J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 02 - No Time to Die

by J. D. Trafford

  “There’s nothing for Jolly Boy to worry about,” he said. “You didn’t do anything, so there’s no link. Legal liability requires a link. No link, no liability and without liability there are no damages.”

  “Nor should there be any connection to Jolly Boy,” Brian added, thinking about the recording devices. He looked directly at his brother, and then continued with a loud, clear voice for the benefit of all of the imagined recording devices. “Jolly Boy had nothing to do with this person. He was merely an employee.”

  Dylan shook his head. They were all being stupid, overreacting. He could fix this.

  “So why are you telling us this? Do me and Maus gotta knock off this lawyer chick?”

  “No,” Harrison said. He didn’t appreciate the mess that Dylan was making for him. Dylan thought it was just a game, but Harrison was forced to advise him. Harrison cleared his throat.

  “Do not knock off any person or any thing.”

  Brian added, “Because nothing needs knocking off.”

  Harrison continued.

  “I’m telling you this so that you can be prepared for the press inquiries,” Harrison ticked through the basics of an appropriate response. “Express condolences. Admit that you only just discovered he was here illegally after a detailed review of his fraudulent documents after the body was found. Say that he was no longer an employee of Jolly Boy.”

  There was silence.

  Dylan shook his head.

  “That’s it,” he said. “How much did that little bit of advice cost us?”

  Dylan stood. He stretched out his arms, and then looked out at the dock.

  “My boat is calling me.” He grabbed his crotch. “I got two babes waiting for a ride.”

  Before he walked away, Dylan leaned over and whispered in Brian’s ear.

  “The lawyer chick has got to go.”

  Brian nodded his head. “It’s taken care of.”

  “Really?” Dylan asked, standing. It was strange for his brother to be involved in a thing like this.

  “Really,” Brian said. “Today is her last day. Her nonprofit no longer exists.”

  Dylan nodded.

  “It’s about time you got your hands dirty.” He patted Brian on the head. “I’m proud of you.”

  “What’s that about?” Harrison asked as Dylan walked off. “I thought I told you it was best to stay away. No connections. Don’t get involved. Ignore her.”

  Harrison slid his chair a little closer to Brian, as if he was about to impart great wisdom.

  “In the 1960s General Motors started investigating Ralph Nader, and Nader sued them. Nader became famous and a major pain in the ass. If General Motors would have ignored him, Nader would just be a weird law school professor who writes books about cars that nobody reads.”

  “I agree,” Brian said, but then he looked around, still imagining the listening devices. He lowered his voice. “Attorney-client privilege?”

  Harrison considered it, and then nodded.

  Brian allowed a brief smile. He thought the plan was quite clever.

  “Tonight the board is going to vote to shut her down.”

  “You know this?” Harrison asked.

  “I know this,” Brian said. “The head of her nonprofit’s board belongs to the Miami University Club with me. Our kids take riding lessons together.”

  Harrison nodded. He couldn’t see how shutting down an insolvent nonprofit was illegal. It was actually a clean resolution. The Community Immigrant Legal Services had been a nuisance, although it had also been a great source of billable hours over the years.

  “You’re sure?” Harrison asked.

  “I’m sure,” Brian said. “The chair says he has no choice, actually sounded a little sad about it, as if he cared about these people.” He shook his head. “I played along, of course, to get more information.”

  “Then what?”

  Brian smiled wide.

  “This is the best part.” Brian paused, looked around again before continuing. “In a few days, I’ve arranged a little grant to a legal aid organization in Orange County, California. She’ll be offered another job. Seems there are migrant farm workers everywhere, and the further away from here the better. She won’t come back to Jesser. The California strawberry and spinach people will have to deal with her, instead of us.”

  Harrison picked up his glass of ice water from the table. He leaned back and smiled.

  “Very nicely done, Brian. I believe that would be checkmate.” Harrison raised his glass. “Very nicely played, indeed.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It was dark by the time Michael, Kermit and Jane arrived at the office. Earlier in the evening, Jane had made a spaghetti dinner for them after work at her apartment. Kermit wanted to go to The Box, but neither Michael or Jane could handle another batch of grease.

  The meal was supposed to be a thank you and maybe even a goodbye.

  When they walked up to the door, Miggy was waiting for them, just like he had been waiting on the day that Michael and Kermit had first arrived.

  Jane hadn’t seen him at first, distracted by the people she saw through the window. They were the members of her board, milling about her office, chatting.

  Miggy coughed. His skinny body was folded up by the door. Next to him was his Army surplus backpack and sleeping bag.

  He looked up at Jane.

  “Wondering where you was.” He took a drag off of one of his hand-rolled cigarettes. “I seen the lights on and a little action inside, so I figured you’d be here. Can’t pull one over on ol’ Miggy.” His small laugh turned into a fit of coughs.

  “We’ve got a meeting tonight.” Jane crouched next to him. “So you can’t show me your secret. No spirits tonight.”

  “It’s important.” Miggy’s eyes got wide. “When you gonna come with me? The spirits are telling me to bring you there. I don’t want to make the spirits mad.”

