by Kim Hamilton
“That’s what I thought. I just had to hear it from you. This means you have the basis for a claim against Brenner’s Market. If you want to proceed with it, I’d like to represent you.”
“What’s the deal? What’s it gonna cost me?”
“Our fee structure is standard for the industry. You pay nothing unless we recover. We take one-third of any settlement, and forty percent if it goes trial. Plus, we’ll deduct any expenses we incur along the way.”
“Yeah, that’s what the other guy told me, too.”
“What other guy?” Kari demanded.
“I called Stuart Milligan. I saw one of his TV ads last week. The guy looks like a schmuck. I called to make sure your fee was standard.”
“That guy is a schmuck,” Kari agreed. “A blood-sucking schmuck.”
“Kari, we shouldn’t bash the competition,” I said.
Tony laughed. “That’s all right, Ms. Snow, I don’t need convincing. I’m going to go with you guys.”
Before he finished his sentence, Kari had our retainer agreement and the medical authorization forms on his tray table. I explained the details. Kari handed him a pen. As he finished signing, we heard a loud, demanding voice from outside the door:
“Where’s Anthony Graham?”
“Room 456,” was the reply in a mildly effeminate male voice.
Kari snatched up the papers and shoved them in her bag.
We looked toward the door as two men of intimidating proportions and confidence walked through, followed by a smaller man who maintained an authoritative position between the two. They were all wearing dark suits and stern expressions.
“Who’re you?” The one in the middle asked. His eyes were deep-set and serious. He was wearing an impeccable silk suit with a blood-red tie and comically large cuff links. His hair was a thick and luscious black. It was perfectly coiffed. He had the aura of Tony Soprano, and I guessed he had similar tendencies toward getting what he wanted.
The two men flanking him were distinguishable. One was significantly taller than the other and had long, thick sideburns and jet black hair. The shorter one was bald. Both had their feet firmly planted, arms across their chests, suit jackets pulled back to reveal the guns holstered to their right hips. I saw Kari taking in these guys. She saw the guns, too.
I looked at Tony and whispered, “You know these guys?”
He shook his head.
A wave of intimidation flowed into the room and almost took my breath away, but I had to break through it. I couldn’t show weakness. “I’m Jessica Snow,” I said, masking my timidity with the assurance of a seasoned attorney. “Who are you?”
“I’m Franco Giovanni.” He looked at Tony. “You the guy who fell in my store?” His tone challenged anyone to give an answer other than the one he expected.
I held my hand up to Tony and forced myself to speak. “This is Anthony Graham. He fell at Brenner’s Market yesterday. I’m his attorney. You’ll need to speak to me.” The clipped, robotic tone of my words provided a rhythm that kept my voice from trembling.
I looked to Kari for reassurance. Her eyes locked on Giovanni. Her mouth hung open, but no words spilled out.
“Your services won’t be necessary,” Giovanni said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll give him ten grand in cash, right now.”
“I’ll take it,” Tony said.
“You can’t agree to take the money until we know what’s wrong with you.”
“Okay, fifteen grand.”
“I’ll take it,” Tony said.
“I’m recommending against it,” I said.
“But that money would pay for the rest of my college tuition. I could graduate on time.”
I hadn’t realized Tony was putting himself through college. In fact, I didn’t know much about him. I was pleased that he had purposeful plans for the money, but I still couldn’t let him settle without knowing the extent of his injuries.
“I understand you’re anxious to settle, but what if you need surgery or extensive rehab? What if you have a permanent disability? Fifteen grand won’t cover your medical expenses, not to mention lost wages in that event. There’s too much we don’t know yet.” I turned to Franco. “I’m not a fan of fast and shady back-room deals. I’m afraid we have to decline your offer, right, Tony?”
He reached for another Jell-O cup. “I guess.”
“I’m not used to being turned down. Right, Elvis?” He turned to the guy with the sideburns.
“Right, boss.”
