Cash Call, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 5 Page 5

  Chapter 5

  Wrongful Death

   Several weeks later, I was attending a Small Business Section meeting of the Dallas Chamber of Commerce. As the program started I noticed Don Blaylock across the room. During introductions I caught his eye and nodded. We hadn't talked since I left him at the hospital the night Rob was arrested. I'd been busy on other cases but it was time to start working on Rob's defense. After the meeting we talked.

   "Hi. Stan, I didn't know you were in the Chamber."

   "Yeah, I've been a member for the last couple of years."

   "Have you heard anything on Rob's DWI?"

  "No, the court hasn't contacted me yet. They're pretty swamped most of the time, so it takes awhile."

   He nodded.

   "How's Rob holding up?" I asked.

   "He's been pretty depressed--spends most of his time in his room. Pam and I are worried about him."

   "Well, he got quite a jolt with the arrest, the accident, and then learning he was going to be a father."

   "We all got quite a jolt."

   "True. How's Pam doing?"

   "As well as to be expected. She's trying to be strong for Rob's sake."

   Don gave me a hard look. "Listen, Stan. Remember I told you I had something I needed to talk to you about?"

   "Yeah, that's right. I'm sorry, it slipped my mind. We were supposed to get together."

   "Yes, the situation hasn't improved. I really need to talk to you about it."

   "What is it?"

   "A little investment we got into that's gone south."

   "What kind of an investment?"

   "A Chinese restaurant franchise."

   "Oh. Okay. I guess I was going to come by your house some night."

   "That would be good. That way we'll have a bottle of Jack Daniels to help us get through the meeting."

   "That bad, huh?" I said, now very curious as to what had happened.

  "Yeah, I'm afraid so."

   We agreed on an appointment the following Thursday night at Don's place. I didn't mind house calls once in awhile if they weren't too far out of my way. The atmosphere was usually relaxed, and the clients were more open in the comfort of their homes.

  When I got back to the office, Jodie advised me that Stuart Miller had been trying to reach me. Stuart Miller was a VP at World Port, a commodities exporter. His brother Lyle was the president. They had gotten into financial trouble and hired me to defend a dozen or so lawsuits that had been filed against them. We didn't really have a defense to most of the suits, but they needed time to raise capital to stay in business. Fortunately, none of the creditors had prosecuted their suits very vigorously, so it was almost a year before any of the cases came to trial. By that time they had found an investor and had the funds to settle up with everyone. They were very grateful and promised me a lot more business in the future. I picked up the phone and returned the call. He told me an employee had been killed.

   "Oh, no. Did I know him?" I asked.

   "No, I don't think so," Stuart replied.

   "Gee, that's terrible. I'm so sorry."

   "Yeah, he was a good employee. Everybody liked him."

   "How did it happen?"

   "We're not sure, but apparently he was crossing Lemmon Avenue and was hit by a drunk driver."

   "Oh, you're kidding?" I said.

   "No."

   "God . . . that's terrible! Did they arrest the driver?"

   "Yes, and they've charged him with DWI and involuntary manslaughter."

   "Good! Maybe they'll nail him."

   "Hopefully."

   "So, is there anything I can do?"

   "Maybe. . . . He was from India and his family has only just recently immigrated to America. They don't know any attorneys, so they asked me to recommend someone."

   I sat up in my chair and grabbed a yellow pad from my credenza. "Well, thank you for thinking of me. What was your employee's name?"

   "Anant Ravi. He was a computer engineer. We sponsored his immigration here."

   I began taking notes on the yellow pad and then asked, "How old a man was he?"

   "Thirty-nine."

   "So, tell me about the driver? What kind of car did he drive?"

   "It was a 1982 Porsche, I believe."

   I raised my eyebrows and replied, "Hmm. A high roller, huh?"

   "Yeah, probably some rich kid out partying. Anyway, will you take the case?"

   "Me? . . . Well, I'm not a personal injury attorney. But I don't see why this should be any different than any other lawsuit. I'll have to investigate the facts, of course. But, yeah, I think I could probably handle it."

   "Good, I'll tell the family."

   "Thanks, Stuart. I really appreciate you thinking of me."

   "No problem, you've always done good work for us, so I know you'll do a good job handling this for Anant's family."

   "You can count on it. Thanks a lot."

   I put down the phone and sat silently for a moment in shock. A wrongful death case could conceivably bring a multi-million dollar settlement. Suddenly I felt excited. I smiled, jumped up, and rushed into the reception area where Jodie was busy at work. She looked up and was startled by the look on my face.

  "Guess what?!" I said.

   "What?"

   "Our financial troubles may be over."

   "Huh?"

  "Stuart Miller just referred a wrongful death case to us."

   "You're kidding?"

  "No, I'm not. His employee, some poor guy named Anant, was killed by a drunk rich-kid over the weekend. The family didn't know an attorney so they asked Stuart for a recommendation."

   "Really? Have you ever done a case like that before?"

   "No, but I've never won the lottery before either."

   Jodie frowned and said, "Don't you have to hire a dozen expert witnesses and spend a truckload of money to prosecute a case like that?"

