Life Everlasting

by Robert Whitlow

  As they crossed the dining room, Rena felt multiple eyes tracking her progress. Annoyance flushed her cheeks. It wasn’t unusual for heads to turn when she passed by, and the morning admiration from the club members differed little from the leers she received when walking across a nightclub dance floor.

  She sat down. With a flourish, the waiter laid a cloth napkin in her lap.

  “Coffee?” he asked.

  “Black,” Rena answered.

  “Cream and half a sugar,” Ezra said.

  The waiter left. Her mouth suddenly dry, Rena took a sip of water.

  “Don’t be nervous,” Ezra said. “We’re getting off to a new start this morning.”

  The fact that Ezra sensed her tension made Rena even more uneasy.

  “Uh, that’s what I want too.”

  The waiter brought their coffee.

  “What would you like this morning, Mr. Richardson?” he asked.

  Ezra ordered an omelet with six specific ingredients. “And make sure they don’t overcook it, Robert. I want it runny around the edges.”

  “Yes sir. Eddie is in the kitchen this morning.”

  “Good. Give him my regards.”

  Rena requested fruit. Left alone, Ezra took a sip of coffee and raised his eyebrows.

  “You mentioned that you’d talked to Jeffrey. What did you discuss?”

  Rena could be bold when given the opportunity to follow through with a plan. She launched immediately into her presentation.

  “It was a follow-up to several conversations we had in Greenville while Baxter was in the hospital. He told me you were taking over Baxter’s interest in several businesses and that if you followed through with your plans, Baxter and I would be ripped off. He asked me to help him gain greater control over the business interests of Richardson and Company. That way, both of us would come out ahead.”

  She saw Ezra’s face harden. “How did he propose to do that?”

  “He wanted me to file a lawsuit against you so that you would back off. He said that if my attorney mentioned certain companies in the legal papers and asked for information about them, you would get the message and let him do what he wanted.”

  “Which companies?”

  “I don’t remember. I have a list at the house.”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  “Okay, but no lawsuit has been filed, and I’m not going to do it.”

  Ezra eased back in his chair, and his shoulders relaxed.

  “That’s good. What changed your mind?”

  “I don’t believe Jeffrey told me the truth about you. I know you used the power of attorney to take money from our checking account, but you put it back.”

  “That’s right, and I apologized.”

  Rena couldn’t remember an apology but didn’t argue. “And when you stopped by the house the other day and gave me your private number, I began to wonder who really wanted to do the right thing—you or Jeffrey.”

  Ezra didn’t immediately respond. Rena felt her left cheek beginning to twitch and reached up to hide it.

  “Have you decided?” Ezra asked.

  “Yes. That’s why I called you.”

  Ezra nodded. “Good decision. Did you see the dividend distribution I transferred to your bank account last week?”

  “Yes, that also helped convince me.”

  The waiter brought their food, and conversation ceased until he left. Neither Rena nor Ezra took a bite.

  “How much has Jeffrey been giving you?” Ezra asked.

  “Twenty thousand whenever I ask.”

  “I’ll do more, so long as we can keep the lines of communication open.” Ezra rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into the middle of this, Rena. It would be better if you didn’t know anything at all. What else did he tell you?”

  “Nothing, but now I’m scared of Jeffrey.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s been threatening me if I don’t do what he says. It has to do with the man who stole my car and killed the sheriff ’s deputy in Charleston. Jeffrey is going to tell the police that I had something to do with it.”

  Ezra didn’t hide his shock. “That’s insane.”

  “Jeffrey claims he has powerful friends who can influence the police and prosecutors. I don’t know. I’m just scared.”

  Rena brought her napkin to her face and covered her eyes but peeked over the edge to gauge Ezra’s reaction. He looked grim.

  “Leave that to me,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Jeffrey’s influence can’t come close to mine. He’s got a lot to learn. Some of it may have to come the hard way.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Nothing except trust me.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” Rena responded gratefully, lowering the napkin. She took a bite of fruit. “This sure is good cantaloupe.”

  The final draft of Rena’s complaint for divorce sat on Alexia’s desk with the filing fee check on top. Gwen buzzed her.

  “Rena is on the line.”

  “Good. I’ll let her know that we’re ready to go.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Alexia hung up the phone. She picked up the divorce petition, walked across the hall to Gwen’s desk, and dropped the documents on the desk.

  “Guess what Rena told me?”

  Gwen looked at the top sheet of the petition. “After begging you not to fire her, she hired another lawyer to represent her in the divorce?”

  “Not even close. She wants me to hold off on the divorce until she gets some things worked out with her father-in-law.”

  “But she’s not divorcing her father-in-law.”

  “Only his money. He’s promised to bankroll her. Apparently she’s started a bidding war for her help between Ezra and Jeffrey and wants to keep it going until she builds up a pot of cash. Then she’ll cut ties with Baxter and skip town without feeling any immediate financial pressure while the divorce is pending.”

  “Why would Ezra and Jeffrey give her money? I heard Ezra didn’t want Baxter to marry her in the first place, and Jeffrey is a self-centered jerk.”