Franco’s eyes bore into mine. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. My legs went wobbly. “We’ll talk again in a couple of days,” he said. “You got a card?”
Kari, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during this exchange, said, “Here, I have one.” Her hands were shaking as she pulled one from her bag.
“Give it to Paulie,” Franco said. The bald guy stepped forward, took the card, and handed it to Franco. He looked down at it, then back up at me. “I thought I recognized you. I’ve seen your face on a few buses. You seem like a smart lady. You be smart about our future transaction here, and all parties will be happy. If you’re not smart, well then, I don’t know. Things could end unfavorably.” He sounded out each syllable of this last word and looked into each of our eyes as he spoke. Then his eyes rested on me. “Be smart and don’t do anything until you hear from me.”
“I’ll have to notify the insurance company.”
Franco gave a small laugh. He looked at Elvis and Paulie and they laughed on cue.
“Insurance company?” His tone was mocking. “You’re looking at the insurance company.”
They turned to leave. We could hear them laughing all the way to the elevator.
#
Kari and I were just settling in back at the office when we were interrupted by the sound of sirens. We fell silent and tilted our heads toward the front of the building. It was a familiar sound that we ignored, as is the habit of most city inhabitants. But today my pulse quickened. The image of Mark, the firefighter from yesterday, popped into my head. Kari and I elbowed each other in an effort to get to the door first. Kari beat me by a hair. We peered out the glass door together, listening to the sound of the siren. It faded away into the distance, leaving me with an idle sadness.
“We gotta get those firefighter guys back here. I could use the excitement and you sure as hell could use a date. That Mark, he was a looker. He took a liking to you right off the bat, even though you presented yourself as a thin-brained, cigar-smoking pyromaniac.”
I didn’t care for the way she characterized my first impression with Mark, but I had no defense. She was right. “How about I start another fire in the dumpster,” I joked.
“Nah. We need to be more creative. I was thinking more along the lines of an electrical fire. Change things up a bit.”
“I appreciate your concern for my love life, but it might be unwise to risk burning down the law firm. We should find a safer way.”
Kari looked disappointed, but her brain was still working. I could tell by the way she ignored the ringing phone. “Let the machine get it,” she said.
Then a hopeful smile appeared on her face. “I know. I’ll fake a heart attack. That will get them here fast.”
“No, Kari, that will get the paramedics here. Not the firefighters. Thanks anyway.”
I returned to my desk and tried to push all thoughts of Mark to the back of my mind. Brenda had sent me the photos of Tyler playing laser tag. There was no denying that he was not only there, he was also demonstrating some impressive physical combative skills. I felt dirty handling his file. To my surprise, Brenda was still offering $1,500 to be done with it. I was obliged to take it on behalf of my client, even though the possibility that he was an unscrupulous scammer was pretty high. It was not for me to judge. My job was to get him some money. He was lucky to be getting a dime. I emailed Brenda and asked her to send the check.
The next couple of hours were spent reviewing files and calling ad
justers to squeeze more money out of them. I managed to settle a handful of cases, which served to justify my salary for the week. I also signed up a new client who was a passenger in a car that got hit head-on. He broke his wrist and sprained his back. He was passed out in the back of the car at the time, so he was unable to provide me with even the slightest detail about who may have been at fault for the accident. I ordered the police report and referred him to Dr. Leighton, figuring Dawson must be running low on cigars.
It was closing in on one o’clock. I started to think about lunch... and Mark. There was a bagel shop a block past the fire station. A ham-and-Swiss sesame bagel was what I needed. It was a few blocks from here and I didn’t want to go alone.
“Hey Kari, I’ll buy you a bagel sandwich if you walk with me to the bagel shop.”
“What bagel shop?”
“The one near the fire station,” I said with a conspiring smile.
“Atta girl, Jess. Now you’re thinking.”
It was overcast with a slight breeze, a nice break from the heat wave of the last couple of days. Kari and I walked to the bagel shop in a roundabout way so that we passed the fire station. I had a serious talk with her about not embarrassing me. I was more than capable of embarrassing myself.
