Dick by Law (5 page)

Chapter
10

Monday Morning

In Court

"My client is
very
community-minded, Your Honor." It was f
irst thing Monday morning, Day Two
of the "Dick" hearing, and Quinn was singing the praises of Simon's character
in the main courtroom of the Tucker County courthouse
.
"He runs his own charity,
In¢entive$
, which
provides
young people with tangible
rewards
for community service."

Naturally, that drew cheers from
Josie
and Chip in the gallery.
The rest of the audience whisp
ered to each other in the gallery benches and around the courtroom walls.

Simon guessed there were two hundred spectators in the vast courtroom
that day
...standing room only. His unique case was getting some attention.

"
In addition to operating
In¢entive$
," said Quinn,
"
Mr. Bellerophon works as an
appraiser
and authenticator of antiques and collectibles. In this capacity, he frequently
assists members of the community in obtaining fair market value for their possessions."

Simon heard
Horne
m
u
tter
something
, though he couldn't make out the words. Looking over, he saw
Horne
's
flushed
,
pitted
face in profile, lips curled in
a
sneer.

"What about you, Mr.
Shaw
?" Judge Bartlebaugh
, looking down from the bench at the front of the room,
cupped his chin in his hand
and
cracked his chewing gum
. "
Anything in the
good deeds
column?
"

"
This is highly irregular
, Your Honor," said Swope
.
"Since
when
do so-called good deeds have
any
bearing in a court of law?
"

"Too bad
I
make the
rules
here."
Judge Bartlebaugh rolled his eyes. "Tell me or I'll rule for the plaintiff
right now
."

Swope
smiled and plopped into the chair beside Horne. "
O
ne moment please, Your Honor."

The consultation took
considerably
longer than a moment.
Simon couldn't hear what Swope and Horne
were saying, but he
guessed
from the
ir
agitated gestures that
it wasn't going well.
He thought he could smell their flop sweat from across the room.

"Your Honor.
"
Swope
huffed
to his feet. "
Mr. Shaw
is a supporter of the Greenpeace organization."

"Greenpeace?" Judge Bartlebaugh frowned. "As in 'save the whales' Greenpeace?"

"One an
d the same, Your Honor." Swope's jowls jiggled when he nodde
d.

Judge Bartlebaugh grinned. "Let me see if I've got this straight.
" He stifled a chuckle. "Mr. B
ellerophon is suing to have
Mr. Shaw
labeled
a
dick
."

"
Correct, Your Honor," said Quinn
.

"So the man who's
being
called
a dick," said Judge Bartlebaugh, "
wants to save
Moby Dick
." With that, he broke into open laughter.

All two hundred-plus people
in the courtroom joi
ned him, except Swope and
Horne
.
Even Quinn, who kept a
poker face
firmly
in place at all times, couldn't hold back
some chuckles
.

Judge Bartlebaugh
wiped tears from his eyes and
l
ooked at the court stenographer. "You got that, right?" She
nodded
briskly. "I
love
this case
."

"Your Honor?
" said Swope.

"Just a minute." Judge Bartlebaugh looked
across the courtroom
at the table
where the
sketch
artist sat.
"Ish
iko, would you mind sketching
a
big
white whale
sitting beside
Mr. Shaw
at the defense table?"

The artist
, a pretty young Japanese woman,
glanced up from her work and smiled. "I'll see what I can do."
Simon thought h
er high-pitched voice
sounded
like the c
himing
of a bell. She shook
wisp
y
black bangs o
ut of her dark eyes and returned her gaze to the sketch pad in front of her.

Sim
on, however, couldn't look away.
He hadn't noticed her much before, but now she made a strong impression
. As he watched, she tucked a lock of
g
lossy
hair behind her ear, exposing the
pale curve of her right cheek and the rose red bud of her lips.

Suddenly, she looked in Simon's
direction
and met his gaze
. Simon's heart raced...and then she looked back down at her work
. But
as
she straightened her top, a floral chiffon blouse with lots of deep blue and indigo, he thought he caught her glancing his way again for a split-second.

Ishiko.
The name sifted through his mind like gold dust in a stream.
Ishiko.

Judge Bartlebaugh allowed himself
a
last chuckle and leaned back in his chair.
"
Greenpeace
." He shook his head and cracked his gum. "
I can't
wait
to see what's
next
."

