Cookie's Case Page 8

  Mr. Wang some money.”

  “That’s me, Robert.”

  “Oh, so you do owe Mr. Wang the money. That’s good ’cause that’s what he says too.”

  “No, Robert. I don’t owe him the money. But I am the guy you spoke to this morning. What’s up?”

  “I thought that was you, mister. Then you told me ‘long time, no speak,’ and I just knowed we spoke this morning. That threw me off directly.”

  “It’s only a figure of speech, Robert, so don’t worry. What’s going on?”

  “Okay, now according to these rules, I got to tell you I’m calling to collect a debt.”

  “I understand.”

  “Okay now,” he continues, “I called up Mr. Wang, and he says that you are dead wrong. He didn’t ruin your suit, and it was all messed up when you brought it in. So can you pay him the fourteen dollars and seventy-nine cents you owe him and pick up your seven hundred fifty dollar suit? That’s a lot of money for a suit, mister.”

  “Robert, no, I can’t pay him that money. Like I said, it’s a matter of principle.”

  “I don’t think Mr. Wang is no principal. I think Mr. Wang cleans clothes for people. He don’t work at no school, that’s what I think.”

  “I agree, Robert. Mr. Wang is not a school principal. But I don’t owe him that money.”

  “Ooh-dat! Ooh-dat! Ooh-dat! Oh, da pains, they be bad,” he yelps suddenly. What’s that new sound? Like slapping, or punching.

  “Are you okay, Robert?”

  “That be the pains, Mister. Down in my ankle.”

  “Robert, why don’t you tell me what happened to you.”

  “Got runned over by a van. Ruint my ankle. Granny says I drag it along when I walk, but I can ride like the wind. That’s what Granny says.”

  I need to ask. It’s what I do. “Robert, do you have a lawyer?”

  “Not no more. Granny fired the one I got. Said he wasn’t bony fried.”

  “Well, do you have a new lawyer handling your case?”

  “No, mister. Granny says lawyers ain’t no good. She’s taking care of it herself.”

  “Is Granny a lawyer?”

  He laughs. “Naw, Granny ain’t no lawyer. She takes care of me.”

  “I see, Robert. Tell me, not that it matters, but which ankle did you injure?”

  “Hold on fer a sec,” he responds. “Hey Granny! Hey Granny!” he yells. “Which one of my ankles gots hurt? My right or my left?”

  “Your right one, boy,” I hear a sharp old voice respond. “How many times I got to tell you that?”

  Now Robert’s breathing heavily, like the reprimand elevated his respirations. “My right, mister. Now what about that fourteen dollars and seventy-nine cents?”

  “Robert, do me a favor and put Granny on the phone.”

  “Can’t do that,” he quickly responds.

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause I’m opposed to be collecting money now. I got to have what Granny calls my financial independence. I got to get this job right.” The distinct implication is that he may have failed in previous ones. But I’d be surprised at that, with his perseverance.

  “Just tell her to pick up for a second, Robert.” Before he gets a chance to respond, I hear Granny again in the background.

  “Who you speaking to, Robert? You supposed to be collecting a debt, practicing that job, not talking about your ankle, boy.”

  “Granny, I knowed what I’m opposed to be doing, and I am collecting a debt. But my pains came along and …” I hear the classic sound of one person wrestling a phone out of another’s hand.

  “Who’s this on the phone?” Granny asks, all soured up. “You the man that owes Mr. Wang the money?”

  “You got the right guy, but I don’t owe Wang any money.”

  “I see. Well, he ain’t allowed to use the phone but for business. Why you taking him away from what he needs to be keeping on at?”

  “Granny,” I say, “Robert was in pain. So I asked him why. That’s all. He didn’t do anything wrong, I assure you.”

  “Okay then, I’ll put him back on the line.”

  “Wait!” I say with urgency. “Maybe I can help you out on Robert’s case.” I sense quiet caution on the other end of the line.

  “You a lawyer?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I don’t trust no lawyers.”

