Cookie's Case (7 page)

“Of course you can. People do it every day for one reason or another. You just sign a piece of paper and poof, you have a new lawyer, just like that.”

“But what about Chris?” she says with concern. “I mean, I don't want to hurt his feelings or get him mad at me. I called him early this morning to let him know I was coming here. I didn't want to do it behind his back. And it seemed he was pretty upset. This is the biggest case he ever had. I feel really uncomfortable firing him. I mean, I never fired anyone before. It just doesn't feel right, especially since he got me so much money.”

I want to ask Henry if he'd mind if I said something. But I know he's just about to close the deal so I don't. One of the most difficult things for a lawyer ever to do is to keep his mouth shut. I'm no exception.

At least I admit it.

“Well, I'll talk to Chris and explain to him how his lack of experience made him unable to identify the conflict.” Henry's irony is lost on everyone but me. “Technically, he should be disqualified by a judge and this matter brought to the attention of the Office of Professional Conduct. But we don't want to see him in any trouble now, do we?” He looks at Cookie.

“Oh, gosh, no,” she says, in a tone that makes clear the fact she's never brought harm to anybody or anything.

“So don't worry then; he won't be. I'll effectuate the change of attorney and have your file in my hands in less than a week. Sound good to you?”

She looks to Major. He gives her the nod. The same nod of approval he gave her at Jingles. Her best interests are clearly what matters to him.

“Gee, thanks, Mr. Benson.”

“Now, you just call me Henry, young lady.” He gives her a benevolent smile, then turns back to Major. The smile vanishes. “Are we all on the same page here?”

“Yes, we are. I really appreciate your firmness and candor. Cookie and I have little experience with lawsuits and lawyers. I think I speak for the both of us when I say we feel more comfortable already.”

Henry, hearing this, picks up the Consent to Change Attorney form he just happens to have on his desk and places it in front of Cookie. Reaching into his leather desk tray, he takes out a black and gold Mont Blanc and twists the top. He gets up, leans forward, and hands it to Cookie.

“This first document is the Consent to Change Attorney, substituting us in as your new counsel, with Charles out. This other document is a letter we drafted on your behalf directing him not to contact you regarding this matter. Now, this is serious business, so he should not be getting in touch with you, and you should not be contacting him. Do you think you can comply with this rule despite any gratitude you may feel?”

“Yes, Mr. Benson.”

“Call me Henry. Good. Now, should Charles contact you in violation of this directive, it then becomes your obligation to tell either Tug or me so we can deal with that in the appropriate manner. Will you do this?”

“Yes,” she answers. But she's not extremely happy with the idea, I can see.

“Good,” he says again. “Now, sign here,” he directs, pointing to the appropriate places.

At first, she begins to try to scan the official-looking documents, filled with their legal mumbo jumbo. Then she hesitates, as if she has a question.

“Um, are you sure they can't take the money off the table, Mr. Benson? I mean, Henry. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money. And I've been out of work so much since this all happened that I don't want to risk losing that kind of money. It's a lot of lap dances.” She giggles. “And, like I said, I want to pay everybody back who's helped me through this, everyone who insisted I take money even when I told them I wanted to do it on my own.”

“Cookie,” Henry says in a stern tone, “once the insurance carrier gets notice that Tug is involved, that number is only going to go up. That two fifty won't be taken off the table, I assure you. Agreed?” he says, looking over at me.

I have no choice.

“Yes, Henry, agreed.” I really wish he wouldn't do this. It's improper, from an ethical point of view, to make assurances about money offers. Ones that can, at any time, be withdrawn.

Cookie attempts a shrug, but it's not easy with her halo. She hesitates, thinking hard, then looks up. Major has remained silent. “Okay then, I trust you guys,” she says. And she signs on the dotted line.

Claudette Krumke.

Chapter Six

A
s I head out of Henry's building, I realize my contribution amounted to eight
agreeds
and a reciprocating smile to Cookie. I wish all my retentions were that easy. I also wish all my referrals from Henry were like Cookie, kind, and thoughtful, appreciative, felony-free hottie nuggets.