  “I’m sorry, Miggy.” Jane put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed, and then stood. “It can’t be tonight. Those people inside might shut us down tonight, so it’s a big meeting.”

  “Them people in there now?” Miggy sat up further, and then pulled his slight body to his feet using the crutch. He looked into the window at the men and women in suits. “You need me to talk to ‘em. I’ll talk to them for ya. Put in a good word.”

  “Thanks,” Jane put her arm around him, “but I’ll take care of it.”

  Kermit stepped forward.

  “You and Michael go in,” he said. “I’m not much of a corporate-meeting type. Me and Miggy will go find a place for a hot meal and I’ll find him a good place to spend the night.”

  Miggy licked his lips, excited about the possibility of a meal.

  “Thank you,” Miggy said, and then to Jane, “I don’t want to leave you, though.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Jane turned to Michael and put on a brave face. “Let’s do it.”

  ###

  The office felt heavy. This is the end, Jane thought. There were stilted conversations and forced laughter, but underneath it all, there was undeniable sadness.

  Jane sat at one end of the table with the board members sitting in the rest of the chairs. Michael sat off to the side, merely observing the confessions and apologies.

  “I’ve been with you from the beginning, Jane.” A middle-aged woman with clunky red glasses put her hand on her forehead, and then she began rubbing one of her temples. “I don’t understand the foundations. I don’t know why we can’t get the grants, but I do know that we can’t function without money. We’ve got nothing. It’s upsetting to me.”

  “Is that a statement in favor of the motion?” The board chair asked. He was a silver-haired man in a dark, tailored suit.

  The chair waited, and eventually the woman with clunky red glasses nodded her head.

  Another man spoke up, and the chair recognized him for the record.

  He was bald with half-rimmed glasses.

  “Jane, I know I speak for everyon
e when I say that this is not personal, but all of these foundations are looking for objective measurements of success. They want a big impact for their dollar. They want to know how many people you helped and how you helped them.”

  He shook his head and looked around the office. It was the first time that Jane felt embarrassed by the mess of files.

  The man with half-rimmed glasses continued.

  “The organization hasn’t been and wasn’t ever designed to do that. The days of wandering around the fields and asking workers what they want are over. We needed a strategic plan to improve their lives with measurable benchmarks. Frankly, I think Miami Legal Aid is in a better position as an organization to fill that role. They grasp the new normal. So I vote in favor of the motion.”

  The chair scanned the other individuals sitting at the table.

  “Anyone else?”

  There were no further comments. The seven board members sat in silence.

  “Do I have a motion to end discussion and vote on the motion?”

  There was a motion from the woman with red glasses.

  “And a second?”

  A few other board members seconded the motion.

  The board chair paused, and then cleared his throat.

  “We call the motion and it’s time for the vote. Assuming that the motion passes, we’ll begin the wind-down procedures for the organization. The office will officially close immediately, but we still need to assess assets and outstanding debts.”

  Jane sat stoically at the end of the table. She knew that this day had been coming. She had thought about it, but still wasn’t prepared for the moment when it actually happened. She had been in denial.

  She thought back to the beginning, and then she thought about now. Ten years of her life about to be ended by a vote. No measurable results. No objective benchmarks of success.

  Jane thought about the half-dozen early agreements that she had negotiated with growers in Jesser, improving working conditions. She got little things, like a place for some workers to go to the bathroom. Another grower built a shaded place for the workers to eat lunch. She blocked deportation proceedings, obtained green cards for family members and reunited husbands and wives. She made sure that the children of the workers were allowed access to the public school system, the hot lunch program, and health care.

  No measurable results. No objective benchmarks of success.

  Jane wanted to ask the board, “How do you measure the success of poverty lawyers when there will always be poverty? Every day there are choices. Do you work on the systemic or do you work on the problem staring at you right now and asking for help? Giving Miggy a hot meal wasn’t going to cure his mental illness or make him employable, but it was going to give him some dignity. That should count for something. There’s a balance.”

  But Jane never asked the questions. She never made the argument. She was too tired to fight her own board of directors. Jane closed her eyes and reminded herself to breathe.

  ###

  The meeting adjourned. The board members stood, stretched, and gathered up their things.

  Jane remained seated. Each of the board members came up to her to express their sadness and disappointment that they had just voted to close the organization that she had started. Eventually they all left.

  They had their own lives and families to take care of. They had their own careers to further, and ultimately the Community Immigrant Legal Services had been too much of a burden.

  She watched them through the window. They got into their cars and SUVs that collectively cost more than the nonprofit’s annual budget. Each car and SUV was worth more than Jane’s yearly salary.

  “Lawyers are cheap bastards,” Jane said to nobody in particular.

  Michael stood.

  “Can I buy you a beer?”

  Jane allowed a tear to escape. It rolled down her cheek.

  “I did my best.” She wiped her cheek dry.

  “I know you did.” Michael put his hand on her shoulder. “Everybody knows you did.” Michael took Jane’s hand and pulled her up from her chair. “But, you still didn’t answer my question: Can I buy you a beer?”