  “Me, neither.”

  “That’s a good snap back.”

  “It was a truthful one.”

  “How come you don’t trust no lawyers, seeing you’re one of them?”

  “The list is too long,” I tell her.

  “Ha, I got me a list, too. Hmm,” she says, contemplating, “let me ask you this—do you believe what your clients tell ya?”

  “Depends on the client. If it were Robert,” I add, “the answer would be yes.” And I mean it.

  “That’s straight on. Want to know why?”

  “Sure do.”

  “You see, Robert here, he’s a boy who ain’t told a lie since the day he was born. No threat of ass-whop or nothing.”

  “That’s right, Granny,” I hear him say in the background. “I don’t tell no lies.”

  “Hush, boy,” she says to him. “You see me jawing on the phone. And his own lawyer,” she says to me, “the one I fired—he didn’t believe Robert. Thought he was lying. Decided the boy caused his own accident ’cause that’s what the police report says. Ain’t no sense having a lawyer if he don’t believe ya.”

  “I have to agree with you on that.”

  “One thing is for certain,” she states with conviction. “Robert didn’t cause no accident.”

  “That’s right, Granny,” I hear him agree. “I didn’t cause no accident.”

  “Well, I can tell you this,” I respond, “I’m certain too that Robert didn’t cause the accident. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

  Now there’s quiet on the other end. The wheels are spinning inside her head. I can tell Granny’s not just smart but cagey.

  “What’s your name, lawyer?”

  “Tug Wyler.”

  “You bona fide?”

  “Do you mean am I admitted to the bar? Then the answer’s yes, I’m bona fide.”

  “Still,” she continues, “I don’t trust no lawyers. So I’ll be handling the case myself.”

  “May I ask your name, please?”

  “Just did.” I hear her snicker at the fun she poked at me. “Just playing. The name’s Ethel.”

  “Ethel, do you really think that’s a good idea? Handling Robert’s case yourself?”

  She waits a beat or two before answering. “Probably not, but like I’m saying for the third time, I don’t trust no lawyers.”

  “Give me the top reason on your list why not.”

  “They’re after the quick money, for one thing. Robert’s lawyer was trying to have him take forty-seven thousand five hundred dollars for his case. Said it’s good money since Robert caused his own injury—”

  “Which he didn’t,” I interject.

  “Now you’re catching on, Mr. Lawyer. But that ain’t hardly enough for what this boy’s been through. So I fired him. He was trying to take advantage, and for certain he was not no bona fide lawyer. We Killroys may not have a lot of dollars, but we chock full of common cents.”

  She’s listening, I can tell, to see if I get her little joke. I chuckle appreciatively.

  “That was a smart move, Ethel. But why not make another good move now? Let me take a look at Robert’s file.”

  “No.”

  “I’m concerned with your grandson’s best interests here, I assure you. He sounds to me like he’s in real pain. He’s probably got a neuroma or reflex sympathetic dystrophy in that ankle.”

  “Hmmph. That’s exactly what he
got. Just the problem is, I don’t want to be scammed by no lawyer.”

  “How about if I work for free?”

  “For free?”

  “Yes, for free.”

  “Why would you go and do that? For a stranger who’s trying his best to make sure you pay your bills.”

  “A few reasons.”

  “I’m listening. Go ahead. Let’s see how convincing you are, Wyler.”

  “Okay. First, it gives me the opportunity to put some positive energy out there, and I’m one of those people who believes you get back what you put out in some way, shape, or form. They call it karma.”

  “Uh-huh,” she responds skeptically. “I can tell you pretty for certain, chances be slim you getting anything back from Robert. You still want to work for free?”

  “I sure do.”

  “Go on then. Why else?”

  “Because just a little while ago, I met a nice girl with a lawyer whom I felt was going to short her, the way Robert’s lawyer tried to short you guys. But she isn’t as smart as you, Ethel. Even her doctor boyfriend isn’t as smart as you, because they were going to take the money. I was able to prevent that from happening. It gave me a sense of doing justice, and that’s the reason I became a lawyer. But I have to say, I’m not sure if I felt good because I stopped a wrong from happening or because she’s extremely beautiful and I got the hots for her.”

