Poisoned Page 4

  “I did well at Case,” I started. “Not like top-of-my-class good, but I was on the Health Matrix.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The law school’s Journal of Law and Medicine.”

  “Seems apropos, then.”

  “How the law handles medicine has always been one of my areas of interest.”

  “So you weren’t on the law review, but you were an editor on another journal…” She trailed off. I was giving her the edge pieces of the puzzle. She wanted the middle.

  “I did on-campus interviews and got a summer associate job.”

  She rolled her hands in a “speed it up” motion.

  “Where’s the punch line?”

  “It was at Dalton Lacey. Ron and I were in the same class there as well.” Each new crop of lawyers was rigidly separated by their year of graduation at most law firms.

  “Fuck me.” This time she glanced at my kitchen clock. “I don’t care what in the hell time it is.”

  She opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. She turned the label toward herself and nodded.

  “Not a Strohmeyer brand.” She opened the exact right drawer and pulled out the opener, popped the cap, then took a long swig. I was about to speak, but she held up a finger. Took the second longer pull.

  “Dalton Lacey,” she concluded, then took the tiniest burp. “That’s how you ended up working on Hudson cases. Ron never mentioned it. Lulu certainly never did.”

  “I may not have left voluntarily.”

  “No. Duh. Did you rat out the son of a rich family? There aren’t that many in this town.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I don’t want to pull teeth. Just tell me. I hate surprises. No doubt if I worked with you on these cases, I’d somehow be surprised. It’s not TV. Let’s get to it. I don’t practice law in this way.”

  I swallowed. Embarrassment more than a decade old surged through my body.

  “So. At a firm party, I met this girl.”

  “It’s always a woman. Go on.”

  “At a party after the Indians won a game, I was sitting in a corner nursing a beer, not quite swigging like you. It was at some partner’s house. They had a big screen before it was a thing. Anyway, this girl…woman, she came over. She was pretty and a doctor, a resident at the Clinic. I mentioned my article in the Health Matrix.”

  “On what?”

  “Split parental consent in acute medical cases.”

  “So what, kid comes in to the hospital after falling off a mountain. One parent is a doctor and the other a Christian Scientist?”

  “That’s an extreme example,” I said. I had to laugh because it was exactly the kind of hypothetical that would have been on a law school exam. They were always extreme when the real practice of law was anything but. “Basically, yes.”

  “So back to the woman who ended your firm career…” She did the “move along” thing again, only one-handed this time.

  “It’s not that complicated. We had some beer, some wine. Maybe a shot or two. We came back to my place…”

  “I’m not sure I need to hear the rest of that sentence. I can imagine how it goes. Not that I’d have to use my imagination exactly…”

  “We didn’t have the kind of chemistry you and I do.”

  “And then…?”

  “And then I went back to work on Monday. On Tuesday, I was called into the office of one of the big partners. You know the kind who have an office with a wall of windows that overlook the lake. I’d never met him. I thought I’d caught his eye, that he’d seen one of my memos, and he wanted me to work with him on some matter. Then…”

  Casey lifted the beer bottle over one eye and her free hand over the other as if she were seeing something unpleasant. “Which was she, the resident? His daughter, his girlfriend, his fiancée, or his wife?”

  “Wife.”

  “I don’t need to hear more. They told you that you had no future. Gave you two weeks or six months’ severance. You put in resumes everywhere else in town only to find your pedigree—now tarnished—opened no more doors. Then you hung out a shingle. Did I get that about right?”

  Even with half a beer in her, she’d gotten it exactly right.

  “It’s why I sympathized with you at the luncheon. Not because what we did was even similar. You did something noble. I was just stupid. But the result was the same. Cleveland’s top tier closed like an oyster. Nothing could pry it open to give us access to the pearl we knew was there and so close.”

  “You have the experience, then…for the case. To represent these plaintiffs against a big firm and bigger corporation.”

