A Dead Sister (Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery) (14 page)

CHAPTER 10

The offices of Canady, Holmes, Winston and Klein were everything you might expect of a Vault-ranked top-100 law firm. Located in a mega-city, they managed big deals and solved problems for members of the power elite. Given the firm’s location, there was an entertainment industry bent to their work although what garnered most of the publicity was their high profile criminal cases. Many of those cases were honchoed by Paul Worthington who had achieved junior partner status in near-record time after joining the firm right out of Stanford Law school.

Occupying a dozen floors of an historic building in downtown LA, the firm employed over two hundred lawyers plus many more staff members. They had a presence statewide, with offices in San Diego, San Francisco, and, of course Sacramento, the state capitol. They also operated smaller offices in wealthy enclaves like the one they were opening in the desert.

The LA “shop” had all of the glitz and glamour portrayed in TV shows like “The Good Wife.” Gleaming brass, expensive wood polished to show off gorgeous grains, fine art prints, and richly upholstered fabrics. Richly detailed conference rooms featured leather chairs and gleaming wood tables.
Expanses of windows offered views of the city.

Even the elevators were stunning, Jessica noted, as she rode with Paul from one floor to another.
The floors she visited with him housed the more senior members of the firm along with the waiting rooms, offices and conference rooms where they brought clients. Things were likely to be considerably less glamorous behind the scenes, where staff and newly minted lawyers hung out. Many would occupy cubicles with standard-issue desks and file cabinets, not meriting an office with four walls or a window. Those who supervised the work of others no doubt had private space, at least. Their offices were probably furnished with wood desks and leather chairs. But it would not be an “exotic” wood, nor would the leather be as fine-grained as that on the chair she occupied in Paul Worthington’s office. The view behind Paul was stunning, with windows on two sides of the elegantly contrived space.

He looked at ease. Jessica wondered, once again, about the amount of time and attention he was devoting to her. The practice of big law was always in a state of flux, but maybe more now than ever. The Great Recession had taken its toll on all sorts of firms at all levels of practice, and in most every area of the law. Only about half the graduates from law school last year had landed any kind of law job. Big law firms drew from the top ten or twenty percent of students in their class, at the top ten or twenty law schools in the country. Even those firms had begun to recruit fewer students. Some deferred hiring or even cut loose students to whom they had already made offers.

Law school graduates hired by major firms were rewarded with high starting salaries and the promise of making a ton more as their careers took off. A heady sense of having arrived was common among newcomers to big law. Mega-deals, though, meant mega-mounds of documents and data to review. Tens of thousands, even on occasion, a million pages, according to Jim, who reveled in the challenges of the mega-deal.

Jessica had a good idea of what that meant. Even at a smaller, more specialized firm, she had done her time in “document review hell.” Given her obsessive nature, and eye for detail, she had excelled at the task. She also had a talent for being able to scan documents, sifting through volumes of data to find the few facts that mattered. In particular, those that might make or break a project or win a case.

Despite the allure of the high life, fear or a close cousin dread, was commonplace in big law. Mega-deals were risky and mega-failure was a terrifying prospect. Keeping up with expectations to achieve 2000 billable hours a year, on top of all the other demands in big law firms, required a lot of sacrifice. Often referred to as the “misery index,” it was the dark side of the high life. The mega-firm, and even a lot of smaller, boutique firms were 24/7 operations, thanks to modern technology. Clients who paid as much as a $1000 per hour to elite lawyers expected to get attention from someone whenever they wanted it. Harried junior associates often fielded those late night calls, shielding higher-ups from meltdowns by clients facing make-or-break legal outcomes.

Expectations of round-the-clock availability had begun to “trickle down” to smaller firms, and even solo practitioners could pay dearly if they didn’t pick up their phone when a client called, or worse, didn’t call back at an agreed upon time. In the legal profession, there was no room for a “slacker” mentality. That was true, at least, for anyone wanting a practice not run out of the trunk of their car or a Starbucks coffee shop. Though lawyers generally held themselves and their chosen profession in high regard, day-to-day life for many was more on par with a sweat shop.

