Savannah Law

by William Eleazer

  Gordon was now in a rapid-fire monologue. This nationally known trial lawyer was proving to be a self-absorbed jerk, totally lacking in social skills. The one-person conversation was all about him.

  Jennifer wondered why Denis had been gone so long. As awkward as it may seem, he was her date, wasn’t he? The thought that Professor Denis Nolan, her Property professor, was her date amused her, although she didn’t know why. She tried to suppress a smile and did so by asking another question. “You said Denis was obsessed with the Patty Hearst case. In what way?”

  “The complete experience—her abduction, how she was brainwashed, and just what caused her to become so supportive of her kidnappers.”

  “But that was in the seventies. That was long before you met Denis, right?”

  “Yes, of course. I met Denis many years later in Chicago. Two of the senior partners of his law firm were indicted. White-collar crimes, tax evasion and money laundering—lots of money involved. The feds got an indictment based on the testimony of several clients who each had paid the firm hundreds of thousands of dollars and were dissatisfied with the results. Denis called his father and told him about it. Denis wasn’t a target, but his dad was afraid Denis would end up somehow as a fall guy. He was young and inexperienced in the way Chicago operates. That was a wise move. No question, Denis would have been eaten alive if I hadn’t gotten in early on. There was a lot of finger pointing—and senior partners, junior partners, and associates like Denis taking sides. The firm had multiple bank accounts, some not on the books, and these clients had been paying directly into them. Big cash payments over several years—right into the pockets of a couple of senior partners, and not a penny paid in taxes.”

  “Was Denis a witness to any of this or involved in any way?”

  “No, but that makes no difference when millions of dollars are involved and the firm needs someone to hang out to dry. Denis had worked on one of the cases involved, and he would have been in it over his head if his dad had not gotten to me so soon. But I took care of it.”

  “How?”

  “You don’t want to know. This is Chicago, understand? I spent a lot of time with Denis. I got to know him pretty well. His dad, Howard, came up for a couple of visits, and I got to know him, too. Classy guy, his dad. Really doted on his son. Wasn’t too happy Denis was doing real estate closings in Chicago, especially with that firm and some of the people he was beginning to hang out with. Didn’t look promising to Howard.”

  Jennifer did not want the conversation to drift into Denis’s personal life again, so she tried to change the subject. “Whatever happened to Patty Hearst?”

  “I don’t know, but I bet Denis can tell you. While he was living in Chicago, he became very interested in the brainwashing defense that Bailey had used. He started researching the Stockholm syndrome. Same research I had done. He found an old copy of Patty’s autobiography, Every Secret Thing, and quizzed me to see if her account matched what I had heard at trial. When I came to Savannah last year to discuss the Bonaventure cemetery matter, the movie Guerrilla—about the abduction—had just been released. He already had a copy, and we watched it. It was an astonishingly accurate movie. In fact, I didn’t really appreciate how bizarre all of it was until I saw that film. I could see he was still obsessed with the Patty Hearst case and the Stockholm syndrome. I suppose everyone has to have a hobby. Mine is causing turmoil in the courtroom. What’s yours, Jennifer?”

  Jennifer was relieved to hear the question. She had heard enough, in fact, too much, about Denis and Patty Hearst. “Criminal trials,” she said. “That’s what I hope to do some day. I really enjoy watching the drama in a courtroom.”

  “Drama? You won’t see drama in any courtroom in Savannah. Attorneys here think a criminal trial is a debutante ball. ‘Yes, Your Honor. No, Your Honor. May I approach the bench, Your Honor?’ They think some almighty judge is in charge of the courtroom. But the judge doesn’t run the courtroom. I run the courtroom—not the judge, not the prosecutor. I’m in charge. Most trial lawyers are scared, clueless cretins who shouldn’t even be allowed in a courtroom. You know how a case has to be tried, Jennifer?”

  “As a first-semester law student, I’m sure you know I don’t.”

