Life Everlasting

by Robert Whitlow

  “Yes. They’re not very sophisticated devices. I expect they’re more for harassment than for gathering information.”

  That fit with Jeffrey’s style. Rena relaxed.

  The man continued. “Carry on as normal, but if you have something confidential to say, avoid those two rooms and turn on the jamming device as an extra precaution.”

  Rena nodded. “Thanks. What do I owe you?”

  “Five thousand.”

  Rena’s mouth dropped open. “You weren’t even here for an hour.”

  “But I knew what to do with the time.”

  Rena started to protest but remembered Ezra’s instructions. She took her checkbook from her purse and set it on the counter.

  “Make the check payable to East Shore Company,” he said.

  “Not to Rudy?”

  “East Shore Company,” he replied. “I don’t know anyone named Rudy.”

  Rena took out a pen and began to write. “If I knew your real name, I could write a check to you too.”

  The man took out the jamming device and turned it on. “Why would you want to do that?”

  Rena tore out the check and handed it to him. “If I could hire you to do something for me, I would write you a much bigger check than this one.”

  “How much bigger?”

  “A lot. And if you told me your name I would give it directly to you.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  By Wednesday morning, Baxter started coughing. The nurse on duty took his temperature and noted the increase in his chart. By noon, his breathing became raspy and she called Dr. List Cabot, the local internist who monitored Baxter’s general health status.

  “Have you been able to talk to him about his symptoms?” the doctor asked when she took the call.

  “No, he’s been lethargic and nonresponsive.”

  “Any mucus?”

  “Yes. It’s rust-colored.”

  “I’ll be there shortly.”

  In a few minutes, the doctor arrived. She was a small woman in her late thirties with black hair and narrow glasses. She placed a stethoscope against Baxter’s chest, listened, and then tapped his chest. The nurse stood beside her.

  “Does he have pneumonia?” the nurse asked when the doctor took the stethoscope from her ears.

  “His chest crackles when he breathes, but I hope it’s only a very bad cold. His body is already so weak that he’ll have a tough time fighting a severe respiratory infection.”

  The doctor took Baxter’s hand in hers. His fingernails had taken on a dark tinge.

  “Do you see that? His body isn’t processing enough oxygen. I’m going to order a chest X-ray and ask the radiology group to send a portable unit this afternoon. Call me as soon as they finish.”

  Alexia spent a couple of hours Wednesday morning reviewing a detailed memo she’d received from Sean Pruitt about her testimony at the afternoon hearing. The Charleston lawyer’s research impressed her. He had spent a lot of time outlining the issues, identifying the relevant documents from Rena’s files, and listing the questions he intended to ask Alexia, as well as possible attacks she could expect on cross-examination. Gwen made copies of the documents needed and labeled them for easy identification. An hour before she left, Alexia loaded everything into the larger of her two briefcases.

  She’d not heard from Rena in a couple of days, and the silence had been a welcome relief. Being a witness was going to be a different experience for Alexia, and Rena’s presence would have compounded the pressure. Gwen buzzed her.

  “Rena is on the phone.”

  Alexia hesitated. “Okay, I’ll take it.”

  “Is the hearing in Charleston this afternoon?” Rena asked.

  “Yes, I’m leaving in less than an hour.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  Alexia gave her a synopsis of the issues and Sean’s strategy.

  “So we’re going to win, right?”

  “If the judge agrees,” Alexia replied. “Nobody can guarantee results in this type of proceeding. The judge can do what he likes and make us try to overturn his ruling on appeal. But even then, there is dispute in the case law about the timing of appellate review for denial of a motion to quash.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t worry about it now. I’ve got to get ready to go.”

  “Will I have to say anything?” Rena asked.

  “You’re going?” Alexia asked in surprise.

  “Of course I’m going. It’s really about me, not you. But I don’t want to have to testify. That almost killed me at the hearing about terminating Baxter’s life support.”

  Alexia flashed back to Rena on the witness stand in Greenville. It was true. She had been a horrible witness.

  “There is no plan to call you as a witness, but I can’t afford to be late to Sean’s office. I have to walk out the door in thirty minutes.”

  Rena paused, and Alexia hoped the need for imminent departure would deter Rena from joining her.

  “I’ll be at your office in five minutes. I’m already dressed. We’ll ride together.”

  Alexia hung up the phone and sighed. Five minutes passed without any sign of Rena, then fifteen. After twenty-five minutes, Alexia walked out to Gwen’s desk.

  “Any word from Rena? We’re supposed to leave in a few minutes.”

  Gwen shook her head. “Go on. If she shows up, I’ll give her directions to the courthouse.”

  “Maybe she won’t come.”

  “Do you want to go alone?” the secretary asked.

  Alexia nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then you’ve officially left the office.”

  Alexia picked up her heavy briefcase and walked out the back door. She almost ran into Rena coming around the corner of the building. She was wearing a dark, navy dress suitable for court.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I parked along the side of the building so I wouldn’t take up any spaces in front.”

  “That was considerate,” Alexia said with a hint of sarcasm. “Let’s go. I want to make sure we arrive early at Sean’s office in case he has any last-minute instructions for me.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing him,” Rena said. “Don’t you think he’s good-looking?”

