Lethal Lawyers

by Dale E. Manolakas

  For just a brief moment, not betraying her thoughts, Sophia wondered about that concept. But this was Thorne & Chase, this was her dream and, of course, it deserved to bill in keeping with the quality of its work and the results it obtained for its clients.

  “Of course,” Sophia responded. “I just had not thought about it like that before, and I appreciate your taking the trouble to explain that to me.”

  “Excellent.” Chet made it clear that they were finished.

  * * *

  Sophia made her way back to Frank’s office to get the Crondall Properties file. She went by way of the stairwell to find the forensic team and, hopefully, the detective. She wanted to know what he meant by foul play.

  As Sophia grasped the stairwell doorknob she hesitated. Judith’s lifeless green eyes and blood-soaked blond hair hard-lined through her mind. She was immobilized.

  “Welcome aboard,” Joe Steinert boomed from behind.

  Sophia turned, startled. “Glad to be here.”

  “Don’t get overwhelmed. It’ll all come together.”

  “I hope so.” Sophia reached for the stairwell door.

  “Let me get that.” Joe beat her hand to the knob and opened the door for her.

  “Thanks.” Sophia accepted the antiquated gesture with grace.

  She stepped onto the landing, looked down and then up the stairs. To her surprise there was no forensic team. It was not swarming the stairwell, as she had expected, taking fingerprints and looking for hairs and fibers, like in the movies. There weren’t even residual chalk marks, black fingerprint powder, or yellow crime scene tape. More disappointing to her, there was no detective.

  Sophia couldn’t ignore the elephant in the stairwell.

  “Isn’t this where Judith fell?” Sophia asked Joe.

  “Yeah, too bad.” Joe paused with solemnity and then started down the steps.

  “But there’s nothing left here?” Sophia followed Joe.

  “Her cases . . .”

  Joe slid his card in the slot on the card reader at the doorjamb two floors down and held the door for Sophia, again.

  “It’s a tragedy. We are all very upset about Judith’s accident,” Joe rehabilitated himself perfunctorily and then headed down the hall.

  Sophia watched him. She knew there had been no love lost between Joe and Judith. And no shared humanity, either.

  ⌘

  Chapter 26

  A Goddess Too Far

  Sophia arrived at Frank’s office to get the Crondall file from Vera.

  “I have the file right here.” Vera nodded at a large file on the corner of her desk. “But Mr. Cummings wants you to step in for a minute.”

  “But . . .” Sophia knew she was late for her appointment with Dante.

  “Don’t worry. I called Mr. Septer,” Vera volunteered, as if she was a mind reader. “He’s in his office all afternoon and can meet with you any time before dinner.”

  Vera smiled a wry smile.

  “You’re a life saver, Vera. Thank you.”

  * * *

  When Sophia entered Frank’s office, he was behind his desk, but another man was sitting across from him. He was a distinguished looking elderly man with a shocking head of unruly white hair shooting toward the ceiling like dancing flames.

  “Ms. Christopoulos, this is Mr. Baxter Peterson. Ms. Christopoulos is one of our brightest associates.”

  “Hello, Mr. Peterson.” Sophia reached out and shook his extended hand.

  “Baxter is a client and friend of the firm. I am sure you know who he is.”

  Of course, Sophia knew his name and his well-publicized life. He was an eccentric, self-made businessman who parlayed his first aircraft manufacturing fortune into the worldwide telecommunications conglomerate Peterson International. But she personally admired his extensive art collection, which included the largest private accumulation of premier modern artists and East and South Asian art in the world. Asian art was Mr. Peterson’s greatest passion—besides making money. Two major art museums wanted to house his art, but he built the Peterson Art Museum in Los Angeles instead.

  Sophia had been there twice—pre-law school, of course. That was when she still had time for such things. She defined her life by pre- and post-law school. The first was having a life and the latter having none—by the average person’s standards. But she had proven she was not average and would never pretend to be again.

