by Webb Hubbell
He looked back at me.
“You give Rochelle something no other lawyer can—you care. You care about Linda and me, and I know you care for Rochelle, too. In the military they stress strength, intelligence, and loyalty. But in Vietnam, I learned that leadership is most about caring about the safety of the squad and about every soldier as a person. All the rest is secondary.
“So not another word about hiring some other lawyer. You’ve done your duty, told us we should find a lawyer who’s more qualified. Well, Linda and I have talked it over, and we want you. So that’s the end of that.”
Both Maggie and Micki looked at me as if to say, “We’re in this now. I hope you know what you’re doing.” I gave myself a little shake and tried to look confident.
Maggie broke in with an offer of coffee, and the atmosphere lightened. She and Debbie took over the interview, peppering Ben and Linda with questions. I didn’t need just documents—birth certificates, school transcripts, etc. I needed to learn as much as possible about the woman herself. No detail was too small, and Maggie was the perfect person to draw out Ben and Linda.
Once Ben and Linda were comfortable with Maggie and Debbie’s approach, Micki and I excused ourselves to Micki’s office.
“I hope you know how much you’ve taken on,” Micki started.
“What’s with the ‘you,’ kemosabe? You’re in this with me. You heard Ben.”
“I know, but it’s not the same. You’re the friend, the third son, and the person they trust to make things right.”
I allowed myself a deep sigh. She was right, and the fact did weigh on me. But I’d made the decision, taken the job. It was too late to have second thoughts.
“So, what’s next?” Micki asked, immune to my sigh.
“Our first hurdle will be to get access to Rochelle. We know from experience that won’t be easy. We had a hell of a time even getting to see Doug Stewart—remember? Prosecutors can get away with most anything under the cloak of national security. From my short conversation with Peggy Fortson, I have the feeling that scheduling a meeting with our client won’t be easy.”
“I’ll pull the research we did on the Stewart case and get my two interns to update the case law. I have a file on the DOJ procedure for getting the attorney general’s approval to seek the death penalty. The rules have changed, so I’ll ask them for a memo outlining those changes as well.” Micki was now all business.
“If she’s charged in the Northern District of Virginia things might move quickly, so give Larry a heads up. You could be in DC for some time.” I was teasing, but she didn’t want to play.
“Don’t go there, Jack. Larry’s coming, too. If you recall, he gave us the break we needed for Billy Hopper. Besides, you have Carol to keep you warm at night, remember?”
“I was only suggesting that you talk to Maggie about accommodations and let Larry know we may need you in DC on a moment’s notice.”
“Sure you were.” She paused and turned her scowl into a slow smile.
“Jack, I look forward to working with you on this case, so let’s keep it professional.” She gathered up some papers into a neat stack, and then continued. “But I have to wonder if we aren’t getting ahead of ourselves. Even if they let us talk to her, how are you going to convince Rachel to hire us? From all I’ve read, she’s her own person. What her mom and dad want doesn’t seem to have been a big factor in her life decisions so far.”
“True, and if she decides to hire someone else, we’ll turn over whatever we’ve found and move on,” I said firmly.
“But if she does hire us, then what? If the newspapers are right, the government has her dead to rights, and Israel won’t come to her rescue. The military doesn’t take kindly to someone stealing information about secret weapon systems. Right now we can only speculate why she would do such a thing—anger over her husband’s death? Who knows?”
Her question was rhetorical, but I gave it some thought.
“The only thing we know for sure is that nothing makes sense. Rochelle comes from a warm and giving home; she’s smart, has no money problems that we know, and was a respected civil servant. Her husband’s death was tragic, but our government had nothing to do with a random Hamas rocket. What am I missing?” My question was rhetorical, too, but she reached across the desk to give my hand a pat.
“Jack, have I ever mentioned that you’re a good guy? Right now most lawyers would be worrying about how to get paid. They’d know that if the government has seized all her assets, she’d unable to pay any attorney’s fee. They wouldn’t give a hoot whether she’s guilty or not.”
