In Love and Law

by Drake Koefoed

  “Do I get the reception job at the DA office?”

  “If you can hack it here for a week.”

  “William Ames’s office. Oh, Marcie. How nice to hear from you. Will was just telling me I need to get some business clothes. Uh huh. Alice Claybourne? I will drop your name. And Alice will help me? You’re the greatest. Oh, he is right here. Will, Marcie on line three.”

  Will went to his office and picked up. “Honey, I have four photographers, and they can do in a day what you do in twenty seconds. I need you, and your girl. I mean, I don’t need your girl, but you do. Will you guys come?”

  “We have commitments. Let me get back to you.”

  Will conferenced Doug and Chrissie. “The office is fine, Will. Chrissie can take a few weeks off. Go to the Med.” Chrissie put in. “We should do it, Will.”

  “OK, hon. We’re probably going to get married in an old church in Jerusalem if you like that.”

  “Kind of a dumb question.”

  Will conferenced in Marcie. “We’re coming.”

  “When?”

  “When can you have a birdie?”

  “At Portland, ready to go. I’ll have a car to you within the hour.”

  They met at the house, and packed. Chrissie told Hank what was happening. Carol made them some sandwiches. Marie was at her lot. She had washed cars, towed two, cleaned up the office at the lot, changed the head gasket on one of her cars, and tuned up two others. She had amazed Will the day before by pulling and throwing away all the spark cables.

  “I know which one pops first, Uncle Will.”

  She didn’t know what a firing order was, but she knew the firing order of every car on the lot. She thought she was measuring spark gaps in “Millies” but she knew the proper gap in mils and the correct spark plug for any engine on the lot. She referred to a wheel as a ‘five bug Toyota 14” but she knew that would go on a Corolla, and the other one was a Chevy wheel; the tire would fit but not the wheel. A wholesaler came to the lot, and she test drove a truckload of cars. She didn’t like any of them. No, she didn’t really want that Dodge. The old Ford van was a lost cause. “But thanks for offering them to me, can I get you a cup of coffee?” Five thousand for all of them, well, no. Alan knew a dealer in Idaho who would probably want them. Four thousand, gosh, he should sell them to someone who needed them. That was awfully cheap. Well, she had $3,700. She wrote the check.

  Will didn’t think she would need him to look after her. He went home, and he and Chrissy packed. A Bentley came to the driveway, making about as much noise as a housecat. The driver came to the door. “Mr. Ames, the car and the plane are ready when you are.”

  “Thanks. Probably not long. If you would like some coffee, or to use the restroom…” He pointed down the hall at the bathroom door. The driver went there.

  “If you bring your piece you should probably leave it on the plane.”

  “Will, Do you know where we are going?”

  “No. Phillipa could send her anywhere. Her itinerary is probably changing by the minute. Our passports will be good wherever.”

  “Yours especially.”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it they do?”

  “Well, if you run it with the State Department, and you have the proper authority, it will come back with a little code that means “We are fond of this fellow, and if he has a gun or gets into some kind of little problem, GUS would appreciate it if you could give him a pass on it.”

  “Or it could mean, ‘fuck with this man, and we’ll rip your fucking hearts out.’”

  “The State Department never says things like that.”

  “Oh, yes, they are ever so polite, aren’t they?”

  They took their suitcases down to the car. The driver put them in the trunk. They headed for the airport. When they got there, he drove them out onto a taxiway. The plane was not a Lear. It was the Gulfstream. Their suitcases were loaded, and they got in.

  “I am Cherisse. I will be your stewardess, Mr. Ames.”

  “Cherisse is a nice name. Mine is Will, and hers is Chrissie. We don’t like formality, we are just a couple of working class people who got lucky. We are lawyers, but don’t hold it against us. It’s 99% of the lawyers that give the rest a bad name.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Ma’am, there about 300 people in the world who know my first name and are permitted to call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Skipper’. You are not one of them. I will address you as Ma’am if I like, because it is never wrong for a gentleman to address a lady with respect. But you are not a Marine, and you may not address me as ‘Sir.’”

