'Well, I suppose we weren't inclined to depart this city for any amount of money'
It sounded like a lovely sentiment, and we both nodded in acknowledgment. Of course, all the money they wanted was in the city.
She added, 'But I think Calhoun didn't want to go through the clerking or associate phase of law. He was a hungry man, ambitious and quite impatient. He decided that if he opened his own practice, he could jump ahead of everybody.'
Hoping to get us out of this pit of nostalgia, I commented, 'I would think he needed partners.'
She looked at me a moment. 'You're right, Mr. Drummond. And he knew just the right man… the top man of his law class, in fact.'
I pointed in the direction of the framed picture. 'Phillip Fineberg.'
'Yes… Phillip.'
'Good choice.'
She did not acknowledge that judgment, and instead sipped from her sherry and studied the ceiling.
She remarked, 'It was… well, an uneven relationship at first.'
'Because Fineberg was Jewish?'
She nodded. 'We were always more progressive than Selma, but it was… in those days, in this city, complicated to be Sephardic. A lot of business occurs on golf courses and at social events, and Phillip didn't- You understand, don't you?'
We understood. I also understood that a man with Calhoun's background and conservative leanings didn't partner with a social pariah to correct a racial injustice, or as an act of generosity
Anyway, we listened as she prattled on about how Calhoun carried Fineberg on his strong back, the local boy with all the right stuff, schmoozing and boozing, roping in clients by the boatload. And it worked-Barnes and Fine, the title the partners delicately chose for their firm, became highly regarded, successful, and prosperous, in that order.
The chemistry between the founding partners was flawed, and often strained, but greed was the aphrodisiac. Calhoun hauled home the fish, and Fineberg gutted and filleted them, from the backroom, hidden behind his truncated name. The footwork, the research, the briefs, and court preparation fell on Fineberg's brilliant shoulders, and Calhoun was the courtroom shark, racking up victories, hammering witnesses, earning quite the local name as a brainy brawler. Interestingly, Fineberg never once set foot in a courtroom except to deliver a late filing or to help Calhoun haul his thick briefcases back and forth.
It was an intriguing tale with all the makings of a good tragedy, and you sensed where this might be going, but Mrs. Barnes suddenly looked up and said, slightly surprised, 'Your glass appears empty, Mr. Drummond. Would you be so kind as to refill both our containers?'
So I did.
At the bar, I turned to her and asked, perhaps undiplomatically, 'By the way, what happened to your legs?'
She glanced at me. 'My legs are fine.'
'I'm sorry. I thought-'
'You thought wrong. My back was broken.'
'Oh, well, I'm sorry How?'
'An automobile accident.'
'I see.'
I handed her the glass and she immediately took a long gulp of sherry. Eventually, she exhaled deeply and said, 'I suppose you're wondering about the rumors?'
'Exactly.' I had not a clue what she was talking about.
She stared into her drink and swirled it around a moment. 'It's true that Calhoun drove that night. We never denied that.'
Jennie tried to catch up and asked Mrs. Barnes, 'Could we go back to the beginning?'
'The beginning? Yes… that would be spring, 1975, a few months after our son was born. I don't recall the evening overly well. But that sounds a little odd, doesn't it? I mean, you'd think…'
Whatever you'd think she let drift off. 'We were at the country club,' she continued, 'celebrating with a client. Calhoun's firm had won a rather sizable settlement. We were driving home when it happened.' She looked at me and added, I thought oddly 'But I've never blamed Calhoun.'
Jennie asked, 'The accident-the police investigated?'
'Calhoun found his way to a phone and he called the hospital and the police.'
'And the police came?'
'Yes. An officer arrived shortly before the ambulance'
'And did he do an investigation?'
'There was no need for that, at all. The night was rainy, our car simply lost its traction and. hit a tree. Nobody was injured. No property was damaged.'
'You were injured.'
She hesitated, then said, 'The officer knew Calhoun. He spared us that indignity and inconvenience.'
I noted, 'Your insurance company wouldn't regard it as an indignity. The repairs… your medical treatments- who paid?'
'Us… of course.' I suppose we both looked surprised by that revelation, because she explained, 'My husband was highly principled, Mr. Drummond. It would have been improper to make somebody else pay for a mistake he regarded as entirely his own.'
I wasn't sure how we got waylaid on this particular tangent, which appeared, on the surface, to have no bearing to our investigation. Yet some instinct told me it was relevant, possibly even important. Another instinct told me she was lying, or, at the least, withholding an important piece from this tale, and it wasn't hard to guess what it was. I said, 'Mrs. Barnes, if your husband was intoxicated, he was a menace to the public, and his behavior was possibly criminal.'
She looked at me a moment. 'I did not say Calhoun was drunk.'
'Was he?'
'Well, there was not such anxiety in those years about drinking and driving. It really wasn't-'
'Answer my question.'
'Calhoun's friend- The officer recognized we had suffered enough. He-'
'Was or was not your husband intoxicated?'
'Calhoun always held his liquor well.' She paused, then added tersely 'I have no idea why you're asking these questions. I hardly see how they pertain to what you're here to investigate.'
I looked at Jennie. She turned to Mrs. Barnes, as if nothing amiss had been said, and asked, 'This happened when? A few months after your son's birth? Right?'
'Yes. There were unfortunate complications… internal injuries, and… well, further babies became beyond our means.'
An interesting way to put it. I mentioned, 'That must've been difficult for you.'
'Oh no, Mr. Drummond. I think our difficulties would have been magnified greatly with another baby.'
'Because you were in a wheelchair?'
'I was bedridden for several years. More operations, rehabilitation clinics, and so forth. Then came the wheelchair.'
Jennie said, 'Yes. It would've been hard enough just raising… I apologize… your son's name?'
'Jason… Jason Nathan. Fortunately, Calhoun was an extraordinary father, very attentive, very active in Jason's life. They were exceedingly close.'
Jennie commented, 'That's unusual.'
'Unusual?'
'A professional man raising an infant, in those years…'
Clearly we had tripped over some hidden wire in her psychic security system, because she raised an eyebrow and interrupted, 'Why are you interested in that?'
'We're not,' I insisted. 'What happened to the firm?'
'I do not believe I'm ready to answer that.' She looked at me and asked, 'Exactly what are you two doing
