Once We Were Brothers (37 page)

Catherine walked over to Liam. “Did I ever tell you how grateful I am for your help, for your friendship? More than you can know. It’s one thing for me to jump into the fire with my career, but it’s quite another for me to drag you in. If we end up in litigation against Rosenzweig, all your big-firm clients – Lawrence McComb, Fisher Longworth, all of them – will shun you like the plague. You may not get any more work from any of them.”

“That’s interesting coming from you, Cat. Wasn’t it just a couple of months ago that
I
was trying to talk
you
into taking this case? Wasn’t it
me
that made you promise to evaluate Ben’s case?”

“It’s different. I made a professional choice to represent a client. I got wrapped up in his story. I committed a lawyer’s blunder – I became emotionally invested in a client’s case. You, on the other hand, were back-doored into it. And I happen to know that you’ve given up profitable assignments over the past couple weeks in order to gather information about Rosenzweig. Not to mention the hours you’ve spent with Ben and me.”

“Cat, do you think you’re only one affected by Ben’s story? I feel as deeply as you do.” Liam fished through a plastic bag of corner connectors. “Let’s stop this conversation. It’s going nowhere.”

The doorbell rang and Catherine said, “The pizza’s here. How about we quit for the night? We’ll do more work tomorrow. Tonight, let’s just relax.”

Liam tightened his lips and shook his head. “I’m going to finish this first. It’s me and the desk –
mano a mano
. I won’t go down without a fight. According to the Easy Assembly Instructions I have only three sections left.”

Catherine left to set the pizza in the warmer. From time to time she winced as Liam’s curses echoed through the building.

Half an hour later, Liam walked into the kitchen and said, “Do you have a Band-aid?” He held his hand out like a little boy to show Catherine that he had skinned two of his knuckles.

“I have a Band-aid and a glass of wine,” she answered. “Which do you want first?”

* * *

The last few pieces of pizza sat in the box on the coffee table next to a bottle of Chianti. The fire blazed and Oscar Peterson played “Porgy and Bess” on the stereo. Catherine raised her wine glass. “Here’s to our efforts. May we have the strength to see this case through to the end.”

“And some luck.”

Catherine nodded. “Some luck and some evidence.” She stared at the fire and then at Liam, who had a far-away look in his eyes. “What are you thinking about?” she said.

Liam shifted uncomfortably. “About high school – the Fleetwood Mac concert at Alpine Valley.”

Catherine smiled at the recollection. “That was the one and only time we double-dated. You were with Janet Morgan. What made you think of that?”

“We went for pizza afterwards.”

Catherine leaned back against the couch pillow and pondered the memory. “God, that was a long time ago. I was so uncomfortable that night, did I ever tell you?”

“No. How come?”

“Just being out on a date, the two of us, and I was with someone else, and you were with someone else.”

Liam quietly chuckled. “When I took Janet home, she wouldn’t even kiss me goodnight. She was pissed at me. She said all I did was talk to you all night and didn’t pay any attention to her.”

“After that concert, I was sure you were going to call me and ask me out, but you never did.”

Liam reached out, lifted the bottle of wine and poured another glass for each of them. “I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of not having a good time. Of not meeting your expectations. I don’t know. We could’ve dated and sooner or later, like all high school romances, we’d have broken up. I guess I didn’t want to risk messing up our friendship. Maybe if I had asked you out, we wouldn’t have been friends for all these years. You never know.”

They sat on the couch long after the pizza was gone and the fire had settled into a glow. Catherine, her wine glass in her hand, her stocking feet tucked under her, sidled closer to Liam, leaning her head on his chest. He put his arm around her.

“I don’t deserve a friend like you,” she whispered. “You’ve always been in my corner, since day one.”

She took another sip of wine and stared at the embers. “Why did you let me marry Peter?” she said at last. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Liam shook his head. “If only I could have. It was the saddest day of my life.”

“Damn the choices we make that change our lives forever,” Catherine said. “The doors of decision are one-way only. You can never go back. I’ll never be the same person again.”

“Let it go, Cat. None of it was your fault. You’ve got to give life another chance.”

Catherine finished her wine and set the glass on the table. She turned and faced him with a soft and gentle gaze and cupped his face with her hands.