  Chrissie broke in. “He doesn’t believe in social hierarchies. You can call him ‘Sir’ if you don’t know his name. Since you do know his name, calling him ‘Sir’ is a way of confirming those hierarchies he does not believe in, and expecting him to agree to social mores he despises. If you had served under him in combat, you might be used to addressing him as ‘Sir’ and he would think that was fine. Otherwise, you are asking him to agree to ideas he finds repulsive. The idea that one person is better than another, and so on.”

  She went to the sleeping quarters and belted in. She was very tired.

  “Well, all right. We are about to take off, so fasten your seat belts. Can I get you anything, Will?”

  “Do you have a bottle of Jack?”

  “Ms. Della had some put on board.”

  “Do you mean Marcie?”

  “Yes, Sir, uh, Will.”

  “I would like you to get it, and two glasses, and some ice.”

  She went and got it all.

  “I can’t drink with you. I’m on duty and all.”

  “I need to call Pauli Nathan Phillipa and see if you can drink with us?”

  “I suppose not.”

  The plane zipped down the taxiway, ripped across the runway at an acceleration that would have made a dragster look like Granny’s car, and then leapt off the runway and headed up like the Archangel Gabriel with urgent business in Heaven.

  Will took a drink. “I didn’t know these planes could do that.”

  “The skipper is showing off for you.”

  “What for?”

  “One ex-military guy to another. You figure it out. They don’t explain these esoterica to civilians.

  Will walked up to the cockpit. The copilot got out of his seat and went aft. Will sat down.

  “Do you fly?”

  “Hardly. I’m totally lost with this instrument panel.”

  “What have you flown?”

  “Backseats of fighters. Just pilots letting a guy play around a little.”

  “At two thousand knots?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You’ve been down on the deck in an F( I don’t want to know) at two thousand knots?”

  “Yeah. The F you don’t want to know is some serious stuff.”

  “Ready?” “Yeah.” The pilot took the autopilot off. “You have her. Your course is 107. Altitude 35. Nothing much to it. Wiggle a little and feel her.” He did. “She feels very confident.”

  “Bank her a little.” “She’s so smooth and easy.” “I’d invert her, but our wives would go nuts.” “Cherisse is your wife?” “What she wanted with an old Air Force transport pilot, I don’t know. You’re a little off course.” Will corrected. “I don’t know what they want with any of us. We’re so nasty, and, well whatever. And these lovely creatures want to cuddle us.” “Take your stick back just a tiny bit. You’re about 500 feet low. I don’t know either, Will. They’re so smooth and nice and clean, and they get in bed with us, with all the dirt and roughness. “I don’t understand it either. And I really don’t understand men who mistreat them. How can you have a treasure like that and hit her or something?” “Is that the fun of being a DA, getting guys like that?” “For some people. I guess I want to see justice done. If I’m not kidding myself.” “Is this ocean pretty or what? I try to look at least once on a trip.” They looked out. The sea was running smoothly with just
a few whitecaps, mostly long, smooth slow rollers under a clear blue sky.

  “Will, how deep is it here?”

  “Probably about a mile. I don’t know.” “Ladies, this is the captain speaking. Would you like to go to low altitude and get a close look at the Atlantic? Will and I were trying to figure it, but we think you are over about a mile of water.” Chrissie sent him an Oooh Rah. “Make your angle of descent 10 degrees.” “Ladies, it is only fair to let you know that the wheel is in the hands of a jarhead.” Both of them Oooh Rah’d. “Your wife is a jarhead, skipper?” “No. Air Force. She’s a mechanic. Believe it or choke on it, she could take the engines off this bird and take them all the way apart, and put them back together.” “Well, I’ll be a salamander’s grandfather.” “Pull up a little. Make your descent slow. We can’t take chances.” “It’s a pretty expensive bird.” “Fuck the bird. I’m talking about the precious cargo, jarhead. Let me have her now. The right over the sea thing is not for an FNG.” “You have the conn, Sir.”

