderously to Marti. “It was not the only reason, but I must say I have a very bad conscience over the episode, especially when I realize I have virtually no recollection of that event and many others that seem to fit the same pattern.
“I quit drinking, cold. No occasional off-the-wagon episodes since then, and I can’t say I miss it all that much. Over a year or so, my weight dropped about sixty pounds, and I can’t tell you how much better I feel since I quit. I don’t mean to get preachy on the subject, because what we call recovery is never a certainty. Lucy was very good to me, but I’m afraid I was not as grateful as she deserved. She was one of the last ladies working for me before you arrived a couple years ago.”
“Make that six years,” Marti corrected.
“I can’t believe it’s been that long. Are you certain?”
“Quite, but not in any negative way. I’ve loved every minute of my stay here,” Marti offered, with sincere affection in her voice. “You and your family have been so good to me. I feel like a member of the clan, although I know I’m just an employee. I mean, I can’t think of a better working and living situation for me, I really can’t.”
“God, I would hate to lose you, Marti. You’re not thinking of doing something else are you?”
“No, of course not. I love it here. Your family is great, and we all get along so well, it seems to me,” Marti continued. “It’d take a pretty big sharp stick to chase me away, that’s for certain!”
“That’s not going to happen, believe me. They all love your cooking too much. But more important, you have been very good to me, Marti. The entire family loves you, and you’ve handled the household affairs, too. I’m really a very lucky man, you know,” he said with sincerity, and Larry beamed his best old -codger grin at Marti. “Besides,” he continued, “I’ve been giving it some thought lately, and I’d like to make a suggestion. Are you interested?” he asked.
“Well, depending …” she hesitated just slightly, not trying particularly to give the appearance of being coy.
“Okay, here’s what I have on my mind. As I say, I’m a very lucky man. It’s easy to think that I’m responsible for my good fortune, but I’ve grown to know better. I’m also satisfied that I’ve done nothing special to deserve my wealth, and I’m not certain anymore that the wealth is mine, anyway. My kids are holding up their end very nicely, and my objective is to keep from becoming a burden on them, to the extent of my ability, but no guarantees naturally.
“You know, I lost my wonderful wife years ago. I never remarried, most likely because it just didn’t seem to be that important, any more. If I had a wife now, I suppose she’d have the burden of caring for me. I don’t have anyone, obviously, so that point doesn’t apply. But, I have … you,” Larry paused abruptly, looking away, and his eyes teared up and brimmed over. He could not continue the conversation for a moment.
Marti came closer to him, took his hand in hers, and began to stroke his wrist and lower forearm. No suggestion of any such thing as an amorous advance was involved. Each knew that all relationships at Larry’s age were unique. Marti also knew that Larry’s expression of feeling about her was heartfelt, and she did not attempt to misconstrue anything. What he was about to say to her came as a complete surprise nonetheless.
“Well, this is a good example,” Larry continued. “Here I am in my dotage. I could be like so many people at my age, you know, ignored and barely tolerated. But I’m not. The kids are at the ready to be considerate. They’re highly qualified and successful in caring for me. They even found you so that you could fill a big hole in my life.
“Anyway, I have a proposal, but don’t worry it’s not about marriage or anything crazy like that. I know you have your future to be concerned about, and unless I have this all confused, I’m thinking you’re working because you need the money, and you’re even more fortunate to be in a field you enjoy. Believe me, we all know what a great job you’re doing. The kids say so all the time, and I know it helps them so much.
“Here’s the idea, if you think you could com
mit to this, I’d like to offer you a deal. You work for me as my caregiver for the rest of my life, whatever that may be, and I’ll give you this house and a yearly allowance of, say, a hundred thousand dollars a year for the rest of yours.”
At first, Marti was not certain she heard what she thought she might have. Then she was speechless, largely since she had no idea of what to say. The idea was so big to her.
Larry picked up the slack.
“I’m sorry if I offended you, Marti. I had no intention of doing so, and I certainly have no basis for thinking that you might be interested in such a proposal. But if you are, and you can tell me one way or the other at your leisure, and I’ll get after my attorney to put some paperwork together.”