  “That’s honest,” Ethel tells me. “Go on now, boy. I’m suspecting you’re saving your best argument for last.”

  What great instincts she has. That’s exactly the case.

  “And because you don’t trust lawyers and don’t want Robert shortchanged, I can’t do you any wrong if I don’t take a fee.”

  “X marks the spot, X marks the spot with a dot, dot, dot. Now you reasoning soundly.”

  “Yes, Ethel, that’s the right conclusion. It’s a winning formula. And it’s one that means Robert gets all the money to put toward his financial independence. You want that for him, don’t you?” I’d been saving that one.

  “That’s what I’m staying alive for. To see that he can get on all by his own. For free, though? You’ll do the lawyering for free?”

  “The only thing I’ll ask of you out of this whole thing is that, if I do a good job for Robert, in the future you’ll refer your friends and family to me, should any of them meet with an unfortunate accident or get bad medical care. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds like we have us a deal.” Then she changes tone. “But Robert still got to do his collections on you, no matter what happens.”

  “Let him collect away. But I’m going to defend myself against it.”

  “We’ll see how that one ends up, then, won’t we now?”

  “I guess we will, Ethel. Have you had any conversation with the attorney on the other side since taking over Robert’s case?”

  “Just one. He ain’t bona fide, either, if you ask me. Calls himself Rich. What kind of lawyer calls himself Rich?”

  “I agree. Rich is a stupid-ass name for a personal injury lawyer. But what did you say to him?”

  “That my Robert deserves more money. That’s about it. I had to tongue-lash the man to get it through his thick skull. Oh yeah, I told him Robert didn’t cause no accident, either.”

  We chat a little more, and then I tell her I have to get back to the office just as she reminds me Robert has to resume his job. I like Granny. She’s the right combination of gruff and concerned. And I give her full marks for being very aware of Robert’s medical condition.

  As soon as we click off, I send a text to Lily to set up an appointment as soon as possible. I don’t want Robert’s case to wind up dismissed because Ethel’s unfamiliar with the procedures of the judicial system. Just by missing a simple appearance, you can blow everything.

  Some judges are like that, but Ethel couldn’t know it. She and Robert deserve better.

  STAY AWAY FROM HER

  So now I’m crossing Foley Square again. The giant black marble sculpture soaring way up into the sky in front of me is styled after an antelope-inspired African headdress and is mounted on a boat-shaped base. It was commissioned to memorialize the unknown enslaved Africans brought to America. It’s called Triumph of the Human Spirit, and whenever I give myself the chance to think about it, I cringe at the knowledge that our country once allowed slavery. I hate that any one person could exert absolute control over another’s existence.

  As I’m on my way to get a dirty-water dog on the far side of the square before I hop the subway, a guy in oversized black plastic sunglasses and a mini trench coat gets up from a bench and starts walking behind me. His lockstep maneuvers lead me to believe I’m his target. Great. What could this be?

  I take five more steps, confirming that his gait’s keeping pace with mine, then stop. He stops, too. Damn! He’s maintaining distance. That confirms it. Let me head this one off. I turn and begin closing the twenty-foot gap between us by walking directly at him the way a catcher goes at a runner caught between bases. At the ten-foot mark, he turns and starts walking away. Yep, he’s for me, and he’s really bad at what he does. I bet Robert Killroy could keep cover better than he can.

  “Hold on.” I say. “Let’s get this over with.” He stops and turns. “I’m pretty sure, although not certain, my wife believes in our marriage these days and didn’t hire you. So what’s up?”

  He maintains silence.

  “Come on. Out with it. Well?”

  He takes his shades off and assumes a threatening stance. “Cookie,” he says, “you know, the dancer. Stay away from her, Wyler. Seeeee.” I’m immediately reminded of some cartoon character, a gangster type, but just which one escapes me.

