Tom ended the call and completed his notes. Junior Jackson was the kind of witness who could be an insurance defense lawyer’s nightmare. Truth in the mouth of a common man was harder to twist than forged steel.
Tom closed the file folder. It would be fun trying Freiburger v. Harrelson before an Etowah County jury. But taking the case would not be in Tom’s future if his biggest client was Pelham Financial.
chapter
THIRTEEN
I fed Rover,” Elias said when Tom got home. “He got anxious about an hour ago.”
“That’s okay, but he always tries to push up suppertime. Just don’t give him more than two large scoops of food, no matter how forlorn he looks.”
The microwave beeped. Tom took out one plate and put in another. He poured two glasses of water. When the second plate was ready, he placed it on the table in front of Elias. They sat down. Tom automatically bowed his head and closed his eyes. Elias was quiet for a moment, then prayed a simple, familiar prayer. But this time was different. God’s presence enveloped Tom. He gripped the edge of the table with his hands.
“Amen,” Elias said.
Tom kept his head bowed for a few extra seconds. When he looked up, Elias was staring at him.
“What’s going on?” the old man asked.
“I should make you guess, but I won’t.” Tom smiled. “God met with me at the office this morning.”
Elias’s eyes widened. “I’m listening.”
Tom began with Psalm 78:72. After listening to a few sentences, Elias pushed his plate away and began pacing back and forth across the kitchen.
“If you don’t sit down and eat, I’m going to stop,” Tom said.
“Hearing you is meat to my soul and drink to my spirit,” the old man replied. “I’m doing my best not to shout.”
Tom continued.
“God is good,” Elias said when Tom finished. “It’s an honor being the first to hear your testimony.”
“Actually, you’re not the first person I’ve talked to about this. I ran into Rose Addington at the Chickamauga Diner and somehow it came out. She was excited too, but I’m glad she didn’t get up and run around the restaurant.”
Elias rubbed his chin. “I thought the two of you would like each other.”
Tom stared at Elias. “You wanted to hook me up with Rose Addington?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘hook up,’ but the first time I met Rose I thought the two of you might be a good match. Remember, I introduced your father to your mother.”
“I saw the marriage certificate in the safe-deposit box this afternoon, but that doesn’t qualify you to serve as a matchmaker, especially involving a woman you don’t know very well.”
“I can’t turn off my discernment.”
“Discernment? Of what?”
“People.”
“Then you should have pointed your discernment gun at Harold Addington instead of his daughter. Within the next few days it’s going to be very painful for Rose Addington to be around me.”
Elias gave Tom a puzzled look. “What do you mean about Harold—”
“I can’t go there,” Tom interrupted. “And don’t try to make me.”
Elias grunted but kept quiet.
______
After the meal, Tom took Rover outside for a walk. With the end of daylight savings time approaching, he wanted to enjoy one of the last opportunities of the fall for post-supper sunlight.
The dead plants in the soybean fields behind the house were cut low to the ground. Tom’s boots crunched the dried stalks. Rover wandered to the end of the leash. The clouds in the sky were a splotchy gray as the last rays of the sun retreated beyond the horizon. It was quiet except for the chirping of the few remaining crickets whose songs would soon end after the first hard frost.
When Tom was a boy, he captured a fall cricket and put it in a glass jar. It was an enormous creature that had survived every threat from birds, animals, weather, and people looking for fish bait. Tom borrowed a magnifying glass from his mother’s sewing kit and held it close to the jar. The cricket crouched in the strands of straw that covered the bottom of the jar and peered stoically at Tom without any sign of fear. When Tom shook the jar, the cricket didn’t hop. Instead, he waited patiently for the man-made earthquake to stop. Tom was so impressed by the cricket that the following day he took the jar outside and released the cricket close to the spot where he’d captured it. The noble insect deserved to live out its days in its natural home.
As he tromped across the field, Tom thought about his life. Relying on himself and doing what he wanted to do had left him with no job, no inheritance, no girlfriend, an uncertain future, and stubborn issues to sort out in shutting down his father’s practice. But for the first time in his life, he was under an influence greater than his circumstances—an inner peace based on a reality outside himself.
Standing in the field with a thankful heart, Tom looked up at the darkening sky, closed his eyes, and let the invisible presence wash over him, sending chills across his body. What lay ahead was unknown. However, the inner calm didn’t desert him. He tugged on Rover’s leash.
“Come on,” he said to the dog. “Let’s go back a different way.”
______
Tom lived the next two days wrapped in a comfortable spiritual cocoon. Beatrice’s back problems proved stubborn, so Tom spent more time at the office reading the Bible and writing down prayers than he did reviewing his father’s legal files. He was turning into a hermit and enjoying it. Thursday afternoon the bell on the front door rang. Tom scooted his chair to the side to get a clear view of the person entering the office.
It was Rose Addington.
“Hallo,” she said when she caught his eye. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No, come in.”
