Foreclosure: A Novel

by S. D. Thames

  “I’m not saying it’s not a bit fortuitous. But he did not cause this fire. I saw the guy break down when he found out about his daughter. He might be a lot of things, but he’s not a murderer.”

  Alton considered the facts for a moment. “So how much work do you have on this case over the next month?”

  “We’ve got a receivership hearing coming up. Other than that, it all depends on what happens with the insurance claim.”

  Alton stood. “Spend as little time on this guy as possible until the claim is paid.”

  “I can do that,” David said.

  “And don’t neglect to bring in some more work.” Alton stormed out and left David alone with Terry.

  Terry reached around and closed the door behind Alton. Then he turned around and gave David a glare that scared him. “You sure you don’t have anything else to tell me, kid?”

  David lowered his head. He wouldn’t know where to begin. And Terry would definitely pull the plug on the whole show if he knew the truth. Not that David believed he knew anything remotely resembling the truth at this point.

  “I’m taking care of it, Terry. I just need you to trust me.”

  Terry’s eyes honed in on David like they were getting ready to fire. “I’ll accept that as an answer, as long as you promise me one thing. Actually, you’ve already promised me. Just reaffirm it—you’ll let me know when you’re in over your head.”

  David paused and wondered just how long now he had been there, way in over his head. “I promise.”

  Terry smiled. “One more thing. You need to call Blake Hubert.”

  “What about him?”

  “Just call him. He’ll explain.”

  Wanda Savage sat in the Alderman Room. Her eyes were red and swollen and sleep deprived. Joe McLaren’s pudgy paw rested on her clasped hands.

  David took a quick breath and sighed. “Mrs. Savage, thank you for coming here.”

  Wanda blew her nose and closed her eyes.

  “I told your attorney we’d like to meet when you’re ready. So I presume you’re ready?”

  Joe nodded. “She’s ready.”

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Wanda said, her eyes still shut.

  “In light of, uh, the recent events—”

  She opened her eyes. “You mean my husband’s heart attack?”

  He nodded. “Yes, in light of these circumstances, my client wishes to extend an offer to you. The bank’s willing to refinance the loan on your house for the current market value of the home at an interest rate of five percent. So, instead of having a mortgage of 1.2 million dollars and 7.9 percent interest, your mortgage would be for seven hundred grand and five percent interest. The bank will write off the remaining principal and cover the closing costs. We’ll characterize the write-off as a settlement, so you won’t have to pay taxes on it.”

  Wanda sat in solemn silence.

  But Joe couldn’t bite his tongue. “You lying sons of bitches. This is what you should have done from the beginning.”

  David couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Here the bank was extending the offer of a lifetime, and Joe McLaren was muffing it up with some first-year-negotiator stunt. “Joe, please shut up.”

  Joe leaned forward indignantly. “This is what you should have done before you put her husband in the hospital.”

  “I didn’t put him in the hospital, Joe.”

  “Yes, you did,” Joe shot back.

  Wanda sighed. “Please be quiet, both of you.” She turned to David. “Mr. Friedman, I want to tell you something.” She peered into his eyes. Her face turned clear and strangely serene. “I forgive you.”

  David quickly averted her gaze. “With all due respect, I’m not asking you for forgiveness. I’m asking you to accept a very gracious offer from my client, one, that to be honest with you, I did not recommend it extend.”

  Wanda whispered, as though she was communicating with someone who wasn’t there. “Mr. Friedman, all I can say is that I forgive you. For every wrong, offense, or trespass you have ever committed against me or my husband—I forgive you. I only pray that Ed will be able to do the same.” She smiled at some point in space. “I forgive you, Mr. Friedman, and I pray that my Lord will do the same.”

  “Well, if you forgive me,” David said, “why don’t you accept this offer and keep your house?”

  Joe looked at Wanda and shook his head.

  “I’m turning it over to my Lord. I just want justice to be done,” she told David.

  “I’m not sure you want justice in this case. The DCA will issue its opinion within a month or so and then we’ll be free to reschedule the foreclosure sale.”

  “Mr. Friedman, I said I would wait for justice to be done. I have turned it over to the Lord. Now I’ve spoken my piece.” She stood to exit, and Joe followed her.

  As Wanda was leaving, David grabbed Joe on his way out of the conference room. “Come on, Joe,” he whispered. “Talk some sense into her. She can’t pass this up.”

  Joe gestured that she was loony. “I don’t think she’s been all there since the heart attack. Hopefully she’ll come to.”

  “Well, you sure as hell aren’t helping things.”

  Joe mouthed the words but didn’t say them: “Fuck off.”

  David watched Joe waddle through the lobby to catch up with his client. Wanda had kicked it into overdrive now, flying through the hallway with her dress flowing behind her like a cloud of black smoke. David thought about her statement that she’d forgiven him. If only she knew everything there was to know, he doubted she would have said that. If there was such a thing as forgiveness, he was sure it didn’t apply to guys like him.

  As he watched Wanda disappear through the main door out the lobby, he felt a sense of mourning settle over the office. That reminded him that he had somewhere else to be, and he was about to be late.