  “Sit down,” Frank said. “He has a pressing problem.”

  Sophia sat. She concentrated on keeping her hand from shaking as she poised her Thorne & Chase pen to write. Frank was going to make or break her now. She knew it. Without warning or preparation, this was her “law school exam” by Frank—her bar exam—her defining moment in his eyes and, therefore, the firm’s.

  “The problem is this,” Frank started. “Some years ago, Baxter acquired a statue of Kali, the Indian goddess, from a reputable dealer. Or so he thought. All the paperwork appeared to be in order. Now, he has just learned that he has been sued . . . by the goddess.”

  Sophia looked up from her note taking. “The goddess?”

  Baxter smiled. “This may seem a little odd, but the goddess we are talking about is a remarkable ancient statue of Kali I acquired in Mumbai, India years ago. She is a major deity in the Hindu pantheon.”

  “I see,” Sophia smiled back and scribbled unnecessary notes to busy herself while she wrapped her head around the facts.

  “Yes,” Frank continued. “And now the goddess claims because she is the Kali of Mumbai that Mr. Peterson’s acquisition was procured through fraud and theft. ‘She’ is suing to be returned to her temple in Mumbai, India where she originally resided. ‘She’ is also suing for false imprisonment and seeking a variety of remedies, not only her return to India, but substantial monetary damages as well.”

  “I understand.”

  Sophia lied through her teeth and suppressed a snicker of disbelief. As she jotted notes, she wondered if this was a first-day razzing. She glanced at the bookshelves to her right, looking for a “hidden” camera to record this joke.

  Frank refocused her attention.

  “Sophia, we need an answer to this question. Fast. We need controlling law or law to which we can analogize. Does a goddess, essentially a nonperson, have standing to bring suit in our federal courts?”

  Sophia repeated the question slowly, looking at Frank and then Mr. Peterson. They were both dead serious.

  “Take the time you need, of course, as long as it is under fifteen minutes, and we need a definitive answer,” Frank said. “We're in the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of California.”

  Sophia stood. She was nonplussed not only at the absurd facts, but because of the incredibly short time frame she had been given, since she knew nothing about international art law problems. Not revealing her flash of panic, she responded, “Of course. I will do my best.”

  * * *

  Sophia literally ran down the hall to the library, which was in the center of the top five floors of Thorne & Chase with several access doors per floor. It was the largest private law firm library in the world.

  “Where do I look? Where?” Sophia muttered.

  She tried using the Westlaw and Lexis legal databases to find cases on gods, goddesses, art, and standing. Nothing. Then she remembered the American Law Institute Restatements. She went to them, flipped through the index, and zeroed in on those that seemed promising. Startled, she stumbled across a topic that seemed precisely what she wanted. She balanced the Restatement volume in her lap and searched Westlaw for the cases cited by the Restatement. She had done it! She had found an actual answer—the answer. And in under ten minutes.

  * * *

  Sophia raced back into Frank’s office without knocking.

  “Sophia! So soon?” Frank said surprised. “Good. Have a seat.”

  “Gentlemen, the answer is clear.” Sophia took a deep breath. “The goddess does have standing as a legal person under both internatio
nal and federal law. The controlling case is Apollo vs. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, decided just two years ago. I am afraid you are going to have to respond to the complaint on its merits, Mr. Peterson.”

  “That was first class work,” Frank commended her. “But it prompts another question. Is the Northern District of California the proper venue for this action, or can we force a change of venue here to Los Angeles? Again, this is a matter of some urgency. Mr. Peterson delayed a bit coming in.”

  “Sorry about that,” Mr. Peterson interrupted. “I was as nonplussed as Frank when I was served. I just laughed and set it aside. Obviously, I shouldn’t have.”

  “No, no. It’s fine,” Frank assured. “We only have a few days to respond, but that’s all we need. No extensions. So, Sophia, get an answer. We’ll wait.”