Still struggling with the mere introduction of the subject, Marti responded: “Oh, Mr. Martorano, I mean ‘Larry.’” He had corrected her on numerous occasions but remained still at this moment. “Please don’t misunderstand my response as in any way negative. I know I should jump at this opportunity, but I’m just not cut out for that kind of quick decision making. I’ll have to sleep on it, that is, if you don’t need an answer immediately. I have a lot to think about. You have been so good to me, I know I could stay here forever, but life is not really like that. Am I sounding stupid to you?”
“No, certainly not. If I were in your shoes, I’d be running for my life about this time, but then I probably know too much, certainly about myself at any rate. I mean if I had to commit to the lifetime care of an ornery old man like me, I’d surely like to think about what I was getting myself into. That’s not a problem for me personally, however, since I’m looking to keep you as long as possible,” he said with genuine sincerity, and he smiled as he added, “if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, Larry, please don’t sell yourself short. No matter, I’ll let you know by Friday, if that’s okay with you. I’d like a couple days to think it over and talk to a few of my friends. But in the meantime, please know that I am thankful beyond measure that you would make such a beautiful gesture,” and her eyes quickly ran over with tears as the enormity of Martorano’s offer began to sink into her consciousness.
“You go right ahead and pick any deadline you want, young lady! I’ve got all the time in the world, whatever that may be,” not immediately focusing on the melodramatic tone of his casual remark.
“Well, I’m off Wednesday, and I’ll let you know when I come back to the house, Okay?” she asked.
“Definitely,” he replied, and fixed her with one of his straight-in-the-eye looks, so as to emphasize the importance of the subject to himself.
Marti did lots of thinking about Larry’s offer of lifetime employment, and she understood his concerns. She had some issues of her own as she analyzed the opportunity. If she accepted, she would give up all discretion to choose other employment over the remainder of a lifetime, Larry’s in this instance. She was very happy with her present circumstances, but if he took to drink again, deplorable working conditions would return, yet she would be committed and could not simply leave the position, since she would be bound by her agreement. Presently, she was able to resign upon reasonable notice and leave the family to find another caregiver. What troubled her most was the binding obligation to stay with Larry even if his situation deteriorated drastically. Finally, she had friends and family who would be impacted, and she had never become comfortable driving the mountain roadway to and from work on her days off.
When Thursday rolled around, Marti returned to the Martorano home, spirits very high and nearly in orbit. When the opportunity presented itself, she jabbered briefly in Larry’s presence, and then caught herself and fixed him with a gaze of certitude.
“I’ve made my decision, and I offer my services to you for the remainder of your life,” thereby delivering her decision to accept his proposal.
“Great! I am very pleased. I know we’re not getting married or anything of the sort, but you have made me a very happy old man. I’ll get with my attorney and have some papers drawn up so that our deal won’t catch anyone by surprise.”
Larry could not have known the import of his words as fate would somehow prevent him from ever giving the critical instructions to his lawyer. The weekend was fast approaching, and everyone was distracted with preparations for a big family party at the mountain retreat. The event was a huge success, yet afterward Larry felt unusually tired and put off calling his attorney until he might feel better. The euphemistic next few days stretched into weeks and months and still nothing happened. Martorano just never consulted his attorney, ever. Marti was confident in her knowledge that the deal had been wrapped, although in thinking about it later, she realized that she never signed anything on the subject. Oh well, that was consistent with her boss’s approach to business matters. He simply took care of the details his way.
Yet, and in keeping apparently with the dark shadowy part of his personality, Larry never cleared the necessary time to contact his attorney, Harry Corrigan, to have someone in his firm prepare the paperwork. Martorano took himself countless times “over the coals” for his dereliction, but he never confirmed the retirement arrangement he had made with Marti with legal counsel. No paperwork was ever prepared, and no witnesses could be found other than Marti who professed any knowledge of the matter. The issue never surfaced until Marti spoke up weeks after Martorano’s funeral.
