Life Support (43 page)

Alexia held up her hand. “Please, I don't want to hear the words ‘power of attorney.' I'm in the midst of a case that raises every issue you can imagine about them.”

Rachel patted her on the shoulder. “This one will be routine. I promise.”

Alexia spent the rest of the day preparing to be out of town for the remainder of the week. With no backup, she had to give her cell phone number to an increasingly larger circle of people. She put everything she'd accumulated regarding the Richardson situation in a large briefcase. The hearing was going to be more of a trial by ambush than usual, and she didn't want to be caught without a stray bit of information at her fingertips. She missed Gwen's practical help and camaraderie. Taking a break, she called Leggitt & Freeman. There was a new receptionist who didn't know Alexia and asked her name before transferring her to Gwen's desk.

“Who's the new voice on the telephone?” Alexia asked.

“Don't know her history,” Gwen replied. “She hasn't stopped by my desk to share her life story. What's up?”

“I'm missing you,” Alexia responded. “You always helped me through the day.”

Gwen's voice softened. “You're a sweetie, Alexia. Once you get your new office situated, we'll start having fun again.”

“The loan has been approved, so everything will move forward quickly.”

“Is your preacher friend going to do the work?”

“I hope so. We haven't signed a contract, but he inspected the house for me and told me he was interested in helping me.”

“Are you going to do a prenuptial agreement with him at the same time? It would be the efficient way to go.”

Alexia laughed. “No, but I went to church on Sunday.”

“I figured that when you didn't call me. I put my red dress and white shoes back in the closet and stayed home. I don't want to distract him if he's interested in you.”

“A lot has been happening.”

Gwen's voice turned serious. “Tell me.”

“Can you talk? I don't want you to get in trouble.”

“Don't worry. I've got Leonard shipshape, and Bennie, the new lawyer, doesn't seem to be doing very much.”

“Okay, but it's not just about Ted Morgan.”

“I'm listening.”

Alexia told Gwen about the night at Ted's house. At first, Gwen interrupted with questions, but she grew quiet when Alexia described what she felt when Ted mentioned her grandmother. A hint of a tear returned to Alexia's right eye, and her voice cracked.

“Then we went to the church, and Ted played the piano for me. The lights were off in the sanctuary, and he played something he made up on the spot. It was his way of describing what had happened to me through music. It was beautiful.”

“Wow, if I didn't know you were a levelheaded woman, I'd say you were telling me a dream.”

“I know. It was the most real, yet unreal, thing I've ever experienced.”

“What about the minister? Is he part of the picture, too?”

Alexia paused. “Yes. He has helped me in a very gentle way through what has happened, and we've spent a lot of time together. He's a good man. I can trust him.”

“That's saying a lot.”

“I know. After what happened with Jason, I needed to meet a decent person. But I don't know that much about Ted. The focus has been on me, not him. He's a mix of minister, pianist, and house painter, but I'm not sure how he fits together.”

“This is so cool,” Gwen answered. “I'm not sure about the religious stuff, but if this guy is the way you describe him, he's worth taking for a spin around the block.”

“Yes, I think so, too.”

Alexia was about to tell Gwen about her brief physical contact with Ted in the backyard on Sunday when the secretary said, “Gotta go. Here comes Leonard with a big stack of stuff.”

The following day, Alexia left for Greenville in the early afternoon. She enjoyed trips because it gave her the opportunity to turn her car into a symphony hall on wheels. As she listened to the music, she decided that when she had a lot of money she would finance production of a compact disk for Ted Morgan. The minister's talent shouldn't languish in obscurity; he deserved a wider audience than the stained-glass windows at Sandy Flats Church. It was a pleasant fantasy that kept her mind occupied for much of the trip. As she approached Greenville, she turned off the music and returned to the immediate challenges of the upcoming hearing. She arrived a few minutes early at the hospital.

She pushed the button to receive a ticket for the parking deck. Baxter's condition might not have changed much since the last time she'd walked through the main entrance to the hospital. Her own life, however, had never taken several dramatic turns in such a short period of time.