  “Well, I try them like a knife fight in a phone booth. There’s going to be only one person standing when it’s over, and I want to make sure it’s me. There’s no silver medal given after a criminal trial.”

  Suddenly, Denis appeared. He had yet another bottle of wine in his hand. “I thought by now you could use a refill. What have you two been discussing?” Seeing the glasses were still full, he put the bottle down.

  “Your Property class,” responded Gordon. “Jennifer was just telling me about the class and how disappointed she was to find it so lacking in challenge. She was hoping you could assign more cases and outside reading.”

  Gordon and Denis laughed and Jennifer forced a smile.

  “I’m out-of-my-mind tired, Denis. I need to head for my hotel,” said Gordon. He pushed his chair back and stood.

  Denis followed his lead and also stood.

  “I’ll call you in the morning,” said Gordon. “We need to talk about Monday’s trial. Not about the case but about looking the part of a successful criminal defense attorney—rich. You gotta flash the gold, Denis. Bring your finest leather briefcase—empty. And get your designer suits out. If you don’t have any, go buy some—a different one for every day, and none of that casual law-professor stuff. I want you to look smart, even though I know you aren’t. Remember, you’re part of the Max Gordon team. When this trial is over, you will be the talk of the town.” As he said that, he gave Jennifer an exaggerated wink and Denis, a firm handshake. “I enjoyed talking with you, Jennifer. Now you two enjoy the evening.”

  Gordon headed for the front door and disappeared.

  Jennifer stood. “I should be going, too,” she said. “It was a wonderful party, Professor. Thanks for inviting me.”

  “No, not professor, not tonight, Jennifer. Remember, it’s Denis. The night is quite young, and we really haven’t had time to talk. Let’s walk out on the patio and listen to the band. They’re from Charleston and my dad’s favorite group. They’ve played here many times.”

  He held her arm and led her out on the patio. But they didn’t stop. Denis continued to walk with Jennifer, without further conversation, down the curved steps to the private wooden boardwalk that led to the beach.

  Jennifer was caught off guard. She had not anticipated that she would be walking out on the beach with her professor. Maybe she should turn back. But it was a beautiful night and still early. So why not enjoy what remains of this “September Evening on the Beach”? As they walked toward the beach, the soft music from the band followed. About halfway to the beach there was a concrete bench and an outdoor shower area.

  “You don’t want to get sand in those shoes. Let’s take our shoes off and walk down the beach. The party can get along without us.”

  Even without shoes, Jennifer was not dressed for a beach walk, but she did not protest. They sat down on the bench, removed their shoes, and placed them under the bench. Denis reached for her hand, and they continued down the wooden walkway to the sand dunes at the end, the start of the beach.

  The wet sand made walking easy. As they got closer to the water, the music became lost in the gentle, undulating sound of the ocean. The phosphorescent waves were the most colorful Jennifer could recall. She was enjoying the feel of the sand beneath her feet. If someone had told her last week that she would soon be strolling at night on Tybee Beach, hand in hand with her Professor, she would have laughed. She was fascinated and, at the same time, uncomfortable with the situation she found herself in. Neither spoke as they walked slowly along the newly wet sand.

  Eventually, Denis stopped and turned to Jennifer. After a deep breath, he said, “Jennifer, from the time I saw you in the courtroom that Sunday, you have been on my mind. I didn’t know how to tell you my feelings. It was sudden a
nd powerful, as if a bolt of lightning had struck. I’m sure you have a hard time believing this, but I have never had a relationship with a woman. None. That worried my dad.” He paused. “And it worried me. I just felt so awkward and inept around women.” Denis took another deep breath before continuing.

  “All through high school, I never had a girlfriend. I was homeschooled, and I thought that was the cause of my problem. But it didn’t change in college or in law school. Can you believe I have never even held the hand of a girl or a woman until tonight? There has always been a barrier, like a wall I could not break through. I could never take that first step. I can’t explain it. I know I disappointed my dad. He would get angry when I refused to discuss it with him. But how could I? I didn’t understand it myself. Then I met you—the day before you were to attend your first class. You were about to start a new phase of your life, and suddenly I wanted to start a new phase in my life, too—with you. Can you understand this, Jennifer?”

