The Witnesses

by Robert Whitlow

  Parker caught a hint of a smile at the corner of Blocker’s mouth, but the more experienced lawyer was careful not to let it become a smirk.

  “Twenty-five percent of their damage request, each side to bear an equal share of the costs of arbitration.”

  “No way.” Greg shook his head.

  “Talk to them and let me know,” Blocker replied, unruffled. “I’ll wait here with Mr. House, if it’s okay.”

  Greg glanced at Parker. “No, he comes with me.”

  Wondering why Thomas Blocker was interested in hanging out with him, Parker followed Greg into the conference room, where he quickly communicated the offer to the clients and his recommendation that they reject it.

  “I’m ready to see if we can drag Lipscomb through the mud,” Greg said. “He’s a sleazy—”

  “We’ll take fifty percent and pay half the costs,” Mr. Mixon said. “I’m afraid we’re going to lose and end up owing all the costs.”

  Mrs. Mixon rapidly nodded her head up and down. “And we’ll take their offer if they won’t increase it.”

  “Are you sure this is—” Greg asked.

  “Yes,” Mr. Mixon interrupted.

  The arbitrator reentered the room.

  “Just a minute, Mr. Tompkins,” Greg said. “We’re having settlement discussions.”

  “Take your time,” Tompkins replied with a wave of his hand.

  Parker and Greg returned to the hallway.

  “Seventy-five percent of the demand and your client pays the arbitrator,” he said to Blocker.

  “I called the home office during the lunch recess,” Blocker replied. “We can split the difference at fifty percent of demand with each side bearing half the costs.”

  “We can’t agree on splitting the costs,” Greg replied.

  “Yes, you can,” Blocker answered decisively. “And I believe you will. Otherwise, we’re moving forward.”

  Greg and Parker returned to the conference room. This was shuttle diplomacy at light speed.

  “They’ll do it,” Greg said to the Mixons. “Half our demand and split the costs. Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” they both said.

  “Okay,” Greg sighed. “We have a chance—”

  “Of losing more than we already have,” Mr. Mixon interrupted again. “Accept the offer.”

  Once everyone was in the conference room, they went back on the record, and the lawyers quickly stated the terms of the settlement agreement, which included a confidentiality clause. Tompkins then turned to Mr. and Mrs. Mixon and asked each of them if this was what they wanted to do. He repeated the process with Lipscomb.

  “That concludes the arbitration,” Tompkins said. “My office will issue a statement for my services within the next seven to ten days. The court reporter will bill you directly for his appearance. I assume there’s no need for preparation of a transcript.”

  Tompkins and the court reporter left, followed by Thomas Blocker and Robert Lipscomb. Greg held back so Mr. and Mrs. Mixon wouldn’t have to be in close proximity to the stockbroker.

  “Will anything happen to Lipscomb for what he did to us?” Mrs. Mixon asked.

  “Nothing unless someone else files a claim against him and the lawyer uncovers it,” Greg replied.

  They exited the courthouse. Walking toward the car, Parker saw Thomas Blocker standing beside a long black Mercedes at the opposite end of the parking lot. Lipscomb wasn’t with him. The lawyer gestured for them to come closer.

  “What does he want?” Mr. Mixon asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Greg replied. “Parker, why don’t you go over and ask him?”

  Parker crossed the lot. Blocker put his briefcase in the backseat of his car.

  “Did we forget to cover something?” Parker asked.

  “Not about the case. And you’re the one I want to talk to. Greg can leave.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Nice bluff,” Blocker said to Parker as Greg drove away with the Mixons. “Only I guess it isn’t a bluff when it convinces a corporate client to toss money on the table to settle a bogus claim.”

  Parker didn’t respond.

  “You’re not going to disagree with me?” Blocker asked.

  “I don’t have to. Your client agreed to pay the money.”

  Blocker laughed. It was another similarity to Layla.