  He arrived at Katherine’s memorial service a few minutes after the hour, but he was still able to find a seat in the back row of a small room in a crematorium not far from the beach. Faces he recognized from Frank’s award reception filled half the room, all the local real estate players seated in rows of rickety, white fold-up chairs.

  A tall woman with dark curly hair and a purple flowing gown presided over the ceremony. She spoke about things David had never heard of—some great energy flowing through the universe that had lovingly accepted Katherine back into its arms for eternity.

  “And all who knew Katherine knew she was filled with life. And now, she has returned to the great creator. A tragic end to a beautiful life, but in a way her life is only now beginning.”

  As David listened to the service, he spotted Frank in the front row. Frank sat still and calm with his head hung low.

  “Let us now have a moment of silence to honor Katherine and wish her well on her great journey.”

  David saw that most of the heads in the room were bowed forward. The minister—or whoever she was—raised her arms and closed her eyes. He tried bowing his head too, but it wouldn’t move. His eyes were stuck on the photo of Katherine at the front of the room. David wondered how he had missed it. Sure, she looked beautiful in the picture, but there was a lurking fear and sadness in her face. The picture summed Katherine up as well as a photograph could capture a human being’s essence.

  Later, David trailed the end of the line of guests paying their condolences to Frank. Frank sat in one of the white fold-up chairs, wearing a beige suit with a black handkerchief stuffed in its front pocket. The guests passed him by, bending over slightly and shaking his hand and paying their condolences. He nodded back at them.

  When David finally reached him, Frank looked up and slowly stood to meet him. David wanted to remind him of the status hearing they had to attend tomorrow, of all the work they had to do with the insurance claim, that he was here for Frank and going to help him beat these guys. But when Frank removed his glasses and David saw the immense sadness on his face, a look David never imagined he’d see on Frank O’Reilly,
all he could say was that he was sorry.

  “Thank you,” Frank said. “Today I just want to mourn.”

  David returned to his office that evening to find piles of unopened mail on his desk. No doubt left by Beatrice. The mass of mail reminded him that he’d heard nothing about voice mail this week. No doubt thanks to Beatrice, too. And sure enough, he checked his phone to find that several voice mails were waiting for him. Where Mirabel would have checked the messages daily and then transcribed and emailed them to David during such a hectic week, Beatrice apparently hadn’t checked his voice mail since she’d taken over on Mirabel’s last day of work.

  David played through the messages, starting with the most recent. Joe McLaren had called and said he was trying to talk some sense into his client, but he still was not happy about this; Blake Hubert wanted to talk about how to approach Wanda Savage and the negative PR they were sure to get from this; Terry was just checking in, and Alton needed to talk.

  When he arrived at the last and oldest message, he felt chilled the instant he heard her voice. “I sent you the escrow records today.” Katherine sounded like she was fighting tears. “You should know, they’re fake, David. Every single one of them. But I’m sure that’s no surprise to you.” Her voice quavered. “I think I know where the real ones are. That’s why I wanted you to call me.” She paused again. “Listen to me. We can’t trust Frank anymore. He’s in trouble, and I think he knows about that guy you’ve seen around here. I’m afraid of what he’ll do if he finds out about him. Please call me as soon as you can. I need your advice.” There was a chime in the background, like a doorbell ringing. Then her voice became angry, frustrated. “Shit, I have to go.” And the message ended.

  He set the phone down and shook the feeling of talking to the dead.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  David took a seat in Judge Leblanc’s courtroom a few minutes after the hearing was scheduled to begin. Fortunately, the judge was running late too. Unfortunately, David hadn’t seen or heard from Frank all day. Across the courtroom, Justin glared at David, his face glowing with disdain and perhaps a hint of fear. David did his best to show nothing.

  The bailiff called court to session as Judge Leblanc emerged from chambers. She walked with heavy steps and a gait that suggested a vacation was long overdue. Then she eased herself into her tattered black pleather chair. “I called this status conference in light of the fire at the property. I wanted to meet with counsel and clients.” She frowned at the empty seat next to David. “But I see that Mr. O’Reilly did not get that message.”

  David stood. “Your Honor, it was my understanding he would be here today. I can only speculate that something urgent occurred.”

  “Is this not urgent?”

  “I understand, Judge. If you’d like, I can try to call him again.”

  “No, let’s not waste any more time.”

  David sat back down as the judge reviewed her paperwork.

  “The first issue I want to address is scheduling. At the last hearing, the bank requested an evidentiary hearing on its motion for a receiver. I don’t know if that motion is moot in light of what occurred at the property.”

  Chaska stood. “It’s not, Your Honor.”

  “Well, I’ll hear from you on that in a moment, Mr. Chaska, but the main issue right now is my availability. As you all know, Judge Cox has left us for bigger and better things, otherwise known as life tenure with the federal judiciary, which I believe makes me the most senior judge in this circuit, as well as the most wise and astute, which I believe was the case even before Judge Cox left us.”

  David chuckled. He couldn’t disagree.