  She could not. But here was a man pouring out his innermost secrets to her. She fought for an appropriate response. None came. She looked away and bit down on her lower lip. It would have been easier if she had some feelings for this man. Some spark, some expectation that this could lead to something more. But there was none. There never would be. She was sure of that. She hoped something would come to her for a response, but she found no words with which to respond.

  The silence was broken by Denis. “I was determined that you would be part of my life. Every waking moment since I saw you, you have been part of it. You did not know it, and I did not know how to tell you. So I planned this evening. It was for you. I wanted you to know how I felt, and I was determined to tell you. I simply had to find the courage.” He paused, and this time it was a very long pause.

  Jennifer remained silent and motionless.

  “I have only two goals in life now, Jennifer. One, to be dean at Savannah Law. And... and the other... the most important goal in my life....” Denis was struggling for words. “Do you think we have a chance... together?”

  Jennifer was not prepared for this. The simple answer was “no.” But on a darkened beach late at night, alone, she felt perplexed and intensely anxious about the question. She was a student; he, her professor. It seemed ethically wrong and inappropriate. The whole situation was unreal and in a very troubling way. And so unexpected. How could she possibly have expected this when she received her invitation Tuesday? But now it was clear. The “September Evening on the Beach” was to be his first date. With her. Could it really be that this man, now in his thirties, had never been with a woman? High school, college, law school, attorney in a Chicago law firm, law professor—had never been with a woman, alone? Not even a date or held the hand of a woman, until tonight? She was not trained in psychology. She had not even taken a course in psychology, but something had to be seriously wrong. His question was now echoing in her mind, demanding an answer. She must choose her answer carefully.

  Jennifer turned and looked directly at Denis. “Let me think about it. And perhaps we should start heading back. This wind is a bit chilly now.”

  Denis reached for her hand again, and Jennifer did not decline. They walked back to the boardwalk silently. They stopped at the concrete bench and put on their shoes. It was after eleven, but the band was still playing.

  When they reached the patio, Denis spoke for the first time. “Let’s go inside to the bar. It’s still open.”

  Jennifer followed him in. She was glad to be inside, surrounded by others, even if she did not know them. She did not see any of the faculty or board members that she had met when she arrived. The crowd had thinned, and the food had been removed from the tables.

  “I’m going to have a Scotch and soda. What will you have?”

  “Nothing, I’m fine. And I must be going. It was a wonderful party. Thank you for asking me. I enjoyed the music, the food, and the conversation. And, of course, meeting your friends.”

  She wasn’t sure if she should extend her hand or just proceed to the front door. She decided on the latter. Denis followed. At the door, she turned to look at Denis for the last time.

  “Thanks....” She was about to say “Denis,” but it would not come. “For a wonderful evening” was substituted.

  She began to walk down the steps to the lighted parking lot where her car was parked when she heard Denis speak.

  “You promised to think about it, Jennifer. Don’t disappoint me.”

  Jennifer kept walking and did not look back. But she believed she should acknowledge that she had heard him, at least. When she got to the last step, she turned and smiled for just a second and walked briskly to her car.

  It was after midnight when Jennifer arrived at her apartment. The light on her answering machine was blinking. Her mind immediately flashed back to the Friday night two weeks before, when the blinking machine brought news that her dad was in the hospital. She pushed the play button and was relieved to hear Scott’s voice.

  “Where are you? I called your cell; no answer. It’s about 7:30. I’m going to the Library. Can you meet me there? Call my cell.”

  It was too late to call now. She would call in the morning. She lay in bed a long time—pondering the events of the evening—before finally falling asleep.