Canady, Holmes, Winston and Klein churned like a perpetual motion machine. Everywhere she went with Paul that day, there was incessant activity. No slacker in sight with everyone hustling and bustling, phones ringing and being answered on the first or second ring. The misery index must be relatively low at Canady et al. She spotted no hint of the existential angst that gripped many inhabitants in such rarified environments. The faces Jessica had encountered fairly glowed, lit from within by that can-do spirit, as bright as the California sunshine.

Jessica found herself emulating them, smiling back confidently, swept up by the almost pathological optimism of the place. She shook hands and exchanged niceties with a sizeable cast of characters, mostly at or below the same rank as Paul Worthington. They were deferential to Paul without being sycophants. They also showed an appropriate level
of curiosity about Jessica with no expression of fear or loathing about the intrusion of this new competitor onto their hard-won turf.

The word may have
already spread that she was being hired into an office in the desert resort cities. That’s what Paul told them when he introduced her. She was not likely to be perceived as much of a threat. At least, not by those who loped through the expanses of the main floors at the firm. There might be more junior members hidden away in the dark recesses of document review hell or equally unglamorous nooks and crannies of the firm who coveted a foothold in the new ground being broken in Palm Desert. The desert was the antithesis of the sought-after mega-city habitat. No one “on the make” in big law would want to be too far from that center of action.

An ambitious newcomer might well perceive an office in the desert as the Gulag. Jessica could live with that. In fact, she preferred to think she wasn’t stepping on anyone’s toes. She loved the scaled down life she led in the desert and already felt a twinge of homesickness. It was fine with her if Palm Springs and the surrounding area served as a playground where LA go-getters came to rest up between scrimmages. Dropping wads of cash into resort city coffers, the desert area was disproportionately blessed by amenities not found in communities of similar size. The arrangement proposed by Paul suited her just fine.

By 4:00, when Jessica and Paul settled in to the plush privacy of the conference room in Paul’s office suite, Jessica was ready for the espresso he offered her. Arranging to meet at 2:00 had been a great idea. She had not only completed the tour but signed her contract and had been given a copy for her records. She also picked up the business cards printed for her, along with a key card to gain access to the on-site parking garage for future visits to the LA office. The key card also allowed her to enter the building after hours or on weekends, should she need to do so. Information about the firm’s structure and organization, a brochure about employee benefits, the latest annual report, and an eloquently succinct account of the firms’ history were provided in a hand-tooled leather portfolio with the firm’s logo etched on it.

Paul had also given her a bit of background about the couple she was about to meet. This archetypal LA couple, he a plastic surgeon and she an executive at a public relations firm, was well-off and ready for retirement. They owned a house in Pacific Palisades, a condo in Maui, and an impressive portfolio of stocks and bonds, mostly in IRAs and 401ks, as well as substantial savings in cash accounts. Once Nick
Van der Woert divested himself of his share of the clinic he owned and operated with several other surgeons, they stood to increase their liquidity considerably. They had few debts or liabilities, having paid off the mortgage on their house in Pacific Palisades, and purchased the condo in Maui outright. Their one child, Elizabeth Van der Woert, about the same age as Jessica, was out on her own, although it wasn’t clear how she was supporting herself.

As Paul had indicated, their daughter was the reason they had first contacted the firm. In true Hollywood party-girl fashion, she was arrested and charged with vehicular homicide after being involved in a serious automobile collision. The accident left her with minor injuries but the passenger in her car was killed. Elizabeth Van der Woert and her dead passenger were both “under the influence” at the time of the accident. The firm had been able to keep the report about her level of intoxication out of court based on some procedural error committed by the officers at the scene. Without evidence of gross negligence, the charges were reduced to involuntary manslaughter. By also getting a previous DUI expunged from her record, the firm had seen to it that she was given probation rather being incarcerated. Loyal clients for life after that, they had been invited to investigate what else the firm might do for them. That was two years ago, and here they were ready to forge ahead.