“It hadn’t crossed my mind to think about a fee. That’s the least of my concerns.”
She stood with a silent shrug and walked out to meet a client in the reception area. I felt a sudden pang of guilt that my lucrative antitrust practice gave me the liberty to be so cavalier about money. Micki wasn’t in the same position.
20
SHERLOCK HOLMES ONCE SAID, “It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data.” I did it anyway. Why had the Israelis sent Rabbi Strauss to give me a heads-up? Whether they were complicit in her actions or not, they’d decided she was too hot to handle. Sherlock was right: I needed more information.
My thoughts turned again to Clovis. We still had no idea who had attacked him or why. Sherlock was right again: not enough information. I noticed Paul and Jordan standing on Micki’s front porch, so I joined them. After a little small talk about the Razorbacks, I got to the point.
“Do either of you know who might have a grudge against Clovis?”
Paul answered. “We’ve pored over the company files, but so far, no luck. Clovis is well respected in the trade, and it’s hard to believe anyone would pursue such a vendetta. The linkage to Ben complicates everything.”
I nodded, knowing what he meant. Luring Clovis to Ben’s and torching the restaurant was way too complicated for a random act of payback.
Paul continued. “No offense, Jack, but the other complicating factor is your presence. That Tundra only showed up after you arrived. We’ve been guarding Ben for over two weeks, and other than chasing away idiots throwing bricks and spray-painting buildings, things have been fairly calm. You come to town, and in a matter of two days we’ve got professional thugs trying to kill Clovis and burn down Ben’s restaurant.”
He had a good point, but why go after Clovis if I was the real target? Maggie and I had a tentative plan to see Clovis later today. Maybe he could provide some insight.
“Do you think Clovis will be up for company this afternoon?” I asked Paul.
He laughed, “Are you kidding? He’s going nuts. He’s back at home, and I’ll bet the nurses are glad to see him gone. But Stella has taken away his phone, and he’s bored to tears. She told me she’d kick my butt if I tried to talk business. I’m not in the habit of arguing with Stella.”
Well, at least she had him under control. “Better her than me,” I thought.
“Ask Stella if it’s okay for Maggie and me to come by around four.”
We spent the next half hour going over what I needed Paul and his people to do in the next few days. Ben and Linda had given us a list of Rachel’s friends to interview. The FBI was way ahead of us; we’d have to hustle to catch up. The same went for her teachers, coaches, and her minister, although judging from what Ben told me about Preacher Barnes, I didn’t think he’d be much help.
“What about Beth? Did she keep in touch with Rachel?” Paul asked.
“Good idea. Maybe she did,” I replied.
I knew Beth would be unhappy to learn I was in Little Rock without her knowledge. Since Angie’s death, Beth tended to act more like a mother than a daughter. I hadn’t talked to her in two weeks, so I decided that at the least, she should know where I was. I dialed her number expecting to get voicemail.
“Hey, Dad! You usually call on the weekend—is everything okay?”
It took me a second to realize I was actually speaking with her rathe
r than responding to her voicemail.
“Everything’s fine—and hello to you, too. I’m in Little Rock for a few days.”
“Little Rock,” her light-hearted tone faded.
“No, no—don’t worry,” I said, and she listened as I told her about Rochelle and explained that Micki and I might end up representing her. It hadn’t crossed her mind that her old friend was now the infamous Rachel Goodman, which made me feel a little better. Unfortunately, Beth hadn’t heard from Rochelle in years. I also told her about the attack on Clovis.
“So you come to town to meet with Ben about Rochelle, and someone attacks Clovis and tries to burn down Ben’s restaurant? That can’t be a coincidence.”
“No, probably not. Beth, I promise we are taking this seriously.”
“Is Clovis okay?” I could hear her mind racing.
“Clovis is banged up, but he’ll be all right.”
“And his men are protecting you? Clovis and Stella too—right?” she asked.