“Thanks for tagging along, Kari. I don’t want to do anything overt to get Mark’s attention—that is, if he’s even there. My plan is to walk by on our way to lunch and walk by on our way back and if he happens to see us, then maybe he’ll wave, and we’ll wave back. If that’s all that happens, that’s fine.”
She rolled her eyes at me as if I was a complete idiot.
“You have some very low expectations. What if he’s there, but he’s too busy polishing the truck or sharpening the axes to notice pedestrian traffic?”
“Then we’ll try it again tomorrow.”
She harrumphed. I could tell by her pursed lips that she didn’t like my passive approach. The streetlight in front of the station flashed yellow. I started to feel self-conscious. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Why are you slowing down? We’re almost there. Just keep walking. You look great. Your hair’s not even frizzed.”
We were about to cross the intersection at the corner of the fire station when the firehouse sirens started to blast. The flashing yellow lights turned to solid red with adorning flashing yellows. I was sure this didn’t bode well for our plan to get noticed. Traffic came to a stop all around us. We heard a tire screech and then the unmistakable sound of metal hitting metal. We turned around to see a black pickup truck had rear-ended a baby-blue Miata. Kari walked briskly toward the Miata while rooting through her purse and handed the driver a business card. She pointed at me, and the driver gave me a tentative wave. They exchanged a few words and Kari joined me back at the corner. “Think I got us a new case.”
An ambulance pulled out of the fire station and turned in our direction, then headed up north, followed closely by a fire truck. I noticed Mark in the back cabin of the truck. Our eyes locked. I was at a loss for the proper etiquette in this situation. Do I wave? Do I smile? A smile seemed inappropriate. He was heading to an emergency situation after all. However, Mark seemed to know protocol. He flashed his perfect smile at me before the fire truck pulled away.
I turned to Kari and said, “I’m not sure I smiled back. Did you see me smile back?”
Kari pursed her lips and gave me a disapproving frown. “No, I don’t think you smiled back. I think you had that same confused look you have on your face right now.”
I sighed. “I wasn’t prepared for how this went down.”
“No worries, Jess. We still got plan B. The electrical fire. Now let’s go get that bagel sandwich.”
My appetite returned upon entering Charm City Bagels. The smell of freshly baked bread embraced me like a soft blanket. All thoughts of embarrassing encounters with a gorgeous firefighter and demeaning TV commercials fled my mind. Charm City Bagels was a small shop with rustic wood tables that were scrubbed clean to reveal a glossy finish.
There were a few people in line in front of us, so we had time to consider our selections. A large display case housed an assortment of bagels, meats, cheeses, and salads. We inched forward as other patrons placed their orders. The flow of patrons moved to the right toward the cashier, then waited in the holding area until their names were called.
“Channel,” a woman with bright red hair called from behind the counter. No one moved forward.
“Channel!” this time a little louder. Still, nobody stepped forward to claim the brown bag of goodness.
Same voice, with a bit of an edge, “Is there a Channel waiting on two tuna salad bagel sandwiches?”
A full-figured woman in her mid-twenties stepped forward. It was Chantel Devista. I went to high school with Chantel. Our parents still lived in the same neighborhood in Mount Washington. We had a few classes together along the way, but we weren’t friends. I was into sports, and she hung with the drama crowd. Our paths rarely crossed back then. But now she was employed by our nemesis, Stuart Milligan, and I saw her more than I cared to.
She pushed her way toward the counter and snatched the bag from the red-haired woman. “It’s Chantel, not Channel.” With her nose in the air, she turned too fast and stumbled right into me. I grabbed her elbow to steady her. Recognition registered in her eyes as she looked up at me. “Get off me, Jess.” She shook herself free of my grasp, did a head jab in Kari’s direction, and made a clumsy exit.
“Stuart deserves that bitch,” Kari said.
