The doctor turned to face the jury. “In 1937,” he explained, “Jean Harlow developed a painful inflamed gallbladder, probably exacerbated by kidney damage she sustained during a beating her ex-husband gave her years before on their honeymoon. Unfortunately, my—er, her mother was a devout Christian Scientist who refused to permit Jean to seek medical treatment. Jean lay helplessly in her bedroom, in great pain, becoming sicker by the hour. Eventually, her fiancé, William Powell, broke into the house with some friends, scooped Jean into his arms, and carried her to the hospital.” He sighed. “William Powell. What a man he was.”
After a long moment, Lindstrom broke out of his reverie. “Bill did the best he could, but he was too late. Jean Harlow died.”
Ben nodded. “And then what happened?”
Lindstrom leaned forward in the witness box. “You see, it wasn’t her time to die. She was only twenty-six. She was just getting started. She was engaged to be married. She hadn’t had a chance to live, to love—” He made a choking noise, then covered his face with his hand. “She was so young.”
Lindstrom didn’t continue until he had fully recovered. “So she was reincarnated. As me.”
Ben allowed a respectful silence. “And how do you know all this?”
“I recalled it under hypnosis.”
“Do you have yourself hypnotized often?”
His left eye twitched. “From time to time.”
“Before you testify in court?”
“It…does help calm my nerves…sharpen my memory—”
“Are you testifying today under hypnotic influence?”
“I’m fully awake and able to—”
“Please answer my question.”
He pursed his lips. “Yes.”
Bingo. “Now Doctor, getting back to your story—as the jury can see from the poster, you were quite a sexy gal.”
“It was Hollywood. They insisted on photographing me in that objectified manner.”
“No doubt. I understand you were often seen in the company of Clark Gable.”
“Ugh. Horrid man. Had false teeth—was a dreadful kisser.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Let me ask you about your relationship with William Powell—”
“Your honor, I object!” It was Anglin again, giving it the old college try. “Mr. Kincaid is turning this trial into a circus!”
“Perhaps so,” Judge Hart said. “But he’s not the one who put the clown in the center ring. Proceed.”
Ben eyed the jury. They were eating it up—barely suppressing their laughter. It wouldn’t matter now if this guy had a degree from God. His credibility was shot.
“Dr. Lindstrom,” he continued. “Isn’t it true that Jean Harlow loved little furry animals?”
After the jury retired, Ben and Christina began packing their files and exhibits. “Well, congratulations, Ace,” Christina said. “Your performance was sans pareil. You saved a lot of endangered prairie dogs today.”
“The jury is still deliberating,” Ben replied. “Let’s not jinx it.”
“Aw, the gas company hasn’t got a chance. You were sensational on cross.”
“Well, thanks for the show-and-tell. I would’ve been up a creek without you.”
She batted her eyelashes. “My pleasure. I always enjoy pulling your fat out of the fire.”
“How sweet.” Ben closed his briefcase, leaving the plastic spider on top. He grabbed a document box and headed for the door.
“Excuse me. Mr. Kincaid?”
Ben saw an unfamiliar man in a gray business suit standing in the doorway.
“Look,” Ben said, “if it’s about the photocopier, I promise I’ll pay you as soon as I can—”
“Oh, no. You misunderstand.” He waved his hands rapidly in the air. “I’m not here to hit you up for money. On the contrary, Mr. Kincaid, I’m here to make you a wealthy man.”
2
“YOU’RE HERE TO DO what?”
The man smiled pleasantly. “I want to set you up for life, Mr. Kincaid. If you’ll let me.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” The man gestured toward the front row of the courtroom. “Let’s sit, shall we? You can come too, Ms. McCall. This offer involves you as well.”
Ben and Christina exchanged puzzled looks. “Offer?”