  Jane put her arms around Michael and pulled him in.

  “You can buy me a beer.” She kissed his cheek, and then whispered in his ear. “I’ll even let you buy me more than one.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Word spread quickly of what had happened to Jane and Community Immigrant Legal Services, Inc.

  Tyco, the owner of The Box, wrapped her in a big bear hug. He declared that her money was no good – all drinks were on the house. So, Michael, Kermit, and Jane settled into their booth and didn’t expect to leave until they were kicked out.

  Jane gave Kermit a detailed description of the board meeting, and then the conversation wound around to other topics.

  “What’s with Miggy?” Jane asked. “I saw him sitting outside the bar when we came in.”

  Kermit grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it in his mouth.

  “I told him to join us, but he said that being indoors freaks him out. He sleeps in the fields.”

  Kermit shrugged his shoulders and grabbed some more popcorn.

  “His choice.” Kermit pointed at Jane. “But he really wants some alone time with you, my dear. I think that’s why he’s really hanging around.”

  “So he can show me the spirits?”

  “Exact-a-mondo,” Kermit said.

  Jane smiled and shook her head.

  “He should know that ghost hunting isn’t my job any more.” Jane finished her pint of beer. “I’m not sure it was ever part of my job, but that’s all theoretical now.”

  Michael picked up the pitcher of beer. He filled Jane’s glass, and then topped off his own. He set the pitcher down, and then Michael slid out of the booth. He stood, picked up his glass, and raised it high.

  “A toast,” he said. “To unemployment.”

  They all clinked.

  “To unemployment.”

  ###

  The Box started to really rock at three in the morning. It was officially closed. The doors were locked, but Tyco allowed Kermit, Michael and Jane to stay while he cleaned up.

  With the other customers gone, Kermit jumped over the bar and found the stereo. He turned the dial until the radio tuned into a Miami salsa station.

  “This is what we need.” Kermit clapped his hands, turned the music up louder, and then pulled Jane out of the booth. “Time to groove.”

  They spun around the dance floor, laughing through a few songs, and then the music slowed.

  Kermit looked at Jane and smiled.

  “Sorry, darling, I think this other lady is the next one on my dance card.” He walked over to the waitress – otherwise weighed down by the world – and lightened her load.

  Jane, now standing alone, looked over at Michael.

  “A dance?”

  Michael got up out of the booth.

  “I was afraid you’d never ask.”

  The radio station kept the music slow for another hour.

  Michael and Jane held each other, rocking back and forth. Occasionally, Jane would kiss Michael’s neck, his chin, and then his lips, working her way around.

  Michael didn’t stop her.

  It was the first woman he had held and had kissed since Andie. It felt good to be with someone again. It felt good to be close.

  Jane rocked up on her tip toes.

  “I’m tired,” she whispered in Michael’s ear.

  Michael kissed her, and then told her that he was taking her home.

  “That’s what I was hoping for,” she said.

  ###

  It was one in the afternoon by the time Michael and Jane woke up, but even then, neither wanted to get out of bed.

  Jane put her hand on Michael’s chest.

  “It’s nice waking up with you.” Her voice was soft, still sleepy.

  Michael smiled. “It is nice.”

  “We don’t have to go anywh
ere do we?”

  Michael shook his head. He then pulled the thin bedsheet up, covering them. Then he pulled Jane’s naked body close to his. “This is yet another of the many advantages of being unemployed.”

  ###

  They didn’t leave Jane’s apartment for two days. If Michael and Jane hadn’t have run out of coffee or depleted most of their food supply, they probably wouldn’t have left the apartment at all.

  As they stood in the checkout line at Kwik-E-Mart, Michael put his arms around Jane and kissed the top of her head. He hadn’t felt this good in a long time, almost forgetting the people tracking his movements and searching foreign bank accounts.

  “You want to go to Miami for a few days?” Michael asked. “I could get a room on the beach. We could sit in the sun and turn ourselves red. Maybe we could read trashy books or gossip magazines.” Michael pointed to the row of magazines by the cash register. “Looks like that one has a three-page spread on botched nose-jobs.”

  Jane smiled, and then her smile faded away.

  “I probably shouldn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I still have clients,” Jane said. “I need to wrap up cases and transfer the ones that I can’t finish to another attorney, wind down the organization.”

  “Just a few days.” Michael started to unload their groceries, putting them on the small conveyor-belt to be scanned.

  “The DNA test should also be done, so we need to inform Tommy’s family of the results and figure out what to do about the funeral.” Jane nodded, mentally going over the lists in her head.

  Michael knew what she was doing, because he used to do the same thing. The to-do lists, and then the lists of lists, and the sub-lists within each list. It was never-ending.

  Jane looked at Michael. She bit her lip, thinking.

  “I know what the vote did. I know what the board said. I’m ‘closed immediately,’ but I can’t just drop it.” Then Jane looked away, frustrated. “I’m still a lawyer. I’ve got professional obligations, and I need another job some day. I can’t just leave a wreck behind me.”

  “I know,” Michael said, although he had certainly left a wreck behind himself many times.