Truth be known, Larry labored with the guilt of his shortcomings and endured his failures in two life relationships: first with Maria and thereafter with Marti. As bad as his conscience made him feel from time to time, he never took appropriate action “to make it right” for either one. Somehow he was fearful of causing more disruption and angst than need be, thus he trusted in some ill-perceived quality of fate to resolve his shortcomings, but he had no idea what a mess he would ultimately leave in his wake.
A full year passed after agreement was made, and Marti put the matter out of her mind. Suddenly, however, Martorano’s health took a sharp turn for the worse after a family weekend reunion. He was sent to the Kaweah Delta Hospital in Visalia and within twelve hours was air-med-transported to Stanford University Hospital where he died shortly after his arrival. He was eighty-six years old. He never told anyone of his promise to Marti.
Weeks after the funeral, family members gathered at the mountain retreat and engaged Marti in casual conversation about her personal plans now that their father was gone. She responded matter of factly that she was very happy staying where she was, consistent with their father’s deal that had been arranged a year before he died. Eyebrows arched in unison, since no one was aware of any such arrangement. They demonstrated their ignorance clearly enough to Marti. Within moments, the atmosphere turned from light and airy to dark and stormy, as years of fond recollections disappeared from their memories and receded from their reach.
Bill was the first one to speak, although sputtering would be a more accurate description. He made it clear on one fundamental point, at least. Marti was no longer welcome in their home, and she should gather her belongings first thing in the morning and vacate her room. Her services were not needed or desired. No one, absolutely no one, including Marti, could have reasonably relied on some random mutterings of an old man, if indeed he had ever made such a promise in the first place. Bill stormed from the house to search for some meaning in the outdoors.
For her part, Marti was so stunned, she could not even speak. In one moment, her entire world had crashed around her as though she had been swallowed in some earthquake when people simply disappear forever. She was speechless and blinded by her tears. She groped her way to her room, collected her things, and left within the hour.
Genuine long-standing friendships vanished as battle lines were drawn. Unaware of it at the time, former close friends moved toward engagement in a modern-day courtroom struggle, each fighting for justice and vindication, but searching for dramatically opposite outcomes. The final decision was uncertain and would remain so for some time.
12
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Client Interview
November 2006
Charlie had just recovered his full-time schedule when the phone rang at his office. His harried legal assistant, Gloria, had left the office to get the mail, so after four or five rings Charlie picked up the receiver.
“Mr. Malone?” a pleasant but tired and anxious female voice inquired.
“Yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?”
“I think you may have spoken with my sister-in-law, Bernadette Collins. Do you remember her? She’s a nurse at the hospital.” Her voice faded noticeably, betraying grave concern that her luck was about to vanish.
“Gosh, let me think,” struggling to collect his thoughts for the past two weeks.
“My name is Marti Barnes. I think Bernadette told you about me when you went to the hospital about a week ago. I hope I’m not intruding on your convalescence and privacy, but Bernie was very impressed with you and what you had to say. She’s been on me to call you since the two of you talked, but I knew you needed some time to recover before we began talking business. How are you doing now, sir?”
“Well, much better, thank you.” Then it struck him that he was talking to the lady charged with capital murder, and he instantly became very attentive. “Are you calling from the county jail?”
“Yes, unfortunately, and I’ve been in this place for two months. A preliminary hearing is coming up soon. Although, I guess I’m lucky in a way, since they won’t be doing anything rash for quite a while,” and she followed with a half-hearted laugh at her own feeble attempt to import some levity into the conversation.
Charlie liked this lady already. “Well, they seem to charge a lot of capital murder cases in this county. Good for business, but rough on the population, I guess,” he paused absentmindedly, realizing that Ms. Barnes might not be interested in his musings about the local legal terrain.
“Mr. Malone!” Marti exhorted vehemently, “I surely need some legal help, and I’m not satisfied I’m getting it right now. I have nothing against the young lady assigned to my case from the public defender’s office. In fact, I’m growing very fond of her as though she were one of my children. But as much as I love my kids, not one of them is qualified to defend my case. Is there any chance we can talk over here at the jail?”
(2012) The Court's Expert Page 16