  “I don’t think so.”

  He shoots me a nasty look.

  I’m at least a foot taller, near double his weight, and can easily outrun him, but the real reason I don’t feel threatened is because there’s a cop fifty yards away.

  “Listen, wise guy, you heard me. Just stay away from Cookie. Leave her case alone, that’s all, seeeee. Got that? Walk away, and let Charles finish what he started. He’s her attorney. That’s all, seeeee.”

  “This is a first,” I say in a tone of surprise. “I never had an outgoing attorney dispatch his investigator or whatever you are to warn me not to take the case.”

  “Charles didn’t send me, seeeee.”

  “Of course Charles sent you. He’s the only one with interest. So tell him to get over it. She just signed the Consent to Change Attorney. Tell him to back off, or I’ll have to seek judicial intervention to deem his discharge for cause, and he’ll wind up with nothing for the work he’s done. And clearly his efforts so far entitle him to something. Now run along.”

  His expression of contempt deepens. He’s not ready to leave.

  “If she signed the consent, then tear it up, seeeee. Tell her you can’t handle her case, and then go about your business.” His smirk firms and hands tighten, almost as if he’s ready to go at it. No doubt he’s one of those little guys who needs to overcompensate by acting tough.

  Fact is, I don’t want to tangle with this fist-clenching, wee man. I can just hear some smart aleck now: “Hey, did you hear? Wyler got beat up by a twerp in front of the courthouse!” So it’s not going to happen.

  “Just take it easy,” I say. “I’m not going to tangle with you. Let’s be civil. First, you obviously know who I am, so why don’t you tell me who you are.”

  “The name’s Minotero, seeeee. My friends call me Mino. But you just stick with Minotero.”

  Minnow, I repeat in my head. That’s an unusual name but very fitting. “Listen, Minnow,” I say, ignoring his instruction, “let’s just try to keep the peace.”

  “I’ll keep the peace, seeeee. And you keep your distance from Cookie’s case. You’re through. You’re out of the way. That’s what you are. You
got it, Wyler? Stay away or I’ll beat you off!” His scowl transforms into a look of delayed realization.

  He just threatened to beat me off.

  “That didn’t come out right, seeeee, but you know what I mean.”

  “Yes Minnow, I know what you mean. Stay away from Cookie’s case or you’re going to beat me off.”

  He flexes toward me. The cop who’s been taking a mild interest in our exchange now shifts his stance. Minnow looks over, clenching his fists and then releasing before he stomps away angrily, looking like a kid when the barbershop’s out of lollipops.

  “Hey Minnow!” I call out. He stops and turns. “Tell Charles not to be such a sore sport. Every attorney gets substituted out of at least one case during his career. It’s unavoidable. But I’ll make sure he gets something fair out of this.”

  “I told you, I don’t work for Charles. Get that through your head, seeeee. And one last thing, this little meeting was between us. Got it?”

  “No, I don’t got it. You just threatened me with bodily harm—or maybe it was a hand job. I’m not certain. But, in either event, you’re trying to scare me away from taking over a legal case. I’m pretty sure your tactics would get a thumbs-down from the bar association. You see that building over there?” I say, pointing. “I’m going in there to tell a guy named Henry Benson about our little exchange. He’s going to be unhappy, and you know why? Because he has an interest in Cookie’s case, and most of the people he affiliates with are either in jail, on their way to jail, or just out of jail. Are you drinking my sake, kemosabe?”

  Minnow shakes his head. “Suit yourself,” he says. “You, Benson, whoever. You’ll all go down for taking part in it.”

  He resumes his departure while I watch intently, committing to memory every single aspect of him. Even so, I have to wonder: go down for taking part in what?

  Before taking another step, I call Henry.

  “Benson here,” he answers—on the third ring, as always.

  “I think we may have a problem with Cookie’s outgoing attorney.”

  “Who? Charles? Nice guy. What gives you that impression?”

  I didn’t anticipate this response. “You mean you spoke to him already?”