Primary Justice

by William Bernhardt

  “Isn’t there some question about whether the results are conclusive?”

  “Yeah. But at this point, any evidence is better than none.”

  “Brrrr,” Ben said, hunching his shoulders and rubbing his arms as if he’d caught a chill. “Genetic IDs. Sounds like something you’d hear about on the Big Brother telemonitor.”

  “Do you want to catch this guy or not? I should get the test results by telephone tomorrow afternoon or the next day. Then I’ll ask Sanguine for an exemplar of his hair and blood. If the hair samples match—”

  “We’ll know he’s the killer.”

  “We’ll know he saw Adams within the last twenty-four hours before he died,” Mike corrected. “Since he told the police otherwise, that might be enough to bring him in for some pointed questioning. And if it’s Sanguine’s blood under Adams’s fingernails, we’ll have an airtight case.”

  Ben hated to admit it, but sometimes the law did move too slowly for ordinary human beings to bear.

  “You know what the really funny thing is?” Mike said slowly. “I still don’t know what I did wrong. In my marriage, I mean. I worked hard. I worked night and day. You know I did. I tried to do the right thing. I tried to make her happy. If I could do it all over again, starting today, I don’t have the slightest idea what I should do differently.”

  Ben gave Mike a fraternal punch on the shoulder. “Let’s call up Julia,” Ben said. “I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you.”

  The two men looked at one another and then, with some regret, burst into laughter.

  30

  WASHROOM PROTOCOL WAS A peculiar feature of the law office life-style. The washrooms were perhaps the only communal meeting place for persons from all echelons of the firm. Everyone went there at one time or another, excepting the three named partners, each of whom had his own private washroom that could only be entered with a special key. In the general public men’s rooms, however, the partners and associates alike enacted a complex ritual, from greeting all present by name upon entrance to the vigorous washing of hands on the way out. Associates went to ostentatious lengths to demonstrate that they had no latent uneasiness about urinating in the presence of others, and every one of them, Ben suspected, would have preferred to remain silent and be left in peace in a private stall while they took care of business. The office washroom, however, might be the only place a junior associate ever saw most partners. Ergo, bizarrely enough, it became a place to try to make an impression.

  Ben met Greg on his way in.

  “Long time no see,” Greg said, pushing the door open. “Boy, have people ever been talking about you.”

  Ben was reflexively defensive. “I don’t want to hear about—” Greg silenced him by raising a finger to his lips in the hush position. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger across his lips, then flicked his fingers, as if to throw away the key. Greg crouched down and checked to see if there were any feet visible beneath the stall doors. Evidently there weren’t.

  “Can’t be too careful,” Greg said, turning back toward the urinals. “Partners are everywhere.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think you’re overdoing this firm intrigue routine?”

  “Hey, I’ve planned to be a lawyer all my life,” Greg said. “It’s all I ever wanted to do. I’m not going to blow it now by being stupid. Loose lips sink ships.”

  What a great place to work, Ben thought.

  “I understand your first court appearance was an unmitigated disaster,” Greg said. For some inexplicable reason, he seemed to be grinning.

  “Glad everyone’s heard about it,” Ben muttered. “Saves me the bother of sending out announcements.”

  “Ah, well,” Greg said, “that’s why you’ve made those connections in high places, right?” He flashed his perfect smile. “A wise associate hedges his bets.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Greg. You’re starting to sound like Alvin.”

  Greg’s smile became something like a patronizing leer. “You didn’t really think you could keep something like that secret, did you, old boy?” Greg zipped up and walked over to the sinks. “Don’t be so secretive. Your fellow associates were very impressed. I was very impressed. I hadn’t pegged you as the one to make the smooth career moves. You seemed a smidgen too busy being noble to me. But you outflanked your entire class. And in a very masterly fashion, too, I might add. How can Raven fire you now? It can’t happen. It’s perfect.” He wiped his hands on a paper towel. “I guess I should have realized you were on the fast track after that stint with Mona Raven.”