So I'm feeling good about my new case. But I'm also aware that what's in the file will determine just how big a payday lies ahead. It's three years old with two fifty on the table after all, and that means the malpractice carrier views it in just the way Major stated, as an otherwise unnecessary surgery case. Still, they're offering top dollar for one of those, so they're obviously factoring in all the surgeries, despite their stated position.

One thing to consider is the uncertainty regarding the permanency of her condition. It's clear to me that Chris Charles is jumping the gun by recommending acceptance of an offer while she's still in the recovery phase.

In my view, the case is worth seven hundred fifty thousand at a minimum, based on the three surgeries alone.

Two things continue to bother me, however. One is how could an intelligent, medically trained guy like Major be so ignorant about the obvious conflicts? And two is his unlikely relationship with Cookie. Opposites attract, sure, and women look for father figures. But I don't know … It's still just pretty weird. Also, I really wish Henry hadn't said the current offer would never be pulled off the table.

Oops, as Cookie would say, that makes three.

Once I turn on my phone, which I'd switched off for the meeting, there's a blast of messages.
Bzzzz.
It's my favorite “Private Caller.” I'm enjoying this new unseen pal, plus I'd like to find out about the van that caused his painful ooh-dats. I hit the
answer
button.

“Hello, Robert.”

“My name is Robert Killroy, but I didn't kill no Roy, and I didn't kill nobody.”

“How have you been? Long time, no speak.”

“I'm sorry,” he says, sounding confused. “I musta dialed the wrong number.”

“No, wait, Robert, you've got the right number. Why are you saying that?”

“'Cause the person I be looking for spoke to me this morning. Nice man but owes

Mr. Wang some money.”

“That's me, Robert.”

“Oh, so you
do
owe Mr. Wang the money. That's good 'cause that's what he says too.”

“No, Robert. I
don't
owe him the money. But I
am
the guy you spoke to this morning. What's up?”

“I thought that was you, mister. Then you told me ‘long time, no speak,' and I just knowed we spoke this morning. That threw me off directly.”

“It's only a figure of speech, Robert, so don't worry. What's going on?”

“Okay, now according to these rules, I got to tell you I'm calling to collect a debt.”

“I understand.”

“Okay now,” he continues, “I called up Mr. Wang, and he says that you are dead wrong. He didn't ruin your suit, and it was all messed up when you brought it in. So can you pay him the fourteen dollars and seventy-nine cents you owe him and pick up your seven hundred fifty dollar suit? That's a lot of money for a suit, mister.”

“Robert, no, I can't pay him that money. Like I said, it's a matter of principle.”

“I don't think Mr. Wang is no principal. I think Mr. Wang cleans clothes for people. He don't work at no school, that's what I think.”

“I agree, Robert. Mr. Wang is not a school principal. But I don't owe him that money.”

“Ooh-dat! Ooh-dat! Ooh-dat! Oh, da pains, they be bad,” he yelps suddenly. What's that new sound? Like slapping, or punching.

“Are you okay, Robert?”

“That be the pains, Mister. Down in my ankle.”

“Robert, why don't you tell me what happened to you.”

“Got runned over by a van. Ruint my ankle. Granny says I drag it along when I walk, but I can ride like the wind. That's what Granny says.”

I need to ask. It's what I do. “Robert, do you have a lawyer?”

“Not no more. Granny fired the one I got. Said he wasn't bony fried.”

“Well, do you have a new lawyer handling your case?”

“No, mister. Granny says lawyers ain't no good. She's taking care of it herself.”

“Is Granny a lawyer?”

He laughs. “Naw, Granny ain't no lawyer. She takes care of me.”

“I see, Robert. Tell me, not that it matters, but which ankle did you injure?”

“Hold on fer a sec,” he responds. “Hey Granny! Hey Granny!” he yells. “Which one of my ankles gots hurt? My right or my left?”

“Your right one, boy,” I hear a sharp old voice respond. “How many times I got to tell you that?”

