“Gage Law Offices,” he said.
“Ray? Is that you?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Branson Kilpatrick. I thought I’d leave a message, but I’m glad you answered. Tommy and Larissa are taking Mitchell to Emory today for an evaluation. Your dad told me to let him know if there was any change in his condition. The local oncologist thinks he might be a candidate for some kind of special treatment program and wants him to see a specialist at the children’s hospital. What’s it called?”
“Egleston.”
“That’s it. Anyway, they’re going to admit him this afternoon and keep him for a couple of days.”
“Okay.”
“Is there anything else going on with the case? I know it’s early, but this has got us so torn up that any bit of news would be welcome.”
Ray hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he should answer or let his father provide an update. “Will you be available later?”
“Off and on. I have a full day on the mower, mostly on the east side of town.”
While he listened Ray decided what to do.
“It’s progressing faster than I expected,” he said. “Colfax’s lawyer filed paperwork with the court yesterday, and my dad is talking to an expert in California about testing the well water to find out what made the boys sick.”
“If they’ve stopped dumping, will it still be in the system?”
“I’m not sure.”
“All right. At least Judge Ellington is the judge on the case. He’s a fair man.”
“Uh, that may change.” Ray told him about the judge collapsing at the courthouse. “I haven’t heard anything about the judge’s condition this morning. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“I probably won’t mention that to Tommy just yet. Oh, and Millie Watson keeps asking me what I think is going to happen. She doesn’t want to bother you, but it might be a good idea for all of us to have another meeting at your office as soon as it’s convenient.”
“I agree,” Ray said.
The call ended and another one came in. This time Ray let it go to voice mail. He walked over to the filing cabinet where his father kept the Colfax litigation. There were several folders; none had much in it. He found the research his father had performed via the Internet about chemicals that could cause non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Reading over it, Ray remembered Nate Stamper’s comment that the information relied on in the complaint had been discredited by recent research. Now Ray wished he’d taken more of an interest in the technical aspects of the criminal case instead of simply submitting into evidence the work performed by the attorney general’s office. He looked over the retention agreement forwarded by Dr. Westbrook, the California expert. Corbin hadn’t yet signed it, probably because he couldn’t pay the three-thousand-dollar retainer.
Ray logged onto his computer. Within thirty minutes he identified fifteen cases in which Dr. Westbrook appeared in court as an expert witness, all for the plaintiff. That last fact made Ray uneasy. One of the marks of a hired gun witness, whether for the plaintiff or defense, was a history of providing testimony for only one side.
Dr. Westbrook also enjoyed traveling. He’d successfully marketed himself to law firms from California to New York, and even appeared in a recent trial in Puerto Rico. Ray followed a link to more information about the Puerto Rico case, which led to a list of motions filed by the parties both prior to and after a verdict in favor of the defendant corporation. One of the motions was for sanctions against the plaintiff’s lawyer. Dr. Westbrook’s name appeared in the description of the motion. Ray opened the motion and read it. When he saw the basis for bringing the matter before the court, his mouth dropped open.
Corbin stopped off to eat breakfast on his way to the office. He rarely ate a full breakfast, but it seemed like a good idea to have something more than coffee in his system as he faced what he hoped would be a full day of sobriety. The special of the day was a mega breakfast burrito filled with some of Corbin’s favorite foods. He was reading the ingredients for the second time when the waitress returned to take his order. She leaned over and followed his gaze.
“It’s better in person than in the photo,” she said.
“And more dangerous to my arteries than a pint of pure cholesterol. I’ll take one egg over easy with dry wheat toast and one strip of crisp bacon.”
“There are three pieces of bacon in an order.”
Corbin glanced at a nearby table where two husky young firefighters had taken a seat. “Give an extra piece to each of them.”
Corbin handed the menu back to the waitress. The door to the restaurant opened and Max Hogan came in. Unlike their encounter weeks earlier, this time Corbin wanted to talk. He waved his hand. Max saw him and hesitated. Corbin made a more insistent gesture, inviting his former drinking buddy to come over.
“Are you meeting someone?” Corbin asked.
“No.”
“Then sit with me. I’d like to talk to you.”
Max remained standing. “Is it about AA or drinking?”
“Yes. I’ve been going to a bunch of meetings, mostly at the Hopewell church, and last night Jimmy agreed to be my sponsor.”
“He’s my sponsor too,” Max replied, looking past Corbin. “But things aren’t going well right now. I slipped.”
Corbin didn’t know how to process the news. Within seconds he felt angry, sad, inadequate, and bewildered. “What happened?” he managed.
“What do you think?” Max shrugged.
“Sit down anyway,” Corbin replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m the last person in Rusk County who has the right to give you a hard time about taking a drink.”
“And if you’re trying to stop, I’m toxic.”
“Shut up. I’m buying your breakfast, and it hurts my neck to keep looking up at you.”
Max slid into the opposite side of the booth and made full eye contact with Corbin. “You still look like a drunk,” Max said. “Are you messing with me?”