  Ben stared blankly at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Right. That’s your story, and you’re sticking to it. I don’t blame you. Did Mona have something to do with this? I was in Chambers’s office when he found out. Was he ever pissed! He was counting on that Vancouver case reassignment to keep his billables above the freezing point. Wait till he hears this latest news.” He slapped Ben on the shoulder. “Pretty impressive for someone whose only court experience was … what was the phrase, an unmitigated disaster?”

  Deep furrows crept across Ben’s forehead. “I don’t understand,” he said. “What has Mrs. Raven to do with the Vancouver case?”

  “Come on, Ben—this is part of the act, right? Are you serious? Mona Raven and Sanguine are lovers. Were lovers, anyway. Before her marriage to Arthur Raven. Mr. Raven is evidently an amazingly understanding husband. Of course, at his age, he’d have to be.”

  Ben was stunned. “Where do you hear these things?”

  Greg beamed. “A good lawyer has many sources.” He winked and sauntered out of the washroom.

  All roads lead back to Sanguine, Ben thought. No matter what startling new development I come across, Joseph Sanguine is always involved.

  He stopped suddenly. What was Greg’s latest news?

  31

  BEN WALKED BACK TO his office, stifling a yawn. He hadn’t slept at all the night before. Too much was happening, pulling him every which way at once. Derek, Julia, Sanguine. Emily. Too much. Too much concern, too much guilt. He began to wonder if he would ever sleep peacefully again, if the gnawing in his stomach would ever subside.

  Just as he had nearly made it to his office, he was stopped by Maggie. “Two messages came in for you, Mr. Kincaid,” she said, in an unnecessarily loud tone of voice.

  “Thanks, Maggie.” He lifted the message memos from his spindle.

  The first was from Christina. It read: No luck yet. Still hard at it—probably conducting more audits than real IRS. Why does Tulsa need so many different places to live?

  Ben smiled. Now there’s a good woman. This was probably part of the cosmic karma, he mused. In exchange for getting to work with Christina, he had to tolerate working with Derek and Maggie.

  The second message informed Ben that Mr. Derek wished to see him. Ben crumpled that message in his fist and, taking his own sweet time, strolled into Derek’s office.

  “Good to see you, Kincaid.”

  Ben blinked. Derek actually seemed cordial, all smiles.

  “Where have you been hiding yourself?”

  Ben was startled by this sudden outburst of friendliness. This wasn’t the Derek he had come to know and be repelled by. Something had changed radically.

  “Take a chair, son. I’d come around, but my trick knee is acting up again.”

  Ben sat as instructed.

  Derek looked into Ben’s eyes, but it seemed more a friendly scrutiny than the usual dissection. “Well, now, you’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you?” He squinted his eyes into impossibly thin slits, then laughed. “Just got off the phone with Joseph Sanguine.”

  Oh, great, Ben thought. I pushed Sanguine too hard, and he’s ticked off about it. I’m history. Finished. Fired. Impoverished. Destitute.

  “We’ve been after Sanguine for years to appoint someone to act as in-house liaison counsel for Sanguine Enterprises, and we wanted it to be someone from our firm. To solidify the
relationship between our business and his.” He paused meaningfully. “Do you realize that Sanguine Enterprises paid over four million dollars in legal fees to Raven, Tucker & Tubb last year alone? Incredible. Needless to say, we don’t want to lose this client.”

  Derek uncrossed and recrossed his legs manually, using both hands to lift the legs into place. He winced as he bent his right knee. “Sanguine wants you to be his in-house counsel, Kincaid. He asked for you by name and made it clear he would accept no substitutes. Frankly, we thought he’d go for someone with more legal experience, someone who’d been here ten, maybe fifteen years, rather than ten, fifteen days”—he waved his hand absently in the air—“but who are we to judge? The client always knows best. Sanguine says he wants to train someone fresh, someone who will learn to transact business his way from day one. And frankly, Sanguine knows damn well we’ll give him whomever he wants.”

  Ben stared at Derek in disbelief. His mind was frozen in the mental equivalent of a gaping jaw. “I … I—don’t see how …”

  “I don’t see how you did it either, Kincaid. You’ve been involved in two minor cases, you’ve only been on the Vancouver case for one day, and suddenly, you’re in-house counsel. Sanguine said something about admiring your aggressiveness and spunk. I don’t know what you’ve been doing during your visits to his office, but whatever it was, it worked like a wet dream. You’ve taken a giant step ahead of your peers.”

