No Legal Grounds (4 page)

“I almost hit my wife one night,” Sam said. “I’d never, ever gotten close to doing that. But I was under a lot of pressure over a case, and I was handling it by drinking more and more. I got into a huge argument with Linda, and she stood up to me. One thing about my wife, she’s got backbone.”

Nicky was listening intently, and it put Sam a little more at ease. Maybe the message was getting through.
“Anyway, I lost my mind and raised my fist to her. It was, and still is, the absolute low point of my life. The look on her face. She woke up the kids and put them in the car and drove away. I thought I’d lost them all forever.”
The pain of the memory hit Sam as if it had happened the night before. He took a long breath. “Linda had become a Christian a few years before this, and I saw it as just a thing she was interested in and let her go to church. But that night, I knew I needed whatever she had.
“So I drove to where she went to church. I guess I expected the church to be open, and I could go inside and sit down and ask for God to show me what to do. It was locked up, of course. But there’s a cross on the sign in front of the church, and it was lighted, so I just knelt in the grass by the sign and waited.”
“Waited?”
“You know, for God to talk to me. And he did.”
Nicky’s eyes widened.
“In the form of the pastor, Don Lyle. He was working late, just leaving his office. He saw me there. And when I told him who I was and what I had done, he opened the Bible and tussled with me for a couple of hours.” Sam smiled. “Then we went into the church and I stripped down to my skivvies and he baptized me right then and there. When I came up out of that water I felt brand new, clean, completely forgiven.”
“Heavy.”
Sam hadn’t heard that term in a while, but it applied.
“What about you, Nicky? You indicated there was a way you could help me.”
“Right, right.”
“You mentioned a case. What was that all about?”
“Your case, Sam.”
“I have several cases — ”
“The ice-skater.” Nicky raised his eyebrows.
“May I ask how you know about that?”
“Internet, dude. How I found you in the first place.” “What, you did some background on me?”
“Oh, easy stuff. Wanted to see how well you were doing. Making UCSB proud!”
Sam forced a chuckle. “So what did you mean by help?”
“You know, maybe research or something like that. I’m a cyber king, dude. I’d love to give you a hand.”
“Well, that’s real nice of you to offer, but we have paralegals to — ”
“I’m not talking about normal channels, Sam. I can dig into places you’ve missed. Let me show you.”
And open up a can of trouble. Wouldn’t it be great to have Larry Cohen find out someone was rooting around in
places you’ve missed.
“Thanks,” Sam said, “but — ”
“No thanks? I got it.” Nicky sat back in his chair.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate — ”
“You have a card, Sam?”
Sam hesitated. Then he fished a card out of his wallet and gave it to Nicky.
“Very slick,” Nicky said. “Raised letters and everything.”
“Makes us seem more important than we are.”
“Yeah,” Nicky said, “that’s what lots of people think.”
A tick of unease hit Sam. He looked at his watch. “Hey, Nicky, I hate to say, but I’ve got to run.”
“So soon?”
“I’m sorry. Lawyering.” He stood. “Everybody wants a piece of me. It was sure great to see you, Nicky.”
Nicky stood up and put out his hand. “Let’s do this again.”
“Sure.” Sam shook Nicky’s hand, hoping Nicky would pick up on the noncommittal tone in his voice.
Nicky held the grip. “I mean it.”
“Right. Bye, Nicky.”
Nicky slipped Sam’s card into his shirt pocket. “We’ll be in touch,” he said.

And he kept hoping not as he drove over to see Pete Harper. There was the faintest scent of desperation about Nicky Oberlin. Not that guys couldn’t find themselves a little down from time to time. But he had the feeling Nicky was putting out the first feeler to recruit Sam as part of the Nicky Oberlin reclamation team.

Sam had enough going on with the Harper case and FulCo, not to mention his own family. Nicky would have to recruit someone else.

The Harper place was nestled in a neighborhood built up mostly in the sixties. The houses were small, the lawns well kept. Sam cruised to the end of a cul-de-sac and turned around, then pulled up to the curb.

