Life Support

by Robert Whitlow

  “I have a fifty-thousand-dollar limit on my card, and I’m not close to being maxed out on it.”

  “Good,” Alexia responded. Then she realized Ezra might have canceled the card. “Have you used the card today?” she asked.

  “At lunch.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell the detective that you’re not going to talk to him. He’ll probably issue an arrest warrant for you.”

  “Will they fingerprint me and take my picture?” Rena asked anxiously.

  “Yes, but I’ll ask them to leave you in the booking area until a bondsman can get you out. Is there a phone book available?”

  In a few moments, Rena said, “Yes. There is a pay phone down the hall. The phone book is hanging by a chain.”

  “Look up bail bondsmen in the yellow pages.”

  Alexia waited until Rena said, “Here it is. The pages are all wrinkled, and the bottom half is torn out.”

  Alexia suspected the yellow page listing for bail bondsmen was far more popular at a jail than the phone number for pizza delivery.

  “Pick out three names and write down the phone numbers so you can call them if you need to.”

  Alexia could hear Rena muttering to herself. “AAA Bonding Co.—

  twenty-four-hour service, Eastside Bonding and Pawnshop. Here’s one I don’t want to use,” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “Porter Bonding Company. That’s the name of the other detective.”

  “It can’t be the same guy. He works in a different county, but that would be a huge conflict of interest for a police officer to own a bonding company. Write down the number or find one more.”

  Hearing herself say “conflict of interest,” Alexia rolled her eyes. She was getting in deeper with Rena’s problems. Her number one item of business the following day would be to extricate herself from the Richardson situation after she confronted Ralph Leggitt about Ezra’s actions. The senior partner had ultimate ethical oversight, but as an associate, Alexia couldn’t avoid bringing it up.

  “That’s it,” Rena said. “I have it all down. What do I do?”

  “Once you know the amount of the bond, phone one of the companies and tell them where you are and the amount of your bond. They’ll ask some questions about payment and take care of everything from there. You’ll be out in a couple of hours.”

  “Okay. I’m taking the phone back to the detective.”

  “What’s his name again?” Alexia asked.

  “His nametag says ‘Lilley.’ Like the flower only spelled differently.”

  “Detective Lilley, here,” he said.

  “I’ve discussed the situation with my client, and she doesn’t want to give a statement. Please don’t ask her any more questions.”

  “Suit yourself. Without anything to contradict the complainant’s account of what happened, you’ve given me no option. I’m going to issue a warrant.”

  “Will you let my client wait in the booking area until a bondsman can get there?”

  “There are a few chairs in the hallway. She can sit there for thirty minutes. If no one shows up by then, we’ll take her back to the cell block.”

  “And what will her bond be?”

  “That’s up to the magistrate. Anything else? I’ve got paperwork to do.”

  “That’s all. Let me talk to Mrs. Richardson.”

  The phone was handed off one more time. Alexia could hear Rena sniffling again.

  “I can’t believe Ezra is doing this to me,” she said. “What have I done to hurt him or his family? I should be the one trying to put him in jail for stealing from Baxter and me.”

  Alexia was not going to be drawn into another cycle of conversation for which there was no answer until morning light.

  “Just call the bondsman as soon as you can,” she said. “I’ll be here the rest of the night if anything else comes up. I’ll try to find you another lawyer tomorrow, or you can try to contact one yourself.”

  “I don’t know any lawyers,” Rena answered in a pouting voice. “And if you’re going to dump me, what about Ezra?”

  Alexia hesitated. Rena would have the right to force Leggitt & Freeman to withdraw from representing Ezra in any areas of potential conflict. Because Baxter was involved in so much of the family business, that wouldn’t leave much territory where Ralph Leggitt could continue to harvest massive legal fees.

  Alexia spoke slowly. “I will bring everything to the attention of my boss and recommend that we don’t get involved.”

  “Are you going to tell him what I told you?” Rena asked in alarm. “You promised that you wouldn’t do that!”

