The Litigators (22 page)

Basic indeed. Iris was talking about one of Percy’s old hernias.

David’s role was limited. He was there as a warm body, a real lawyer taking up space, but with little to do but scribble and read. He was reviewing an FDA study on lead poisoning in children.

Occasionally, Wally would politely say, “Objection. Calls for conclusion.”

The lovely Ms. Karros would stop and wait to make sure Wally was finished, then she would say, “You may answer, Ms. Klopeck.” And by then, Iris would tell her all she wanted to hear.

Judge Seawright’s strict two-hour time limit was obeyed. Ms. Karros asked her last question at 10:58, then graciously thanked Iris for being such a good witness. Iris was going for her purse where the Xanax was kept. Wally walked her to the door and assured her she had done a superb job.

“When do you think they’ll want to settle?” she whispered.

Wally put a finger to his lips and shoved her out.

Next up was Millie Marino, widow of Chester and stepmother of Lyle, the inheritor of the baseball card collection and Wally’s initial
source of information about Krayoxx. Millie was forty-nine, attractive, somewhat fit, reasonably well dressed, and apparently unmedicated, a far cry from the last witness. She was there for her depo, but she was still not a believer in the lawsuit. She and Wally were still bickering over her late husband’s estate. She was still threatening to pull out of the lawsuit and find another lawyer. Wally had offered to guarantee, in writing, a million-dollar settlement.

Ms. Karros asked the same questions. Wally made the same objections. David read the same memo and thought, Only six more after this one.

A
fter a quick lunch, the lawyers reconvened for the deposition of Adam Grand, the assistant manager of an all-you-can-eat pizza house whose mother had died the previous year after taking Krayoxx for two years. (It was the same pizza house Wally now frequented, but only to secretly leave copies of his “Beware of Krayoxx!” brochures in the restrooms.)

Nadine Karros took a break, and her number two, Luther Hotchkin, handled the deposition. Nadine, though, apparently loaned him her questions because he asked the same ones.

During his insufferable career at Rogan Rothberg, David had heard many tales about the boys in litigation. The litigators were a breed apart, wild men who gambled with huge sums of money, took enormous risks, and lived on the edge. In every large law firm, the litigation section was the most colorful and filled with the biggest characters and egos. That was the urban legend anyway. Now, as he glanced occasionally across the table at the solemn faces of his adversaries, he had serious doubts about the legend. Nothing he had ever experienced in his career was as monotonous as sitting through depositions. And this was only his third one. He almost missed the drudgery of plodding through the financial records of obscure Chinese corporations.

Ms. Karros was taking a break, but she missed nothing. This early
round of depositions was nothing more than a little contest, a pageant to provide her and her client the opportunity to meet and examine the eight contestants and select a winner. Could Iris Klopeck withstand the rigors of an intense two-week trial? Probably not. She was stoned during her depo, and Nadine had two associates already working on her medical records. On the other hand, some jurors might have great sympathy for her. Millie Marino would make an impressive witness, but her husband, Chester, could potentially have the strongest link to heart disease and death.

Nadine and her team would finish the depos, watch them again and again, and slowly eliminate the better ones. They and their experts would continue to dissect the medical records of the eight “victims” and eventually select the one with the weakest claim. When they picked their winner, they would race to court with a thick, cold-blooded, and well-reasoned motion to separate. They would ask Judge Seawright to take the single case they wanted, place it on his Rocket Docket, and clear all obstacles between it and a trial by jury.

M
inutes after 6:00 p.m., David bolted from the Marriott and almost ran to his car. He was punch-drunk and needed his lungs full of cold air. Leaving downtown, he stopped at a Starbucks in a strip mall and ordered a double espresso. Two doors down was a party store that advertised costumes and favors, and, as had become his habit, he wandered over for a look. No party store was safe from him, or Helen, these days. They were searching for a set of Nasty Teeth, in the wrapper, with names of corporations in fine print. This one had the usual inventory of cheap costumes, gag gifts, decorations, glitter, toys, wrapping paper. There were several sets of vampire teeth, made in Mexico and sold by a company called Mirage Novelties of Tucson.