  “You’re still married,” Alexia said flatly.

  “You’re not.”

  “My mind is on what I need to do today.”

  Alexia shook her head and got in her car. As soon as they pulled into traffic, Rena started asking questions about Sean Pruitt. Alexia provided monosyllabic answers, but Rena was so persistent that she even dragged out information about their dinner at The Cypress.

  “Jeffrey likes Magnolias,” Rena said. “Did you know the same people own both restaurants?”

  Alexia grunted in reply. As the miles fell away, Rena refused to let the conversation lag.

  “Tell me about Ted Morgan,” she said. “I haven’t been able to get his eyes out of my mind. It’s like he looks into your soul, only not in a bad way. I mean, I’ve got nothing to hide except my pain, and when he listened to me talk, I sensed everything would be alright. Even though he didn’t say much, I felt his sympathy for me.”

  “He has an ability to communicate to the heart,” Alexia admitted.

  “Has he done that with you?”

  Alexia hesitated for a few seconds and consciously pushed aside the resentment she felt toward her client.

  “He’s been a door opener.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s opened my eyes to the reality of faith in God.”

  For the first time since she’d joined Alexia that afternoon, Rena didn’t say anything.

  After a moment, Alexia continued, “Do you want to hear about it?”

  “Sure.”

  Alexia couldn’t tell if Rena’s response was sincere and glanced sideways. By all appearances, she was giving Alexia her full attention. So, for the second time in the past few days, Alexia recounted the sequence of events that led to h
er encounter with God in Ted’s backyard. Rena listened without interrupting. When Alexia finished, Rena turned her head and stared out the window. Several miles passed. Alexia’s curiosity broke the silence.

  “What do you think about my story?” she asked.

  Rena continued staring out the window. “It’s different from anything I’ve ever heard.”

  They rode in silence until they reached the outskirts of Charleston. Rena spoke again.

  “Do you think I should divorce Baxter?”

  Clients had directed this very question at Alexia many, many times. Women knew ending a marriage wasn’t the lawyer’s decision but couldn’t resist the urge to ask. Alexia had a stock answer, which always rolled off her tongue with ease—divorce was a choice each woman had a right to make. She would then proceed to explain her role to legally analyze the practical ramifications of all options and zealously pursue the one chosen by her client. In Rena’s case, Baxter’s conduct made the option to stay married less supportable. Alexia opened her mouth, but her usual speech didn’t emerge from her lips.

  “No,” she said. Then she quickly tried to correct herself. “I mean, the petition is ready when you are. It’s up to you. It’s your choice.”

  Rena didn’t answer.

  They navigated the downtown streets of Charleston to Sean Pruitt’s office. As they walked up the steps to the front door, Rena saw Alexia leaning sideways to counter the weight of her briefcase.

  “What is in there?” she asked.

  “Some of what I’ve done for you. I left the rest in Santee.”

  The receptionist asked them to wait in the parlor. The room exuded the comfortable atmosphere of a place where people once enjoyed unhurried conversations as they whiled away long, lazy afternoons. But the environment failed to help Alexia relax. She felt tension rising at the core of her being. She always felt a hint of nervousness before the first blow in a hearing or trial, but today’s anticipation touched a different set of nerves. Her responsibility as a witness was about to take her into unknown territory. Rena sat down and began to flip through a magazine.

  After a few minutes, Sean Pruitt came into the room. He was dressed in court clothes—dark-gray suit, white shirt, yellow tie. Rena was right. If good looks alone could persuade a judge or jury, Sean’s appearance would guarantee a high win-loss record. He showed no surprise at Rena’s presence.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Alexia nodded. “Yes, I’ve reviewed the questions, and my secretary has organized and indexed the documents you requested.”

  “Good. We’ll hit the important parts of your testimony on the drive to the courthouse. It won’t be complicated.”

  “Will you ask me any questions?” Rena asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “What?” Alexia said.

  “I don’t want to testify!” Rena added. “Ask Alexia, I’m a terrible witness.”

  “I didn’t know you would be here,” Sean responded nonchalantly, “but it may help corroborate Alexia’s testimony if I ask you a few questions about the formation of your attorney-client relationship. I’ll test the waters and determine what we need to do.”

  Rena started to argue, but Alexia spoke up. “Don’t panic. Maybe you should review her testimony on the way to the courthouse instead of mine. I have my script memorized.”

  The women followed Sean across the courtyard to the garage. The silver sports car had been replaced by a more mundane BMW similar to Alexia’s.

  “Where is your car?” Alexia asked in surprise.

  “In the shop for repairs. This is a loaner.”

  Alexia sat in the backseat so Sean could focus on Rena. He led her through a series of questions that she handled with ease.

  “That wasn’t too bad,” she said when he finished, “but what will the prosecutor ask me?”

  “He’s called an assistant solicitor in South Carolina,” Sean replied. “Alexia, why don’t you pick a few areas for cross-examination from the information I sent you.”

  Alexia took the memo from her briefcase and quickly mentioned a few areas. Rena interrupted her.