  “Tell me a little bit about yourself,” Blocker said, loosening his blue tie.

  Parker provided the basic information about college, law school, and moving back to New Bern to work for Branham and Camp.

  “I already know all that,” Blocker said when he finished. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Parker was surprised that Blocker had researched a junior associate’s background prior to going to court in a low-dollar arbitration hearing. Then he realized the real reason for their conversation.

  “Did you check me out because I took Layla to dinner after she served on our jury?” he asked.

  “No, I didn’t know about that, but anything that affects my little girl is important to me.”

  Parker suddenly felt like he was back in high school, awkwardly sitting in a living room with a date’s father while he waited for the young woman to come downstairs.

  “Uh, I wanted to talk to her about the trial and her impressions of the lawyers’ performances. Also, she completely dominated the jury deliberations, and I was curious how that played out.”

  “Layla is smart and persuasive.”

  “Like her father.”

  “In more ways than she’s willing to admit. Tell me about your family. House? Is that an English name?”

  “Usually, but for us it’s the anglicized version of Haus. My grandfather came to America from Switzerland after World War II and changed his name from Franz Haus to Frank House.”

  “Franz Haus? Is he still alive?”

  “Yes, he’s a retired commercial fisherman. He lives in a little house about a twenty-minute drive downriver.”

  “Interesting.” Blocker nodded. “I’d like to meet him. We have a lot in common. My grandfather emigrated from Germany shortly after World War I. He fought against the Americans at Belleau Wood and received the Iron Cross second-class with several combat ribbons. After Germany lost the war, he was smart enough to seek a brighter future here. I assume your grandfather avoided World War II because he was Swiss German.”

  “What was your grandfather’s surname?” Parker asked, avoiding the invitation to provide more information.

  “Blocher. An immigration officer turned it into Blocker when my grandfather landed at Ellis Island. He worked in the Wilmington shipyards when they were still booming.”

  “I’m not very interested in genealogy,” Parker replied as he started to move away.

  “It’s one of my passions.”

  A thought suddenly shot through Parker’s mind, and he stopped in his tracks. “Did Layla’s husband work for you?” he asked.

  “Layla told you about that?” Blocker asked in surprise.

  “No. It was a hunch.”

  “Like your insight at the arbitration today?” Blocker’s eyes narrowed.

  Parker now felt uncomfortable about the new direction of the conversation. “I need to get back to the office,” he said.

  “Having a son-in-law in the firm was bad for business and worse for Layla,” Blocker continued. “He used both of us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Parker replied, continuing to back away. “Nice talking to you.”

  “Until the next time.”

  Inspired by the bathroom remodeling project at Lenny’s house, Frank was busy performing a few repairs on his house in anticipation of the coming winter. The greatest threat to his home wasn’t from cold temperatures but rather the briny air that drifted in from the Sound. Since buying the house, Frank had changed out much of the hardware on the windows and doors and installed fixtures treated to resist the silent onslaught of salt.

  He put down his electric screwdriver and checked a window latc
h to make sure it opened and shut smoothly. Hearing a car coming up his driveway, he went around to the front of the house as Lenny parked his truck beneath the live oak tree and got out with a brown paper sack in his hand.

  “Fresh tomatoes!” Lenny said, raising the bag. “Some of the final stragglers of the season. My plants look like scarecrows on life support, but I was able to salvage a few decent ones. It’s additional payment for helping me out the other day.”

  “That fish stew was more than enough,” Frank replied. “I finished the last of the batch Mattie sent home with me last night for supper.”

  “Mine didn’t last that long.”

  Frank held the door open for Lenny, who took the bag to the kitchen. There were five tomatoes in the bag.

  “Tomato sandwiches for supper,” Frank said, “on slices of Mattie’s homemade bread.”

  Frank rinsed the tomatoes in the kitchen sink and handed them to Lenny, who dried them with a paper towel.

