Fatal February (6 page)

“I know nothing about Gary’s personal affairs. Now, if you will excuse me, I must get back to work.” Jack was up and opening the door.

“If you remember anything else, please call me at once,” I said as I moved out the door. This whole family was a puzzle. Why wouldn’t Jack tell me what he knew? And why was it so apparent that he had hated Gary?

My office was just as messy as I had left it. I picked up a bunch of new phone messages on my way in. I realized I’d never had lunch. I found an apple and a candy bar in my desk drawer and washed them down with a cold cup of coffee left over from the morning.

The first phone message was from Ray Abruzzo. His son had been arrested again for car theft. He had posted bond, but needed me to appear at the arraignment. Nothing new there.

The second message caught my attention. Catherine Aynsworth was looking for a paralegal position. One of the secretaries in the building had recommended she call me. I grabbed the phone and dialed the number and extension. She was at German and Duke, a large well-respected firm downtown.

“This is Catherine. May I help you?” a warm voice said.

“Catherine, this is Mary Katz. You called regarding a job. Are you free to talk?”

“I’d like to speak to you in person. I live near your office. May I stop in on my way home this evening?”

“Yes, I’ll wait for you.” As I hung up, I had a feeling of relief. Maybe my mother was right about the power of prayer. I had been saying, my God, I need help over and over for days. Or maybe it was just that my luck was about to change.

Catherine arrived at five thirty on the dot. She was in her thirties, a single mom supporting two grade-school aged sons. She lived blocks from the office and was avid to get employment close to home.

“I can ride my bike to work. I only have a couple of requests. Sometimes I might need to leave work early to see the kids play soccer,” she said. “But I am very organized and I can come back to the office after dinner if necessary.”

Her second request was to wear comfortable, nondressy clothes to work. “I’m on a tight budget. I’m more interested in buying shoes for my kids then ritzy clothes for me.” She looked at me expectantly, a pleading in her eyes.

“It’s fine with me. Most of our clients are not ‘ritzy.’ They’ll feel more relaxed if you don’t look like they can’t afford our fees.”

She smiled and sat back in her chair for the first time in our interview. We negotiated salary, and agreed on a starting time in one week.

Catherine looked around at my muddled desk and files piled on the floor. “How about I stay here and
give you a free hour. Show me to my computer and let’s look at the file system,” she said.

I wanted to kiss her, but such a move might scare her away. My guardian angel had arrived and her name was Catherine.

It was after seven when I locked up and entered the parking lot, my arms full of files. The first thing I noticed was that my car was the only one left in the lot. It was completely dark out. I had parked in the last space when I returned to the office, out of the range of the safely lights. My SUV appeared to be leaning to one side. I fumbled for my keys and as I opened the hatch door, I realized why the car looked like it was parked on a hill. There are no hills in Miami except for Mt. Trashmore, the toxic landfill.

I had a flat tire, totally without air. “Oh, shit,” I yelled into the empty lot.

I called Triple A. Their pat answer was, it’ll be at least an hour. You’d think they were dealing with a snow day. My next call to Joe the garage guy who kept my Explorer running, netted only an answer machine. I was doomed to wait for the Triple A guys. I cursed myself for never having learned simple car stuff like changing a tire.

I was about to return to the office when my cell phone rang.

“Hello,” I shouted, unable to read the caller ID in the dark lot.

“Mary, where are you?” It was Carlos. “I was a little worried. You didn’t answer at home or in the office.”

“I’m in the parking lot with a tire as flat as your gorgeous abs.”

“I’ll be right over.”

Fifteen minutes later, the Escalade pulled into the lot. Carlos, still in his construction jeans and boots, jumped out. I threw my arms around him.

“What a great greeting. I think I’ll flatten your tires at least once a week,” he said.

He pulled a set of tools from the back of the Escalade and began to jack up the car.

“Do you have a spare?” he asked. Then I heard “
Aye caramba.
Mary, look at this.”

The tire was off and I saw the slash. Someone had deliberately cut my tire.

“What kind of asshole did this,” I screamed.