“No, and I’m still better looking than you ever dreamed of being.”
Max smiled slightly. Corbin waved the waitress over.
“Changed your mind about the burrito?” she asked.
“No, but my friend is joining me and needs a menu.”
For Corbin the next thirty minutes were akin to an out-of-body experience. Max didn’t want to talk about his “slip,” but seemed willing to listen to Corbin talk about his short journey in AA. Corbin didn’t hold anything back, including his epiphany on the front steps of his duplex and the desire for change he could feel stirring inside him. He barely noticed his food when it came and was surprised when he looked down at his plate and it was clean.
“It sounds like you’re starting to build a good program,” Max said when Corbin paused. “And I hope it works out for you.”
“Are you giving up?” Corbin asked. “I mean, you sound like you’d still like to be sober.”
Max shook his head. “I don’t think I can handle the ups and downs of making it a day, a week, a month, then falling off the wagon.”
“Have you had a drink today?”
It was the kind of question only appropriate for an alcoholic at eight thirty in the morning.
“No,” Max said.
Corbin leaned forward. “Look, I’m barely out of the gate myself. We could start this thing together.”
Max looked down at his plate of half-eaten scrambled eggs and hash browns with chopped onions. “You don’t want to tie yourself to me.”
“Who said anything about that? If we do that we’ll both drown. Let’s finish breakfast then go to the meeting at the Serenity Center. They have one this morning at nine. I went last week.”
“Don’t you have to go to the office?”
Corbin shrugged. “Ray can handle any calls that come in. And this is important.”
Max didn’t respond. He continued to pick at his food. Corbin was out of ideas and words. Then he had an unusual thought. He closed his eyes as if blinking for a few
seconds and prayed.
Mr. Caldweller waited until the room cleared before he spoke. “I heard back from Kennedy Goings about the conference call the other day.”
Roxy braced herself. She’d tried her best to walk the tightrope between convincing the client to continue funding the litigation by giving a lowball estimate of future costs and tossed out her best guess at the amount it would ultimately take to settle the case. After the call ended she crossed her fingers that a postmortem risk benefit analysis by the company’s accounting department wouldn’t generate a negative report of the law firm’s recommendation.
“He’s given us the go-ahead based on your analysis.”
“There’s no way we can guarantee settlement close to the amount I gave him. So much can happen between now and then—”
“It’s going to work out,” Caldweller cut in. “Your estimate was dead on with the one I prepared but didn’t disclose.”
Roxy allowed herself to breathe. But her boss wasn’t finished.
“That’s not all I wanted to talk to you about. I was on a conference call last night with the firm partnership committee, and your name came up.”
The tightness in Roxy’s chest returned.
“We’re considering you for equity status.”
Roxy didn’t try to hide her shock. “Me, a partner?”
“Don’t look so surprised. You know how we operate around here. It’s Darwinian to the core, and you’re a survivor. Nothing is final yet, but you’re on the short list of candidates who will be considered at the London retreat. If approved, you can expect a move within the next year, most likely to New York, but San Francisco is an option, as is Munich. I lived in four cities and two different countries over an eight-year period before landing here. You speak German, don’t you?”
Roxy’s head was spinning. “Uh, barely conversational. It’s not at a level for legal analysis.”
“That wouldn’t be expected so long as you could make yourself understood to staff and in social settings with clients.”
“With practice, I’m sure I’d get there.”
“Don’t start watching German TV quite yet. Anyway, expect phone calls or e-mail inquiries from attorneys on the partnership committee over the next few days.”
“What are they going to ask me?”
“Nothing you can’t handle,” Caldweller replied with a slightly forced smile. “Anticipating what you’ll need to know or say without warning is part of the process. You’ve worked with me long enough to know what it’s like to be grilled.”
“And fried.”
Caldweller’s smile broadened. “That’s one thing I like about you. Beneath that steely face of yours is a sense of humor that will keep you from going insane from the pressure we experience on a daily basis.”
“Minute by minute.”
“That too. Now get back to work. I expect a research memo on my desk in the morning about the motion filed by the defendant in the Catalonia case.”
Corbin left the AA meeting with a smile on his face. He’d always considered the practice of law as an opportunity not only to make money, but to help people in need. Tossing out a lifeline to a fellow drunk like Max Hogan made him feel even better. In virtually every AA meeting Corbin had heard the phrase “by the grace of God and fellowship of AA,” but it took on a new meaning when Max walked into the room, where he was welcomed without condemnation. Jimmy wasn’t there, and on the way to the office Corbin called him and left him a voice mail with the good news.
“I went to an AA meeting this morning,” Corbin announced to Janelle when he entered the office.
“I hope it went well,” the secretary replied with a slightly puzzled look on her face.
“Better than that,” Corbin replied. “I’m really starting to get what it’s all about.”
“To stop drinking?”
“Yeah, that’s the main thing, of course. And I’m still taking baby steps.” Corbin stopped and smiled. “That’s why they call them the Twelve Steps.”