*****

Chapter 1
1

130 Million Years Ago

China

The sun was lower in the sky when Grip the dog-thing trudged home, but the wind was still blisteringly hot.
Wilted ferns slumped along his
rough,
dusty path. The usual riot of bugs in the air had calmed to a
lazy trickle. The usual cacophony of wailing, shrieking, singing, whistling cries
from the forest all arou
nd
had dropped off to the
sluggish
croak
of a few fading voice
s
.
Even the flurry of wild scents always swirling in the air had thinned to a dry, smoky
haze.
The heat was too much for the
lush
forest and its
countless
plant and animal denizens.

After a few more staggering steps through the crackling brush
,
Grip
let go of the dead dinosaur's leg.
He hunched for a moment, panting for breath in the heat, the salty
,
metal
lic
taste of the dino's blood still fresh in his mouth.

Grip's mottled brown and white fur felt heavy against his skin.
The journey had taken longer than he'd expected, and he was exhausted...but that wasn't why he let go
of the dino
.
It was something in the air. A scent both familiar and strange
, punc
hing through the smoky haze
.

Danger
.

Crouching low, Grip padded through the ferns and moist loam. Ahead, he could see the mound of his family's den, tucked between the roots of a thick-trunked
fir
tree.

With every breath, he caught the scent of his beloved mate and pups. He knew them so well, he could single out the scent of each of the six pups and the slightest changes in their furry little bodies.

And the nature of those changes made him shiver.

The truth was, he knew the full story from the first whiffs carried his way on the hot breeze. The picture leaped into his mind in high relief; he could have learned all he needed to know from a distance, sparing himself the sight of it.

But of course he had to see it with his eyes.

There was no longer anything to fear, and Grip knew it, but still he didn't approach the den head-on. He stalked in a rough circle, staying well back, confirming the first readings of his keen senses.

And then he wound his way closer in a tightening spiral.

His lips peeled back, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. The growl stopped when he saw the first of his pups.

It was one of the males. Grip recognized its scent and the light brown fur of its hind legs curled among the ferns. When he parted the green fronds with his muzzle, he saw the rest of it.

The pup's body was torn apart, strewn over a bloody patch of
forest
litter like a smashed piece of fruit. The meat had been stripped from his bones, the guts scooped out of his ribcage. Tufts of fur wobbled in the breeze, dipped in blood and clinging to the feathery combs of ferns. His little jaws were locked open, as if he'd been screaming for his life at the moment of his death.

The other five pups were the same. Grip found them, one after another, among the
wilted
ferns--all bloody, all ruptured, all silent.

All dead
.

But he didn't start howling until he got to his mate. He didn't throw his head back and cry out his loss and loneliness until he saw her mutilated carcass.

That was when the weight of the day collapsed on top of him. As he sniffed her dry, black nose and nudged her snout with no response, he felt the full force of the change in his life. The sheer feeling of it, all sorrow and fear, finally overtook the facts of what had happened.

And he howled.

The dinosaur he'd killed and dragged home to feed his family lay forgotten in the weeds, crawling with insects. The sun dropped lower in the sky, casting shadows in the brush...throwing the tracks of his family's killers into sharp relief, the signs of the crime.

And the killers' scents
flickered into the distance
, mock
ing
his grief, calling to him.

Calling as he howled alone
until
twilight
fell
, pacing circles around the cold, stiff body of his mate.

 

*****

Chapter 1
2

130 Million Years Later

In Court

It was an unusually warm afternoon for mid-April in
the mountains of
western Pennsylvania, and t
he
heat was rising
fast
in the
Tucker County courthouse
. The
combined
body heat of two hundred or so spectators
was filling
the
vas
t space
of the main courtroom
, forcing people to take off jackets, roll up sleeves, and fan themselves with newspapers.

For his part, Simon was sweating as he watched Shaw in action on the witness stand.
..but Shaw was sweating more. His
rough, florid
face had a sheen, and his dark hair stuck to his scalp as he answered questions from his attorney, Swope.

Jowls swaying, Swope
placed a hand on the edge of the witness stand. Strangely, as overweight as he was, Simon couldn't see a drop of sweat on him.
"Would you say, Mr. Shaw, that you were acting out some personal vendetta against Mr. Bellerophon?"

"No way."
Horne
shook his head, dead serious.
"I followed company policy in denying his claim."