“You’re right,” she said. “I know you’re right. Maybe we should take that chance we should have taken years ago. Will you to stay with me tonight?”

He hugged her tightly His hand found the small of her back beneath her sweater and he rubbed her back as he kissed her. “I’ve loved you forever, Cat.”

“I know.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chicago, Illinois December 2004

Afternoon sunshine poured through the windows and onto the print-outs of Illinois appellate decisions, statute books, manila folders and notepads that lay strewn about on Catherine’s dining room table. Crumpled balls of yellow notepaper lay on the floor beside the waste basket – errant hook shots, missed free-throws. A stack of library books, annals of Polish history, were piled on the table in front of Liam. Ben had arrived earlier that morning.

“I still need a more definitive list of the stolen property,” Catherine said to Ben. “You’ve given me fourteen items, including your father’s bundle of currency, with a total present day value of $850,000. The non-monetary property, the items of jewelry and silver, need to be described with more particularity.” She looked at Ben and tilted her head. “For example, item eight, ‘A Silver Watch,’ is not descriptive enough. Can you remember what it looked like, the name of the manufacturer?”

Ben just nodded and tapped the point of his pencil on his notepad.

“Liam, anything further on Otto Piatek? Your ideas? Your leads?” Catherine said.

“There is no one named Piatek in Cleveland. My buddy has verified that there are no phones, real estate records, licenses or listings for a Piatek anywhere in the Cleveland area. He did come across a
Piacek
, but so far, no one answers the phone. I’ve still got some lines in the water. At the library I dug up some info from historical journals. There are scattered references to Piatek in the German military archives. Nazi administrative records, produced at the Nuremburg trials, confirm the elevation of Piatek from scharfuhrer to hauptscharfuhrer in 1941. His rank and an increase in pay were reported in the audited General Gouvernment accounting journals in 1943. His posting in Zamość is noted.”

“Are there any references to Piatek after 1943?”

“Not that I’ve seen yet.”

Catherine stretched her arms. “We’ve been at this for five hours today. Why don’t we take a break? Anybody want some lunch?”

Ben stood. “I’m going for a walk. I need some air.”

“It’s cold out,” Catherine warned.

Ben smiled. “Not really. It’s in the thirties. When I was a starter, sitting in that golf cart out on the first tee, many an April morning that wind would whip off the lake and chill me to the bone.” He struck a boxer’s pose. “I’m tough.”

Left alone in the townhome, Liam approached Catherine and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Catherine tensed, patted his arm and turned away to walk to the kitchen.

“What’s the matter?” Liam said.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Last night, was that a problem for you, because for me it was heaven.”

Catherine shook her head but averted her eyes. “No, it was wonderful, Liam. It’s not that.”

“Then, what?”

“Let’s not talk about it now,” she said, opening the refrigerator and sliding out the meat drawer. “We have a lot to do. How about a turkey sandwich?”

Liam slid back a kitchen chair, reversed it, straddled it and watched Catherine gather the makings for a turkey sandwich. “White or whole wheat?” she said.

“I’m not OK with this, Cat. I don’t get it.”

“Let’s just leave it for now,” she answered without turning around. “You have to respect my wishes. That’s just the way it is. I’ve got to work my way through this. White or whole wheat?”

“Catherine, don’t put me off. I have a stake in this, too.”

She turned to face him. Her face was flushed. “Damn it, Liam! White or whole wheat?”

Liam blinked. “Whole wheat.”

* * *

“It was an Omega pocket watch,” said Ben, returning from his walk. “Made in Switzerland in the early 1900s. My father bought it in Zurich.” He hung his coat in the hall closet and returned to the kitchen. “It had a model name – Labrador, I’m pretty sure. Silver case, with an intricate design. Inside, the face had Roman numeral hour markers. My father kept it on a silver chain clasped to his belt loop. I expect it would be worth quite a handsome sum today. Descriptive enough?”

Catherine nodded. Unmoved. She obviously had other things on her mind.

“Something wrong?” Ben said.

“No,” said Catherine and Liam in unison.

“I’m going to add that description to the lawsuit,” Catherine said, walking to the dining room. “I still need more details on your mother’s bracelet.”