Rena wasn't in the ICU. The only familiar face in the room belonged to Ezra Richardson. When he saw Alexia, the older man's face clouded over, and she saw his right cheek twitch with tension. Instinctively, she backed away.

“Ms. Lindale!” Ezra called out. “I have something to say to you.”

Alexia stopped and met the fire that sprang to life in the older man's eyes. She always faced anyone who attacked her. Dominant personalities weren't used to people who didn't cower before them, and her response either provoked the other person to embarrassing anger or caused them to disintegrate into a harmless bluster. Anger always produced mistakes; bluster revealed weaknesses.

“Yes?” Alexia asked.

Ezra approached, and she could see that the veins in his neck were distended. Several people in the ICU waiting area stopped their conversations and looked in their direction. Ezra glanced sideways and saw that he was being watched. He lowered his voice and almost spit the words out of his mouth.

“I demand that you let me talk to Rena. I don't know what you've told her, but the two of you are not going to kill my son.”

“I'm not trying to kill anyone.”

“Then what do you call it?” Ezra's face was flushed a deep red.

Alexia didn't answer, and the older man took a step closer.

“Answer me!”

Alexia held her ground. “You're represented by an attorney, Mr. Richardson. If your lawyer wants to set up a meeting, he can call me.”

Ezra lowered his voice but maintained the same level of intensity. “I want to talk to Rena. You can be there, but this can't wait.”

“Where is Ken Pinchot?”

“I don't need him.”

Alexia didn't budge. “Without Mr. Pinchot's permission, I will not talk to you about the petition or allow you to meet with Rena.”

The color returned to Ezra's cheeks. “If you don't stop this, you and Rena will both regret it.”

Mr. Richardson was close to the edge of legality. Alexia wished she had a tape recorder. Any form of overt threat would be a potent weapon for future use.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Ezra glared at her. He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. “That's all I'm going to say.”

He turned and walked out of the ICU. Alexia's heart was pounding. She waited a few seconds and then went to the door and looked down the hall in the direction of the elevators. Rena didn't need to encounter Ezra in the hallway. He was gone, and Rena was nowhere in sight. Not satisfied, Alexia decided to retrace her steps to the parking deck in hope she could head off a random meeting between father-in-law and daughter-in-law. As she waited for the elevator, the door opened, and Rena stepped out. She was alone.

“You didn't see your father-in-law, did you?” Alexia asked quickly.

Rena shook her head. “No. What happened?”

Alexia related the brief encounter in the ICU.

“Now you know what I've been up against in my marriage,” Rena said. “Baxter never crossed him. His father's word was the law.”

“It won't be the law in court on Friday. Until then, don't come to the hospital unless I'm going to be here, too. I don't want him trying to intimidate you.”

“What did he mean by his threats?” Rena asked.

“I don't know unless it has to do with your money. That's the only thing he can try to control. Did you follow my instructions about the checking account?”

Rena nodded. “Yes. The joint account has less than a hundred dollars in it.”

“Then it may have to do with the businesses.”

“Jeffrey promised—” Rena stopped.

Alexia shrugged. “Go ahead. I knew your source had to be a family member, and Jeffrey is the most likely one with the kind of access you mentioned.”

Rena looked over her shoulder. “I don't guess it matters. I'm not even sure why he made me promise not to tell you. So far, he hasn't done anything except give me the money to pay your fee. He claims his father is using the power of attorney against me but hasn't shown me any proof. It's been frustrating.”

Alexia looked in Rena's face. “What are you leaving out?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

Alexia persisted. “Why is Jeffrey turning against his father?”

“Because he's like him. He wants to control everything.”

“Does he know what really happened at the waterfall?”

“No. I swear that you're the only person on earth who knows the truth. Jeffrey wants to be in charge of the family businesses and offered to help me. That's all.”

Alexia watched Rena closely and saw something she'd seen before in the faces of women she'd represented.

