After the Fire

by Meredith Rae Morgan

  Chapter 10

  Bev pulled up in front of Morehouse's office and parked behind Ron Mazzoli's SUV. She took a deep breath. This was not likely to be a pleasant meeting.

  Morehouse's secretary was on the phone when she walked in. Morehouse came out of his small conference room and beckoned her to join him. Ron and Claudia Mazzoli were seated at the table, with cups of coffee in front of them. Bev poured herself a cup from the coffee pot on the credenza and sat down, across from the insureds. She greeted them. They responded but with very guarded words and expressions.

  Paul said, “I'll get right to the point. The sharks are circling. Ron has not been served with any lawsuits and we're checking all the nearby court dockets for new filings. To my knowledge nothing has been filed and no specific demands have been made, but a lot of people are demanding to know what's up and who they need to speak to about their claims.”

  “People being individual claimants or their attorneys?”

  “Both. Some of the families do not appear to have lawyers yet. That is likely to change soon. We understand that there is to be a meeting at the AmVets tonight. Timothy Peters will be the speaker.”

  “Why the AmVets?”

  “It's the only place in town big enough to accommodate a crowd the size that this meeting will draw.”

  Bev tried not to let the insureds see her reaction. On the one hand, a nationally known plaintiff's attorney would draw attention to the case. That would be bad. On the other hand, having all the cases in the hands of one attorney would make her negotiating much easier. Besides, she knew Tim to be a reasonable guy, for a plaintiff's lawyer. She'd rather deal with him than some local attorneys who might not understand the enormity of the problems the claim presented.

  “Peters wants the Mazzoli's to attend the meeting.”

  Bev laughed, “I hope you told him to do something anatomically impossible.”

  He made a face, “I told him I did not think it was wise to expose my clients directly to the claimants. That's what I'm here for.”

  “At which point, he suggested that you be present.”

  “Right.”

  She sipped her coffee and stared at the table. This was tricky, but it could be a good opportunity. After a few minutes she nodded. “Okay. We'll both go.”

  Both the Mazzoli's sighed loud enough for her to hear. Morehouse visibly relaxed as well. Bev shook her head and smiled. “I would not have sent you into the lion's den alone.” She looked at the Mazzoli's and said, “I would be willing to bet that both of you want to go to that meeting if only to express your sorrow at the loss those families face. I am sure Paul has impressed upon you the importance of not making any statements on the subject of this matter to anybody, most especially anybody who had a family member in The Barn the night of the fire. I hope you will cooperate in that respect.”

  Claudia said, “We will. It's hard because we see these people every day. But, we are not discussing the case.”

  Ron asked, “What will you say to them?”

  “I will tell them the fire is still under investigation. We have no basis on which to agree to settle any claims for damages until we know what caused the fire and whether you were negligent in some way that caused or contributed to the injuries.”

  Paul asked, “What's your assessment as to liability.”

  Bev answered very carefully, looking at the Mazzoli's not Paul, “Keep in mind, we still are not sure how the fire started. Until we can establish that, we can't make any commitments to pay anything.” Then she looked back at Paul, “Let's assume that the insured did not set the fire. You believe that. I believe it. We can't prove it yet, but solely for the sake of this discussion, let's take insurance fraud off the table. There are two other scenarios.

  “One is that the fire was an accident. Frankly, the evidence weighs against that, but let's say we ultimately can't conclusively prove that someone set the fire. If it's an accidental fire, we do have a problem. Here's why:

  “The place was not sprinklered, despite repeated suggestions from Chief Casey that they should sprinkler it. Granted, the fire department never failed the fire inspections and my company never ordered them to sprinkler it. Still, I guarantee you that Tim Peters will be able to provide ample testimony that would tend to convince a jury that it is negligent for the owner of a business that is constructed of wood not to install sprinklers. He'll call it gross negligence so he can ask for punitive damages.

  “Secondly, there were a dozen more people in the restaurant that night than the fire code allowed for.

  “Thirdly, when the people in the kitchen opened the door, the fresh air that came into the dining room caused the fire to flare. I'm not sure what Peters will do with that, but I'm pretty sure he'll try to make out that there was something that could have and should have been done to prevent that from happening.

