16.
When I got to work the elevators were down. Firemen slogged about the lobby, heavy with rubber clothes, oxygen tanks, large axes. Bomb scare, someone said.
A sign from God. Fuck the Lockwood hearing. I’d call the court. Plead natural disaster. Unforeseen contingency. Death and destruction. Lower back pain.
I called the other side. Pled my case. They agreed to an adjournment. We called the judge’s clerk.
No problem, he said.
It worked.
I was free.
I figured I’d drop by FitzGibbon’s office. See what I could see.
I grabbed a cab to the Consolidated Can building.
The cab smelled of stale cigarettes, and distress.
I negotiated the three security checkpoints. I found myself on the thirty-third floor. FitzGibbon was in.
The salsa guy was there, sitting like a stiff in his usual spot.
Furniture. It comes in all shapes and sizes.
FitzGibbon was leaning back in his chair, feet on the desk. He had on a pair of what looked to be very expensive snakeskin boots. And a seersucker suit. I hadn’t seen one since New Orleans.
I told him about my talk with Jules.
FitzGibbon didn’t ask me how Jules was. He didn’t ask me whether there was anything he could do to help.
Instead he leaned forward, looked me in the eye, and said, Hey, as if the thought had just occurred to him, you don’t think he’s innocent, do you?
I tried not to look too surprised.
It’s not my job to make that judgment, I said.
He leaned back in his chair.
I admire that, he said. I really do.
Well, I said. I’m doing my job.
Mmm, he said, and looked off into the distance.
He leaned forward again. Gave me a long and searching look. Didn’t say a thing.
The guy was not normal.
Or maybe he was trying to get me rattled. Sizing me up. See how I handled it.
Either way, I decided not to push the envelope, yet. Probably not prudent. To alienate the firm’s biggest client, fishing for dirt.
I’d like to come back and talk to you some more, I said. After I’ve got a little more information. I want to dig around a bit.
Sure, he said, the toothy smile growing larger. Anything for a lowlife.
I returned the smile.
There was another long pause.
You look a bit like Harrison Ford, he said.
Ah, I said. Thank you.
I wasn’t sure it had been intended as a compliment, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. All I could think about was how to get the hell out of there. Before things got even weirder.
It’s been a pleasure, I said, and got up to leave.
But it wasn’t going to be that easy.
Redman, he said as I reached the door.
I turned around.
I assume you’ve got some good Trusts and Estates people?
New business, I thought, switching to rainmaker mode. This could be going somewhere. Maybe Warwick had been right.
Sure, I said. We’re a full-service shop.
I’ve got a little something I’d like somebody to take a look at.
Just give me an idea what it’s about, I said, so I can set you up with the right people.
I was thinking of Dorita. T amp; E was her specialty.
Well, he said, it’s a little delicate. But I guess you’re my lawyer, right? Attorney-client privilege and all that?
Strictly speaking Jules is my client. Though of course you’re paying the bills.
Are you sure? he said, looking none too pleased.
There’s no reason you can’t be my client too, I said. So long as there’s no conflict.
Conflict? Why would there be a conflict?
I don’t know. It depends on what it is.
Let me tell you, he said, just between you and me.
I wasn’t sure that it could be just between him and me. For one thing, Mr. Hairdo was in the room. But I let him talk.
You know that Jules and I haven’t always got along.
Yes, I said. I think you mentioned that.
I took him out of my will.
So I understand.
You don’t judge me for that, do you?
It’s not my job to judge, I said, truthfully.
I have my reasons. If you knew them, you wouldn’t judge me.
I’m not judging you, I said, not entirely truthfully.
I was, in fact, judging him. But I promised myself not to bill him for the time.
The thing is, he said, he’s got some trusts. From his grandfather.
I had wondered how Jules could afford a loft in Manhattan. I’d put it down to rent control.
Your wife’s father? I asked.
He got that vacant look again. He looked at Mr. Hairdo. Mr. Hairdo looked back. If something was communicated between them, I sure didn’t know what it was.
FitzGibbon turned back to me.
Mine, he said. Dad felt guilty, at the end, I guess. He left us some money. Put some in trust for the future grandchildren.
Ah.
Very substantial trusts.
Ah.
The income isn’t much. But when Jules turns twenty-five, he gets the capital.
I see.
It bothers me.
It bothers you.
Yes. I’d like to talk to somebody about it.
I was starting to get the picture.
Well, I said, that would seem to present a pretty stark conflict.
How so? he asked obstinately.
Jules is my client, as I said, even if you’re paying. And what you’re talking about certainly doesn’t sound like it’s in my client’s interest.
His face darkened.
It’s for his own good. The kid’s never going to come to anything as long as he can suck off grandpa’s tit.
Ignoring the bizarre metaphor, I stuck to my guns.
That may well be true, I said. I don’t doubt you. But that’s not a judgment I can make. Like I said, I’m not in