“Okay, sweetheart, I’m here. I’ll get this changed, and then I’ll follow you home. Maybe we both need a shower to cool off.”

That thought made me forget about the tire for a minute.

On Thursday Professor Kominsky and I were climbing the steps of the Dade County Courthouse on our way to an emergency hearing to oppose Frank’s restraining order. I had climbed those steps a hundred times with nervous clients in tow. I loved the old building with its pillars, high-ceilinged courtrooms, and historic photos. Miami is a bit short on history, but this building gives the feeling that we’ve been around a while.

I felt a little unsteady. Karen took my arm and we marched to the elevator.

“You’re in luck. We drew Judge Elizabeth Maxwell,” said Karen.

“I’ve met her. She’s nice, but why am I lucky.”

“She’s an advocate for women in the profession. Before she was on the bench, she was the president of the local NOW chapter, and she sits on the board of the National Association of Women Judges. Their main purpose is to foster women in the legal profession. She won’t be impressed with a male lawyer trying to keep a female lawyer from earning a living.”

Our case was the first one called in the afternoon session. We were seated at the defendant’s table. At the plaintiff’s table sat Frank surrounded by a phalanx of lawyers; two others from my old firm, one of the old-guard good old boys from a Washington firm with local offices, and a paralegal, unpacking copious papers from their assembled briefcases. Frank was a dunce. He hadn’t included one woman in his army of legal talent.

Karen smiled as she approached the lectern. “Good Afternoon, Your Honor. I am —”

“Yes, Professor, of course, I know who you are, and it’s good to see you. Let’s see, you represent Mary Katz. I’ve reviewed the pleadings. Mr. Fieldstone is suing Ms. Katz, a former member of his law firm, and wishes the court to enter a temporary restraining order, keeping Ms. Katz from contacting or representing her clients. What seems unusual here is that you, Professor, have requested this emergency hearing. I would have expected Mr. Fieldstone to be the one eager for this hearing.”

“Well, Judge, I would have thought so, too, but this is indicative of the game playing that Mr. Fieldstone is engaged in. It appears he is using the court system to get back at Ms. Katz for breaking off their engagement. Of course, Ms. Katz could not remain as a part of Mr. Fieldstone’s firm after that. The clients that she has continued to represent are those that she herself brought into the firm.”

Fieldstone’s lawyers were all on their feet objecting.

“Sit down, gentlemen,” the judge said. “You’ll have your chance in a few minutes, and when you do, you will select one spokesperson. We’re not having double-teaming. Understand? Go ahead, Professor Kominsky.”

“Your Honor, I have prepared a chart of all of the clients involved. You will see the date Ms. Katz began representing them, the subject matter of the case, and where the case is in the system. As you can see, most of these cases are criminal matters. No one else at Field-stone’s firm handles criminal cases. Two are being handled pro bono, so if the plaintiff wants to take over that representation as a free contribution, Ms. Katz has no objection. However, Fieldstone generally objected to her handling these matters for free, so it seems unlikely that he will want to do so. May I also approach and hand to you letters from thirty-nine of Ms. Katz’s clients expressing their desire to have her continue as their lawyer, and waiving their attorney-client privilege should you wish to hear directly from them.”

“This is very impressive. Plaintiff, let’s hear your side of this.

The Washington lawyer approached the lectern. “Judge, it’s black-letter law. That is, every court in this country frowns on the theft of client files and the outright stealing of client representation. Your Honor will certainly not want to risk being overturned.”

“Sir, I’ve been on the bench for twelve years. I am
confident in my decisions. Every court does not rule in lockstep. The facts vary in every case. Now are you telling me that Mr. Fieldstone has suddenly decided to take up criminal law?”

“Well, I’m not sure, Judge, but …”

“I’ve heard enough. I’m ready to rule. As you all know, the standard for granting a temporary restraining order is whether it appears that the plaintiff’s case is so strong that he will prevail at trial. Not only is this case weak, it is crying to be put out of its misery. I will do so now by dismissing this case. Mr. Fieldstone, let me remind you that the court abhors the use of the justice system merely for vindictive purposes. You could end up paying the defendant’s attorney fees and court costs. Now, Ms. Katz, you go out there and prosper in your practice. Next case, please.”