“I was in town again and thought I’d drop by to see how you’re doing,” Rose continued. “I’ve thought quite a bit about our chat at lunch the other day. I told Mum about it too. We were wondering if you were going to be at the church again on Sunday. If so, we’d like to invite you and your uncle over for a bite to eat after the service.”
“Thanks, but I may be out of town on a white-water rafting trip.”
“But your plans aren’t set?”
“Almost. A close friend invited me. I’m going to call him today and let him know that I’ve decided to go on the trip.”
“Maybe we can do it another time.” Rose peered past Tom into the office. “Is that where you met with the Lord the other morning?”
“Yes.”
“Do you mind if I have a look?”
Rose brushed past him before he could answer. Tom caught a whiff of her perfume.
“I see you’ve been at it again,” she said, pointing at the open Bible on the desk.
“Yeah. I’ve spent more time reading the Bible and writing down my thoughts the past two days than sorting through my father’s affairs.”
Rose glanced around the room, then up at the ceiling. “That’s because this is a thin place.”
Tom looked up at the ceiling. All he saw were a few spots where the white paint was beginning to crack.
“A thin place?” he asked.
“It’s what the ancients called a place where there’s less separation between heaven and earth. It allows easier communion between the Lord and his people. Have you ever heard of Iona or Lindisfarne?”
“No.”
“Those are thin places in Scotland and northern England where the early Christians established places of prayer and worship. The old saints didn’t have our technology, but they knew how to lay hold of God.”
Tom wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Do I sound like a mystic to you, Tom?” Rose turned her head toward him with a smile.
“I’m not sure exactly what that means either.”
“Now, I’m surprised at that.”
“Why?”
“Your uncle Elias, of course. Mum and I spent time with him at his h
ouse one afternoon before you arrived. He showed me his study and told me what he did there. He’s quite an intercessor.”
“Which means he prays a lot?”
“Yes.”
“He took you into his study? That’s rare. He’s very private about that part of his life. When I was a child the study was off-limits.”
“The three of us had a season of prayer there together.”
“Is it a thin place too?”
“I think so.”
Tom laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“You and Elias are on thin ice with this thin place stuff.”
“But it’s not a new idea.”
“It is to me.” Tom stepped out of the office as a signal to Rose that the conversation was over. “Thanks for stopping by.”
Rose didn’t move. “I’m not finished,” she said. “Have you found out anything else about the professional relationship between our fathers?”
“I’m still working on it.”
“Has anything else come to light? I especially wondered if you’d made any sense of the sticky note you found in the bank ledger for, what was the term you used? Trust account?”
Tom licked his lips. “Yes, that’s the legal term for the account. The ethical rules require me to make a diligent effort to account for every dollar of client money. That’s what I’m doing now.”
“Have you located a sum of money for which there is a question about its ownership?”
At that moment Tom decided Rose Addington had more discernment than Elias and would make a better lawyer than some of the new associates hired by Barnes, McGraw, and Crowther. He shifted into lawyer mode.
“There are questions about the money in one of the trust accounts,” he replied slowly. “That’s what I’m investigating. I’ll let you know as soon as I determine if there is a definite connection to your father.”
“Do you suspect there might be a link?”
“Get to the point,” he said. “What do you suspect that you’re not telling me? It might save me a lot of time and wasted energy.”
Rose pursed her lips together for a second before answering. “If Papa hired your father and paid him money, would that money go into a trust account and stay there until your father did the work?”
“That’s one way to do it.”
Rose lowered her gaze for a moment before looking up at Tom. “You told me your father owed money to the government. Mum and I don’t want to cause you any embarrassment, but if he wrote himself a check out of the trust account so he could pay his tax debt without doing any work for Papa, we won’t be taking any action against his estate or make any public fuss. All we want to know is how much he took and whether there’s any money left to be refunded.”
Tom’s mouth dropped open. “You have this all wrong,” he managed. “My father didn’t make any wrongful withdrawals from his trust account. He owed money to the government for back taxes, but I’m certain he didn’t misappropriate client funds.”
“How can you be so sure he didn’t take out money before he earned it? You just told me you’re still trying to figure out whose money is left in the trust account.”
“That’s true.”
Rose gave him a puzzled look. “I’m confused. Are you saying Papa didn’t pay your father money that was placed in a trust account?”
Tom made a split-second decision. “Do you have any evidence that he did?”
“That’s not the kind of answer I would have expected from you,” she said, her jaw set. “When you’re ready to be honest, give me a call. You have a lot to learn about what it means to walk with God.”
Rose stepped past him toward the door.
“Just a minute,” Tom called after her.
Rose reached Bernice’s desk before she turned and faced him. Her face was flushed. “What?”
“Uh, if you locate any checks written to this office by your father, please let me know,” Tom said.
“Will you do the same?”