  “Probably right on both counts, but Rena claims she knows details about Richardson and Company that both father and son want kept quiet.”

  Gwen’s eyes grew big. “Hush money. Alexia, this is unreal.”

  “Oh, at least the money part is real. Ezra and Jeffrey have put tens of thousands into Rena’s checking account in the past two weeks, and she tells me much more is coming in the near future. I can’t say whether there is anything truly shady about Richardson and Company, although it wouldn’t surprise me. At first, Rena’s suspicions sounded off-the-wall, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “What are the Richardsons doing that they want kept secret?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know. The other day when we went to Charleston, Rena claimed they were up to something illegal, but they might just want to protect insider knowledge. Maybe they have a scoop about future road construction or a new commercial development that will affect the value of property they want to buy or sell. Ezra always had a new deal in the works. Secrecy can mean the difference between a huge profit and a loss.”

  Alexia decided not to mention Henry Quinton’s comments about “bad people,” which implied something more sinister than a crooked politician leaking information about roads.

  Gwen pressed her lips tightly together before she spoke. “Where do you fit in?”

  “I’m on the sidelines for now, which is fine with me. I’d rather let the dust settle. I’m tired of being Rena’s yo-yo lawyer.”

  Gwen picked up the divorce petition and placed it on the other side of her computer. “I’ll keep this nearby. When Rena jerks your string, it will be ready to go.”

  Alexia went to lunch alone at Katz Deli, a local place owned by a Jewish couple who moved to the coast from New York City. They planned to escape the pressures of life in
Brooklyn and be close to multiple grandchildren; however, Arthur and Edith Katz brought their love of the great city south with them and decorated the restaurant with framed posters of the New York City skyline. The Statue of Liberty greeted patrons as they walked through the door. A panorama of Wall Street stretched along another wall with Central Park opposite it. A poster featuring the twin towers of the World Trade Center hung on the back wall. Edith had draped it in a sheer black cloth.

  Alexia loved the Katz’s Reuben sandwich with a fat pickle on the plate. Arthur greeted her when she walked through the door.

  “Alexia! I hear you opened your own office. You should have moved to New York, where you could make some real money. A sharp female lawyer like you, representing super-rich women with apartments on Park Avenue and houses in Nantucket . . . oy! You could charge more than five hundred dollars an hour.”

  Alexia sat down at a table for two near the meat cooler. “If I billed that much what would a sandwich cost me?”

  “Forty-seven fifty,” the balding rotund man replied without hesitation. “And the pickle would be an extra five bucks. You know, there are places on Manhattan where it costs thirty dollars for a hamburger. One of my Reubens should be worth more than that.”

  “I won’t argue with that,” Alexia responded. “Where’s Edith?”

  Arthur came over to Alexia’s table. “She’s at home. Our third daughter and two of our grandchildren are coming for a visit this weekend. The house is a mess.”

  Arthur and Edith had more grandchildren than Alexia could keep straight without a chart. She doubted Edith Katz ever kept a messy house.

  “And I bet she’s cooking something special,” Alexia said.

  Arthur grinned. “The best blintzes you have ever put in your mouth.”

  “Please reconsider my request that you adopt me,” Alexia pleaded. “I’ll do the legal work for free.”

  Arthur patted her on the arm. “I’ll save you a couple of blintzes if you promise to come in on Tuesday.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “How about today? Do you want the usual?”

  Alexia nodded. “Yes.”

  While she waited, Alexia watched the two waitresses who worked the lunch crowd scurry back and forth with plates piled high with sandwiches and chips. She heard her cell phone beep the opening notes to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Alexia, I hope I’m not disturbing your lunch.”

  Sean Pruitt’s distinctive voice needed no identification.

  “Not yet. It should be here in a few minutes.”

  “Things are heating up with Rena. The detective you mentioned from Mitchell County—”

  “Giles Porter.”

  “Yes. He’s been busy lobbying the local police to go after Rena. I received a call from Rick Bridges, the detective who was beaten up at the Beachcomber Club. He wants to interview Rena.”

  Arthur put a plate down in front of Alexia. She took a nibble from her pickle. It had the perfect crunch.

  “You anticipated that would happen. Shouldn’t you be contacting Rena?”

  “Bridges wants to talk to you as well.”

  Alexia put down her pickle. “Me? Why?”

  “It seems Porter claims you have illegally obstructed a criminal investigation.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Alexia said so loudly that the people sitting at nearby tables turned to look at her. She glanced around and continued in a low but intense voice. “I told him to leave Rena’s property because he didn’t have a search or arrest warrant, and I wouldn’t let him interrogate Rena when we were at the hospital in Greenville. It’s been several years since I took criminal procedure in law school, but I’m sure the Sixth Amendment preserves the right to have a lawyer present when a suspect is questioned.”

  “Of course, but there are limits on what a lawyer can do to protect a client. I’m not sure about the allegations, but I thought you would want to know as soon as possible.”

  Alexia stared straight ahead, racking her brain to recall anything that remotely crossed the line of improper activity on her part. Rena had deceived her about the theft of her car, but Alexia hadn’t made any personal representations to the police about what happened.