  “You’re right. That is confidential. Period.”

  Alexia could hear Rena exhale.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m going to call the bondsman.”

  Alexia put down the phone. She felt sorry for Rena. First, her husband tries to kill her. Then her father-in-law pillages her property. The young woman was going to need two legal armies: one to defend her from groundless criminal accusations and another to attack her father-in-law before he booted her out into the street. But Alexia could not let her natural sympathies rule her ethical response to the situation. Rena would have to find help from another source.

  Alexia poured a glass of wine and sat down in a beige leather chair in the living room, but it was impossible to relax. Rena’s phone call had shocked her like ice water that jarred her senses. Reentry into the legal arena should have been more gradual, but life’s problems don’t follow a predetermined script. Alexia tried to revisit in her mind’s eye the enchanted places where she’d spent the past week, but the inn at Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer seemed as illusory as the picture of a medieval castle in a children’s book of fairy tales. She sipped the wine, but it was a poor substitute for the nectars of southern France.

  Eventually, the fatigue of her travels crept over her, and her eyelids grew heavy. The phone didn’t ring, and she concluded Rena Richardson was not going to spend the night at the Greenville County jail. Alexia yawned. She’d not asked Rena about Baxter but assumed his condition was unchanged. It just wasn’t fair. Baxter slept while the effects of his attack on his wife caused his family to collapse into a pile of rubble. Alexia trudged slowly up to bed and hoped for pleasant dreams as the antidote for harsh reality.

  20

  I charge thee, fling away ambition: by that sin fell the angels.

  HENRY VIII, ACT 3, SCENE 2

  When the alarm clock sounded the next morning, it took Alexia a few seconds to reorient with her surroundings. She groaned and burrowed under the covers. She should have allowed an extra day to cope with jet lag before returning to the office. She stumbled downstairs and brewed an extra strong cup of coffee, which she drank in the kitchen while watching the white mist that covered the marsh begin its retreat before the rising sun. It would have helped if Boris had been available to greet the day with his unrestrained exuberance. His example as he bounded down the steps for his morning run put a positive spin on life. She called the kennel and made arrangements to pick up her pets later that afternoon.

  When she pulled into the law firm parking lot, she noticed that Mr. Leggitt’s car wasn’t there. Gwen had come into work early to help ease Alexia back into her routine.

  “Good morning!” Gwen said cheerily. “Bon voyage!”

  Alexia managed a weak smile. “That’s what you say when someone is leaving, not when they return.”

  “You know what I mean. How was the trip?”

  “Wonderful. As soon as I get my pictures developed, I’ll give you an armchair summary. The scenery, the places I stayed, the food—everything was perfect.”

  “And the perfect man?”

  Alexia shrugged. “I brought the suitcase back empty, but I also left behind the last links to Jason. I’m ready to go on.”

  “Good. Did you meet anyone I might like?”

  Alexia perked up and leaned forward. “Yes. There was a cowboy who herded wild horses on the shores of the Mediterranean
. I took his picture one afternoon on a hill overlooking the water. I didn’t see a wife in sight.”

  “How old was he?”

  “Old enough, but not too old. He had a close-cut beard that was sprinkled with gray and eyes as blue as the sea. We talked for a few minutes. I couldn’t understand everything he said but gathered that he was in charge of that area of the coast. His English was limited to hot dog and Coca-Cola.”

  Gwen nodded. “I’ll take him. We can eat hot dogs and drink Coke every night.”

  Alexia chuckled. “It would be a challenge for a French cowboy to tame you.”

  Gwen pretended to be hurt. “I’m not that hard to manage. It takes a gentle hand.”

  Alexia stepped over to the door of her office and peeked inside. The mound of mail was not as high as she’d anticipated.

  “The mail isn’t too bad,” she said to Gwen. “What have you done with the rest of it?”