Now Robert's breathing heavily, like the reprimand elevated his respirations. “My right, mister. Now what about that fourteen dollars and seventy-nine cents?”

“Robert, do me a favor and put Granny on the phone.”

“Can't do that,” he quickly responds.

“Why not?”

“'Cause I'm opposed to be collecting money now. I got to have what Granny calls my financial independence. I got to get this job right.” The distinct implication is that he may have failed in previous ones. But I'd be surprised at that, with his perseverance.

“Just tell her to pick up for a second, Robert.” Before he gets a chance to respond, I hear Granny again in the background.

“Who you speaking to, Robert? You supposed to be collecting a debt, practicing that job, not talking about your ankle, boy.”

“Granny, I knowed what I'm opposed to be doing, and I am collecting a debt. But my pains came along and …” I hear the classic sound of one person wrestling a phone out of another's hand.

“Who's this on the phone?” Granny asks, all soured up. “You the man that owes Mr. Wang the money?”

“You got the right guy, but I don't owe Wang any money.”

“I see. Well, he ain't allowed to use the phone but for business. Why you taking him away from what he needs to be keeping on at?”

“Granny,” I say, “Robert was in pain. So I asked him why. That's all. He didn't do anything wrong, I assure you.”

“Okay then, I'll put him back on the line.”

“Wait!” I say with urgency. “Maybe I can help you out on Robert's case.” I sense quiet caution on the other end of the line.

“You a lawyer?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I don't trust no lawyers.”

“Me, neither.”

“That's a good snap back.”

“It was a truthful one.”

“How come you don't trust no lawyers, seeing you're one of them?”

“The list is too long,” I tell her.

“Ha, I got me a list, too. Hmm,” she says, contemplating, “let me ask you this—do you believe what your clients tell ya?”

“Depends on the client. If it were Robert,” I add, “the answer would be yes.” And I mean it.

“That's straight on. Want to know why?”

“Sure do.”

“You see, Robert here, he's a boy who ain't told a lie since the day he was born. No threat of ass-whop or nothing.”

“That's right, Granny,” I hear him say in the background. “I don't tell no lies.”

“Hush, boy,” she says to him. “You see me jawing on the phone. And his own lawyer,” she says to me, “the one I fired—he didn't believe Robert. Thought he was lying. Decided the boy caused his own accident 'cause that's what the police report says. Ain't no sense having a lawyer if he don't believe ya.”

“I have to agree with you on that.”

“One thing is for certain,” she states with conviction. “Robert didn't cause no accident.”

“That's right, Granny,” I hear him agree. “I didn't cause no accident.”

“Well, I can tell you this,” I respond, “I'm certain too that Robert didn't cause the accident. There's no doubt in my mind.”

Now there's quiet on the other end. The wheels are spinning inside her head. I can tell Granny's not just smart but cagey.

“What's your name, lawyer?”

“Tug Wyler.”

“You bona fide?”

“Do you mean am I admitted to the bar? Then the answer's yes, I'm bona fide.”

“Still,” she continues, “I don't trust no lawyers. So I'll be handling the case myself.”

“May I ask your name, please?”

“Just did.” I hear her snicker at the fun she poked at me. “Just playing. The name's Ethel.”

“Ethel, do you really think that's a good idea? Handling Robert's case yourself?”

She waits a beat or two before answering. “Probably not, but like I'm saying for the third time, I don't trust no lawyers.”

“Give me the top reason on your list why not.”

“They're after the quick money, for one thing. Robert's lawyer was trying to have him take forty-seven thousand five hundred dollars for his case. Said it's good money since Robert caused his own injury—”

“Which he didn't,” I interject.

“Now you're catching on, Mr. Lawyer. But that ain't hardly enough for what this boy's been through. So I fired him. He was trying to take advantage, and for certain he was not no bona fide lawyer. We Killroys may not have a lot of dollars, but we chock full of common cents.”

She's listening, I can tell, to see if I get her little joke. I chuckle appreciatively.