  “I’m clueless,” she said. “Is there any way you can find out more details?”

  “I can try. Do you want me to represent you?”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess that’s necessary.”

  “Don’t worry about the fee at this point,” Pruitt said before Alexia could ask him about it. “I’ll just engage in a fact-finding mission. I have contacts at the police department who will give me information outside official channels.”

  Alexia had heard about similar arrangements nurtured by criminal-defense lawyers, some of which involved liquor, women, or drugs. She hesitated. One meeting with Pruitt wasn’t enough to form a reliable opinion about his character.

  “What kind of contacts?”

  “Nothing shady. I have a friend who works for internal affairs, and a great aunt who has a clerical job.”

  “Who will you ask to help?”

  “My aunt. She’s the person who knows everything. I’ll invite her over for tea. She loves visiting the house, and I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “What about Rena?”

  “I’m calling her next. I’ll fax you a representation letter this afternoon.”

  Alexia put the phone down on the table. Her sandwich smelled delicious, but her appetite had vanished. If she left the Reuben on her plate untouched, she would hurt Arthur’s feelings. She motioned to one of the waitresses.

  “Please box this to go.”

  26

  No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgment you shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD.

  ISAIAH 54:17 NKJV

  Alexia took her sandwich directly to her office and shut the door. She stared at a blank legal pad on her desk, but there was nothing to write down, no plan of action. Without any idea what incriminating facts gripped the handle of the gun pointed in her direction, she couldn’t formulate a defense. She mentally replayed the entire course of her representation of Rena, but no potentially unlawful incidents surfaced. Alexia could do nothing but wait for Sean Pruitt to drop a lump of sugar in his aunt’s teacup and conduct a parlor-room interrogation.

  She opened the Styrofoam container for her sandwich. It still smelled good, and she unwrapped the pickle covered in a thin sheet of white paper. On the paper, Arthur Katz had written, “Don’t forget the blintzes!” The delicatessen owner’s thoughtfulness made her suddenly teary. Nice people still lived in this world.

  Her phone buzzed. She’d forgotten to push the do-not-disturb button.

  “What is it?” Alexia asked.

  “Ted Morgan is here to see you,” the receptionist answered. “I wasn’t sure if you were back from lunch.”

  Alexia didn’t want to see anyone, not even Ted.

  “Is he standing there in front of you so that he knows I’m here?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  Alexia sighed. “Okay. I’ll be right out.”

  The minister, wearing a pair of new white painter’s overalls, waited in the reception area. He greeted her with a smile.

  “I’m going over to the house this afternoon and need a key.”

  “It’s in my office,” Alexia replied flatly. “Come on back and I’ll give it to you.”

  She led Ted down the hall and into her office. The smell of the sandwich filled the room.

  “Sorry, I interrupted your lunch,” Ted said. “Is that from Katz’s Deli?”

  “Yes, but I’m not very hungry. Would you like it?”

  “No, thanks. Is something wrong?”

  “It’s not something I can talk about.”

  “Did someone else come near your house?” Ted asked with concern in his voice.

  “No, everything is fine. It’s a legal matter
. Here’s the key.” Alexia held out the key and dropped it into Ted’s hand. “What are you going to do at the house?” she asked.

  “Prep work. Take off the old wallpaper in the living room, back bedroom, and dining room. If it doesn’t rain this afternoon I’ll also begin scraping paint from the exterior. It’s especially bad on the north side of the house. And I need to repair a leaky section under the eaves and make sure the gutters are flush against the house.”

  Alexia wasn’t paying attention. “You’re the professional. When do I need to pay you?”

  “Not before the end of next week. I have a charge account at the lumber yard, and I’ll keep up with my time.”

  “I know about time records. Try to keep it as low as possible.”

  Ted gave Alexia a puzzled look. “You can save money if you help strip the walls. But you’ll probably come out ahead billing your minutes on cases instead of breaking a fingernail scraping off wallpaper.”

  Alexia managed a weak smile. “I don’t know about that.”

  Ted took a step backward from her desk. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help you?”

  The tears that had touched the edges of Alexia’s eyes moments before returned before she could suppress them. Ted Morgan also appeared on the list of good, decent people who walked the earth. And he’d touched her life much more deeply than Mr. Katz. Alexia quickly rubbed her eyes, but couldn’t hide her emotions. Ted’s look of concern deepened. Alexia held up her hands in front of her.

  “I really can’t tell you—”

  “I understand.”

  Alexia paused to sniffle before continuing, “But when you prayed for me while we were sitting in the truck last night, it helped. Could you do the same thing now without knowing what’s going on?”

  “Sure. The most important thing is not what I know, but that we ask the One who does.”

  “Then, please, do it.”

  Alexia leaned forward in her chair and wiped her eyes with a tissue. Ted sat across the desk. Alexia closed her eyes. Several seconds of silence passed before Ted spoke.

  “Alexia, a verse just came to mind. I’m going to quote it as a prayer and statement of God’s will for you.” The minister spoke slowly and distinctly. “No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgment you shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord.”