  “Attention, passengers. This is the Captain speaking. If you will look out to the right, you will see the Atlantic Ocean. If you look to your left, you will see the Atlantic Ocean. You may come to the cockpit, where we have a view of the Atlantic Ocean.”

  Will looked out. “It doesn’t show much from the air. On a boat you might see fish and things.”

  They continued at low altitude for a while.

  “Attention, passengers. This is the Captain speaking. Does anyone want to see more of the Atlantic ocean, or shall we resume altitude?”

  Chrissie said “Go back up.”

  The pilot turned the autopilot back on, and checked the radar as the autopilot slowly ascended.

  “I might go to sleep.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t because I’m supposed to have an observer with me. So if you go to sleep, I have to wake my co-pilot up, and he is pretty worn down. Where are we going? To Egypt to pick up Marcie, and then to Jerusalem for your wedding”

  “She has it all planned out.”

  “When has she not had everyone’s life planned out? She thinks she is Marissica.” “You’ve been reading too much Koefoed.”

  “That might could be, but I love the goofiness. If you can maintain the suspension of disbelief, it’s pretty fun watching all these crazy things happen. Well, anyway, We’re going to Egypt to get Marcie.”

  * * *

  An astonishingly beautiful red haired woman in a red sweater dress of cashmere, Marissica, the red fate, stirred her tea. She put her foot up on the stool. She wore knit tights and a pair of high heeled sandals, all matching her dress. She cursed, and threw her silver spoon against the wall.

  * * *

  A cruel looking man came down the highway with a .45 and a picture of Marcie Della on the seat of the car. He started around a farm truck, and hit black ice. The farmer never saw him as his sports car went off the road. He was ‘thrown clear’ and like almost everyone too stupid to wear a seat belt, he was splattered on a rock, and then fell into the sea where the crabs ate him.

  At about the same time, a nasty looking man with white hair came out on his deck, and slipped on the black ice there. He fell 30 floors.

  * * *

  The plane set down in Egypt, and Marcie came in her limo. She hugged Will. Marcie waved for her stuff to be put in the plane. She walked aboard. “Jerusalem, James.”

  “His name is really Lester Linderman, but what fun is that?”

  “I’m observing, so I need to be in the cockpit. Chrissie is asleep, I think.”

  “Do you go by Les?”

  “Usually.”

  “Can I go back and see about my wife?”

  “Marcie is here. Anyone can be observer. Marcie is smart. She will be a good one.”

  Will went back, and Chrissie was sleeping. He came back up. “She’s asleep.”

  “She has been under a lot of stress.”

  “Why?”

  “Something about a ring, is my understanding. She thought she might get turned down.”

  “Why would she worry about… nothing.”

  “Your willingness to make those vows is everything, Will. You are for sure the best photographer I’ve ever met. You shoot beautiful pix out of a chaotic world where nobody else can see anything nice. I know you’re a hell of a fine trial lawyer, and I have every reason to believe that you are a no shit about it first class combat infantry leader. But you don’t know anything about women.”

  She looked to see that her massive collection of suitcases had been stowed, and then trotted up the stairway, in the way one would if she was being filmed. Marcie had the touch. She was always posing.

  Les leaned over to Will. You may be tired, and I know you had a drink a couple of hours ago, but I think you’re OK. If you have no doubts about that, you can put the bird in the air.”

  “I’m kind of tired, Les. Maybe it’s better if you do it.”

  “You’re tired, your wife was upset. Will, the only reason I am here today is a guy who came in with a fighter and strafed, drove the bad guys away. He had taken a 20mm in the knee. Cowboy up. I know you want to be a pilot, even though you don’t. Can you or not. Are you man enough to put this bird in the air?”

  You can bang a Marine’s wife in front of him, or steal his car, take his daughter to a porn movie or ask his son to smoke some crack, and you can’t be sure. Someone might get away with those things. But ‘Are you man enough?’

  Will threw the throttles forward, and ripped down the taxiway faster than anyone had run it. He got to the runway, and slapped the throttles all the way up. The plane jumped into the air. He pulled back the stick and ripped up the clouds. He made the turn to his course.