Pete Harper was clipping a hedge as Sam got out of the car. Pete was fifty-two and stocky, perfect for the lumber business, with thin, graying hair. When he saw Sam he threw the clippers down so they stuck, handles up, in the grass. He removed his gloves and stuck his hand out. “Right on time,” he said. “Thanks for that.”

Pete Harper led Sam into the living room. Sam took a seat on the sofa and placed his briefcase on the coffee table. Pete sat in a chair, then immediately stood up again. “Can I offer you anything? Coffee?”

“No thanks, Mr. Harper.” It was apparent that Pete Harper was incredibly tense. Sam knew him to be a self-sufficient man, a hard worker, the kind who liked to control things. But litigation is inherently uncontrollable.

Janet Harper, a good-looking woman in her late forties, stepped into the living room. She pushed a wheelchair, in which sat Sarah Harper. She looked thin and wan, her head slightly bowed.

“Hello, Mr. Trask,” Janet said.
Sam stood. “Hello, Mrs. Harper, Sarah.”
“Please sit,” said Janet. She looked at Pete. “Did you offer Mr.

Trask something to drink?”
“I’m fine,” said Sam. “And I really wish you all would call me
Sam. There’s no need to be so formal.”
“I don’t know,” Janet said with a lilt in her voice. “You being our
lawyer and all.”
Pete Harper wiped his hands on his shirt, the smile he had only
seconds before commandeered by tight-lipped anxiety. No one
spoke. It seemed to Sam they were all waiting for him to say something, but it didn’t feel right to bring up business right away. “You look good, Sarah,” Sam said.
Expressionless, Sarah answered, “Thanks.” It was forced, at once
polite and pained. She wasn’t looking good at all. She was, from
all appearances, wasting away. The elfin face that had captivated a
nation was gone, replaced by a hopeless facade. It had been more
than two years since the meningitis took away her sight and the
use of her leg, and substantially more. By all outward appearances,
Sarah survived. Inside, something was dead.
“Sarah’s been keeping up at the school,” Janet said. Sam absorbed
the nuance of
keeping up.
From previous conversations with the
Harpers, Sam knew Sarah was not doing much at all to learn to live
with her disability. Just enough to get by, apparently to please her
parents. They had sacrificed years, time, and money to give their
only child the best in skating lessons and school tutoring. Sarah
probably felt an obligation to at least go through the motions. “I didn’t know there were so many books in Braille,” Pete Harper
said, his hands still rubbing vacantly on his stomach. “There’s whole
libraries.”
“What are you reading now, Sarah?” Sam asked.
“Nothing.”
Janet said, “She just finished an assignment.
Lilies of the Field
.” Nodding, Sam said, “How’d you like it?”
“It was okay,” Sarah said.
“You ever see the movie?” Pete said. “With that fella,
whatsisname?”
“Sidney Poitier,” Janet said. “It was Sidney Poitier.”
“That’s right,” Pete said. “Heckuva fine actor. We watched it just
the other . . .” He stopped, glancing quickly at his daughter, a look of
anguished embarrassment etched across his face.
“It’s all right, Dad,” Sarah said.
“I’m sorry,” Pete said. “It’s just that I don’t know . . .” His voice
trailed off as he looked away.
“Well, let me just explain what’s going on,” Sam said. “We have
a settlement offer.”
Across the room, Janet and Pete exchanged looks. It was almost
as if they didn’t want to hear it. Sam understood. It was a monumental decision for them, involving all sorts of imprecise calculations.
Is the money enough? Will it truly compensate? Would acceptance
mean giving up? All of these questions and more seemed to pass
between Sarah Harper’s parents as Sam cleared his throat and
opened the folder.
“Now,” Sam began, “I had a long talk with the defense lawyer.
We discussed the merits of the case, the various contingencies, all
of the considerations that go into these kinds of negotiations.” Again, Janet and Pete Harper looked at each other. Now they
seemed confused. And I sound like a stupid lawyer, Sam thought.
Drop the verbiage and get on with it.
“And the bottom line from the insurance company is a settlement offer of nine hundred thousand dollars.”
Pete Harper frowned. “Nine hundred thousand?”
Sam looked up. “That’s right.”
“That’s a lot lower than what we thought.”
“It is, yes, but again, this is settlement.”
Pete Harper’s face showed a tinge of red. “That’s not nine hundred thousand after your cut, is it?”
“Pete,” Janet said with a mild rebuke.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Harper,” Sam said quickly. Lew had agreed to
let Sam take the case for the usual one-third of the recovery. That was
a big chunk, and he couldn’t fault Pete Harper for feeling pinched. “It is a settlement offer,” Sam explained. “It’s naturally going to
be lower than what we ask for.”
Pete looked out the window, saying nothing.
Sam swallowed. “Again, it’s — ”
“Look at my daughter,” Pete said.
“Please, Pete,” Janet said.
“All I’m saying is . . .” Sam hesitated, then said, “You remember
back when we first met and I explained how the law is in California? Damages for pain and suffering are capped at two hundred
fifty thousand.”
Pete shook his head. “How can they do that?”
“They can. The real fight is over future care and earning
capacity.”
“And they don’t think she could have earned money as a skater?
As a coach? One of the best . . .”
“The insurance company put a valuation on the case, and this is
what they came up with.”
“Pretty easy, isn’t it?” Pete stood and walked to the far wall, near
a bookshelf, then spun around. “Just come up with something out of
thin air. They don’t see her every day.
You
don’t see her every day.” “Pete, stop!” Janet Harper had a hurt yet defiant look in her
eyes. Sam immediately felt like an intruder, then noticed Sarah
weeping silently. Her shoulders were shaking. “Excuse me, please,”
Janet said, turning and wheeling Sarah out of the room.

