The Wrong Lawyer (6 page)

I wasn’t sure what
to make of Linda’s cancellation of our date, but I felt badly enough that I
didn’t want to discuss it immediately with Corbett.

Trying to be
philosophical about the situation, I consoled myself with the thought that,
unless Linda was merely a great actress, she genuinely seemed to like me. If
so, then the possibility of finding romance in my future with her was not
completely dead and buried.

I had been
anticipating savoring a great meal at the new Indian restaurant that evening.

After pondering
the matter for an hour or so, I called the place and made a reservation for
myself for seven o’clock.

Despite what I had
said to Linda in an effort to make her feel better, completing a full year in
retirement was a significant milestone and I wanted to celebrate the
accomplishment.

For one thing, not
one single problem had cropped up from my law practice since I closed my doors.
Because I had tempted fate and opted not to purchase any extra negligence
insurance from the Law Society, the absence of new claims meant that I had so
far made the right choice and had already saved $655 in premiums.

The disquieting feeling
of rejection slowing began permeating my thoughts during the course of the
afternoon, and by the time I walked to the Silk Route Indian restaurant, I was bordering
on depression.

When the young
hostess greeted me at the entrance, I was downright down on myself.

“Table for one for
Kennedy,” I muttered. “If possible, I’d like to be placed at the worst table in
the room.”

The pretty young
girl looked at me oddly but when she saw that I wasn’t smiling, she recovered
her poise and replied, “Certainly, sir; please follow me.”

She certainly knew
the layout well, because I was taken to a tiny table squeezed in between the
washroom entrance and the swinging doorway into the kitchen.

“This will be
perfect,” I advised the girl as I sat down with my back to the kitchen door.

The establishment
was already quite busy and as I glanced around, I spotted three familiar
couples, two of which were former clients and the third being a fellow attorney
sitting with his wife and a younger couple.

When my server
showed up, I ordered an Indian beer and decided that I’d not scrimp on the
booze this evening. There are some moods that can only be drowned with copious
amounts of alcohol.

The hostess had
certainly chosen this table well. Overzealous waiters regularly threw the
swinging door wide open as they emerged from the kitchen and the back of my
chair got bumped.

The first time it
happened really startled me, and I let out a groan, but thereafter I began a
game. Whenever I got bumped I called out a letter to whichever server bothered
to stop and apologize.

If they had the
sense to put their heads together, they would have deduced that over the course
of the evening I spelled out the word “LOSER” letter by letter.

As a special treat
to my stomach, which I greatly regretted later when I was trying to get to
sleep, I ordered the Beef Vindaloo as spicy hot as they could make it.

It was almost
impossible to eat, but with the assistance of numerous bottles of cold Indian
beer, I ate every indigestion-causing morsel.

To add further
indignity to my little pity-fest, at some point in the evening every person in
the place who knew me used the restroom at least once and stopped to chat.

It does wonders
for one’s self-esteem to be seen dining alone in an expensive restaurant on a
Saturday night.

It didn’t help my
mood to realize that Corbett was literally having a ball with Lynne tonight
while I sat with all my friends celebrating my first solid year of loneliness.

In my shabby
little daydreams over the past week, I had regularly entertained the
possibility that I might actually get lucky with Linda as our date night drew
to a close this evening.

Reality can be
such a downer.

My dinner came to
an even hundred bucks including tip. It was by far the most expensive meal I’d
ever eaten alone.

I toyed with the
idea of taking a taxi home but chose not to spend the few dollars. I wasn’t
worth the luxury of a comfortable ride.

As I walked home,
it began to rain lightly but I hardly noticed. The hot spices in my stomach
were easily defeating the cold beer and my entire innards felt like they were
on fire.

Sleep was
impossible so I got back up out of bed and fired up the computer.

Despite being more
than three-quarters pissed, I got on the Expedia travel website and looked at
flights to Las Vegas departing early next week.

Perhaps a few days
away from Kingston would restore my equilibrium. I decided to take a closer
look at the flights in the morning.

Escape was my
method of choice to cope with Linda’s rejection of me.

After chewing
about a dozen Tums, I finally drifted off to sleep around two o’clock.

My stomach was
still on fire when I woke up at nine. A cold shower didn’t do anything to penetrate
the inner heat.

After I got
dressed, I noticed that my computer was still on.

Imagine my surprise
when I saw that drunken me had booked a holiday without my permission.