  “Now that Mattie isn’t around, are you going to clue me in on what’s going on with you and God? I didn’t know the two of you were on speaking terms, but then you show up at my house and talk to him in both German and English.”

  “I went to church. What more is there to tell?”

  “Did it have anything to do with what we talked about in the boat the other day? You know, about dealing with past regrets?”

  “Yes,” Frank said and nodded. “I’m thinking about the past and the future, which for me could be pretty short.”

  “Is anything wrong with you that you’ve not told me about?”

  “No, but I’m certainly much closer to the end than I am the beginning.”

  They went onto the back porch. Frank grabbed two bottles of water from a mini-fridge in the corner and handed one to Lenny, who sat in a straw-backed rocking chair.

  “Are there things Mattie and your kids don’t know about your time in Vietnam?” Frank asked.

  “Plenty. I’ve never been one of those guys who talk about the terrible stuff. I don’t know any good reason to drag her or any of my kids through those dark times. I’ve told my boys some of the funny stories, and they know not to push me for anything else.”

  “I’ve kept quiet too,” Frank said. “Maybe even more than you. What I told you the other day about having the ear of a general was more than I’ve mentioned to any other person.”

  The air on the porch suddenly seemed heavier than on the most humid day of the year. The two men sat in silence. Then Frank told Lenny what happened at the church and the sermon about forgiveness and freedom from shame and guilt.

  “That sounds like a good message—” Lenny said.

  “That’s not all,” Frank interrupted.

  Frank took a deep breath and described the green field and flowing stream—the graveyard without headstones, the water that could cleanse the soul.

  “Wow,” Lenny said when Frank finished. “That’s amazing. I could see it myself.”

  “I’ve been so grateful since Sunday that it’s never been far from my thoughts.”

  “What’s next?” Lenny asked.

  Frank smiled slightly. “I guess it’s not enough to make it through another day until I finally die.”

  “No,” Lenny said. “There’s more in your future than that.”

  Friday morning Parker was in his office with his door closed. After coming in early to finish an evidence summary Greg needed for depositions scheduled in a case the following week, he’d rewarded himself with a second cup of coffee. His feet propped on the corner of his desk, Parker took a sip of coffee and ran his fingers through his hair. Without warning, the door opened. It was Greg. Parker’s feet hit the floor, and his hand knocked the cup of coffee from the desk. Greg stared at him.

  “Looks like you weren’t expecting any feedback from me about the memo you wrote last week in the Ferguson case.”

  “Just taking a quick time-out,” Parker replied as he leaned over to open the bottom drawer of his desk and retrieve some napkins that he then dropped into the pool of brown coffee on the floor. He glanced up at Greg. “But I guess you figured that out pretty quickly.”

  “Yeah, I know you came in early to crank out the evidence summary so I’d have it on my desk.”

  Parker mopped up most of the coffee. Greg sat down in the chair on the other side of Parker’s desk.

  “What do you think about asking Thomas Blocker if he’d be willing to join the fight as cocounsel?” the senior partner asked.

  “Why would you want to do that?” Parker replied, raising his head to the level of his desk.

  “Because my jury verdict research shows he was involved in four of the ten highest verdicts in dramshop cases in North Carolina over the past fifteen years. He knows this stuff better than anyone, and adding him to the pleadings might make the insurance company cough up a decent settlement and save us the risk of getting a goose egg in court. Splitting the fee with Blocker would be worth it.”

  Parker paused. Even though he’d been present for the initial interview with the client, it was odd that Greg was asking him about an important business decision for the firm instead of Dexter.

  “What does Dexter think?”

  “He’s working on a lease or something,” Greg said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I want to know what you think.”

  “Uh, let me think about it. I mean, we’d learn a ton from seeing how Blocker prepares and tries a case. The client would have to approve bringing him on board. Have you heard anything from the driver’s insurance company?”