When the Van der Woerts arrived, the doubts that had been dogging Jessica vanished. She liked both of them instantly. They soon found, despite the difference in ages, that they had a number of acquaintances in common. Mostly people Jessica knew because of her father’s business or charitable activities. She was also able to converse knowledgably about life in the desert. They discussed the rhythms of the “season” in the desert and events on the charity circuit, initiating the conversation they needed to have about the causes and concerns that interested them.

Thanks to Paul, the Van der Woerts already knew that Jessica had excelled in her coursework at Stanford, a top ranked law school, and had passed the bar exam on her first attempt. They also knew she had sought out and been hired by a mid-size firm that accommodated her interest in environmental law. It was her expertise regarding environmental issues that had most interested them, given their desire to create a legacy around such matters.

Jessica spoke about experience gained at that firm and elsewhere, including two clinics sponsored by Stanford Law where she handled a broader range of legal matters. She didn’t add that, as a trust-baby, she had grown up learning about wills, trusts, and foundations. The Huntington and Baldwin families had both engaged Jessica in family business meetings once she turned twelve. They briefly discussed a range of options that they might use to protect and preserve their assets, convey gifts and bequests. Jessica admitted that, like most lawyers, she had never gone to trial, although she had been inside courtrooms or at the bench for pretrial proceedings on many occasions. Her role was to ensure that her clients never got into the kind of trouble that required litigation.

Their freewheeling conversation carried them along so pleasantly that they were all a little surprised by the arrival of the limo driver who would take them to dinner. Paul had made a 6:30 reservation at Providence, noted for their seafood, Nick Van der Woert’s favorite. Like their meet-and-greet at Canady et al., the rest of their evening was thoroughly enjoyable: good food, wine and conversation. After the Van der Woerts said good bye, Paul and Jessica lingered at the restaurant. They ordered a brandy and debriefed.

“That went well, Jessica. Here’s to what I hope will be a long and prosperous association between us.” Jessica raised her glass and, after a little clink, took a sip.

“And, to you, Paul, for giving me this chance, I do not take it for granted.”

“Let’s just say the timing was right for both of us. I like you, Jessica, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, as a person, as well as a colleague.”

“The timing is not so good on that front, I’m afraid. I feel way more ready for lift-off when it comes to my career than I do when it comes to sharing my personal life with anyone. I need a year to clear my head and decide if I’m ever going to be serious girlfriend material again, much less a wife or mother. I haven’t had much luck on either of those fronts. Where did I go wrong? I thought I was in love, and he loved me, or so it seemed. Then, I find him in a very compromising situation with a Hollywood celeb who, by the way, I stumbled upon making a scene on Rodeo Drive yesterday. I didn’t have a clue about the guy I was married to for years. I’m still angry enough to kill him at times, although I think the new woman in his life may do that for me!” Jessica stopped talking to take a breath. It was like a dam had broken and all the concerns she had been harboring about how to manage her relationship with Paul had surged in a deluge of disclosure that might or might not have been relevant to Paul’s statement.

“Yeah, I know who and what you’re talking about. The media has been having a field day with her, and, of course, Jim doesn’t come off looking too great. You actually saw that?”

“That’s my luck lately. There’s a fiasco going on somewhere, and I’m right there in the middle of it. Here’s part of my problem, Paul. My ex is an obvious ass. He’s making a damn fool of himself, and I still feel sorry for him. Even worse, I start wondering what on earth
I
might have done to push him into the arms of that monster. That tells me I’m not even solidly on the rebound yet. I’m just praying I’ve got my act together enough not to let you down as a colleague. Case in point, the worst thing I could be doing right now is talking about my ex and my divorce. I’m sorry, Paul, you deserve better. How come you haven’t married, if you don’t mind my asking?”