  “That's a long way of saying that this is not a case I want to put in front of a jury. I will hire good lawyers and we'll do the best we can, but I'm presently evaluating this as a case I'd rather settle.”

  Ron Mazzoli said, “But there isn't enough money for that, is there?”

  Bev looked him in the eye and said, “No, sir. There isn't nearly enough money for that. If this turns out to be a covered loss, which -- I hate to keep repeating it but I have to be clear --, is not yet determined, you and your siblings have $1.9 million dollars of insurance limits. That won't take care of the claims of the people who are still in the hospital, without anything at all for the families of the people who died.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Did Mr. Morehouse mention to you the possibility that if I pay you for the building you put that money into the settlement pot?”

  The Mazzoli's nodded and Claudia wiped her eyes. She looked at Bev and said, “Ms. Deller, our only income right now is a little bit of money I am bringing in from a job I just got cooking at the nursing home. Ron's looking for a job, but nobody will hire somebody who might be going to jail soon. Our kids are giving us money to pay our bills. The insurance money is supposed to be for us, so we can either rebuild or at least live on the money, right?”

  Bev nodded, “Yes, ma'am. The proceeds from the property claim, if I am able to pay it, would be your money. You can do with it as you please. But, I caution you, and I'm sure Paul has talked to you about this, after the insurance money is used up, I'm finished. Once I pay the million in limits I have, the company's duties to you will end. The plaintiffs will sue you personally, and I won't be paying Mr. Morehouse's bills any more. The simple truth is that if we can't get this settled and releases from all the potential plaintiffs before I tender my limits, I'm very afraid they will take everything you've got or ever might have.

  “I will be honest with you. I'm doing a delicate dance here. On the one hand, if any evidence turns up that you had anything to do with the fire, I will deny coverage and turn the matter over for prosecution. You have known that from the beginning. I don't think you did it, but there's a lot of circumstantial evidence against you. I'm doing my best to keep the file out of the hands of the fraud investigators.

  “On the other hand, the evidence indicates that somebody probably set the fire. I'm trying to find out who it was. And why. If you have any ideas about that, I'd love to hear them.”

  Nobody said a word. Ron and Claudia were both silently weeping. Paul Morehouse looked like a man in shock. Bev forced herself to maintain eye contact with Ron Mazzoli. Paul said, “You said there were two scenarios if Ron didn't set the fire. What's the other.”

  Bev tried to smile, “The other is that we prove that somebody else set the fire, with criminal intent. In that case, your exposure goes way down. I might be able to settle your portion of the claim and you can keep all or at least most of the $2.5 million.”

  For the first time both Mazzoli's looked at her with a glimmer of hope in their eyes. “How will you do that?”

  Bev looked at them, glanced a
t Paul and then looked back into Ron Mazzoli's eyes. She said, “I turned the matter over to the FBI yesterday.”

  Claudia gasped. Paul looked at her with something like horror. Ron Mazzoli nodded and looked into her eyes for a long time. He said, “If I set the fire, I'll be in jail soon.”

  Bev didn't blink, “Since you and I both know you didn't set the fire, I wouldn't worry too much about that. We are bringing our fire investigator back and the FBI is going to bring in a guy to look at it also. I think somebody other than you set the fire. I can't prove it with the resources I have. The FBI is our only other option.”

  Claudia asked, “How long will it take?”

  “We are going to try to work fast, but I'm warning you, these things take time. You will see no money from the insurance company until the investigation is concluded.”

  Paul asked, “What will you tell Peters.”

  Bev said, “I will tell Peters that the matter is under investigation and that I will not discuss it until the investigation is completed.”

  She turned to the Mazzoli's and pointed her index finger, “Please keep in mind. Everything that has transpired in this room today is privileged communication. Nothing we have discussed here should leave this room. If anybody asks you about what is going on, tell them you don't know. All you can say is the insurance company is investigating. Period. Understood?”

  They both nodded.

  Bev stood up and said, “I have to run. Paul, I'll talk to you later and we can strategize about who will say what at the meeting.” She shook hands with both the Mazzolis and mumbled something about keeping their chins up.

