phone message slip. “While we’re on the subject, you might want to call this guy.”
“Who is it?”
“Goodloe Stamm. Paula Finley’s divorce lawyer.”
“I don’t know a thing about divorce law, Rochelle.”
Rochelle gave an exaggerated look around the room, around the offices, and said, “They’re all gone. I guess you’d better learn fast.”
Stamm began with a sappy “Too bad about the verdict, but I really wasn’t surprised.”
“Nor was I,” David said tersely. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, first of all, how’s Mr. Finley?”
“Oscar’s fine. His heart attack was only two weeks ago today. He actually came to the office this morning for a few hours, and he’s making steady progress. I suppose you’re calling to ask about the Krayoxx litigation and hoping there might still be a chance of some fees coming our way. The answer, unfortunately for us, for our clients, and for Mrs. Finley as well, is that there is no prospect of making a dime off these cases. We are not going to appeal the Klopeck verdict. We are in the process of notifying all of our Krayoxx clients that we are withdrawing as counsel. We hocked the office to finance the trial, which cost us about $180,000 in cash. The senior partner is recovering from a heart attack and bypass surgery. The junior partner has taken a leave of absence. The firm is now being run by me and one secretary, who by the way knows a lot more about the law than I do. In case you’re curious about Mr. Finley’s assets, let me assure you that he has never been broker than he is right now. As I understand his offer to your client, he is willing to give her the house, all the furnishings, her car, half the cash in the bank, which was less than $5,000, in return for a simple, uncontested divorce. He just wants out, Mr. Stamm. I suggest you and your client take this offer before he changes his mind.”
Stamm digested this and finally said, “Well, I appreciate your candor.”
“Good. Here’s some more. On behalf of your felonious client Justin Bardall, you’ve filed a lawsuit against Oscar Finley for that unfortunate shooting incident. As I read the file, your client is headed back to prison for attempted arson. As I mentioned, Mr. Finley is quite broke. His insurance company is refusing coverage because it deems his actions intentional, as opposed to negligent. So, with no insurance coverage and no personal assets, Mr. Finley is judgment-proof. You cannot squeeze a nickel out of him. Your lawsuit is worthless.”
“What about the office building?”
“Heavily mortgaged. Look, Mr. Stamm, you cannot get a verdict, because your client is a twice-convicted felon who was caught in the act of trying to commit a crime. Extremely lousy jury appeal. But if you got lucky and got a verdict, Mr. Finley would file for bankruptcy the next day. You can’t touch him, you understand?”
“I get the picture.”
“We have nothing and we are hiding nothing. Please have a chat with Mrs. Finley and Mr. Bardall and explain this to them. I would love to close these files as soon as possible.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
CHAPTER 48
A week passed with no word from Sonesta Games. David watched the calendar and the clock. He fought the urge to dream of a quick settlement, and he dreaded the idea of filing a lawsuit in federal court against a large corporation. That treacherous road had just been traveled. At times he felt like the old Wally-lost in dreams of easy money.
The firm slowly returned to a routine that somewhat resembled the old days. Rochelle arrived at 7:30 each morning and enjoyed her quiet time with AC. David was next, then Wally, whose car had been towed during the drinking spree and was not damaged. Oscar rolled in around ten, delivered to the front door by his girlfriend, a charming lady who managed to impress even Rochelle. At some point each morning, Wally faced each of his colleagues and said, “Day 12 of sobriety.” Then Day 13, and so on. He received congratulations and encouragement and was once again proud of himself. He found an AA meeting almost every night somewhere in the city.
The phones were still ringing with calls from disgruntled Krayoxx clients, all of whom Rochelle routed to Wally and David. The ex-clients were generally subdued, even pitiful, as opposed to belligerent. They had been expecting money-what happened? The lawyers were apologetic and tended to blame things on some mysterious “federal jury” that had ruled in favor of the drug. The lawyers were also quick to point out that “it had been proven in court” that Krayoxx was safe. In other words, your lawsuit is gone but your heart is much healthier than you thought.
Similar conversations were being repeated across the country as dozens of high-flying lawyers backtracked from the drug. A lawyer in Phoenix filed a motion to dismiss four lawsuits involving clients allegedly killed by Krayoxx. His motion met a Rule 11 response straight from the Nadine Karros playbook. Varrick Labs demanded sanctions for the filing of the frivolous cases and provided detailed billing and expense records to prove it had spent over $8 million defending the lawsuits. With the mass tort lawyers in retreat, it soon became apparent that Varrick was in hot pursuit. The wars over Rule 11 sanctions would rage for months.
Ten days after the verdict, the FDA lifted its recall of Krayoxx, and Varrick flooded the market. Reuben Massey would quickly restock his cash reserves, and his first priority was to pound away at the mass tort bar over its mistreatment of his beloved drug.
E leven days after the verdict, and still no word from Aaron Deentz. The Hung Juror had taken a break from his blog, without an explanation. David had two thoughts about a prosecution for simple assault. First, if Deentz filed charges, he would run the risk of blowing his cover. Like many bloggers, he relished his anonymity and the freedom it allowed to say virtually anything. The fact that David knew who he was, and called him out right before he punched him, had to be unsettling. If Deentz pressed charges, he would be forced to appear in court and admit to being the Hung Juror. If he was really out of work and looking for a job, his blogging might haunt him. In the past two years, he had said terrible things about judges, lawyers, and law firms. On the other hand, he had been on the receiving end of two solid punches. David had not felt bones breaking, but there had to be damage, if only temporary. Since Deentz was a lawyer, he would probably insist on getting his day in court, and his revenge.
David had yet to tell Helen about the assault. He knew she would react with disfavor and she would worry about an arrest and prosecution. His plan was to tell her only if Deentz filed charges. In other words, he would tell her later, maybe. Then he had another idea. There was only one Aaron Deentz in the phone book, and late one afternoon David dialed his number. “Aaron Deentz, please,” David said.
“Speaking. Who is this?”
“David Zinc, here, Mr. Deentz, and I’m calling to apologize for my actions after the jury’s verdict. I was upset, angry, and I acted rashly.”
A pause, then, “You broke my jaw.”
At first, there was a flash of macho pride in the fact that he could throw a punch with such ferocity, but all bravado vanished when David thought about a civil lawsuit for personal injuries. “Again, I apologize, and I certainly did not intend to break anything or cause bodily harm.”
Deentz’s next response was most revealing. He asked, “How did you learn my identity?”
So, he was afraid of being exposed. David fudged a little by saying, “I have a cousin who’s a geek. Took him twenty-four hours. You shouldn’t post at the same time each day. Sorry about the jaw. I’m willing to cover your medical expenses.” He made this offer because he was compelled to, but he flinched at the thought of another outlay of cash.
“Are you trying to offer a deal, Zinc?”
“Sure. I’ll cover your medicals, and you agree not to press charges or pursue damages.”
“You’re worried about an assault charge?”
“Not really. If I have to defend myself for the assault, I’ll make sure the judge sees some of your comments, and I doubt he’ll be impressed. Judges despise blogs like yours. Judge Seawright followed it daily and was furious, thought it might affect the case if any of the jurors stumbled across it. His clerks were trying to learn the identity of the Hung Juror.” David was spinning this wild fiction on the fly, but it had a legitimate ring to it.
“Have you told anyone?” Deentz asked. David couldn’t tell if he was timid, scared, or just dealing with a