  Sophia charged back to the library, her heart pounding. She was nervous, but excited. This time, the research would be fast and easy. She excelled in civil procedure. She loved it. Determining the proper venue would be a piece of cake.

  * * *

  Sophia returned to Frank’s office, having spent less than ten additional minutes researching. This time neither of the men was surprised.

  “We can indeed seek a change of venue, transferring the case here to Los Angeles. Under very clear law, the goddess can sue, but she has to sue where she currently resides, or in the jurisdiction where the party allegedly fraudulently holding her resides. That is Los Angeles County in both cases, which would be in the Central District of California, not the Northern District.”

  “You see, Baxter, I told you she was one of our stars.” Sophia heard both relief and pride in his voice. “Ms. Christopoulos, start drafting the appropriate papers right away. You will be working directly with me on this one.”

  “Thank you, Sophia,” Mr. Peterson added, reaching out and shaking her hand. “I’m impressed, and I look forward to working with you. The goddess is very dear to me, the centerpiece of my South Asian collection. I want her to stay with me at all costs.”

  “I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. Peterson.”

  “Call me Baxter, please.”

  “Baxter. Very nice meeting you,” Sophia said, turning and leaving the office.

  On the way out, she stopped at Vera’s desk to pick up the thick multi-redwell Crondall case files and the small goddess one Vera had just prepared. Most case files were stored in accordioned brownish-red legal size cardboard containers known as redwells. Sophia glanced at the new goddess redwell. It contained very thin separate correspondence, pleading, and interoffice files—yet to be filled. Vera was efficient.

  “You’re fast,” Sophia complimented Vera.

  “Let me have these all sent over to your office,” Vera smiled. “It’s a busy day for you.”

  “Thank you. That’s so nice.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Vera picked up the phone. “I need to arrange a pick up.”

  Sophia rushed to her next appointment with Dante for more case assignments. She was late, but she didn’t care. She was as pumped as an Olympic marathon runner taking the gold medal victory lap. She had beaten the clock and beaten Frank at the “impossible,” thanks to her research skills, luck, and unadulterated fear of failure. Sophia was on her way to the top of this rarefied club. She knew it, and Frank knew it.

  Sophia felt at home with the smart intellectuals she had met. Each of them worked for the win with the conviction that they were doing right. It seemed to her there was an odd form of altruism here, even though billing made the machine go round.

  ⌘

  Chapter 27

  Babies Seated

  Still on an adrenaline high from her victory doing Frank’s research, Sophia headed straight to Dante Septer’s office for his case assignments.

  “Sophia. Sit down. Have I got a case for you.” Dante looked at his watch. “It’s three-ten now. We’ll bill to Safe Baby Seat.”

  “Okay.” Sophia flipped almost a third of the filled legal pad of notes and jotted down the time and case name.

  “I see why Vera called me with your delay. It seems my colleagues are loading it on.”

  “It’s all very interesting,” Sophia smiled confidently.

  “Good.”

  “But first.” Sophia transformed to somber and respectful. “I want to I tell you how sorry I am about Judith.”

  Sophia scrutinized Dante’s reaction, but there was nothing to read. Dante could hide anything from his opponents and from Sophia also. The layers of fat over his muscle made his face expressionless and his eyes were narrow and dwarfed. Even his body language was stealthed by the physical lethargy that comes with obesity.

  “Judith was a great litigator,” Dante robotically parroted the party line as he shoved a file across the desk to Sophia with his huge arm. “A new case I brought in last week. You’re in on the ‘ground floor.’ You can do the answer, draft the first round of discovery, and take the simple depositions. If it goes to trial, your reward is one witness on the hot seat, all yours.”

  Sophia smiled. “Sounds great.”

  Sophia figured she was already doing one answer. This would be her second and it would get easier. She also knew about the Safe Baby Seat lawsuits from the news. The seats were low quality, the CEO’s compensation high. Thus, Dante’s piece of the defense action was secure. His client had cornered the market with an inflated-fixed-price, low-quality product that it marketed worldwide.