Tom didn’t answer. Rose rolled her eyes and spun around. The bell clanged as she jerked the door open and left. Tom returned to the desk. He looked down at the open Bible and closed it. The help he needed to unravel the questions about the designated trust account couldn’t be found in the pages of Scripture.
He took out his cell phone and scrolled down to Rick Pelham’s phone number. Rick answered on the second ring.
“Are you in for the trip?” Rick asked.
“Yeah,” Tom answered without enthusiasm.
“Great. We’ll get on the road about six Sunday morning. That’s not too early for you, is it?”
“No. Staying with Elias, nothing happens on Saturday night to keep me up late.”
“We can take care of that—”
“I wasn’t trying to suggest anything.”
“Okay, but let me know if you want a change of scenery. Tiffany asked me twice this week if I thought I could talk you into dividing your time between Elias’s place and here.”
“Maybe in a week or so.”
“That will give her some hope. Oh, and there’s no need to bring anything for the trip. I have all the gear, including extra wet suits. The water will be cold this time of year. You’ll need to have an extra layer of artificial blubber to stay comfortable in the spray.”
“And if I fall in, are you going to drag me out?”
“Yeah, unless we both get stuck under the same rock. It’s supposed to rain in the mountains Saturday night, which should make for a wild ride on Sunday.”
After he hung up, Tom laid his cell phone on the desk. He unlocked the middle drawer and took out the checkbook for the designated trust account. Flipping it open, he stared again at the place where a single check had been ripped out. Rose Addington, for all her knowledge about ancient holy places, was wrong about one thing. John Crane didn’t illegally write a check to himself from a trust account.
______
Later that afternoon Tom heard the bell jingle as someone entered. Dreading another clash with Rose Addington, he cautiously peered around the door of the office. It was Lamar Sponcler.
The white-haired lawyer was wearing gray pants, a yellow tie, and a starched shirt that had become wrinkled after a long day.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Sponcler asked.
“No, I was going to leave in a few minutes, but I’m not in a hurry. Come in and have a seat.”
Sponcler ran his hand along one of the bookcases. “Your father was a unique man. Very old school in the way he practiced law, but he had a way with people. They trusted him.” Sponcler pointed to the boxes of files. “Are those his open files?”
“Some of them. Bernice took care of a lot of the cases before I arrived. These are the ones left for me to deal with. I’m filing motions to withdraw and trying to locate lawyers to assume representation in the others.”
“Have some of the clients asked you to take over?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not surprising.” The older lawyer nodded. “Have you thought any more about our conversation at the courthouse?”
Tom hesitated.
“That’s okay.” Sponcler smiled. “You’ve had a lot on your mind. But I’d be very interested in discussing an arrangement for you to work with me.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Tom answered sincerely. “However, all my experience has been with complex financial litigation. The further I get from law school, the less I remember about plaintiff’s work. That’s why you saw me at the courthouse the other day doing research.”
“You were researching, not assuming. That’s a good thing. And you’re not afraid of the courtroom.”
“No, I’m not,” Tom admitted. “When I was a kid playing baseball, I loved coming up to bat in a pressure situation. Getting ready to try a case gives me the same feeling. I want to do it.”
“Listening to you makes me want to get back into the fight.” Sponcler laughed. “Not every lawyer who passes the bar has what it takes t
o go to war for a client in court. Ability can be improved, but it has to be built on something already inside.”
Tom put his fingers together in front of his face. “If we joined forces, would I be able to accept cases like the ones I’ve handled in the past?”
Sponcler wrinkled his nose. “From Arthur Pelham?”
“Maybe.”
“Arthur talked with you.” Sponcler nodded his head. “I’m not surprised. Pelham Financial has been a big boost to the local economy, but representing them doesn’t fit with my practice. Having two hundred little clients is better than representing two big ones. If I lose a client, I can keep on going. If a firm with two clients loses one, fifty percent of the business is gone.” Sponcler pointed to the boxes. “Your father knew that. Think some more about my modest proposal.”
______
The following morning Tom called Bernice as soon as he arrived at the office.
“I’m slowly getting better,” she said. “I sat up in a regular chair for a couple of hours yesterday working on a jigsaw puzzle and wasn’t too stiff when I got up. I hate that I haven’t been there to help you.”
Bernice loved putting together jigsaw puzzles.
“Take your time coming back. Without a job to go back to, I’m not working very hard.” Tom glanced down at the notes he’d made about the designated trust account. “I do have one business question. Do you know anything about a designated trust account opened about six months ago at Bethel Commercial Bank & Trust?”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before Bernice spoke. “I remember your daddy started getting an extra envelope from the bank each month.”
“Any idea where he kept the monthly statements for that account?”
“I’m not sure, but I know he took at least one out of the office. I remember because he had the envelope in his hand when he was about to leave early one afternoon and I asked him about it.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he had a meeting with a client.”
“Which client?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Could it have been one of the afternoons he went fishing with Harold Addington?”
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