  “Just a couple of years. But enough to know how law firms work from the inside out. And everything they’re doing on this case tells me that they have something to hide. Something big. Something so explosive that once I find it, they’ll be willing to offer settlement in all the cases.”

  “What is that exactly? The exploding needle that’s going to set the haystack on fire, to torture a metaphor. Bring Strohmeyer and Morrell to the table with buckets full of cash?”

  “That’s where you come in. I haven’t found it yet. But it has to be somewhere in that office, hidden in plain sight. In one of those big boxes. I just need you to say yes, that you’ll help me find it. The reward will be better than the pearl.”

  “Better?”

  “‘Millions of dollars on attorney’s contingency fees’ better.”

  In silence, Casey drank the remainder of the beer. Put the sweaty bottle on the counter with a resounding thunk.

  With the promise of money and reprisal, I knew I had her.

  Three

  Casey Cort

  June 9, 2007

  It’s been said that revenge was best served cold. I was starting to wonder if it was best served at all.

  “Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?” my best friend, Lulu Mueller, asked. We were sitting on my couch. The windows were open and cool night air ruffled the leaves fat with early summer rains. One bottle of white and one bottle of red were uncorked on my new coffee table. I hadn’t had a glass of either.

  “No. I’m sorry. Please go back about a minute. What’s up with Sinclair’s divorce?”

  “He’s not pursuing it.”

  “Don’t put that on me,” I said. When Lulu and I had been in Poland and Germany chasing down my father’s relatives, she’d passed on a request from Sinclair that I represent him in his divorce. I’d politely refused. “I’m not the only lawyer in Cuyahoga County, Ohio.”

  “I’m not putting anything on you.” Her words said one thing, her tone the exact opposite.

  “Your face says differently.”

  “When he asked if you’d represent him, I thought he was ready to move forward. To leave his wife and move forward with me. I thought when he insisted on leaving his family home and moving in with me that he was ready.”

  “And now you’re not sure he’s moved on?”

  “If he doesn’t love her anymore, if his daughter’s in college, if he’s moved in with me, why can’t he leave his past?”

  I shook my head. Women across the world for time immemorial have been having this conversation. How women ended up here again and again was a true mystery to me.

  “Have you read any women’s magazine printed in the last thirty years? I think every single pastel headline reads ‘He’s Not Going to Leave Her.’”

  “I’m not the stupid side chick.”

  I fought to keep my eyebrows from my hairline. I’d very much agree with her on the first part at least—she wasn’t stupid.

  “What? I’m not. It’s not like I’m his secretary or something.”

  “No, you’re just the associate a partner schtuped.”

  When she frowned, I knew I’d probably overstepped.

  “Casey. That’s not nice.”

  “I’m sorry I said it the way I did. That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

  “Everything else in our relationship but that little thing is fine.”

  I didn’t point out that a fully formed human woman with the title wife and the diamond band and joint home ownership to go with that wasn’t “little.”

  “Is he still telling you what to eat, what to wear, and monitoring where and when you come and go?”

  “He’s just concerned,” Lulu explained, though she couldn’t figure out how to rearrange her face so it didn’t reveal a tiny niggle of doubt.

  “About what? You managed to feed and clothe yourself and get to and from work before you met him.”

  “He just wants me to dress more professionally so I don’t kill my chances at partner for no good reason.”

  “Maybe. Maybe I could get on board with that, though I can’t see why your…eclectic…style would be a hinderance. It’s not like you show up in court with boho chic from head to toe.”

  For years Lulu had worn all the colors of the rainbow in nearly every outfit every day. She’d worn her clothes and used her put-upon speech patterns like armor.

  “I’m not stupid. My mother’s hand-me-down Chanel skirt suits are for the sexist judges.”

  “No one can discriminate against tweed,” I acknowledged. “But what’s with him wanting to drive with you everywhere and wanting to share a phone with you?”