“Are you afraid of him?” Alexia asked.

Rena blushed. “Jeffrey? Of course not. He's my brother-in-law.”

It was all Alexia needed to see. Rena wasn't telling the truth. For some selfish reason, Jeffrey was seeking to manipulate Rena, and she was scared.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alexia asked.

Rena answered with an edge in her voice. “There's nothing to talk about. And keep this confidential.”

“That's always true,” Alexia reassured her and backed off. “And if you change your mind later and want to talk, I'm here to listen.”

“Okay,” Rena said as she began walking down the hall to the ICU. “Let's go see Baxter.”

Alexia followed her. The attendant on duty recognized Rena and told them to check with the nurses inside the ICU area.

A nurse pulled Baxter's chart for Rena. Alexia could see the young man's motionless legs from the counter where she waited. It was sad to think that the body that had been so active a few weeks before was simply waiting to die.

“His condition remains the same, Mrs. Richardson,” a young nurse said. “Dr. Berman saw him this morning and requested an update from Dr. Jackson, the pulmonologist.”

“Do you know who will come this afternoon?” Rena asked. “I'd like to talk to one of the main doctors.”

“We never know, although Dr. Kolb usually handles the afternoon rounds.” The nurse looked at her watch. “He could come by anytime between now and six o'clock.”

Rena and Alexia walked slowly into Baxter's room. The sound of the ventilator greeted them. Even to Alexia's untrained eye, Baxter was beginning to deteriorate. He was pale and pallid with a pasty funeral home tint to his cheeks. Rena reached out and with trembling fingers touched the side of his face. There was no response.

Alexia took in every detail. Ezra Richardson could rant and rave, but the body in the bed was not living. Any doubts Alexia had about the merits of the petition she'd filed with the court evaporated when faced with the artificiality that dominated the room. The merciful, kind thing to do would be to release Baxter from his expensive prison.

“I'll leave you with him,” Alexia said.

“No, it's too painful for me to see him like this,” Rena answered.

Alexia looked for tears in her client's eyes, but they were dry.

“His father was the reason Baxter was depressed and angry,” Rena continued in a quiet voice. “I wish I could turn back the clock. I would insist that we move away from Santee and make Baxter get help for his depression. We could have lived anywhere in the world, but he couldn't escape from his father's grip. It wasn't supposed to end like this.”

They returned to the waiting room, but neither Dr. Kolb nor Dr. Berman appeared. Alexia called the neurosurgeons' office, but the receptionist was no help. The physicians were somewhere in the hospital and wouldn't be returning to the clinic where they worked until the following day.

“I'm going to the hotel,” Alexia said. “I'll be working on the case tonight and in the morning. Call me if you think of anything. Where are you staying?”

“In a suite at the Weston Poinsett.”

Alexia wrote the name and phone number of her hotel from the confirmation sheet she'd printed from the Internet and gave it to Rena.

“When will we get together?” Rena asked.

“I'll want to meet with you in the morning about 10:30 to go over your testimony.”

The two women walked out together. There was no sign of Ezra Richardson, and Ken Pinchot hadn't called Alexia's cell phone. Alexia wasn't surprised. Pinchot knew there was nothing to do but go to court, and Alexia suspected he'd advised Ezra that a meeting was a waste of time. In the case of In Re Baxter Richardson, there was no common ground for discussion or compromise. It was truly a case of life or death.

36

Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.

MATTHEW 6:10 (KJV)

E
ven though Rena would ultimately pay the bill for her expenses, Alexia hadn't considered the Weston Poinsett for herself. She was working and needed a quiet place to focus, not a luxurious suite with distractions. After she unpacked at a local Hampton Inn, she kicked off her shoes and lay on the bed. The time at the hospital had emotionally drained her. Nothing had happened after Ezra left, but the inherent tension of the ICU and the uncertainty of what lay ahead had sapped her energy. She propped up a couple of pillows and mentally ran through her preparation for the hearing.