Pete Harper looked at the floor and took a deep breath. When he raised his head, Sam saw moisture in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’m sorry.” He dropped heavily into his chair, putting his head in his right hand. “It’s just been so hard.”

“I know,” Sam said.
“I used to wake up at four thirty in the morning and make breakfast for Sarah, then take her to the rink for a couple hours’ practice before school. Did that almost every day for seven years. And you know what? I didn’t mind it. Didn’t mind it one bit. I enjoyed every second of it, because I got to be with her. Got to be with her . . .”
A few heavy breaths came out of Pete Harper. Sam nodded, even though Pete wasn’t looking at him.
“When she started winning,” Pete continued, “I was so proud. Everything I taught her about sticking to it, working hard, and someday getting your dream — that all happened. Then this.”
Sam said nothing.
“What hurts the most,” Pete said, “is the heart it took out of her. The heart of a champion. She needs to reach down and fight and . . .” Pete rubbed his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Let me say one thing about this offer. It’s just that, an offer. I’m obligated to report it. But we can counteroffer.”
“And then they’ll counteroffer, and it’s just like Ping-Pong, right? A big game. With us in the middle.”
“It seems that way sometimes, but eventually an agreement can be reached.”
“But it’ll take more time, won’t it?”
“Yes.”
“You tell me what you think, Sam. You tell me if you think we should take it.” Pete was looking straight at him with red-rimmed eyes. That was something Sam hadn’t been prepared for. In previous meetings Pete had always seemed strong and resolute. This was the first sign of vulnerability Sam had seen in him.
“When you take everything into consideration — ” Sam chose his words carefully — “the length of time it takes to get to trial, the whole process of a trial, all the anxiety, the fact a jury might not see it like we do, then the benefits may outweigh the costs.”
Awful. Canned. Pete Harper looked almost like he didn’t understand a word Sam had said.
“We’re not just out for more money,” Pete said quietly. “But Sarah deserves the best care, that’s all, the best chance. We’re talking about the rest of her life.”
“Look,” Sam said, “there’s no need to make a decision right now. Why not just think about it and let me know?”
“But you think we should take it?”
“I think, again, we have to consider everything. I can make a counteroffer and see what they say.” Sam noted a lack of conviction in his voice.
“We’ll do what you think is best, Sam.”
That wasn’t what Sam wanted to hear. What he wanted was a quick answer, an acceptance of the terms. He didn’t want the onus thrown back on him. But there it was.
He stood up, sliding the file folder into his briefcase. “I just wanted to bring you the offer myself and let you know about it as soon as I could.”
“We appreciate that.”
“No problem. How about I call you tomorrow and we talk about it some more?”
“That’s fine. Thanks for coming over.” Pete walked to Sam, put a hand on his shoulder, and started toward the front door.
Sam took a few steps, stopped, then turned and saw Sarah Harper sitting quietly in her wheelchair down the hall. She tilted her head toward him at the sound of his feet.
“Good-bye, Mr. Trask.” Her voice was weak. “Thanks for coming over.”
“You bet.”
Bet? They were betting on him, and he wasn’t sure if the gamble was going to pay off. Not enough to give Sarah what she needed, what she deserved.
By the time he got out of the house and into his car, the day had turned a dark shade, the color of dirty ice.