  CHAPTER 38

  Saturday, September 9

  Jennifer woke late. She called Scott about ten, and they made plans to meet at the Library for lunch before Jennifer left for Hilton Head. The events of the previous evening were swirling in her head, and she was not sure how much, if any, she should tell Scott. Denis’s disturbing conduct toward her was not really Scott’s concern. But Denis’s participation in the trial beginning Monday was. She wondered if Scott knew. She felt no compulsion to tell Scott about “A September Night on the Beach,” but she knew she would eventually. And why not? She had done nothing she should hide. She smiled as she recalled the evening; it was one hell of a party.

  Scott was sitting at the bar talking to Juri when she arrived. Juri smiled as he saw her walking into the bar.

  “There comes that beautiful blonde. Hi, Jennifer. Scott was just telling me a blonde joke. Want to hear it?”

  Scott looked disapprovingly at Juri. Their discussion had been about baseball.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No.”

  “Then let’s hear it.”

  “What goes VROOM, SCREECH, VROOM, SCREECH, VROOM, SCREECH?”

  “Not a clue,” said Jennifer.

  “A blonde going through a flashing red light,” said Juri, laughing.

  “That’s not funny, Juri,” said Jennifer, faking a frown.

  “Then how about this one? A policeman pulls a brunette over after she’d been driving the wrong way on a one-way street. Cop says, ‘Do you know where you’re going?’ Brunette says, ‘No, but wherever it is, it must be bad ’cause all the people are leaving.’”

  “A brunette. Now that was funny,” Jennifer said, smiling.

  “Where were you last night, Jennifer? Scott sat right here for an hour—looking at his watch every three minutes. Said he was waiting on you. Nursed his one beer; finally gave up and left. So where were you?”

  “Out.”

  “Juri, anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?” asked Scott.

  “All the time.”

  “Jennifer and I are going someplace quiet—and friendly—for lunch. You’ll have to find someone else to annoy. By the way, do you know how many bartenders it takes to screw in a light bulb?”

  Juri made a “thinking” gesture by putting his right forefinger to his temple, paused for a moment, and said, “No, but if you’ll hum a few bars, I can probably fake it.”

  “Now you guys planned that didn’t you—that was a setup,” said Jennifer. “Admit it!”

  Juri and Scott just laughed.

  Scott and Jennifer then left the bar and went into the restaurant area and ordered lunch. Jennifer decided to tell Scott about her “September Evening on the Beac
h.” Not the walk on the beach with Professor Nolan but the beach house, the food, the music, and, of course, meeting Gordon.

  “Were there many students there?” asked Scott.

  “I was the only student, as far as I know. Several faculty members were there—Vice Dean Bechtel and Professor Hoffman. I thought I recognized a couple of the young faculty, but I didn’t speak to them, and I don’t know their names. I’ve seen them on campus. And some members of the Board of Trustees. I was introduced to Mr. Sterner, who I think is the board vice-chairman. Also, a Mr. Tebeau. And I met a lady who was a Savannah Law graduate, Jacqueline Hinesley. We had an interesting conversation. She’s in private practice in Brunswick.”

  Scott interrupted. “What a suck-up!”

  “You know her?”

  “I’m talking about Nolan. Do you see the connection?”

  “What connection?”

  “The frickin’ guest list, Jennifer! All the folks you’ve named are on the Dean Search Committee. He plans this colossal beach shindig one week before the first meeting of the committee and invites the entire committee... well, almost the entire committee. What a transparent, obsequious, fawning SOB!”

  Jennifer was a bit amused at Scott’s outburst. But she was also surprised at the connection he made. He was right. She had received the letter notifying her of her appointment to the committee, read it, and put it aside. She now recalled that it listed the names of all the committee appointees. All the voting members of the committee were at the party. All except Scott. She wondered why she had not made the connection herself.

  “Did you get an invitation?” asked Jennifer, although she already knew the answer.

  “No, but I’m sure it was just an oversight. Just an oversight.”

  Jennifer was now quite aware that it was not an oversight. The evening was planned to specifically include her and exclude Scott. It was now so obvious to her and to Scott.