  These had been her most recent relationship grievances.

  “The firm wouldn’t allow that phone sharing, so it was a no go. That’s just asking for a malpractice lawsuit for violation of attorney-client privilege.”

  “But the driving?” I asked in response to her nonanswer.

  “He just wants me to be safe. Winter driving in Cleveland can be a challenge. He cleans off the car and warms it up before I have to come downstairs from the apartment.”

  “He waited in the reception area of your salon while you were getting your hair done. Exactly how many car accidents have you had in the last twenty years you’ve been driving?”

  “Well…zero.”

  “And how many has he had in his forty million years?”

  “It’s forty-seven years, and I don’t know. Maybe half a dozen. Or a few more. He’s been alive many more years as you’ve so kindly pointed out.”

  “So what in the heck is he protecting you from?”

  “I think that’s just an excuse. He’s a man, you know? I think it’s just hard for him to say he wants to spend time with me, so he uses this stuff as pretext.”

  I sighed inwardly. Lulu wasn’t ready to call it quits or even call out Sinclair’s behavior. I had so much on my plate that I couldn’t really put her stuff on there as well.

  “You can say no at any time. Okay? I just want you to get that. I’m here for you,” I insisted.

  “Are you?”

  “You can call me. Anytime.”

  “But can I?”

  “What do you mean? We’re here now, not drinking the wine in front of us.”

  “But not Sundays. Not for a while like we do when you’re in between fiancés.”

  “That’s not fair.” I wasn’t going to take the bait. Yes, we’d often had brunch. Yes, Lulu and I had once spent more time together. But as life got more complicated and our careers got more complicated, I couldn’t maintain friendships like I used to or even wanted to.

  “Justin?” Lulu probed.

  “Friend with benefits,” I answered honestly.

  “That’s all?”

  “Maybe colleague…for at least a little while.”

  “Colleagues?”

  I told her about Justin’s idea that I join him in his quest for justice for the injured children of Brighthill and Clearwater Park.

  “Why would you do it?”

  “Money. Experience. Revenge.”

  “Who’s the defendant?”

  “Strohmeyer.”

  “And the firm on the other side?” The way Lulu asked the question, I could tell she already suspected the answer.

  “Nothing has changed in the last decade. Morrell Gates still represents the brewery. Ted is a partner. Shively’s still there. The associates on the case are two people from my summer class.”

  “Oh, Casey. I feel for these kids. I mean, cancer, especially for kids, is no joke. But, honey, that’s a lot. Morrell and Strohmeyer. Isn’t Simon Brody in-house for them?”

  “Yes to all of that,” I cosigned.

  “Oh, honey. Can Justin even do this case?”

  “Why? Because he’s just a common pleas lawyer like me?”

  The resentment I’d held back for so long came rushing through in an unexpectedly blinding torrent. I was just about over being “fourth tier” Casey.

  “No. I wasn’t saying that. I went to law school with you. I worked with you on those pro bono cases. I know you have what it takes. I don’t know anything about him. I grew up in a family of professionals. A degree doesn’t mean as much as people make it out to be.”

  “He was at least high enough in his class to grade on to the second-best journal.” If I was going to talk about Justin, then wine was in order. I leaned forward and gave myself a generous pour of red. I turned the full force of my gaze toward my best friend.

  “Did you know he worked at Dalton Lacey?”

  “My Dalton Lacey?” Lulu’s hand was pressed hard in the center of her chest.

  “There isn’t exactly another that I know of.”

  “He isn’t there now. He left to hang out a shingle?”

  I took a large gulp. Then another. Then I told her the story.

  Halfway through, Lulu had pulled the chardonnay and white wine glass close. She’d poured the golden liquid nearly to the brim and drank it down—twice. Lulu stopped drinking when I stopped talking.

  “That sounds monumentally stupid.” She shook her head. “Jesus.”

  “You’re a Jew. Save the invocation of Jesus for the rest of us.”