Just then there
was a knock on my door.

It was Corbett and
Lynne together.

“Hi guys, come on
in,” I announced cheerily. “Would you like some coffee?”

Corbett explained
their presence while I made the coffee.

“Lynne stayed over
with me last night, Tom. This morning she called her sister to see how your
date went and found out that Linda had cancelled on you. We just wanted to make
sure that you were coping okay.”

“Yeah, I’m soldiering
on,” I answered. “I did have supper at that new Indian place last night after
all to celebrate my first year of retirement.”

I turned to Lynne.

“Did Linda tell
you why she had to bail on me?”

“No; our parents
were in the room with her when I called. What happened?”

“Jeremy came back
to Kingston to live with Linda. He got booted out of the apartment by his
girlfriend, and also managed to lose his job at the call center. Your parents
and Jeremy both criticized Linda mercilessly for dating so soon after Paul’s
death so she cancelled our date in order to keep the peace in the family.”

“That little
bastard is going to be the death of my sister,” Lynne snapped. “I know that she
was really looking forward to seeing you. Did the two of you have a fight over
Jeremy?”

“Of course not; I
fully understand why Linda felt she shouldn’t go out with me. I expect that we
will see each other again once she gets Jeremy sorted out and finds her own
place to live. Linda’s house sale in Ottawa closed without a glitch so she’s now
in a position to look at houses or apartments here in Kingston.”

Corbett could read
me like a book and knew that I wasn’t telling the whole story, but he was kind
enough not to pursue the matter while Lynne was present.

Over coffee they
told me all about their date last night. They had driven over to Alexandria Bay
and ate at a fancy spot there called Cavalario’s.

This afternoon
they were attending some function at Queen’s University which included a dinner
after the ceremony.

It was clear even
to me that they were falling for each other, and I felt quite envious.

Jim drove Lynne
home once we had finished our coffee but he knocked on my door again twenty
minutes later.

By then I had
looked over the trip confirmation which I must have printed in the wee hours of
the morning when I booked my holiday.

I was flying out
of Syracuse on Tuesday morning with a connection in Washington, and returning via
the same route but in reverse on Saturday. My flight wouldn’t arrive back in
Syracuse until very late on Saturday night, and I had also booked a room at the
Four Queens in downtown Las Vegas for the four nights.

Jim and I sat in
the living-room and he said, “Are you upset about what transpired yesterday?”

“I am disappointed
but Linda is stuck in an awkward position right now. Defying her parents by
dating me does seem foolish enough, but antagonizing Jeremy at the same time would
be nuts. He sounds like the kid from Hell. I guess my timing is just bad. On
the other hand, you and Lynne seem to be hitting it off like a house on fire.”

“We’re great for
each other and I’m really happy right now. Did you enjoy your dinner last
night?”

“It was a fiasco,”
I joked and then told him about my poorly situated table for one as well as
running into several people I knew.

“Why would you ask
for the worst table in the place?”

“I was just in
that kind of mood and the evening cooperated perfectly from start to finish. It
began to rain as I staggered home with the world’s worst case of indigestion.
Then, to top off a dismal night, I couldn’t get to sleep. It does appear,
however, that I did manage to salvage the celebration in the end.”

“How did you
accomplish that?” Corbett inquired. “It sounds like you had a dreadful
evening.”

“Apparently I got
up in the night and in my drunken stupor booked myself a trip to Las Vegas
leaving on Tuesday. I found the Expedia confirmation on my printer this morning.”

“Can’t you cancel
it?”

“No, it’s
non-refundable, but in any event, I think I’m looking forward to a few days
away. I can look at it as my one-year retirement anniversary gift to myself.”

Corbett probed a
bit further but was finally convinced that I wasn’t too despondent about
getting dumped by Linda and that I fully expected to see her again in the not
too distant future.

After he left I sorted
through my clothes and decided what to take on my trip.

I hadn’t been on
any vacation since February and it had been a couple of years since I had
visited Las Vegas.

On Monday I got
some American cash and traveler’s checks at the bank.

Corbett called and
invited me up to his place for a drink as a bon voyage send-off. He and Lynne
were staying in his condo that evening as a break from their recent torrid
social agenda.

I was immediately
struck by how comfortable they were together. It really appeared that they were
made for each other.