“Yes, and Maggie, Ben, and Linda. You know, it would be nice, just once, to enjoy spending time with old friends with no need for protection.”
She let me simmer for a minute.
“Sounds like a tough situation all around, Dad. Here’s an idea. Why don’t you and Maggie come through St. Louis on your way home? The only time Jeff has off is Thanksgiving, when we’ll be in Charleston, but I’d love to see you and Maggie. How long will you be in Little Rock?”
It didn’t escape me that she had just told me she planned to spend Thanksgiving in Charleston with Jeff’s parents.
“Beth, I don’t know how long we’ll be here, but I need to be back in DC by Thursday. Let me talk to Maggie—we’ll try.”
Beth was on her way to class, so we didn’t linger. As I sat idly pushing the porch swing back and forth, I wondered how on earth we could manage a side trip to St Louis. I let my thoughts wander, enjoying the small sway of the swing and the crisp fall air. At some point I became aware that Micki had sunk into the wicker armchair across from me.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said quietly.
“You know, I’m not really thinking at all, just enjoying the quiet.”
“Bullshit! Something’s eating at you, and it’s not Rachel or Ben or the attack on Clovis. You haven’t been yourself since you got here. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess Carol’s cut you off.”
I couldn’t come up with anything but a weak smile.
“Wow, no come back? No denial? C’mon, Jack. Don’t tell me it’s not all sweetness and light.”
I took a long breath and rose from the swing.
She stretched out her hand to stop me and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me. I didn’t mean that. Please don’t go.”
I gave her hand a squeeze and said, “It’s okay. I know you didn’t. It’s pretty quiet right now, for me anyway, so I think I’ll take a drive. I’ll see if Paul or Jordan have the time.”
I found Paul inside. “I need a change of scenery. Could we just drive around for a while, see what’s changed in Little Rock?”
*****
We were waiting at the stoplight at the foot of Cantrell Hill, when I said, “Hey, Paul—isn’t that Helen Cole’s car parked in front of the Town Pump?”
The Town Pump is a greasy dive known to locals as one of the best burger joints in town.
“Sure is, that’s her Mini. As I remember she has a burger at the Pump most every Monday.”
“Well, pull over. It’s time for a surprise.”
21
WOODY COLE AND I WERE BEST FRIENDS in high school and college. No matter what the occasion, his mother Helen had welcomed us and most everyone else with open arms, plenty of home-cooked food, and no judgment.
I couldn’t come to Little Rock without seeing her. I caught sight of her in a booth near the kitchen and waved. She gave a little start, and I raced over to give her a hug.
“Sit down, sit down,” she said with a smile, and I slid into the booth across from her.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. You look terrific.”
I meant it. Life had thrown her some tough curves—her husband had died early and her only son was serving time for shooting a sitting Senator. But to see her now you’d never guess it. She was well-dressed and her hair was freshly coifed. I wondered if I’d ever seen it move.
“Don’t look at me that way—I always get my hair done on Mondays.” She could still read my mind.
I squirmed, and she changed the subject. “Tell me about Beth. Has Jeff popped the question?”
“Helen, your guess is as good as mine. They say they have a schedule, and they seem happy, but…”
“Don’t worry,” she grinned. “He won’t let her get away. Where do you think they’ll land?”
“My bet is Charleston. He grew up there—it’s home to his parents and brothers. But I worry how accepting folks will be of a biracial couple.”
“Nonsense, Jack. You and Angie did just fine. Charleston is a lovely city, and times have changed. You sound like Angie’s dad.”
Well that stung.
“You never used to talk like that. What’s going on with you?” she asked, pushing back her empty plate.
“Nothing, as far as I know,” I answered quickly.
She took a sip of sweet tea, then put her glass down with a thud. “Jack, you’re a bad liar. You’ve got bags under your eyes, you’ve put on more than a few pounds, and you’re just plain grouchy—your friends are worried about you.”
“My friends? Which friends?” I tried to keep a poker face, but my lips went tight.