He was familiar with Mirage, even had a small file on the company. Privately owned, sales last year of $18 million, most of its products along the same lines of what David was now inspecting. He had
files on dozens of companies that specialized in cheap toys and gadgets, and his research was growing daily. What he had not found was another set of Nasty Teeth.

He paid three bucks for a set of fangs, to add to his growing collection, then drove to the Brickyard Mall, where he met Helen at a Lebanese restaurant. Over dinner, he refused to describe his day—the same ordeal was planned for tomorrow—so they chatted about her classes and, not surprisingly, the coming addition to their family.

Lakeshore Children’s Hospital was nearby. They found the ICU, then found Soe Khaing in a visitors’ room. He had relatives with him, and introductions were made, though neither David nor Helen caught a single name. The Burmese were visibly touched that the Zincs would stop by and say hello.

Thuya’s condition had changed little in the past month. The day after their visit to the family’s apartment, David had contacted one of the doctors. After he e-mailed the paperwork signed by Soe and Lwin, the doctor was willing to talk. The boy’s outlook was bleak. The level of lead in his body was highly toxic, with substantial damage to his kidneys, liver, nervous system, and brain. He was in and out of consciousness. If he survived, it would take months or years to gauge the level of impaired brain activity. Normally, though, with this much lead, children did not survive.

David and Helen followed Soe down the hall, past a nurse’s station, and to a window where they could see Thuya strapped to a small bed and hooked to an astonishing assortment of tubes, lines, and monitors. His breathing was aided by a respirator.

“I touch him once a day. He hear me,” Soe said, then wiped the moisture from his cheeks.

David and Helen stared through the window but could think of nothing to say.

A
nother aspect of big-firm life that David had learned to despise was the endless meetings. Meetings to evaluate and review, to discuss the firm’s future, to plan everything, to greet new lawyers, to say good-bye to old ones, to stay current on the law, to mentor rookies, to get mentored by senior partners, to talk about compensation, labor issues, and an endless list of other incredibly boring topics. The Rogan Rothberg culture was nonstop work and nonstop billing, but there were so many useless meetings that the making of money was actually often impeded.

With that in mind, David reluctantly suggested his new firm have a meeting. He’d been there four months and had settled into a comfortable routine. He was worried, though, about the lack of civility and communication among the other members of the firm. The Krayoxx litigation was dragging on. Wally’s dreams of a quick jackpot were fading, and revenue was down. Oscar was increasingly more irritable, if that was possible. In gossiping with Rochelle, David learned that the partners never sat around the table to think strategically and to air complaints.

Oscar said he was too busy. Wally said such a meeting was a waste. Rochelle thought the idea was awful until she realized she would be invited, then she became enamored with the idea. As the only non-lawyer employee, she thought the idea of being allowed a soapbox was
appealing. With time, David was able to cajole the senior and junior partners, and Finley & Figg scheduled its inaugural firm meeting.

They waited until 5:00 p.m., then locked the front door and put the phones on hold. After a few awkward moments, David said, “Oscar, as the senior partner, I think you should run the meeting.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Oscar shot back.

“Glad you asked,” David said as he quickly passed around an agenda. Number 1: Fee Schedule. Number 2: Case Review. Number 3: Filing. Number 4: Specialization.

“This is just a suggestion,” David said. “Frankly, I don’t care what we talk about, but it’s important for each of us to be able to unload.”

“You spent too much time in a big firm,” Oscar said.

“So what’s bugging you?” Wally asked David.

“Nothing’s bugging me. It’s just that I think we could do a better job of keeping our fees uniform and reviewing each other’s cases. The filing system is twenty years out of date, and as a firm we’re not going to make money if we don’t specialize.”