  “But that leaves only three circuit judges in this county to hear all civil cases. Due to budget cuts, and when I say ‘cuts,’ I mean that in every painful and penetrating sense of the word, it doesn’t look like Gaspar County will be adding a replacement for Judge Cox in the foreseeable future.”

  David heard the door to the courtroom open. He turned and scowled as Frank slid into his seat.

  Judge Leblanc saw him too. “Mr. O’Reilly, nice of you to join us.”

  David pushed Frank to his feet to respond.

  Frank reluctantly said, “I’m sorry, Judge. I had some difficulty getting here today.”

  “Please be seated. I was explaining that due to budget constraints, the judges in this circuit are going to have our caseloads increase by about twenty percent. Bottom line is hearing time will be at a premium.”

  “That good for us?” Frank whispered to David.

  David nodded and gestured for him to shut up and listen.

  But Frank pulled out an envelope and handed it to David. “You have to see this,” he murmured.

  David scanned a letter as he listened to the judge.

  This firm represents Continental Indemnity Company. Reference is made to your claim under Policy No. 743G89-A … We regret to inform you of our reservation of rights … We require additional information … schedule your representative(s) examination under oath on September 9, 2008 … financial documents spanning the years 2005 through the present …

  Damn it, David thought. They were trying to pin the fire on Frank and deny the claim. He stopped reading when the judge cleared her throat.

  “So, let me ask the parties this,” she continued. “Is there any possibility of settling this case?”

  Chaska stood first. “Your Honor, actually, we have been in contact with the insurer for the property. Based on information received, I believe settlement is not out of the question.”

  “Mr. Friedman?” she asked.

  But David was still trying to make sense of what Chaska had just said. “We’re always willing to entertain settlement discussions.” He took his seat as quickly as he’d stood, still wondering whether he had heard Chaska correctly.

  “Very good. Then I’m ordering this matter to mediation to occur within thirty days. Now, I recall there had been an issue with escrow records that needed to be produced?”

  Chaska stood again. “Yes, Your Honor. We did receive those records, or what they said were the records, but we have some serious concerns about their authenticity, if not their veracity.”

  “Have you taken a deposition?”

  “Not yet, Judge.”

  “Well, come back after you do.” She looked at David. “Mr. Friedman. Is there an issue with the authenticity of the documents you produced?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  The judge leaned forward. “That doesn’t sound very assuring, Mr. Friedman. Would it help if I asked you whether your client has committed a fraud on this court and invites me to strike its pleadings?”

  “Judge, there is no issue with the documents. My client has produced everything in its possession that is responsive to the request.”

  “And are there any other documents not in your client’s possession?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “I hope your story doesn’t change. I’ll look forward to receiving that mediation report. Court is in recess.”

  As soon as the judge left, David eyed Chaska making a break across the courtroom. David quickly hid the letter from the insurance company.

  Chaska tried to play it cool. “Like I said, we’ve been in contact with the insurance company’s counsel, Victor Vasquez. You know him?”

  David knew the name but couldn’t place it amidst the afternoon’s whirlwind of information. He just nodded.

  “We’re a loss payee under the policy,” Chaska continued. “If we’re paid in full, you should dismiss your bogus claim and we’ll each go our own merry way. How does that sound?”

  David tried to reconcile the notion of Meridian Bank getting paid in full with the letter he’d just skimmed. “No argument from me.”

  “Good. So, let’s go ahead and schedule that mediation.” Chaska patted David on the shoulder before guiding his client out the door. Justin kept his eyes locked on David on his way out. He obviously wanted to say something, but Chaska ha
d probably instructed him to stay quiet.

  David shook him off and pulled out the letter for a slower reading. He started with the letterhead this time. Victor Vasquez. Perkins White. David finally remembered: it had been ten years since they’d met, but Vasquez was a neurotic litigator in Miami David had interviewed with in law school. He’d pushed hard to sell David on his practice. He was a real nut job on everyone’s list of bet-the-company trial lawyers. He would’ve been David’s boss, maybe his mentor, had Terry not swept him off his feet during recruiting season.

  Frank grabbed David’s elbow. “Can you please tell me what the hell this means?”

  David and Frank faced off on a sidewalk near the courthouse bus stop.

  “It’s a reservation of rights,” David said. “It means they’re not paying your claim, they’re not denying it. They’re just reserving their rights to do either.” David watched his explanation sail over Frank’s head.

  “This insurance company is going to be the death of me,” Frank murmured.

  “They’re going to take your examination under oath, Frank. They’re going to try to pin this on you.”

  “They think I would kill Katherine?”

  David remembered the message he’d received from Katherine. “I don’t know what they think. But you have to admit, it looked suspicious.”

  “What looked suspicious? The condo’s being foreclosed, so I’m going to blow my daughter up?”

  A few lawyers passed by on the sidewalk, trying to act oblivious to Frank’s apparent confession, but obviously amused by it.

  “Keep it down,” David said. “Maybe you didn’t know she was there. I don’t know. But the insurance company obviously has questions that they want answered.”

  “So this examination under oath—it’s like a deposition?”