herself any longer.
“Yes, but what if you lose?” says Adam. “There are other issues, as I’m sure your lawyer has explained to you. And none of us here today would want to see you without some recompense.”
Margaret gives a mean stare and holds it on Dana, convinced, I am sure, that Adam does not speak for everybody in the room.
“The same is true with regard to you.” He turns to Dana. “I honestly don’t think that Nick would have wanted either of you to suffer.”
This draws an audible groan from Margaret. “Oh, spare us,” she says.
Tolt ignores this. “The fact is that none of us here today want to see either one of you in a position in which you are harmed. I think that if you consider the risks, and think about it for a while, you will agree with us.” For Margaret to arrive at this conclusion could take a couple of lifetimes.
Glendenin moves a little toward her client, puts one hand on Margaret’s arm, a gesture for her to calm down, to which she receives a contemptuous look from her own client. Then just as quickly Susan is back invading Melcher’s zone of privacy, leaving Margaret to drift in her sea of scorn.
“I hope that includes us?” says Conover. “I mean the part about nobody being harmed.”
“Absolutely.” Adam’s eyes twinkle as he gives this assurance. If nothing else, it provides a little comic relief.
“That’s reassuring,” says Conover smiling. “Of course we understand that we have an obligation to pay out,” he says. “The only problem is who do we pay?”
Margaret is still looking at Dana, contempt welded in her pupils, so I suspect my client would like to slide under the table. It’s not so much the money as the fact that Dana would get some of it that prevents Margaret from negotiating. She slides her chair back over on its wheels toward her lawyer and cups a hand to Susan’s ear, whispering into the funnel. Once having stated her bottom line to me, she is not likely to give ground. Having lost her marriage to Dana, she’s not now going to give up the policy with her name on it. This is written in her eyes as she whispers, so it doesn’t take a soothsayer to read this message: “Not a dime less than two million.” She glances at the door as I watch her. It wouldn’t take much to cause her to bolt. She knows we won’t get a second chance for a meeting with the carrier, short of litigation.
“Perhaps if we could get some movement, some direction,” says Conover. He looks over at Margaret still whispering to her lawyer. “Maybe if we could get one of the ladies to break the ice. Talk to her lawyer with an offer.”
Conover sits there staring directly at Margaret as he says this. She stops whispering in mid-syllable. His tactic is clear; drive a wedge between the women and sit on the two million while it earns interest at seven percent and they grind each other into dust in some courtroom.
He’s about to pop the question of compromise to Margaret, the grenade in the corner. Conover wants to pull the pin and get the hell out of here. I suspect the only reason he has come to this meeting is to humor Adam Tolt. No doubt Adam, in some other life, sits on corporate boards and otherwise rubs shoulders with Conover’s superiors back at the home office. Tolt is a man with an iron in everybody’s fire.
“That is precisely what I was hoping for.” The first words I have spoken in earnest. “Some movement,” I say.
“Is your client prepared to compromise her claim?” It comes from the lawyer, Melcher, who pounces like a panther.
“She is. She’s willing to give up half of it.”
“There we go,” says Conover. “Mrs. Rush,” he gestures toward Dana using the designation he knows will infuriate Margaret Rush, “is willing to give up a million dollars to settle this matter.” He makes it sound as if he’s soliciting applause at a charity bazaar.
“I didn’t say that. I said she’s willing to give up half.”
Over steepled fingers and with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, Adam has now settled back to watch this cat fight.
“In fact she’s willing to give up two million dollars,” I add.
“You mean she’s willing to step away from everything?” Conover gives me an incredulous look, as if to say, “then what are we doing here?”
“No. Just half,” I tell him.
He shakes his head, looks at his lawyer, who shrugs his shoulders, each trying to figure what they’ve missed.
“Explain,” he says.
“The total claim isn’t two million dollars,” I tell him. “It’s four million.”
“What are you talking about?” says Melcher.
“I’m talking about the double-indemnity clause.”
“What?” Melcher looks at his boss, shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, turning up the palms of his hands as if to say, “Who let the crazy guy in?” “Where have you been practicing?” says Melcher. “Not insurance law.”
“Mostly criminal,” I tell him.
“Ahh.” A look like “well that explains it.” “Double indemnity is only for accidental death.” He says this in a kind of gentle tone as if a mild education is all that is needed here. “This was a homicide,” he says. “A double homicide maybe, but not double indemnity.” He smiles a little at the pun he has made. “Mr. Rush was murdered, unless there’s something we haven’t been told.”
“That may be,” I tell. “Have you read the police report?”
“Somewhere,” says Melcher. He opens his briefcase and starts fishing.
“Let me save you the trouble, and so that you understand what I’m saying. Nick Rush may have been the victim of an intentional act. That we concede. But the question remains-was he the intended victim in that shooting or merely an innocent bystander- shot by accident? ” I emphasize the last three words.
“Oh, come on,” says Melcher. “You can’t be serious?”
Conover’s looking at his lawyer, wondering what the hell’s going on. This is not what he’d planned. A quick meeting and out the door, followed by several man-years of litigation while they turned the screws on the two women.
“I couldn’t be more serious. More to the point, there’s case law on the subject.”
Sheaves of paper, each neatly stapled, come sliding down the table from another direction. Harry is handing them out of a manila folder lying on the table in front of him like he’s dealing faro from a boxed deck. Copies of these slide in front of the lawyers and Conover.
“There is also a copy of the homicide investigation report. This concludes that the deceased Nicholas Rush was not the intended victim in this case, but that his client Gerald Metz was in all likelihood the target of the attack. This is based on the physical evidence at the scene, witness statements, and other evidence in the possession of the authorities, both state and federal. I commend it to your reading,” I tell them.
Harry sends copies of the police report down next so that Conover and his lawyer are still reading the first page of our legal points and authorities when the investigation report comes sliding in on top of it like a runner safe at home plate.
Now the lawyers are all flipping pages. Glendenin and Tolt are sitting back amused, as if they have no dog in this fight, while Conover looks at his lawyer, waiting for Melcher to pull a rabbit out of the fly to his pants.
“This is nothing. This means nothing,” says Melcher. He hasn’t had time to read past the first page but feels compelled by his boss’s presence to get his sword out of its sheath. “Your man was standing next to his client. Sure he was shot.”
“And your argument is?” I ask.
“His client was the intended victim. Says so right here.”
“I agree. That’s precisely what I’m saying.”
“No. No. No. No.” Melcher says it as if each time it adds to the weight of his argument. “You don’t understand,” he says. “The fact that your client was standing next to the intended victim doesn’t mean he was shot accidentally. I mean, he was representing the man. He was his lawyer.”
“What’s that mean?” says Harry. “Are you saying he assumed the risk?”
“Not exactly. Well, in a way,” says Melcher. “I mean this man. And no offense, ladies,” he looks at Dana, then