  Paul walked her to the door and said, “I'm not so sure that direct communications between you and your insured are privileged.”

  “I'm not positive of that either, but you're the one who invited them to the meeting so you'd better damned well better convince them to keep their mouths shut. In the future, you and I need to speak privately and then you should speak privately to them. That will avoid any problems with privilege.”

  “Okay.”

  She got in her car and drove home on auto pilot, barely noticing her surroundings. She went inside and leaned against the inside of the front door, where she sobbed out loud for several minutes. Then she went into the bathroom and threw up. After that, she undressed and went to bed, seeking the solace of unconsciousness. She was still sleeping when Emily came in from school.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  Bev sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Oh, my God, what time is it?”

  “Three thirty. Mom, what's the matter. You've been crying and you smell like you've been sick?”

  Bev jumped out of bed, grabbed a robe and ran into the living room, digging around in her purse, “Pay no attention to that. I fall apart sometimes when I have really bad claims like this one. First I cry. Then I puke. Then I sleep.” She had three missed calls from Paul Morehouse and a bunch of others. She clicked on the first missed call from Paul.

  He picked up on the first ring and said, “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Sorry. I was indisposed. What time is the meeting?”

  “Seven.”

  “Okay. I'll meet you at your office at six.”

  “Who's going to do the talking?”

  “You are.”

  “You going to tell me what to say?”

  “I already did. You are going to say that the matter is under investigation by the insurance company and that is all there is to it. I've got a bunch of calls to make. I'll see you at six.” She hung up.

  Emily was standing in the middle of the room. “What the heck is going on, Mom. Are you sick?”

  “No. I told you. This has happened before. It's how I handle stress. Weep. Vomit. Then sleep. After that, I'm ready to get back into action.” She made a face, “I don't particularly recommend it as a coping mechanism, but it works for me.” She said, “I haven't eaten anything today and I'm starving. Do you suppose you could make us a sandwich and maybe some soup? I have to shower and get ready for a meeting. I also have to call the legal department at my company. I promise to fill you in while we eat.”

  She went back into the bedroom and called Russel McGavin. She filled him in briefly on the meeting and her plan of action. She asked if he wanted to attend or send a lawyer for the company. He said he thought she should go alone with Morehouse. He said he didn't think they wanted a legal team involved yet.

  “I told Paul, he should do the talking. Do you agree?”

  He was quiet for a while. “I think you should do the talking for the Company. Paul is Mazzoli's lawyer. He should speak only for Mazzoli. His story is that he believes his client did nothing wrong, period. You're the company spokesperson. Your story is that you have no conclusive evidence as to the cause of the fire. Until you do you can make no commitments one way or the other. The matter is under investigation. Period.”

  “Got it. You want me to call you tonight after the meeting or come into the office tomorrow.”

  “Both. Call me tonight but plan to come in tomorrow. I've got Rita Wentzel on board as coverage counsel. I want you to meet her and you can fill us in on your meeting with the FBI.”

  “Okay, I'll see you tomorrow.”

  “David Jameson told me to give you a message. He said if you throw up more than three times, he wants you off of this case.”

  “Understood.”

  “How many times have you thrown up already?”

  She didn't respond. He said, “Answer me.”

  “Twice.”

  “Third time and you're done.”

  “I hear you.”

  She showered and dressed for the meeting. By the time she was finished Emily had a place set for her with a sandwich, a bowl of tomato soup and a glass of tea. “You're not joining me?”

  “I had pizza for lunch. I'm not hungry. I'll eat dinner later. What's up with you?”

  “Things are about to come to a head. I had a meeting this morning with Mr. and Mrs. Mazzoli. I had to tell them some very hard truths.”

  “They're saying that you are going to put Mr. Mazzoli in jail.”

  “No. I'm not. I believe he is innocent, and I intend to prove it. That doesn't mean his troubles will be over, but at least he won't have the specter of jail hanging over his head. I'm sorry. I can't discuss this.”

  “How come you got sick?”

  “You know that happens when I get upset. It is very upsetting to have to stand by while a family's whole world is crashing around them and not be able to help them.”

  Emily smiled, “I think you may be too softhearted for the business you're in.”