  He paused, then decided in favor of another of his characteristic blasts of brutal honesty. “Frankly, Kincaid, I didn’t think you’d be the one to take a giant step ahead of the wolf pack. You struck me as too meek and mild for Raven, and especially for Sanguine. I guess I was honest with you about that. Well, I suppose it’s Sanguine’s decision.”

  “What would in-house counsel do?” Ben asked hesitantly.

  “Oh, find out what’s going on, first. They’re so disorganized at Sanguine, they’ve got cases pending that they’ve lost track of or totally forgotten about. Sanguine’s got local counsel working for him all over the globe, but no one back home looking over their shoulders and supervising the work. Before long, I expect you’ll start building your own staff of in-house lawyers. You’ll be in charge of other people, lawyers older than yourself, probably. They could hardly be much younger, could they? You’ll also take care of the day-to-day legal minutiae that comes to an operation the size of Sanguine Enterprises on a regular basis. Of course, litigation matters, especially the big money cases, you’ll still want to refer out to Raven, Tucker.”

  “But—” Ben found himself sputtering like an infant. Something was wrong, but he was unable to express that to Derek. “I never wanted to be an administrator. I wanted to litigate. I wanted to try lawsuits.”

  Derek waved his hand in the air. “Kid, you can make this job whatever you want. It’s your blank check. Speaking of checks, you’ll maintain your firm salary, and in addition, you’ll be receiving a sizable stipend from Sanguine. Eventually, they’ll take over your entire salary. Plus, you’ll receive a signing bonus and various corporate benefits. Kincaid, you’ve been working here less than a month, and you’re rich!”

  Ben fell back in his chair. It sounded too good to be true. Much too good.

  “All you have to do is play your job right and keep Sanguine happy. Remember,” Derek added, the expression in his voice changing somewhat, “we’re all counting on you. Sanguine asked for you and you alone. If you fail, there’s no guarantee he’ll choose someone else from this firm to take your place.”

  Derek paused to let his words sink in. Then his face suddenly brightened. “Now, congratulations, you wild man. Get out of here. Go celebrate. Take the rest of the afternoon off. We’re going to have a reception this evening at my house for some key Sanguine people you’ll need to meet, and some of our attorneys who work on Sanguine matters. You’ll be the guest of honor, Kincaid.”

  Without another word, Derek returned his attention to the tall stack of papers on his desk. In a daze, Ben managed to find his feet and make his way back to his own office. Too much. Too much.

  32

  BEN HAD TO CONCEDE that Derek’s home could not be faulted for failing to reflect the personality of the owner. The house itself, a huge rectangular, white-brick affair that might have passed for a mausoleum, towered in the foreground. The cabana beside the Olympic-size swimming pool, also in white brick, looked like a miniature of the house.

  The highlight of the patio area, however, was the pool itself. On the bottom of the pool, shimmering beneath the surface, was a mermaid, her head in the deep end, her tail in the shallow. The mermaid was not merely painted on; she was sculpted, in three-dimensional splendor. Best of all, the mermaid was painted with anatomical accuracy and detail. Each green scale on her tail could be discerned; the pink nipples on her ample breasts were visible from any point in the backyard. The voluptuous sea maiden seemed to rise from the surface of the pool and beckon the innocent to a watery doom.

  As if this wasn’t enough, a clear acrylic screen was built into the wall of the deep end of the pool. From a staircase outside, guests could descend into a sunken room and, without getting a toenail wet, observe the merlady and her court. The potential uses of this architectural wonder staggered Ben’s imagination.

  Ben was trapped in a conversational clique with Derek and Sanguine. Derek seemed perfectly at home; had he moved back in? Maybe Louise had gone somewhere else—home to Mother, perhaps. Derek was talking about himself, Sanguine was listening, and Ben was bored. Tidwell was also there, but he wasn’t saying much. He seemed to be out of sorts. In fact, he had yet to tell a single lawyer joke. Perhaps, Ben hypothesized, he’s concerned that the presence of in-house counsel will diminish his influence with his boss.