“Perhaps I should start at the beginning.” He reached into his suit pocket and withdrew a business card. “My name is Howard Hamel.” A confident demeanor accented Hamel’s clean-cut, well-scrubbed features. “I’m a member of the legal staff for the Apollo Consortium, an amalgamation of interrelated corporate entities. Have you heard of us?”
Ben nodded. Of course he had. The Apollo parent corporation was probably the largest business entity in Tulsa, possibly in the entire state of Oklahoma. It had started as a small oil exploration company, but during the boom years of the Seventies expanded into natural gas, manufacturing, transportation, and even entertainment. The diversification helped them survive the bust years of the Eighties—survive them quite well, in fact. Apollo was a Fortune 500 corporation—one of the few in the Southwest.
“Then you probably also know,” Hamel continued, “that we have an in-house legal staff of over fifty lawyers. Heck, if we were a law firm, we’d be one of the largest in the state. And we’d like you to join our team. We can discuss the details at your leisure—salary, bonuses, pension plan, benefits—but I think you’ll be pleased with the offer. If you don’t mind my saying so, it’ll be a step up for you.”
And how. But then, Ben thought, almost anything would. “What kind of legal work would this involve?”
“That’s one of the advantages to working at a place like Apollo,” Hamel answered. “We have so much going on, you can do almost anything you want. Your background is in litigation, and rightfully so, I might add. You were magnificent in the courtroom today.”
“Well…thanks…”
“I see you joining the litigation team and taking charge of some of the multimillion dollar cases that pass through our office on a daily basis. We like to keep these cases in-house whenever possible; outside counsel fees are exorbitant, as I’m sure you know. There’s a new product liability case recently filed against Apollo that you would be perfect for.”
The words rang in Ben’s ears. In-house counsel. Products liability. Multimillion dollar cases. That would certainly be a step up from the Three Ds: divorce, deeds, and dog bites. “It’s an interesting offer. How long will the position be open?”
“Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. There is no position. This isn’t some slot we need to fill with a body. We want you—Ben Kincaid—on our legal staff.”
Ben was flabbergasted. “But—why me?”
“We believe you have a real future in the law, and we want it to be with us.”
Ben shook his head, trying to verify that he was hearing clearly. Kudos like this didn’t come that often to the solo practitioner. “I’m not sure I’d be happy working for the same client day in, day out.”
“Really? Most people prefer it—the satisfaction of being a team player trying to accomplish a worthwhile, common goal, rather than being a prostitute for whoever walks into the office that day.”
“Well…I’m used to setting my own hours, taking lots of vacation time—”
“So am I. Apollo is a worker-friendly corporation. Myself, I love deep-sea fishing. If I could, I’d spend my entire life doing just that. Apollo gives me far more opportunities than anywhere else would. In fact, I’m leaving for Miami for a fishing trip day after tomorrow.”
Ben eyed Christina. She was saying nothing, but something was definitely going through-her mind. “Look, I want to be totally up-front with you. I worked for a large law firm once, and it was a complete bust.”
Hamel brushed Ben’s concerns away with a flip of his hand. “We know all about that, Ben, and we couldn’t care less. Frankly, a sizable portion of our staff, myself included, came from Raven, Tucker & Tubb or other large law factories. They seem to su
ck up the new talent like a black hole. A few years later, though, the lawyers all start asking ‘Is this what my life is about? Sixteen-hour days, constant billing pressure, invisible and interchangeable clients?’ They start looking for something more—a client they can care about, a job that leaves time for family, friends, and personal interests. That’s when they come to Apollo.”
“I don’t doubt that I’d make more money at Apollo,” Ben said, “and probably with less trouble. But money isn’t my paramount interest. I became a lawyer because I wanted to do some good in the world.”
“Then by all means,” Hamel replied, “come to Apollo. We take our role as a corporate citizen seriously. We’re active participants in charity drives and several community service programs. We believe we have an obligation to use the Consortium’s resources for the common good. And we don’t merely hang back and do the politically expedient. We take an active leadership role.”