  “My boss thinks so, too. Problem is, it's the only thing I know how to do that will pay the bills. So I melt down occasionally. Life sometimes sucks. It's important to deal with it and move on.”

  Emily squinted her eyes and wrinkled her nose, “I think I'm going to work on learning to deal with problems in some way other than vomiting.”

  “Take it from me, that's a really good idea.”

  Bev drove to the AmVets hall. The parking lot was already full and she had to park down the block. There were clumps of people standing around on the sidewalk in front of the building. They parted for her to pass, but no one spoke to her. Paul Morehouse had not yet arrived. She walked up to the table in front and greeted Tim Peters. He smiled and shook her hands, “This is getting to be a habit with us.”

  “I'd say you were stalking me except that I know you're simply stalking the victims of these crimes.”

  “You think this is a crime?”

  “I do.”

  “Can you prove it?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So, what are you going to do about that?”

  “I'm going to finish my investigation.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Until I'm finished.”

  “You're dragging your feet.”

  “I'm investigating a complicated fir
e.”

  “Nothing complicated about a fire in a restaurant that left dozens dead and another dozen in the burns unit.”

  “The complicated part is how the fire started. You know that I can't make any commitments to anybody until I know the answer to that question.”

  “Was it your insured?”

  “I don't know.”'

  “Could it have been?”

  “Coulda been a lot of people.”

  “You're not being very cooperative.”

  “It's not my job to cooperate with you. It's my job to investigate the fire. Once I finish my investigation, you and I can have another conversation. Who hired you, by the way?”

  “I represent the estates of Dr. Prescott, his wife and their children.”

  “They had two children present in the restaurant.”

  “Yes. The bride and her older sister.”

  “Who's handling the estate?”

  “The family was essentially wiped out. There is a baby granddaughter who was with a babysitter. She will inherit everything it appears.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She will inherit a bundle without any insurance money, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Lotta people in the hospital need money more than she will.”

  “That will be a conversation for another day.”

  Their words were carefully chosen and their body language was almost combative, but they were both smiling.

  Paul Morehouse joined them. Peters looked at his watch, “Time to get started.”

  Paul and Bev started to move to the front row. Tim held out his hand in the direction of the front table, “Please join me. I'm sure the audience will want to hear from you.”

  Bev made a face and sat down at the head table, “You know we don't have much to say.”

  “You still gotta say it.”

  Bev sighed and tried to think of something else as Tim addressed the crowd and gave them a plaintiff's attorney's version of how and insurance claim works. It was all she could do not to conk him on the head a few times when he almost misrepresented her role. She didn't interrupt and tried not to look too annoyed. A couple of times Paul looked at her and furrowed his brow. She shook her head ever so slightly. Mercifully, Tim had finished his spiel. He invited questions.

  Most of the questions had to do with how much money the families could expect out of the lawsuits he proposed filing. Bev hated the fact that families tended to get greedy after a tragedy. Some people think that by extracting money out of the person they think was responsible for injury or death, they can diminish their own grief. In her experience it didn't work that way. For one thing, the money generally came from the insurance company, not the individual and, for another, money does not cure grief. Often the ordeal of going through a lawsuit that drags on for years keeps the wounds fresh and impedes the healing process. She knew that to be true, but she wasn't going to say that to the angry mob in that hall. She wanted to get out of there without injury.

  Her daydreaming was interrupted when one of the victim's father asked Paul, “Where the hell is Mazzoli? He didn't have the decency to come here and apologize to us in person.”

  Paul started to answer, but Bev held up her hand and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Mazzoli wanted to be here tonight. Not to apologize, but to stand with you in your grief and pain. Recall that their granddaughter was among the casualties, along with a number of their long-time employees. All of the victims were their customers and friends. I asked them not to come because, frankly, I did not want them to have to face accusations such as the one you are making. This event is a tragedy for them as much as anyone.”

  Someone else jumped up and said, “Did Mazzoli set the fire?”

  “I can't make any speculations about the origin of the fire. That is still under investigation. I will tell you that I personally do not believe Mr. Mazzoli or anyone in his family set the fire. I cannot, however, make any commitments about the claim until our investigation is concluded and we know for sure.” She was so glad McGavin let her come to this meeting without a company lawyer. The guy would clobber her for that statement. She hoped to hell there were no reporters in the crowd. She didn't see anybody she didn't recognize.