Janelle’s expression metamorphosed into incredulity. “Uh, I need to get back to work,” she said.
“Sure.”
“Oh, and Ray needs to talk to you.”
Corbin stepped over to Ray’s office, knocked on the door, and opened it before his son responded. “I’m here,” he said cheerily.
“I’ll come over to your office,” Ray replied, a somber expression on his face. “I have something important to show you.”
FORTY-ONE
Ray had spent much of the morning as he waited for Corbin to arrive completing his investigation of Dr. Westbrook. When his father knocked on the door, Ray was in the midst of a frustrating search for another chemist they could hire as an expert. Corbin went on to his office, and Ray collected his information and entered the reception area.
“He’s in a weird mood,” Janelle said. “He claims he went to an AA meeting this morning, but he’s acting more like he had a couple of drinks before he left the house.”
“I hope he doesn’t want a drink after he hears what I have to tell him about the expert he was about to hire in the Colfax litigation.”
Janelle pursed her lips together. “He’s your father.”
Ray wasn’t sure what Janelle meant by that, but didn’t want to ask a question to find out.
Corbin had his back to the door and was humming a tune Ray didn’t recognize. Ray cleared his throat, and his father turned around.
“You know Max Hogan, don’t you?” Corbin asked.
“The guy who runs the payday loan service? We investigated him a couple of times while I was at the DA’s office but couldn’t get anything to stick. If you’ve got a possible civil suit against him, I’d like to take a look at it and—”
“No, no,” Corbin interrupted with a wave of his hand. “He’s the one who got me interested in AA, and this morning I was able to return the favor.”
“I’m not following you.”
“It’s okay,” Corbin replied. “I shouldn’t talk about it anyway. Janelle said you wanted to see me about something important. What’s on your mind?”
Ray placed the information he’d uncovered about Dr. Westbrook on the edge of the desk. “Read this. Bottom line, we don’t want to hire Dr. Westbrook as an expert in the Colfax litigation.”
“Why not? He knows what we need and will give it to us if the testing on the wells pans out.”
“That’s part of the problem. Dr. Westbrook gave an opinion last year in a toxic tort case in Puerto Rico that was great for the plaintiff, until the defendant proved Westbrook’s assessment was based on falsified evidence. It resulted in sanctions against Westbrook and the law firm that hired him.”
Ray waited while his father read the information.
“It’s on appeal,” Corbin said when he finished. “What if this was a defense-minded judge looking for a chance to beat up on the plaintiff’s lawyers and using Westbrook as the club? Every one of these allegations was contested during the hearing before the judge.”
“There were two chemists who proved that Westbrook’s findings were fabricated.”
“Testified, not proved. And who hired them? Corporate defendants are always able to throw more money at a case than a plaintiff.”
“But—”
“I see your point,” Corbin cut in. “And we can’t wait for an appellate court to decide what it thinks about Dr. Westbrook. I just don’t want you to have a mindset that jumps too quickly to agree with a big corporation or insurance company. You have to be mentally tough to be a plaintiff’s lawyer.”
“You’re tougher than I am.” Ray couldn’t keep from smiling. “Janelle said you were in rare form this morning, and now that I’ve seen you, I agree. Whatever you and Max Hogan did buoyed you up. I just hope it wasn’t a round or two of Bloody Marys.”
“No,” Corbin replied. “I’m committed to sobriety, one day at a time. That’s what I told the AA group this morning at the Serenity Center on Maxwell Street.”
�
��That’s great,” Ray said, not wanting to overreact. “You know I’m supporting you.”
“Thanks. But don’t say anything to Cindy or Roxy. I could always slip.”
Corbin hesitated as if he had something else to say. Ray waited.
“I guess that’s it for now,” his father continued. “Since you uncovered the problem with Dr. Westbrook, take a stab at finding another chemist. Also, we need a medical expert. Westbrook claimed he knew someone, but maybe we should steer clear of him too.”
“Yeah, I’ll spend time on it today.”
Ray stood up. He still felt there was something unsaid. Corbin turned around toward his credenza and picked up a file. Ray didn’t leave.
“Would it be all right if I said a prayer?” Ray asked.
“Yes,” Corbin replied quickly. “I’d like that.”
Ray closed his eyes and began to pray. After a few seconds he peeked and saw his father with his head bowed and his eyes closed. His mother would have given anything in the world for a moment like this. Ray’s voice threatened to crack, but he steadied it and said, “Amen.”
“That was good,” Corbin said, touching his chest. “It’s like I could feel it in here.”
The phone on Corbin’s desk buzzed. He answered it and listened.
“Let me see what Ray thinks,” he said and lowered the receiver. “It’s Cecil Scruggs from the newspaper,” he said. “He wants to talk to me about the Colfax case.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Ray replied.
“Are you kidding? This is my first shot at the jury of public opinion. By suppertime tonight everyone who reads the newspaper or knows someone who does will say we’re David going out to fight Goliath.”
“You’re not worried about tainting the jury pool?”
A House Divided Page 29