Simon
squirmed at
Horne
's show of false sincerity. He
heard no sarcasm in
Horne
's voice and saw
no trace of the usual
vindictive nastiness on
hi
s
pockmarked face.

"So you didn't personally know him," said Swope, "and you
didn
'
t treat his case as a special exception in any way. You did not single him out for unusual cruelty."

"Correct," said
Horne
. "He was just another customer. I reviewed his case like I would any other.
"

Swope clasped his hands over his
huge
potato sack
of a belly. "Is it unusual to deny a claim like that?"

"No," said
Horne
.
"It happens all the time."

"All the time?" said Swope. "Would you say you're
inclined
or
encouraged
to deny claims, then?"

"Not at all."
Horne
scrubbe
d his fingers through the curly
black B
rillo pad of his hair
. "I look at the evidence carefully each time.
More often than not, it supports denying payment."

"And this is your
personal
judgment?" said Swope.

"It's
company policy
," said
Horne
.

"Company policy
not
to pay?" said Swope.

"We will pay any
legitimate
claim," said
Horne
. "It's company
policy to
minimize
claims
, however,
through a combination of proper delivery techniques and customer acknowledgement."

"'Customer acknowledgement?'" said Judge Bartlebaugh.

Horne
shrugged. "We get them to sign releases."

"Would you say that's a sound business practice?" said Swope.

Horne
nodded. "Otherwise, our company would be crippled by endless litigation."

"So." Swope cleared his throat. "When Zeke Cutler obtained Mr. Bellerophon's signature on a release, it was company policy. Nothing personal."

"Yes," said
Horne
.

"
And w
ould you say,
Mr. Shaw
," said Swope, "that you
treated Mr. Bellerophon in an abusive manner?"

"The opposite," said
Horne
. "I don't think I could've been more polite."

"And would you say," said Swope, "that customers sometimes react negatively, without provocation, when their claims are denied?"

Horne
nodded. "It's fair to say."

Swope gave Simon a sideways look. "And how would you characterize Mr. Bellerophon's reaction to your denial of his claim?
Did he react in a positive manner?"

"No sir," said
Horne
. "
He was pissed.
"

At that
, Quinn shot to his feet. "O
bjection!
Mr. Shaw
is not qualified to assess my client's state of mind."

Swope ignored him
. "And d
id Mr. Bellerophon make any threats
to your well-being,
Mr. Shaw
?"

"Not in so many words, no," said
Horne
.

"Objection!" said Quinn.

Simon shot to his feet beside Quinn. "I never made any threats!"

"Never?" said Judge Bartlebaugh.

"Never!" said Simon.

"That's too bad." Judge Bartlebaugh sighed. "
It would've spiced up the story
, don't you think?
"

Most of the two hundred spectators in t
he courtroom
laughed out loud. So did the court stenographer and bailiff.

"Well?" Judge Bartlebaugh
looked around at his audience and
twirled a finger in the air. "What happened next?"

"Right, right."
Swope
shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs, then
turned to
Horne
.
"One more question
. Why 'dick?' Why you?"

Horne
drew an arm across his forehead, wiping off sweat, and
shifted
in his chair. "
I think
he blames me for the company's policies. For denying his claim. It gives him someone to take out his frustrations on." Horne shrugged. "It wouldn't be the fi
rst time it's
happened. I'm
used
to taking the blame...but I
'm
not
a
dick
."

"Objection!" said Quinn. "
Mr. Shaw
is
not
a mind-reader. He can't testify to my client's intent!"

"Objection sustained," said Judge Bartlebaugh. "But he raises an interesting point.
If things don't go your way, do you tend to blame someone else, Mr. Bellerophon?"

"Not
as a rule
, no," said Simon.

Judge Bartlebaugh
blew a pink bubble with his gum and
winked. "So if I don't rule in your favor, you're not going to turn around and sue
me
for being a dick?"

"Absolutely not." Simon shook his head emphatically.

"Wouldn't
that
be ironic?" Judge Bartlebaugh laughed and got up. "I
love
this case!"

"Your Honor?" said Swope.

Judge Bartlebaugh walked down the steps and pushed open the door to his chambers. "Court is in recess!
Please don't
be late coming back from lunch, as I can't
wait
to see where this trial leads next!"

 

*****