  “I know all that stuff too.”

  “Yes,” Alexia replied. “So there’s no need to panic.”

  Sean found a parking space near the front door and went inside. One of the security guards joked with him as he walked through the metal detector.

  “Put your gold coins in the tray, Mr. Pruitt,” he said.

  Sean pulled his pockets inside out to show they were empty.

  After they passed through and walked down the hallway, Alexia asked, “What was that all about?”

  “I represented his brother in a lawsuit against a local business. It was an odd case. After we won, the defendant paid the judgment in Krugerrands. He kept them in a plastic bag in a well on his property to protect them from foreign invaders.”

  “Foreign invaders?”

  “Yes, an unusual defendant makes an odd case.”

  They took the steps to the second-floor courtroom. Several lawyers were milling around and chatting in the hallway. Sean opened the door for Alexia and Rena. Inside, on a bench in front of the bar, sat five manacled and cuffed criminal defendants wearing orange jumpsuits. Sean looked at his watch as they sat down on a bench behind the bar.

  “I hope you don’t have to be back to Santee for anything today,” he said. “There’s a lot of business to be disposed of before any motions are heard.”

  A short young attorney with brown hair and wearing a blue sport coat entered the courtroom through a door behind the bench. Sean nudged Alexia.

  “That’s Joe Graham, the assistant solicitor.”

  The government attorney was followed by the judge, a stocky, black-robed man with bushy gray eyebrows, salt-and-pepper hair, and dark eyes.

  “All rise,” the bailiff proclaimed. “This court is now in session, the Honorable Michael Moreau presiding.”

  Judge Moreau sat down behind the bench and scanned the courtroom. Alexia sensed his eyes stop for a second when he reached them before continuing down the row of prisoners seated to their left. The judge picked up some papers and cleared his throat.

  “The Court calls In re Grand-Jury Subpoena, Motion to Quash Subpoena.”

  Having settled in for a long wait, Alexia was startled. Sean was immediately on his feet.

  “Ready for the motion, Your Honor,” he announced.

  Graham stood behind the table used by the State’s attorneys and spoke in a deeper voice than Alexia expected from such a short man.

  “Your Honor, as you can see, we have several prisoners in the courtroom. With your permission, I’d like to handle those matters before taking up the motion.”

  The judge looked down at the bench. “Why aren’t these on my afternoon calendar?”

  “They were added after lunch. I thought an amended calendar was delivered to your chambers.”

  “It wasn’t,” the judge replied with obvious irritation.

  “Do you want me—”

  “Get on with it,” the judge interrupted.

  Three of the men entered not-guilty pleas, but two pled guilty. It was a tough day to plead guilty in front of Judge Moreau. In both cases the solicitor’s office had reached agreements with the defense lawyers; however, the judge kept everyone guessing whether he would accept the State’s proposal.

  “Is he always like this?” Alexia asked.

  “No, but he’s the most moody judge we have. One day he’s accommodating; the next he’s a bear.”

  Alexia had no doubt which judicial temperament had come out of his den and ambled into the courtroom today. When the last defendant had slunk from the courtroom, Graham picked up the only file remaining in the rack before him.

  “We’re ready to hear the motion to quash, Your Honor.”

  Sean turned to Rena and whispered, “Wait here.”

  Alexia followed Sean past the bar to the other counsel table. The judge picked up a thin stack of papers and straightened them.

/>   “I’ve reviewed the subpoena and your motion, Mr. Pruitt,” he said. “Proceed with your proof.”

  “Your Honor, I call Alexia Lindale to the stand.”

  “Let the witness come around and be heard,” the judge boomed.

  Alexia walked up to the witness stand and faced the judge while he administered the oath. She lowered her hand and sat down in the witness chair.

  36

  The people are turbulent and changing; they seldom judge or determine right.

  ALEXANDER HAMILTON

  Sean didn’t immediately launch into questions about Alexia’s representation of Rena, but methodically established her educational and professional qualifications. Remembering the advice she had given many clients, Alexia shifted in her seat so she could look up at the judge as she responded.

  “And I’ve been in private practice in Santee since passing the bar exam,” she said.

  “What is the primary nature of your current practice?” Sean asked.

  “Domestic relations.”

  “How about representing clients in criminal proceedings?”

  “During the first three years of my practice I handled both misdemeanor and criminal cases, mostly for indigent defendants.”

  “Did any of these cases go to trial?”

  “A few, but of course I prepared to try more cases than I actually tried.”

  “Who presided?” Judge Moreau interjected.

  “Judge McNeill served as our General Sessions Court Judge at the time,” Alexia replied.

  “Were you with a law firm?” the judge continued.

  “I was an associate at Leggitt & Freeman in Santee.”

  The judge leaned forward. “Ralph Leggitt’s firm?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. He and Ken Pinchot were my supervising partners.”

  The judge paused for a second. “But now you’re on your own, is that correct?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Were you a partner at Leggitt & Freeman?”

  “No.”

  Alexia had moved on with her legal career, but her failure to become the first female partner at Leggitt & Freeman still left a bitter taste in her mouth. The judge grunted and looked down at his papers. Sean resumed questioning.