Hamel gazed into Ben’s eyes. “You can be part of that leadership, Ben. You can chart the course.”
Ben didn’t know what to say. He could barely contemplate the offer, much less its ramifications. “I have some outstanding obligations,” he finally managed. “I have a solo office on the North Side.”
“I know,” Hamel said. “And don’t feel obligated to wrap it all up overnight. Give us a trial run, see what develops. You can always go back to your private practice if that’s what you decide. Frankly, with the salary we’ll be paying you, you’ll easily be able to pay the rent to maintain that office.”
“I have a legal assistant on my payroll,” Ben said, tilting his head toward Christina. “I would want her to come with me.”
“Done,” Hamel said flatly. “We’ll make her part of our in-house staff of legal assistants and assign her to you. We’ll start her at ten percent above our usual starting salary, which, I might add, will be a significant increase from her current, ah, irregular salary. Will that about cover your responsibilities, Ben?”
“No. There’s more than just that. I have unpaid debts…office supplies…”
Hamel grinned. “Ah—the photocopier company. I know about that, too.”
“Well, then you know how difficult it would be—”
“How much do you owe, Ben?”
Ben suddenly felt rather hot under the collar. “I don’t know exactly…Two thousand, something like that?”
Christina nodded in agreement.
Hamel withdrew a checkbook from his suit jacket, filled out a check, and handed it to Ben. “Would that about cover if, Ben? Consider it a signing bonus.”
Ben stared at the check made out for five thousand dollars. “That would definitely cover it. And my other outstanding debts as well.”
Christina pressed in between them. “How do you know so much about Ben and his business, anyway?”
“Don’t get the wrong idea, Ms. McCall—we’re not the FBI. Still, you must realize that a corporation the size of Apollo would hardly make an offer of this magnitude without investigating the offeree.”
“Sounds Big Brotherish to me.”
“Not at all. It’s just smart business. You don’t buy a used car without trying to find out where it’s been. Ben, we’re acquainted with your past employment at the D.A.’s office, and your current relationship with Clayton Langdell and his animal rights organization. We’re aware of your successful representation of Ms. McCall a few months ago. In short, we’re familiar with the total package and we are very favorably impressed.”
“Really,” Ben said. “How impressed?”
Hamel flipped over one of his business cards, wrote a number on the back, and passed it to Ben.
Ben took the card. He tried to mask his reaction, but it was impossible. The number after the dollar sign had six digits. Before the decimal.
“Not bad, eh?” Hamel said. “And no, to answer your next question, we don’t make offers like this to anyone. Just to you.”
Ben coughed. “I…I don’t know what to say. I’ll have to think about it.”
Hamel slapped his thighs, then stood. “I understand. Take all the time you want. And when you decide to accept, call me at the number on that card. I’ll send some boys over immediately to collect your files and anything else you’ll require.”
“So soon?”
“Why wait?” He nudged Ben in the ribs. “Might as well start bringing home those big bucks as soon as possible.” He hoisted his briefcase. “Enjoyed meeting you both. I’ll be waiting for your call, Ben.”
3
“YOU’RE NOT SERIOUSLY CONSIDERING his offer, are you?”
Ben and Christina sat at opposite ends of a table in the back of Louie D’s, beside the grill and beneath the Renoir prints and Native American art. Ben was in the process of finishing his cheeseburger—the best in downtown Tulsa as far as he was concerned.
“How can I not seriously consider it? It’s a very serious offer.”
“Yeah—six digits serious.”
“That’s not the only advantage, but it’s a definite selling point.”
“I thought money wasn’t so all-fired important to you.”
“It isn’t, but I’ve got to live. Think about it—I’ll make more money in two months than I made all last year.”
Christina frowned. “Do you know anything about this job you’re so eager for us to latch on to?”
Ben hedged. There was no point in trying to bluff Christina. She always had the inside skivvy.