   I tried to repress a smile. "You're right. It could be expensive if we have to try it, but if they don't deny liability, we could settle it quickly."

   Jodie shrugged, forced a smile, and said, "Well, I hope it works out. You certainly deserve it."

   "We all deserve it. You'll get a nice bonus too, if I hit it big."

   "Good. How about a new BMW?"

   I smiled. "Hey, you never know. I might just do that."

   Jodie shook her head skeptically. "Right."

   "I think I'll go home and tell Rebekah about our good fortune. She's been a little depressed about money lately, so this might cheer her up."

   "What about your appointments?"

   "Reschedule them, would you? None of them are critical. I really want to go tell Rebekah."

   Jodie shook her head and said, "Okay, get out of here."

   Thirty minutes later I rushed into the house. Rebekah was ironing in front of the TV and Marcia was at the kitchen table doing a crossword puzzle. Rebekah looked up and smiled.

   "Stan! What's wrong? What are you doing home?"

   "Daddy!" Marcia exclaimed and then jumped up and ran to me.

  "Hi, baby doll," I said as I picked her up and held her in my arms.

   Rebekah smiled and came over to me. "So, what's up?"

   "I had to come home and tell you the good news."

   "What good news?"

   Marcia wiggled out of my lap and said, "Daddy, can I play with your typewriter? Mommie wouldn't let me. She said I had to ask you."

   I looked at her and smiled. "Okay, love. Go ahead, but be careful."

  I took a seat at the kitchen table. Rebekah sat down and waited for my response.

  "Do you remember Adam Cartwright? We were in law school together."

   "You mean, Congressman Cartwright?"

   "Uh huh."

   "Yeah. What about him?"

   "Well, you know how he was able to go into politics, don't you?"

   "Didn't he win a big case an
d make a million bucks or something?"

   "Exactly. It was a wrongful death case. He settled it for $3.3 million. His cut was $1.1 million."

   "Okay, go on."

   "So, Adam worked a while and then saidscrew this rat race and retired. He had all the money he would ever need, so he didn't need to work anymore."

   "How nice."

   "But just so he wouldn't be bored, he went into politics."

   "Right."

   "Honey, I just got a wrongful death case. It could be a big one."

   "Really?" Rebekah said.

   "Yes."

   "Who is it? How did you get it?"

   "One of my corporate clients, Stuart Miller, referred it to me. It looks like a great case. The guy was drunk so there shouldn't be a liability issue. That's usually the biggest hurdle in these kind of cases. The only question left is: how much are his damages?"

   "Yeah, but can the guy pay a big judgment?"

   "He must have money, he was driving a late model Porsche. Most people like that have lots of insurance."

   "I hope you're right, honey . . . but I'll believe it when I see it."

   "You're not excited by the possibility?"

   "No. You know when it comes to money, things never work out for us. I'm afraid to get excited."

   "I don't know, honey. Our luck may have just changed."

   "I hope so. God knows I'm tired of living from hand to mouth, but I'm not going to count on it. I don't want to be disappointed again."

   "Again?"

   "Yes, don't you remember Interactive Technologies?"

   "Right, but this is totally different."

   I had forgotten about Interactive Technologies. That was another client who couldn't pay his bill. He talked me into taking stock for my services. It was a publicly traded company selling over the counter, so I thought it was legit. It seemed like a good deal at the time. The stock was selling at $30 a share when he gave it to me, but it was lettered stock so I couldn't sell it for two years. I was so sure we were going to get rich off this stock, I took the family out to dinner to celebrate our good fortune. Of course, the stock dropped to three cents a share the day before I was eligible to sell it. Apparently my client dumped all his shares knowing that the stock would plummet once everyone he had paid off in kind could sell. He had timed it perfectly.

   "I'm not saying it was your fault, but when it comes to the big score, we're jinxed," Rebekah said.

   "I don't know, honey. I really feel good about this deal."

   "I hope you're right, but I think I'll celebrate when the money is in the bank and the check has cleared, if you don't mind."

  "Suit yourself," I said. "I came home because I thought you'd be excited."

   Rebekah smiled. "I am excited, cautiously excited. Now, how about a sandwich?"

   "Sure, whatcha got?"

   "Peanut butter and jelly?"

   We both laughed and then embraced. Rebekah laid her head on my shoulder. I bit her neck. She giggled.

   "You should have married that guy that had a crush on you in high school," I said. "What's was his name?"

   "Joey Littleton."

   "Right. You'd be living in a Hollywood mansion by now."

   Joey Littleton was a renowned screenwriter who had gone to high school with Rebekah. They dated a little, but Rebekah never liked him that much. He, on the other hand, loved her and was crushed when she wouldn't marry him.

   While we were struggling to survive during law school, Joey Littleton sold his first screenplay for over six figures. The movie went on to be produced and was a big hit. Although she denied it, I think a time or two Rebekah wondered if she hadn't made a mistake in turning Joey down.

  She nodded affirmatively. "God knows he asked me enough times . . . but, I didn't love him."

   I pulled away and looked her in the eyes, "And I thank God for that everyday."