“Did I do something?” Ben whispered to Liam.

“No, it’s not about you.”

The phone rang and Catherine answered it in the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned to the dining room.

“That was Jenkins. He wanted to know if I had reconsidered his offer. He says Rosenzweig’s investigator is watching the Piatek house in Cleveland, but that it’s actually owned by a man named Piacek. He tells me that’s the English pronunciation of Piatek. Isn’t that the name your friend came up with?”

“It is,” Liam said.

“Well, Jenkins said there’s nobody home. The house is dark. Rosenzweig’s investigator now thinks he might be in Europe. He surmises that Piatek heard about the Rosenzweig incident and fled for Poland or Germany.”

“Nobody home. What a surprise,” Ben said.

* * *

The balance of the afternoon was spent doing research, Catherine questioning Ben, and Liam pouring through chronicles of the German army campaigns in Poland and western Russia.

“Are we going to work into the evening?” said Liam at five o’clock. “Because that little sandwich isn’t going to hold me – I’m getting hungry.”

“If you don’t need me,” Ben said, “I’ve been invited for dinner at Adele’s. She’s going to pick me up.”

Catherine set her pen down on the table and turned to face the two. She had her palms flat on the table and leaned forward. “Gentlemen, this is the bottom line: we need to have more evidence before I can file a lawsuit. I just don’t have enough factual support. I don’t want to file it on Ben’s ID alone. We need more than mysterious circumstances – more than a false immigration date, more than unexplained wealth. Something that will tie Rosenzweig directly to Piatek. Otherwise, we’ll get bounced on a motion and lose our opportunity forever.”

Liam poured three glasses of wine. “Trust me on this. I will have something soon, maybe in a day or two. I’m about to catch a fish.” He winked.

“What do you have?”

“Trust me.”

Adele stopped by at six, and she and Ben left shortly thereafter.

“Having second thoughts about the lawsuit?” Liam said as he walked over to put his arms around Catherine.

“Nope. Not about the cause, anyway. Just about myself. I’m not sure I’m the right girl for the job.”

“He couldn’t have a better advocate,” he said and kissed her on the forehead. “Let me take you to dinner.”

Catherine shook her head. “Not tonight. I want to work a little more.”

“What is it, Cat? What’s wrong here? Have I done something?”

“No, it’s not you, it’s me. Don’t worry about it.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and walked into the kitchen.

“Hold on,” said Liam, who followed her, grabbed her hand and led her back to the couch. “Sit down, please. I got something to say.” Reluctantly, she took a seat beside him. “Twenty years, Cat. I’ve been waiting around for twenty years. And all that time, I’ve loved you every day. I’ve laughed with you, I’ve cried with you and yet, I was always resigned just to be your friend, because I knew that’s all it’d ever be. Then last night happens and now everything has changed. At least it has for me. I know I’m just a hard-nosed Irishman, but, believe it or not, I got feelings. I can’t go back to some dispassionate friendship. You’ve got to level with me. What’s going on?”

Catherine, her eyes tearing, grabbed a fistful of tissues. “I’m sorry, Liam. I truly am. It’s a crisis of confidence. It’s all about me and my doubts. I doubt my judgments. I doubt my competence as a lawyer. I doubt my ability to sustain a relationship.” She turned to face him and gripped his wrists. “Don’t you get it? Ever since Peter, it’s all a façade. I’m a fake. I’m putting up a false front here, Liam, and I know that sooner or later everyone is going to find out. No one of sound judgment could make the mistakes I’ve made in my life. I’m a goddamn failure.” She shook her head. “And it’s not just my bad judgment. When my marriage crashed and burned, I swore I’d never let myself be that vulnerable again. I’d never get hurt like that again. I built myself a nice, strong, protective wall. I rebuilt my career. I put some money in the bank. That’s just the way I wanted it. Then along comes Ben. My career craters. When I file against Rosenzweig, it’ll hit every paper in town and I’ll be so overmatched it’ll make David and Goliath look like a fair fight. And now, on top of all that, I go and throw my heart out on the line like some stupid teenager. It’s overwhelming me. I can’t do this right now.” She broke into sobs and squeezed his forearms. “I can’t do this!”