  “They were about to send a check directly to Ferguson for the policy limits, so I told them to forward it to us. And based on your memo, Walter Drew is judgment-proof. There’s no use trying to squeeze anything from him. We’ll bill Ferguson hourly and disperse the rest of the money to him, holding back fifteen thousand for costs in the dramshop case.”

  “I thought we were going to put five thousand dollars in trust.”

  “You know that won’t cover the expenses, especially if we hire any expert witnesses.”

  “Yeah,” Parker admitted. “It’s just, we told Mr. Ferguson—”

  “Don’t worry,” Greg cut in, dismissing Parker’s objection. “I’ll explain it to the client. And make sure I have all the time you spent on the memo. I’ll bill that hourly against this initial payment.”

  “It’s already in the system.”

  Greg turned toward the door. “Oh, and get back to me with your thoughts about associating Blocker. I wouldn’t mind sending him your memo to show him we know what we’re doing.”

  Parker sat in his chair for several moments. There was one person he could call who would have lifelong insight into the trial lawyer.

  CHAPTER 19

  Layla, it’s Parker House. Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Sure, I need to take a break from trying to make a grumpy groom look like he’s having a good time at his wedding.”

  “Some clients won’t be happy no matter the circumstances.”

  “In your business, but it’s not supposed to be that way in mine. What’s on your mind?”

  Parker had a sudden change in plan for the conversation. “I’m calling to make you happy.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Would you have time tomorrow for a photo shoot and fishing trip on my grandfather’s boat?”

  “That could work, so long as I’m here for a sunset photo shoot with a couple who’s getting engaged.”

  Parker glanced at the paperwork piled on his desk and hesitated. He’d planned on working in the morning, then spending no more than three hours on the water.

  “Okay, I need a break from the office and my grumpy clients.”

  “Could we make it to Bath?” Layla asked.

  Bath was the first settlement in North Carolina, and with its historic buildings and coastal charm, Parker could understand why Layla wanted to visit and take pictures. However, it was a long way by water to Bath from New Bern.

&nbs
p; “To go to Bath we’d have to go down the Neuse and up the Pamlico River. That’s a full day burning a lot of fuel with not much time to spare once we got there. From here it’s really better to drive in a car than boat to Bath.”

  “How about Oriental?”

  “That’s about twenty miles on the water, which would give us time to fish in a nearby creek and see the town, although the big draw is the marinas. Oriental is one of the best places on the coast to see different kinds of sailboats. There would also be fishing vessels like the one my grandfather owned in the area.”

  “Could you pick me up around seven? The early-morning light is best for pictures.”

  “Yes. What’s your address?”

  Parker wrote it down.

  “See you then,” Layla said when she finished.

  “Oh, there’s one other thing I wanted to ask you about,” Parker said before she could hang up. “I met your father the other day when we were on opposite sides of an arbitration hearing. The case settled, and afterward he wanted to talk to me.”

  “Did he say anything about me?”

  “Uh, yes. We both think you’re smart.”

  “I bet that’s not all he said. I hope he didn’t make you uncomfortable. My father is the ultimate control freak. He drives the other lawyers in his office crazy. Even now he wants to be in charge of my life and micromanage every detail.”

  “It was a brief conversation, mostly about genealogy,” Parker replied.

  “Ugh, I’m sorry. That stuff bores me to tears.”

  “And won’t be a topic of conversation tomorrow. See you around seven o’clock.”

  “Perfect.”

  The call ended. Parker had his answer for Greg about Thomas Blocker without directly asking Layla.

  Frank finished organizing the fishing tackle in the shed behind his house. He’d spent two hours making sure every hook, lure, weight, bobber, and pole was positioned exactly where he wanted it to be. The phone in the kitchen rang as he entered the back porch. It was Parker.

  “Opa, could I borrow your boat tomorrow? I’d like to take a woman I met recently on a trip down to Oriental. She’s a professional photographer and saw the photo of you and me on the Aare. She wants to take some boat pictures. I’ll make sure and bring the skiff back full of gas.”