  “Jesus was a Jew.”

  “Touché.”

  We clinked glasses and laughed like we used to when life wasn’t so serious.

  “Are you feeling some type of way about this?”

  I loved that she’d slipped into her old speech pattern, even if it was for just a moment. I’d always cringed a little inside…thinking that it was put on. Never thought I’d miss it as much as I did.

  “He fucked up and paid for it,” I said. “I didn’t fuck up and paid for it. I guess that’s the very definition of life isn’t fair. But maybe joining him on these cases could make things a little more fair.”

  “That kind of brings up a lot, Casey. Not gonna lie. That’s like confronting your whole past. You ready for that?”

  “It’s been ten years. I’m tired of running. Morrell isn’t going anywhere. The Strohmeyers aren’t going anywhere. The Brodys aren’t going anywhere. Neither am I. I was born here. Raised here. My ageing parents are here. I can’t stay the victim. I can’t keep hiding in juvenile, in criminal, in domestic relations. I don’t know why I’ve conceded that big cases are for big firms.”

  “I never said that, did I?” Lulu took another sip. In my mind she was swallowing her guilt with her wine. It was her and everyone else, but more than that it was me. I needed to let both of us off the hook.

  “The referrals you guys gave me, for example—and I’m not saying that I’m not grateful—but they were always small matters you didn’t want to handle.”

  “But big for you, right?”

  “Maybe in the beginning. I’m thinking that was my lack of confidence in myself. I got it into my head that somehow working at Morrell was going to confer some kind of training or knowledge or anoint me with oils or something. I kept pointing my fingers out in blame, but maybe I should have been pointing in. During our third year my real interest was in doing labor and employment. Why didn’t I do that? There was no one keeping me out of that.”

  “Is that what you want to do? Labor and employment? Or is it personal injury. ’Cause that’s what we were talking about. Whether you wanted to sign on to work with Justin while you’re in the booty call business.”

  “The sex is not the point. It’s very much beside the point, really. The point is that I limited myself. I’ve limited myself for ten damn years. I think maybe it’s time to stop doing that.”

  “This is a three-glass-of-wine discussion,” Lulu said before refilling her glass with white and mine with red. “What do you want, really?”

  “I think that’s what I need to decide. If I sign on with Justin, maybe the constant work and a big payout will give me the breathing space to make the big decisions I need to make. I’ve been so damned busy limping along, trying so hard to hold on to my pride that I haven’t ever taken a breath. I could have, maybe should have ten years ago, moved back in with my parents. Taken more time to look for a job or figured out a way to open my practice on more than a shoestring.”

  “Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda. Casey…” Lulu shook her head.

  “Yes and no. Going back and living in regret. That’s stupid. Going back and thinking about why I made the decisions I did and not doing the same things again. That’s wise. At the beginning of all this, all I wanted was a steady job in law that was rewarding and a family life that was even more rewarding. And you know what, I don’t really have either.”

  “Those self-help books sometimes say if you don’t have something, maybe you don’t really want it.”

  That stung, hard. It was time to hear the hard things, though.

  “Maybe that’s correct. I keep saying I want marriage, but I’m half in with Ron and half out with Justin. I say I’ve wanted a legal career, but the cases I’ve taken have been tantamount to self-sabotage.”

  “Brighthill isn’t that? Self-sabotage? It feels like Hudson all over again. Bright idea, but without the underpinnings to make it a successful endeavor.”

  I took another hit of wine. It was hard to hear, but she was probably right. I’d jumped from one legal specialty to another looking for the unicorn. This time, though, I felt like I was finally getting on the right path.

  “No,” I reassured both her and myself. “It’s the wedge that could give me breathing room.”

  “But what if it’s not. What if it’s a case that goes on forever? Costs you everything. Money. Time. You keep sleeping with Justin and it muddles the guy thing even more. I think your idea that this is the way out is faulty thinking.”