  “Speak into my good ear,” Derek said, amid a chain of reminiscences about an antitrust case Derek had litigated for Sanguine several months before. “I don’t like to admit it, but I might as well tell you, Joe, I’ve got some hearing loss in my right ear. When I was in the Coast Guard, I spent a miserable winter night doing swimming drills on Chesapeake Bay. The wind was so cold it could freeze your eardrum shut. Total aural paralysis. My poor ear has never recovered.” Out of Derek’s eyesight, Sanguine winked at Ben.

  “That explains a lot of the things I’ve heard you say in oral argument,” Sanguine said to Derek. “I’ve always suspected you couldn’t hear the judge’s questions.”

  Derek took a sip from his martini. “Remember the oral argument in Charleston?” he said. “The personal jurisdiction question?”

  A misty-eyed expression crossed Sanguine’s face. “That was a classic. Were you in on that, Tidwell?”

  “No, sir,” he said politely. He smoothed the few hairs stretched across his bald head. “I was checking out a potential location for the Phoenix franchise that week.”

  “Well, you missed a classic,” Sanguine continued. “This poor legal assistant kept trying to pass Dick a note while he was speaking, but he didn’t notice her, and she kept whispering and pssting till finally the judge himself rose from the bench and told Dick to turn around and take the damn note!”

  Derek and Sanguine laughed heartily. Ben did the best he could.

  “She was a cute little redheaded number,” Sanguine said after he calmed down. “What was her name again?”

  “Christina,” Derek said, smiling. “Christina McCord or McLaine or something like that.”

  Ben considered correcting him, then thought better of it.

  “We ought to work with her again, Dick,” Sanguine said, winking. He nudged Derek with his elbow. Derek’s drink spilled onto his hand, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I liked her.”

  Derek countersmirked. “Would you like that, Joe? I think I could make her available to you. If you catch my meaning.”

  This was more than Ben felt able to hear. Boring nostalgia trips and macho posturing he could handle, but he drew the line at snide remarks about a woman who was currently performing a hellatious task for h
im as a personal favor. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I need a fresh drink.”

  “Sure, kid,” Derek said, still ha-haing to himself.” Drink up. This is your night.”

  Ben walked toward the bar table. The whole party gave him the creeps. Especially Derek. Derek has been nothing but antagonistic and arrogant since the day I came to the firm, Ben thought, but today, he’s hosting a party in my honor. Not forty-eight hours ago, Sanguine was hostile, suspicious, and barely civil to me, but today, we’re old drinking buddies.

  Marianne and Greg were standing in the bar line chatting. Greg saw Ben approaching, threw his arm around Ben, and squeezed his neck tightly in the crook of his arm. “My old buddy!” he screamed. “Ben! How’s it going, big guy?”

  Ben wasn’t sure if Greg was drunk or if this was just his boisterous way of maintaining his status as the prince of party animals. “I’m fine, Greg. Nice coat, by the way.”

  “What, this old rag?” He flashed his lightweight cashmere jacket. “You like the way it hangs?”

  “Well, I like it better than that white Brideshead Revisited number you wore the first day of work.”

  “Yeah, I thought it was time for an image revamp. This makes me look more like a regular guy, don’t you think?”

  “Greg … that’s cashmere.”

  Greg glanced at his jacket. “Huh. Yeah, I guess it is. Hey, this is some party, isn’t it? I bet Marianne had no idea the perks would start perking this soon, huh?” He jabbed Marianne in the side. “And I guess we’ve got you to thank for this one, Ben-man!” He gave Ben another squeeze around the shoulders. “You’re some kind of animal, big guy.”

  Ben nodded pleasantly.

  “Hey,” Greg said, his eyes suddenly growing as wide as his smile. “Remember that time at the Bare Fax, you and me? Was that awesome or what?” Greg laughed heartily enough for both of them, which was fortunate, since Ben wasn’t laughing.

  “Yeah, those were the days,” Ben said. He couldn’t believe they were reminiscing about an event from last week as if it were a golden memory from yesteryear.