  “Nothing,” Gwen replied, pulling a box from underneath her desk. “The junk mail is in here. I thought it would help if all you had to look at today was the important stuff. You can decide if you want to order fruit or candy for Christmas presents later in the week.”

  “Thanks. Any fires burning?”

  Gwen shook her head. “Everything was calm. You did a good job before you left, and I didn’t have to talk to Ken once.” She lowered her voice. “Rena Richardson phoned you several times. I think Baxter is still hanging on to life by a thread. I’m not sure what’s going on with the rest of them.”

  “Nothing good,” Alexia replied. “Rena phoned me at home last night from the Greenville County jail. She slapped Ezra, and he had her arrested.”

  Gwen gasped. She sat on the edge of her seat with her eyes opened wide while Alexia related the previous night’s phone call.

  “I talked to Rena once,” Gwen said, “but she didn’t want to give me details about anything. I don’t think she trusted me even though I told her I worked for you.”

  “She has reason to be suspicious.”

  Gwen nodded. “If her father-in-law is doing what she said, he ought to be drug through the mud in the newspaper.”

  “It may come out in the open but not through us,” Alexia said. “I need to talk to Mr. Leggitt this morning. Do you know anything about his schedule?”

  “No, but I can find out.” Gwen buzzed Leggitt’s secretary and then said to Alexia, “He’ll be in about ten-thirty. He had to meet someone for breakfast in Georgetown.”

  Alexia called the law firm in Greenville on Rena’s behalf and left a message. Picking up the bone-handled dagger she used as a letter opener, she opened her mail in reverse order. The longer she was away from the office the more likely a problem might develop, and the latest correspondence would reveal it.

  Nothing leaped from the pile to bite her. Marilyn Simpson’s new lawyer sent her a blind copy of his letter of representation with the words “Thank you for the referral” handwritten on the bottom of the sheet. The lawyer on the other side of the Eleanor Vox case had released a deluge of paperwork in response to Alexia’s initial salvo. Other cases were moving down the river of divorce and spawning letters, pleadings, notices of hearings, trial calendars, and motions. Alexia organized everything in separate stacks across her desk. She was halfway through the papers and making good progress when Gwen buzzed her.

  “Mr. Leggitt is here. He stopped in to see Leonard for a few minutes and then went to his office.”

  “Have I gotten a call from any lawyers in Greenville?”

  “No.”

  Alexia’s heart began to beat slightly faster. It wasn’t going to be easy confronting the senior lawyer at the firm about the Richardson matter, but she had no other option. She picked up the folder she’d taken to Greenville and walked down the hallway. Leggitt was on the phone but motioned for her to come in and sit down while he finished his conversation.

  “That’s right,” he said. “The only way they’ll be able to get access to the waterway is through us. I talked with the folks in Georgetown this morning, and they’re on board. I had a memorandum of agreement in my briefcase, and they all signed it before we left the table. Working together we can quadruple the price for the boat ramp. I haven’t run the final figures, but we should recoup 90 percent of our investment before we sell a quarter of the lots.”

  Alexia glanced at Leggitt’s desk. She didn’t see any sign of a file with “Richardson” typed on the folder. The senior partner listened for a few seconds before continuing.

  “They can sue us, but it won’t do any good. We are in an impregnable position and have no legal obligation to grant an easement. They wouldn’t join with us when they had the chance, and now they’ll pay. In the long run, this is going to be better for us anyway.”

  When he hung up, he smiled at Alexia.

  “You know Zack Crosland don’t you?”

  Alexia remembered him. He was an overweight man who wore a thick gold chain around his neck and didn’t button the top buttons of his shirt. His wife was a woman twenty years younger who married him for all the wrong reasons.

  “I represented his third wife in their divorce,” she said.

  “Did he have any money left after you worked him over?”

  “Yes. I did the best I could, but my client wasn’t the best candidate for sympathy.”

  “He’s going to part with a lot of it now. Otherwise, he’s stuck with a useless tract of land near the Intercoastal Waterway.”