  “This is an antitrust complaint by retail stores. Check the filing dates. You have about three weeks to get the answer prepared and filed.”

  “Okay.” She would do a great job for Dante, but the three-week window put this case on a back burner compared to the goddess case.

  “Be sure to include all the bells and whistles. Get in all those affirmative defenses, legal and equitable.”

  “I will.”

  Sophia did not know what Dante was talking about and it must have shown. Sophia again noted she would have to work on her litigation face, more commonly known as a poker face.

  Dante added, “I have Taylor on it also. He has sample answers to use.”

  “Thanks.” She suppressed a grin at the mention of Taylor being on another case with her.

  Sophia noted that his name had popped up on every major case to which she was assigned. He had skillfully made himself necessary to the powerful partners, the partners with clients. She realized how important that was. In the back of her mind, however, she wanted to know if any of these great cases she had been assigned that morning were actually brought in by associates or junior partners who were stripped of fifty percent of their tape. She thought Paul might know. He seemed to know everything.

  Dante’s secretary popped her head in. “There’s a Detective Rutger here to see you. He said he’d wait.”

  “We’re done. Show him in,” Dante answered. “Sophia, we’ll round up our time. So bill an hour and a half to Safe Baby Seat for a conference re: prep and strategy.”

  “All right.” Sophia was no longer shocked about “rounding up,” but didn't expect it from Dante—and from a sparse fifteen minutes to an hour and a half. But then again, it was “value billing.”

  Detective Rutger stepped in.

  “Mr. Septer, hello.”

  “Dante, please. Do you know Sophia Christopoulos, an associate here?”

  “Yes, we’ve met.” Detective Rutger took Sophia’s hand and shook it again unnecessarily. “I’m glad to see you again, Sophia. I’d like to talk to you later.”

  Sophia slid her hand away and looked into his deep blue eyes an instant too long.

  “Of course.” Sophia left quickly for her last appointment.

  * * *

  As Sophia waited for the elevator to go to Carlisle’s office, she kicked herself at her vulnerability to Detective Rutger’s magnetism.

  The elevator opened. James Tang got off, arresting himself in mid-collision with Sophia.

  “James! Did you get your motions in limine filed?”


  “Uh! Yep, and Judith can’t use me as a last-minute dumping ground anymore.” James mumbled, coming out of his haze. “Did you start?”

  “Yes.”

  “Afraid they’d rescind the offer?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That’s what happened to the girl whose place you have. Frank wanted her. Judith didn’t, and Judith got her deep-sixed before she reported.”

  “I didn't know. That’s too bad.”

  “What’s too bad about it? You got the spot,” James said guilelessly, and shot down the hall. “I’ve got a deadline.”

  Sophia punched the elevator call button impatiently. She now had deadlines, also.

  ⌘

  Chapter 28

  The South Has Risen

  Carlisle’s secretary was a roly-poly woman inputting a handwritten document at furious speed with her small chubby hands. She saw Sophia and looked up with a smile.

  “Hello, I’m Violet. We met yesterday.”

  “I remember.” Sophia was again enchanted with her slow Southern drawl and sweet soft melodic voice.

  “Mr. Sanderson is expecting you. Vera called us and said you’d be running late, but you’re almost on time.”

  “Yes, Mr. Septer was fast.”

  “That’s unusual.”

  “Well, we were interrupted.” By whom, Sophia decided to keep to herself.

  “Ah.”

  Violet got up and flattened her floral dress over her barrel stomach. As she led the way to Carlisle’s office, her dress rode up, exposing the back of her white unstocking’ed thighs. Her feet, painfully stuffed into pointed black heels, made her gait more of a waddle.

  “So nice to see you again, Sophia.” Carlisle was standing behind his desk. “Please sit.”

  Sophia enjoyed his Southern charm. Talking to Violet and Carlisle was like taking two tranquilizer pills.