“Your spur of the
moment trip has prompted Lynne and me to look into taking our first vacation
together. We picked up some cruise brochures from the travel agent this morning.
You’ve always been a fountain of great ideas, Kennedy, although we have no
intention of booking the cheapest trip available like you always do.”

“I’m really
pleased to see how well the two of you fit together,” I replied sincerely. “You’re
both glowing right now.”

“You and Linda
might find that it’s the same with you,” Lynne interjected. “I know that she
likes you and the potential is certainly there. I just hope that little weasel
Jeremy doesn’t spoil everything for you. He’s a complete waste of space.”

“I am looking
forward to seeing Linda again once her currently chaotic life is under control.
It must be difficult having a child who constantly disappoints.”

We changed the
topic and they showed me the two European river cruises that were the finalists
for their own proposed trip.

Both trips lasted
for seven days with short stays either before or after the cruise portion of
the tours.

“When would you
go?” I inquired.

“Lynne has a break
in her course coming up later this week, so we might even be able to get away
as early as Thursday,” Jim replied. “If we do decide to go while you’re in Las
Vegas, I’ll slip a note under your door telling you when we’ll be back.”

Since I had to get
up early the next morning, I left Jim’s condo just after nine-thirty.

Again I was a bit
jealous of the totally positive direction Corbett’s life had taken.

My own life looked
to be even lonelier than before since Jim was now fully occupied with his new
love interest.

I woke with the
alarm at six o’clock, showered quickly, ate some cereal and toast, and climbed
into Little Chevy just after six-thirty.

It would take me
just over two hours to make it to the Syracuse airport, and my first flight was
scheduled to depart for Washington, D.C. at eleven o’clock.

The border
crossing into the USA at the Ivy Lea Bridge went smoothly and I parked the car
in the covered parking garage at the airport exactly at nine o’clock.

As I took a seat
in the departure gate area, it dawned on me that I was excited with the
prospect of seeing Las Vegas again. The severe disappointment arising from
Linda’s cancellation of our date had already subsided, and I no longer felt
envious about Corbett’s good luck. Instead I was entirely pleased about his
good fortune in hitting it off so famously with Lynne.

Being a seasoned
traveler, I had no luggage to check, my only bag being a smallish carry-on
sports bag.

The seats in the
waiting area gradually filled up as the time moved along.

Eventually the
lady at the airline desk announced that passengers could now board the flight.

There was a rush
as people scrambled up to secure a better spot in the line.

I remained sitting
until the line had dwindled to just half a dozen people and then took my place
at the end of the queue.

A moment later a
well-dressed man with a dark complexion made a bee-line down the corridor and breathlessly
took his place behind me.

I smiled and said,
“You cut that a bit short. Was traffic bad?”

“No, it was that distressing
security check. They’ve been grilling me for the past hour and a half. That’s
the disadvantage of being from Saudi Arabia in today’s security-frightened
America. It would have been more efficient if I had just rented a vehicle and
driven to Washington. You Americans have taken this terrorist obsession beyond
the realm of sanity.”

“I’m from Canada.
It’s cheaper and an easier drive for me to fly out of Syracuse rather than
depart from Ottawa or Toronto.”

“Did you have any
difficulty entering America or making your way through airport security?”

“No, it’s been
smooth sailing all the way so far.”

“That’s likely
because you’re the correct color. They claim not to profile the passengers but
it’s a rare day at any airport in this country when I’m not subjected to the
most intense of searches and interrogations.”

My turn in line
had arrived so I handed my boarding pass to the attendant. She swiped it and
gave it back.

I walked down the
jet-way and entered the small airplane which only seated about forty
passengers.

The Arab fellow
had not yet boarded the plane and I wondered if he was being grilled yet again.

My seat was at the
extreme rear of the aircraft and I put my carry-on bag in the small overhead
rack just above my aisle seat.

All the passengers
had now gotten settled except for the chap I had spoken with. There was still
no sign of him.

The sole flight
attendant gave her short safety spiel and then announced that we would be
taking off shortly.

Finally the Arab
gentleman appeared and strode down the aisle while the passengers no doubt were
examining him closely and wondering if he could be trouble.

He continued right
to the rear of the plane and indicated to me that his seat was by the window
beside me.

I stood up and
stepped into the aisle to permit him to get to his seat. I noticed that he no
longer had his carry-on bag with him.

“Where’s your
bag?” I asked.