“That was a smart move, Ethel. But why not make another good move now? Let me take a look at Robert's file.”

“No.”

“I'm concerned with your grandson's best interests here, I assure you. He sounds to me like he's in real pain. He's probably got a neuroma or reflex sympathetic dystrophy in that ankle.”

“Hmmph. That's exactly what he got. Just the problem is, I don't want to be scammed by no lawyer.”

“How about if I work for free?”

“For free?”

“Yes, for free.”

“Why would you go and do that? For a stranger who's trying his best to make sure you pay your bills.”

“A few reasons.”

“I'm listening. Go ahead. Let's see how convincing you are, Wyler.”

“Okay. First, it gives me the opportunity to put some positive energy out there, and I'm one of those people who believes you get back what you put out in some way, shape, or form. They call it karma.”

“Uh-huh,” she responds skeptically. “I can tell you pretty for certain, chances be slim you getting anything back from Robert. You still want to work for free?”

“I sure do.”

“Go on then. Why else?”

“Because just a little while ago, I met a nice girl with a lawyer whom I felt was going to short her, the way Robert's lawyer tried to short you guys. But she isn't as smart as you, Ethel. Even her doctor boyfriend isn't as smart as you, because they were going to take the money. I was able to prevent that from happening. It gave me a sense of doing justice, and that's the reason I became a lawyer. But I have to say, I'm not sure if I felt good because I stopped a wrong from happening or because she's extremely beautiful and I got the hots for her.”

“That's honest,” Ethel tells me. “Go on now, boy. I'm suspecting you're saving your best argument for last.”

What great instincts she has. That's exactly the case.

“And because you don't trust lawyers and don't want Robert shortchanged, I can't do you any wrong if I don't take a fee.”

“
X
marks the spot,
X
marks the spot with a dot, dot, dot. Now you reasoning soundly.”

“Yes, Ethel, that's the right conclusion. It's a winning formula. And it's one that means Robert gets all the money to put toward his financial independence. You want that for him, don't you?” I'd been saving that one.

“That's what I'm staying alive for. To see that he can get on all by his own. For free, though? You'll do the lawyering for free?”

“The only thing I'll ask of you out of this whole thing is that, if I do a good job for Robert, in the future you'll refer your friends and family to me, should any of them meet with an unfortunate accident or get bad medical care. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like we have us a deal.” Then she changes tone. “But Robert still got to do his collections on you, no matter what happens.”

“Let him collect away. But I'm going to defend myself against it.”

“We'll see how that one ends up, then, won't we now?”

“I guess we will, Ethel. Have you had any conversation with the attorney on the other side since taking over Robert's case?”

“Just one. He ain't bona fide, either, if you ask me. Calls himself Rich. What kind of lawyer calls himself Rich?”

“I agree. Rich is a stupid-ass name for a personal injury lawyer. But what did you say to him?”

“That my Robert deserves more money. That's about it. I had to tongue-lash the man to get it through his thick skull. Oh yeah, I told him Robert didn't cause no accident, either.”

We chat a little more, and then I tell her I have to get back to the office just as she reminds me Robert has to resume his job. I like Granny. She's the right combination of gruff and concerned. And I give her full marks for being very aware of Robert's medical condition.

As soon as we click off, I send a text to Lily to set up an appointment as soon as possible. I don't want Robert's case to wind up dismissed because Ethel's unfamiliar with the procedures of the judicial system. Just by missing a simple appearance, you can blow everything.

Some judges are like that, but Ethel couldn't know it. She and Robert deserve better.

STAY AWAY FROM HER

So now I'm crossing Foley Square again. The giant black marble sculpture soaring way up into the sky in front of me is styled after an antelope-inspired African headdress and is mounted on a boat-shaped base. It was commissioned to memorialize the unknown enslaved Africans brought to America. It's called
Triumph of the Human Spirit
, and whenever I give myself the chance to think about it, I cringe at the knowledge that our country once allowed slavery. I hate that any one person could exert absolute control over another's existence.