It was our turn to order.
“I’ll have a sesame bagel with ham, Swiss, lettuce, and tomato,” I said to a guy wearing a paper hat who couldn’t muster the strength to fake a cordial greeting. “For here or to go?”
“For here.” I gestured to Kari to place her order.
“I’ll have a plain bagel with corned beef, sauerkraut, and melted Swiss. And a pickle. A big pickle.” We side stepped to the right, past the prepackaged salads and yogurts, and grabbed some chips and two jumbo-sized peanut-butter cookies on our way to the cashier. I paid with my debit card, and we proceeded to the holding area.
When our order was ready, Kari and I found a table on the opposite wall. We tore into our sandwiches, exchanging full-mouth comments about the level of deliciousness. There’s nothing like a fresh bagel to amplify a simple deli sandwich.
Kari took a bite of her pickle which squirted pickle juice in my direction and barely missed my jacket. “So what do we do next?”
I took the last bite of my peanut-butter cookie before saying, “I’ve got to get back to the office and settle some claims.”
“I’m not talking about work. I’m talking about Mark. What’s our next move?”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about Kari’s unwavering interest in hooking me up with Mark. On the one hand, it was nice to know she cared. On the other, it made me seem desperate. Was I desperate for a man? I didn’t think so. I had my career to focus on.
I consolidated the remains of my lunch into a manageable trash pile. “I think for now, I’ll let things take their natural course.”
Kari sighed. “Where’s the fun in that?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Returning from the bagel shop, we noticed a news van parked in front of our office. The white van bore the Nine News Now logo. Two leggy blondes with ample cleavage spilled out of it. One adjusted her tripod and camera while the other checked her makeup in a hand mirror.
We slowed our pace to take in what was happening. From across the street, Stuart Milligan approached the media duo. Chantel Devista strutted along at his side. The blondes flashed toothy smiles at our rivals as they exchanged handshakes. Stuart pointed to our office door, and the news team turned their probing eyes in that direction. A nefarious grin formed on Stuart’s ugly mug.
“This can’t be good.” Kari and I quickened our pace. We closed in on them in time to hear the reporter with the hand mirror say, “Thanks for the tip, Stewie.”
&nbs
p; Stuart blushed like a schoolboy. His rare moment of acknowledgment by an attractive female was interrupted when Kari stepped in front of him, her face mere inches away from his. “What the hell’s going on, Stewie?”
Stuart backed away as Chantel stepped forward and planted her nose in Kari’s face. “You two better go check up on your man, Dawson.” She turned and raced to catch up to Stuart, who was heading to the safety of his office across the street.
A second news van arrived and pulled in behind the News Nine clan. They were followed by a third van and a fourth. Bodies and equipment swarmed the streets, all angling for position.
The female reporter saw the competition arriving. She swapped out her mirror for a microphone, signaled to her partner to get the camera rolling, and started speaking to the lens. “We’re here with an exclusive on the arrest of attorney Dawson Garner. Behind me is his office where he formulated the plan to kill finance expert Harvey Metzger...”
Kari’s body tensed. Her eyes shot daggers at the reporter.
“... a cold and calculated plan to take down...”
Kari rushed the reporter, snatched the microphone, turned to the camera, and said, “None of that’s true.” She raised the microphone to the height of the reporter’s face and dropped it at her feet. The newsy beauties stood open-mouthed and silent, staring at Kari. Before they could protest the affront to their exclusive news story, I grabbed Kari’s wrist and pulled her along with me in the direction of our office.
Two uniformed cops stood like sentries at our door.
“Sorry ladies, you can’t go in there.”
“Of course we can, we work here.” I reached into my bag for a business card, but it wasn’t necessary. The guy was staring at me like I was a celebrity.
“I recognize you. You’re the bus lawyer.”
“She’s more than a bus lawyer. She’s the best damn accident lawyer in town. You need a lawyer? You call her.” Kari whipped the card out of my hand and gave it to him.