“They insisted on
searching it thoroughly again at the gate and then advised that it was too
large to be taken on the plane as a carry-on. I was forced to check it. My
protestations were all in vain. They wouldn’t even allow me to bring my laptop
or cell phone onto the plane. It was most infuriating.”

“I think you’ve
got a valid point,” I responded. “Your bag didn’t look any larger than mine and
if I owned a laptop or a cell phone, I certainly wouldn’t want the things out
of my sight. Those devices contain way too much personal information.”

“There appears to
be something much more invasive than normal going on today,” the gentleman
opined. “You wouldn’t believe the detailed questions I was asked at the
security check. I had no idea what information the agents were trying to
extract from me. Their questions jumped from one subject to another with
seemingly no continuity. Because of my swarthy complexion, they must believe
that I’m a terrorist working for ISIS.”

“Who knows if they
even know how to think? I’m just a retired lawyer heading to Las Vegas for a vacation,”
I said. “At the US border all the customs guard asked was how long I was going
to be in the USA and where I was heading. I could have been smuggling in a
trunk load of rocket launchers. At the airport security check here, they didn’t
ask me a single question. They just briefly glanced at my passport. Are you
travelling on business?”

“Yes, so I suppose
that some additional probing of the purpose of my trip to America might be
warranted, but I flew in to New York City from Riyadh a week ago. That would
have been the appropriate time to question the nature of my trip so intensely.”

“That would make
more sense,” I responded. “The security folks have certainly devised some
ingenious ways of making air travel close to intolerable.”

The fellow smiled.

“If you’re
beginning to experience that as an innocent tourist, then you can imagine how
horrid the process of air travel has been rendered for the likes of me. The
looks of suspicion that I receive wherever I travel in this country would make
you believe that I’ve got a bomb hidden in my undergarments.”

“I’m sure the
security bozos would never discover an actual bomb,” I said jokingly. “They’re
too busy looking for illegal drugs to detect any real threat.”

Just then the
plane began moving and within two minutes we were cleared for takeoff and were up
in the air.

My seating
companion closed his eyes and never opened them again until the plane touched
down at Washington Dulles International Airport ninety minutes later.

“Have we arrived
already?” he remarked. “I must have dozed off. That was certainly the quickest
flight I’ve ever had. Please forgive my rudeness in falling asleep during our
conversation. I had no idea that I was so exhausted.”

“That’s quite all right.
My next flight to Las Vegas is over four hours in length. I expect that I’ll
catch a few winks myself on that flight.”

“It’s been a
pleasure conversing with you. Do enjoy your vacation. This is the final leg of
my own trip and I’ll be most pleased to be back home with my family in three more
days.”

The front door of
the aircraft was thrown open and the passengers began quickly filing out.

I retrieved my
carry-on from the overhead luggage bin and stepped back to allow my seatmate to
go ahead of me since I was in no hurry.

When we arrived at
the front of the aircraft, four armed guards were present and requested that
the Arab chap and I follow them. One of the men took my carry-on bag from me.

“I must retrieve
my baggage first,” the Arab answered. “The crew insisted that it be placed in
the plane’s storage compartment. My computer and cell phone are in the small
bag.”

“Your luggage has
already been offloaded and is in our custody,” one of the guards replied.

Instead of
proceeding down the jet way to the terminal, the Arab and I were led the
opposite way out to the tarmac where two black SUV’s were waiting.

He was taken away
in the first vehicle and I was asked to get into the second.

“I’ve got a
connecting flight to Las Vegas departing in less than two hours,” I informed my
two escorts. “May I ask where you’re taking me and why?”

“It’s a Homeland
Security matter, sir. You’ll be briefed when we reach our destination. We’re
merely following orders.”

“No, I’ll be
briefed right now. You could be kidnapping me for all I know.”

“We’re not
kidnapping you, sir. Your presence is required at a Homeland Security sub-office
near the airport. Driving there is much quicker than walking. Please get in the
vehicle. We have specific orders and the legal authority to do what we’re
doing. Please cooperate by emptying the contents of your pockets and removing
your watch.”

“Fine,” I mumbled
as I complied with their request and then got into the back seat where they
secured my seatbelt.

One of the escorts
climbed in the back beside me and the other one got into the front seat on the
passenger side. A third man was already seated in the driver’s seat.

By now the first
vehicle was already out of sight.

I was most curious
to find out what was going on.