  It worked. The crowd quieted noticeably.

  “So what are you doing to investigate?” Peters' voice sounded accusatory but there was laughter in his eyes. Bev wanted to smack him.

  “You know I can't discuss the details, but I can tell you I hired an expert fire investigator, the crime lab in Cincinnati sent in a team because the local police don't have a CSI unit. Forensic investigation takes a lot longer in reality than it does on TV, but the process is similar. We dig through the ashes for clues and then add up the clues until a picture emerges.”

  Someone asked Paul what his role was. He said, “I represent the Mazzoli's.”

  A woman in the front row said, “I thought you represent the insurance company.”

  “The insurance company is paying my bills, but the Mazzoli's are my clients.”

  An angry voice from the rear of the room, “What happens when the insurance company finally figures out that Mazzoli set the fire?”

  Paul said, “I will continue to represent Mr. Mazzoli, who would be subject to prosecution.”

  A different voice said, “The insurance company won't pay you for that.”

  “That is correct.”

  The angry man in the back said, “Mazzoli sure as hell doesn't have any money. He owes everybody in town and our last paychecks have bounced. Who's going to pay your bills then.”

  “That will be between me and Mr. Mazzoli, but I assure you I will not let him be thrown to the wolves without representation.”

  Bev tried not to smile.

  Peters asked, “Why would you do that?”

  Paul looked him straight in the eye and said, “Because I believe that whether it turns out the fire was arson or accidental, Mr. Mazzoli had nothing to do with it. I believe that he is in no way responsible for the horrible things that happened to his business and the lives of his employees and his customers, not to mention the utter implosion of his own family's world.”

  Bev wanted to stand up and cheer, but she settled for turning to face Peters. She winked with the eye that was turned away from the crowd. He didn't laugh, but she could see a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. This entire part of the meeting was pure theater and Paul had just stolen the show. She knew that Peters was going to try to steal it back, so she stood up and announced, “I think that Mr. Morehouse and I have said all we can say to you at this point. Once our investigation has been concluded, we will take the next step, whatever it may be.

  “Mr. Peters is going to tell you that you need to hire him and you need to sue. He will tell you that you should do that quickly. I want to remind you that an attorney will take approximately 40% of any money you would ever get from a claim settlement negotiated by that attorney; you do not need to hire a lawyer to settle your claim. I also want to remind you that you have a year from the date of the accident to sue. You do not need to rush to do that.

  “If you choose to hire an attorney, I strongly encourage you to choose carefully. I have known Mr. Peters for a number of years. I can tell you, he's a good attorney who does an excellent job for his clients. There are a lot of piranhas out there; I do not believe Mr. Peters is one of them. You should make sure, however, that whoever you choose to hire, your attorney is someone you like and trust because you're going to spend a lot of time with that person over the next few years.

  “Mr. Morehouse and I will leave you to your private conversation with Mr. Peters.”

  When she turned to shake Peters' hand he was smiling. He shook her hand and leaned close, whispering, “You win this round, Babe. Good show.”

  She raised her eyebrows and whispered back, “How many times have I told you not to call me 'babe'.”

  As they walked down the center aisl
e between the rows, she felt angry eyes boring into her back.

  Morehouse stopped on the sidewalk as soon as the doors closed and whirled on her, “Why in the hell did you endorse Peters?”

  “Quite honestly because I think he is as decent a guy as a plaintiff's lawyer can be. He does a good job for his clients. He understands the process. I think the more of those people he can sign up the better our chances of achieving a global settlement. What I don't want to have to do is sit across a table from a dozen or more lawyers, half of whom will be looking for the big score that will make their reputations.”

  She let him think about that for a minute while he calmed down, then she added, “You did a great job in there tonight.”

  “Thanks. Am I wrong in thinking that if your boss had heard what you said, he would not be very happy.”

  “You are not wrong about that. I'm just hoping there were no reporters in the room that might quote me in the papers.” She shook her head as if to clear away cobwebs, “I'm too damned close to this one.”