I thanked Karen a dozen times as we left the courthouse.

“Don’t thank me yet. Remember, one down and one still to go. Let’s save the celebration until we get rid of the ethics complaint.”

I had almost forgotten in my euphoria over outsmarting Franklin Fieldstone, the Harvard lawyer. My next thought was about Lillian’s case. How I would love to see her bouncing down the courthouse steps with the same happiness I was feeling. That seemed like a long shot now that I believed another woman had been involved with Gary. Had Lillian heard the rumors? I had to get her family to level with me.

The following Monday, Catherine reported for work at eight o’clock. I had a full morning in court followed by an afternoon of depositions. For the first time in weeks, my office was running like a Nascar winner and without my presence. I got messages that actually made sense every time I called in. I returned to the office at five thirty. A stack of neatly typed correspondence was on my desk for signature, all the files were off the floor, and there was a note taped to my computer.

I hope you don’t mind my putting up a few
pictures around my desk. Hope everything is
satisfactory. See you tomorrow.

Catherine

P.S. I left you some peanut butter cookies that I baked yesterday.

I found the cookies and attacked them. This was as close to heaven as a law office can be. Then I went to look at the pictures. I was anxious to see what Catherine’s boys looked like. The pictures were not family
type, at least not a human family. There were photographs of wolves in the snow, wolves by a stream, and wolves coming out of a forest. Well, everyone has her own quirks. This one was interesting. There must be a story here. I couldn’t wait to hear it.

I got to the office at nine thirty on Tuesday. The luxury of such a late arrival made me feel decadent.

Catherine, who heard me come in the back door, whisked into my office and shut the door. “There’s a woman in the waiting room. She doesn’t have an appointment. She said it’s important that she see you. I rang your house right after she got here. I guessed you were on the way in.”

“How long has she been there? What’s her name?”

“Oh, sorry, she’s Marian Brandeis. She said you’d know who she was. She got here a little before nine. I gave her some coffee. She looks nervous.”

“Everyone looks nervous in a lawyer’s office. You did good, Catherine. Show her right in.” I couldn’t imagine why Jack Brandeis’s wife was here. Maybe this was a breakthrough, or maybe she was angry about my visit to Jack.

“Right in here, Mrs. Brandeis,” Catherine said.

Marian Brandeis was probably in her mid-fifties. She wore a designer knit pantsuit and expensive pumps. Her short dark hair was cut to precision, revealing gorgeous diamond earrings. She was slightly plump. She must have been a beautiful young girl, and was still a handsome woman.

She stared at me and around the office, her eyes darting in nervous flickers, as she perched on the end of the seat across from me.

“Ms. Katz, I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but I just had to talk to you,” she said.

“That’s perfectly all right, and please, call me Mary. Let’s move over to the sofa. You’ll be more comfortable. Now what can I do for you.”

“I know you’re doing your best to represent Lillian. Jack told me about your visit with him. First, I want to apologize for his attitude.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s hard to talk to a complete stranger about family matters.”

“I know the reason he’s reluctant to talk to you. Someone’s got to tell you why. You need to know what Jack and I know about Gary, even if it hurts Lillian’s case.”

“Just a minute, Mrs. Brandeis,” I said. I buzzed Catherine and told her to hold any calls, and be sure there were no interruptions. I closed the door and locked it.

“Do you mind if I take some notes?” I asked as I reached for my yellow legal pad.

“You can call me Marian, please, and please don’t tell Jack that I came to see you.”

“Okay. Just take your time, and tell me all you can about Lillian and Gary. Remember, nothing surprises me. Lawyers hear confidential information all the time as part of their job.”

“I never really trusted Gary. I know Lillian adored
him, but all that patting people on the back and taking your hand and not letting go, it was creepy.”

“Did Jack distrust him too?”

“Of course. The way he wormed his way into his dad’s good graces. It was nauseating. Then I really found out about him.”