By Thursday, the sun was back, and LA got treated to a day of clear skies and cumulus clouds. Out on the golf course the grass was as green as a St. Patrick’s Day hat. It always seemed a little greener at Bel-Air Country Club, where Lew was a member.

It was a treat to play here with Lew. Lew loved golf and golf lore, and Bel-Air had more than its share. It was here that Howard Hughes once landed his airplane on a fairway to impress Katherine Hepburn, who lived off the fourteenth. Hughes stepped from the aircraft with clubs in hand and joined Hepburn’s twosome. Club executives were so furious that Hughes resigned his membership the following day and never returned.

Sam would come back anytime, because golfing was one way to give the mind a rest, as long as you weren’t a fanatic about your score. Lew was. Sam just thanked God he could hit the ball fairly straight.

But as glorious as the day was, and as good as Sam was playing, by the time they got to the par-four ninth, Sam couldn’t deny the strangest feeling. Like someone was watching him. Not another golfer, not even someone from the club.

Someone like Nicky Oberlin.
Now why would he think that? It was two days since he’d met him at Starbucks, and Nicky seemed a little odd, but not wacky. Maybe it was just Sam’s imagination running ahead of reality.
“You have the honors,” Lew said.
“What?”
“Hey, you okay?”
“Oh, yeah.” Sam teed up his ball and took one look around. At least the course was immaculate. He reminded himself it was a privilege to play here.
But as he stood behind the ball that feeling of eyes on him wouldn’t go away.
He shook it off and hit a beautiful draw with a lot of roll, right into the middle of the fairway. A drive like that could take care of a lot of fretful imaginings.
As he and Lew rode toward their balls, Lew said, “So you about to wrap up the Harper deal?”
“Pushy little bugger, aren’t you?”
“So?”
“Trust me, sport.”
“Just asking.”
“Don’t worry about it, okay? I can handle everything.”
“Larry Cohen called me.”
Sam snapped a look at his partner. “Did he now?”
“Says you’re dragging your feet on his settlement offer.”
At that moment, Sam wanted to drag Larry Cohen across some barbed wire. “So what’s he doing calling you? Want you to talk some sense into me?”
“That what you think I’m doing?”
“Yeah, and you can stop now.”
Lew pulled the cart to a stop at Sam’s ball. Sam jumped out of the cart and yanked his seven iron from the bag. Lew climbed out too.
“Settle it, Sam. Let’s get out of it and — ”
“And what? Take our money and run?”
“I’m just saying — ”
“I say we should waive our fee, do this pro bono.”
“Are you nuts?”
“No, I’m about to hit.”
Sam could tell Lew was bursting a seam as he got back into the cart. It didn’t help matters when Sam hit a perfect shot up onto the green.
The rest of the round was mixed with tension, but by the time they got to the clubhouse for refreshments Lew had cooled off. He gave Sam a pat on the back. “Hey, pal, let’s just forget what we said out there today, huh? Tell you what. Dinner’s on me. There’s a great new sushi place on — ”
Sam stiffened. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
Sam whipped out his phone and hit Heather’s key. It rang four times, then went to voice mail. Sam said, “Heather, I’m so sorry. I got hung up but I can be home in half an hour. Will you be there? Ready to go? Call me. Love you.”
Lew looked at him as he sipped his gin and tonic. “Family trouble. Just what you need.”
“It’s not trouble,” Sam said, trying to convince himself. “Just a little misunderstanding.”
“Heather’s seventeen.”
“So?”
“That’s trouble.”