  “Gulfstream flight 304, you are within your flight plan but we are wondering if everything is all right.”

  “Thank you, tower, we’re fine, we’re just in a hurry.”

  “Very well, 304. We strongly request that you take it a little easier in this airport. A 25,000 pound aircraft sliding sideways makes us look a bit careless.”

  “I understand, tower, and this is something that you need not think will happen again.”

  “All right, 304. We will not send a report. But again, we need to be safe.”

  “I understand, tower.”

  “Take her up at 10 degrees, Will. Altitude 24, course 78 degrees.”

  “Les, if anything comes back on this It’s on me, not you.”

  “Will, you just did some stupid shit with a multimillion dollar aircraft, and you did it in Egypt, with a flight plan to Israel. Make your turn. Point it at waypoint 77, that’s the airport by Jerusalem.”

  Marcie was on the phone to the Egyptian ministry of the interior. They were not mad. They knew some pilot had driven around an airport too fast. Oh, nothing was hurt. Everything was fine. Marcie gave a great gush about the pyramids, and beautiful Egypt, the land of Cleopatra, who of course was not as pretty as Marcie, but perhaps close. Egypt was one of the prettiest places Marcie had seen. Oh, the sights. Well, she didn’t know much about ancient history. She loved ‘the big cat thing’ and was amazed at the progress Egypt had made and how it was a modern country now, wasn’t that wonderful?

  Egypt even got piles of posters and such. Marcie gave away 7,000 catalogs. If you were in Egypt, and you were anybody, you had a Marcie Della poster, and if it wasn’t an autographed one, you were not anybody special.

  Chapter 10 Mediterranean waters

  Musical Theme; Love’s been a little bit hard on me by Juice Newton

  The church Marcie thought was so nice was indeed old. The priest was not very interested in technical details like who had been baptized and when. Will married Chrissie in the eyes of the Lord, but not the State of Oregon. Marcie prayed in church, of course in Phillipa shoes. She confessed, which must have taken some time, especially if fornicating had to be itemized. That of course, is only known to God and dear little Marcie herself. Marcie put pennies in the poor box, but she had to use a loader to deliver them. S
he got into autographs that said things like “To my friend …in Service to the Lord,” and such. She was a big fan of Moses, and left catalogs at the appropriate places, in the synagogues, the churches, private businesses, and so on. She bought some small item from every store on a block, and gave them some catalogs. She was photographed with everyone she met, and the pix went on the web site, where her new friends could download them and print them as posters. If you were a priest, rabbi or anyone like that, you got your picture taken with Marcie. Will shot everything at extremely high resolution. She was not bothered by paparazzi. Editors could obtain a flattering photograph for free, or offend the most beautiful woman in America with a less flattering shot, assuming their photographer didn’t get crossed up with her own photographer. Will uploaded hundreds of pix to her website every day. You put your feet up on your desk and picked which one you wanted.

  Marcie explained her concern for endangered species, starving children, and everything else you could think of. She gave a lot of real money to these causes. She was ready to support the endangered Hungarian weasel until Will admitted there actually were none of them.

  She went to India, and gave away serious money. She sold 24,000 pairs of shoes in India in one day. The web site knew these things. When she got to Hong Kong, it was like a flare fired into a pallet of white phosphorus. It got even more out of hand in Japan. Whatever the reason, when the Japanese get into something, they get really into it. When our little innocent darling hit Tokyo, they were bringing catalogs in full pallets, set on 18 wheeler flatbeds. She was no longer talking about the number of catalogs she gave in a day, she was talking about how many tons of catalogs she had given out. One day in Tokyo, she gave out a truckload of 27 tons of catalogs in 24 minutes.

  Phillipa got some other manufacturers to make shoes, but it was hard to find anyone who would make high quality goods. Eventually, Pauli Nathan Phillipa had to call the dogs off. “You two are too good.” He had a wonderful Italian accent. I am sorry to let someone go for doing a good job, but you have sold all the shoes I had. My workers no longer wish for overtime, they want time with their families. My catalog has an insert saying we no longer have some sizes.”