“No, of course you don’t. Well, before you bid adieu to private life, let me provide a few hard facts. First, if you imagine you won’t have to keep time records, you’re wrong. They say it’s for internal management, but really it’s the same old same-old. The big bosses are checking up on you, ensuring that you’re sufficiently profitable. It’ll be just like the late unlamented days at Raven, Tucker & Tubb.”
“I doubt it, unless my old boss steps down from the bench and goes corporate. And I can live with filling out time sheets.”
“Do you realize who your boss at Apollo will be?”
Ben shook his head.
“Robert Crichton, one of the biggest, most sexist SOBs who ever lived. From what my friends tell me, he’s the five-hundred-pound gorilla of Apollo Legal. Rules the department like a tinhorn demagogue. Total creepola.”
“I’ve dealt with second-rate bosses before.”
“You remember Emily Gozonka, don’t you? She was a lawyer at Apollo—till they dumped her. She told me sexual harassment was everywhere—practically de rigueur. She had to put up with all kinds of crap-nicknames like ‘Legs,’ indiscreet fondling, comments about her bra size, being accused of having PMS every time she dared to disagree. You get the picture. She didn’t play along, so they canned her. How, you ask? They gave her an assignment to work with the legal department’s hatchet man, Harry Carter, another creep who’s at least fifty—but acts fifteen. Drives a Camaro, dates teenage girls—the whole works. That’s how they fire people like Emily; they give them an impossible assignment from Harry, and Harry rants and raves about what a horrible job they’ve done, thereby creating a record for the file to justify the firing. If the woman decides to file a lawsuit later on, they’ve got a perfect paper trail to back them up.”
“Christina, Emily Gozonka is a world-class exaggerator.”
“Granted. But this time I believe her.”
“Well, I can’t believe that systematic sexual harassment of that magnitude goes on in this day and age.”
“You’re living in a dream world, Ben.”
“Then how do you explain yourself? You’re a woman who’s succeeded in a man’s world.”
“Because I’m a legal assistant, Ben—a subservient, clearly nonthreatening role. I could be at Apollo twenty years, but I’d still have to take orders from the greenest male attorney in the department. It’s different for women trying to make it as attorneys. When they start invading the old boys’ club, the old boys get nervous.”
“Christina, I’m not going to ju
dge an entire corporation based on one isolated rumor.”
“Why not? That’s your biggest problem. Don’t you know that?”
“I didn’t even know I had a biggest problem. What the hell are you talking about?”
“You won’t trust your feelings. That was your problem in the courtroom today—you were planning to battle the expert on his own turf, challenging his empirical data. As a result, you missed what should’ve been apparent—that he was several irons short of a golf bag. Same here: all you see are the career advantages, the high-profile cases, the chance to be a corporate do-gooder.”
“And what am I missing?”
“You’re missing my gut feeling which says, in boldface letters: don’t do this! I can’t explain why. I just know it’s a mistake.”
“But what if you’re wrong?”
“What if I am? Your life is perfectly fine as it is. Why risk screwing it up? The key to success is to find something you enjoy doing and to do it. You already have that.”
Ben finished his cheeseburger and washed it down with the last of his chocolate milk. “I don’t know, Christina.”
She laid her head heavily on the table. “You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”
Ben didn’t reply.
The waitress came by and left the check. Christina scooped it up. “You’re thinking about your mother, aren’t you? How excited she’ll be that you finally have a respectable job.”
Ben looked away. “The thought did cross my mind.”
“Jeez. How old do we have to be before we stop ordering our lives to please our parents?” She examined the tab. “What about Jones? And Loving?”
“Loving’s private investigations are practically more than he can handle. We’ll let Jones secretary for him for awhile, just to hold down the office. If this new job becomes permanent for us, we’ll see about bringing Jones over.”
“I can’t believe I’m going along with this. Kincaid, sometimes you are almost more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Thank goodness for the almost.”
Deadly Justice Page 2