“Now don’t go all sensitive on me and clam up. Your friends are worried, and I don’t mean just Maggie. Now that I’ve seen you, I am too. So, tell me what’s got under your skin. I have all the time in the world.”
I felt naked; I had no idea my malaise was so obvious.
“I appreciate your concerns, but I think they’re overblown. I haven’t played golf in a month. The extra pound or two will fall right off as soon as I get back outdoors. As far as the bags, well, both Ben and his daughter have got serious problems—it’s been very stressful. I haven’t slept well the last few days.”
Helen smiled, calmly waiting for me to continue. “I’ve been seeing a woman in DC for quite a while now—Carol Madison. She’s a successful consultant and loves baseball—you’d like her. I just need to cut back on the beer and hot dogs at the games.” I patted my tummy and flashed a grin.
Helen raised her brows.
I couldn’t seem to quit talking, “Maggie and I have a good law practice, and our foundation is doing great work, especially Dr. Stewart’s research. I have a physical every year, and I’m in good health. I don’t understand why you or anyone else is worried.”
She wasn’t buying. “Jack, you can talk all afternoon about how great you’re doing, but you’re not fooling anyone but yourself. The man who came back to Little Rock to help my son and Doug Stewart was full of energy. He cracked jokes and loved every minute he was helping his friends. So don’t tell me you’re stressed and can’t sleep on account of Ben and his daughter. You haven’t done a blessed thing yet.
“You’ve never put on weight before because you’re always going ninety to nothing. If it wasn’t some sport or the other, you were off hiking or climbing mountains. You’re still a handsome man, but your color is off and you look ten years older than the last time I saw you.”
I tried to find a way out, but Helen was merciless. “Clovis and Maggie tell me Carol is a classy and attractive woman. You tell me she likes baseball, and that I’ll like her, but not once did you say you like her, much less that you’re in love. Are you?”
Okay, so maybe I’d been a little off my feed, but this was too much. I looked for the waitress, but Helen wasn’t finished.
“One last thing. What’s the deal with the iPhone on the table? You used to leave it at home, forget it entirely. Today you pulled out your phone as soon as you sat dow
n, and this whole time you’ve been watching it like it was about to hop up and run away. What’s going on with you?”
My head seemed to sink down of its own accord, and she reached across the table to take my hands into hers. “Love, we’re both too old for me to mother you, and I hate having to talk to you like this. So now it’s your turn—you need to tell me what this is all about.”
I slouched down in the leatherette banquette, feeling both shame and irritation. Helen had me dead to rights.
“Okay, so first I’m sorry about the phone. I’ve picked up the habit. Not a big deal, and I am sorry.
“And you’re right—too many after office hours spent with new people who seem to drink a lot and not do much of anything else—too much time in the pool chair, and not enough time in the pool.
“As for Carol, I don’t know how I feel. I enjoy her company; she’s all a man could want—attractive, intelligent, and fun to be with when she’s not doing business. Problem is her business dominates her time, even when we’re together. And then there’s Angie.” The lump rose in my throat.
Helen squeezed my hands. “Well, now the cat’s out of the bag.”
“Don’t be so sure. I haven’t exactly behaved like the mourning widower.”
Helen dug out a little microfiber cloth from her purse and busied herself cleaning her glasses while I tried to regroup.
She filled the gap. “It’s okay to move on past Angie.”
“I don’t want to forget Angie. She was all I’ve ever wanted.”
“You will never forget Angie, nor should you. But your time on this earth with her is over.”
Angie’s words came back in a rush. “Don’t be sad it’s over, be glad we had the years.”
“Like it or not, I have some advice for you,” Helen said firmly.
“Angie’s been gone five years now. You need to seek change in your life. Doing so doesn’t dishonor Angie; it honors her to acknowledge that things can never be the same. I can’t tell you what you need to do: it might involve this Carol person, it might mean changing where and how you live, or it might mean doing something else entirely. Change is a normal part of life, Jack. You need to embrace it, but make sure it’s a positive change.