  Leggitt glanced down at his calendar.

  “I have to leave in a few minutes. How was your trip?”

  “Good. I recommend it if you ever decide to take a vacation.”

  Leggitt shook his head. “Taking my wife to a place where neither of us can communicate with the locals is not my idea of relaxation.” He picked up a folder that he’d set on the credenza behind him. “I guess you’re here because of the conflict of interest problem.”

  Relieved that he mentioned it first, Alexia said, “That’s why I wanted to talk to you as soon as possible. We have to do something.”

  “It’s a no-brainer,” he said. “You need to drop the client immediately. There is no way this firm can represent Eleanor Vox. You weren’t aware that her husband, Hubert, was a silent partner in the Dune View golf development because his ownership interest doesn’t show up on the firm list of clients. He called me upset after you filed an answer, but I reassured him that you would be out of the case as soon as you returned.”

  Alexia’s mouth dropped open. “Uh, I was referring to what has happened with Rena and Ezra Richardson. She called me last night from the Greenville County jail and told me Ezra is using the durable power of attorney to transfer Baxter’s property out of his name.”

  It was Leggitt’s turn to register surprise. “What was Rena doing at the jail?”

  Alexia repeated the gist of the conversation. Ralph Leggitt shook his head. When Alexia finished, he tapped his pen on the surface of his desk.

  “So you told her to get another lawyer?” he asked.

  “Yes. In fact, I told her the firm would have to withdraw from representing either one of them. She has shared confidential information with me, and Mr. Richardson has talked with you. We can’t help him gut Baxter’s estate at Rena’s expense or help her fight her father-in-law over use of the power of attorney.”

  Leggitt’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you tell her we had to withdraw from representing Ezra? Didn’t you get my message when you called from Greenville? I specifically told you that Ezra Richardson was our client. If you did something to misrepresent the situation to Rena, that was contrary to my instructions.”

  Alexia felt her face flush. She spoke slowly in order to keep control.

  “Initially, you told me our client was the Richardson family. I went to Greenville to try and be a peacemaker and that’s what I did. My interaction with Rena gave her the impression that I was there to help her as well as Ezra, and she told me things with a reasonable expectation of an attorney-client p
rivilege.”

  “What sort of things?”

  It was a moment of decision. Alexia immediately saw her two choices. She could tell all and please Ralph Leggitt or refuse and suffer the consequences.

  She hesitated. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “That’s why I asked you. Stop this foolishness and tell me what Rena said.”

  Alexia stared at the front edge of Mr. Leggitt’s desk. In a few seconds the whole plan played out in her mind. Ralph Leggitt had shielded himself from accusation by sending her to Greenville while he stayed in Santee and plotted with Ezra the best method for depleting Baxter’s assets. The senior partner was a sorry lawyer but a master manipulator. It had been a ploy from the first meeting. She looked up from the edge of the desk into Leggitt’s eyes before answering.

  “No.”

  Leggitt’s voice rose in volume and pitch. “What did she tell you? Tell me now!”

  Alexia shook her head. “No. She shared it in confidence. You’ve made it clear that Ezra is your client, and I won’t reveal what she told me.”

  Leggitt stood up. He was a short, unimpressive looking man, but he was also Alexia’s boss. His face was red, and at that moment he appeared to tower over her. He started to speak, then checked himself and sat down.

  His voice softer, he said, “Alexia, you have a good future here. This is not a field to die on.”

  “Then don’t make me. I’m not going to add one mistake to another.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Alexia heard the hint of retreat in his voice. She had called his bluff. Her law practice generated a steady stream of income that yielded a consistent profit to the partners of the firm. Ralph Leggitt liked money too much to throw that away.

  “Yes,” she nodded.

  Leggitt tapped the top of his desk with his pen. Alexia waited.

  “You’re fired,” the senior partner said matter-of-factly. “Clear out your desk and leave the office within the next hour. Do not take any files with you until we have conducted an inventory.”