“Well, speaking of money,” Oscar said, picking up a notepad. “Since we filed these Krayoxx cases, our gross has declined for three straight months. We’re spending far too much time on those cases, and our cash is getting low. That’s what’s bugging me.” He was staring at Wally.

“The payoff’s coming,” Wally said.

“That’s what you keep saying.”

“We’ll settle the Groomer car wreck next month and net around twenty grand. It’s not unusual to go through a dry period, Oscar. Hell, you’ve been doing this a long time. You know the ups and downs. Last year we lost money nine months outta twelve, and we still showed a nice profit.”

There was a loud knock on the front door. Wally jumped to his feet and said, “Oh no, it’s DeeAnna. Sorry, guys, I told her to take the day off.” He raced to the door and opened it. She made her entrance—skintight black leather pants, hooker’s heels, tight cotton sweater. Wally
said, “Hey, honey, we’re having a little meeting. What say you wait in my office?”

“How long?” she asked.

“Not long.”

DeeAnna smiled like a tart at Oscar and David as she strutted by. Wally led her to his office and closed her inside. He sat down at the table, slightly embarrassed.

“Know what’s bugging me?” Rochelle asked. “Her.” She nodded toward Wally’s office. “Why does she have to stop by every afternoon?”

“You used to see clients after five,” Oscar jumped in. “Now you’re just locked in there with her.”

“She’s not bothering anyone,” Wally said. “And not so loud.”

“She bothers me,” Rochelle said.

Wally raised both palms, arched his eyebrows, and was instantly ready for a brawl. “Look, she and I are getting serious, and it’s none of your business. Got that? I’m not going to discuss it further.”

There was a pause as everyone took a breath, then Oscar launched another round. “I suppose you’ve told her about Krayoxx and the big settlement that’s just around the corner, so it’s not surprising she’s hanging around. Right?”

“I don’t talk about your women, Oscar,” Wally fired back. Women? More than one? Rochelle’s eyes widened, and David remembered all the good reasons for hating firm meetings. Oscar glared at Wally in disbelief for several seconds. Both men appeared stunned at their exchange.

“Let’s move along,” David said. “I’d like permission to study our fee structure and attempt to come up with a proposed schedule that will aim for uniformity. Any objections?”

There were none.

On a roll, David quickly passed around some sheets of paper. “This is a case I’ve stumbled across, and it has great potential.”

“Nasty Teeth?” Oscar said, looking at a color photo of the collection.

“Yep. The client is a five-year-old boy in a coma from lead poisoning.
His father purchased this set of teeth and fangs last Halloween, and the kid kept them in his mouth for hours. The various paint colors are loaded with lead. Page 3 is a preliminary report from a lab in Akron where one Dr. Biff Sandroni examined the teeth. His conclusion is at the bottom—all six sets of plastic teeth are coated with lead. Dr. Sandroni is an expert on lead poisoning, and he says this is one of the worst products he’s come across in the last twenty-five years. He thinks the teeth were probably made in China and imported by one of the many low-end toy companies here in the States. Chinese factories have a terrible history of coating a million different products with lead paint. The Food and Drug Administration and the Bureau of Consumer Protection scream and order recalls, but it’s impossible to monitor everything.”

Rochelle, looking at the same handout as Oscar and Wally, said, “That poor child. Is he gonna make it?”

“The doctors think not. There’s substantial damage to his brain, nervous system, and many of his organs. If he lives, he’ll be a very sad sight.”

“Who’s the manufacturer?” Wally asked.

“That’s the big question. I’ve been unable to find another set of Nasty Teeth in Chicago, and Helen and I have been poking around for a month. Nothing online. Nothing in suppliers’ catalogs. So far, no clue. It’s possible that the product shows up at Halloween only. The family did not keep the package.”

“There must be similar products,” Wally said. “I mean, if the company makes crap like this, then surely it makes crap like fake mustaches and such.”

“That’s my theory. I’m accumulating a nice collection of similar items, and I’m researching the importers and manufacturers.”

“Who paid for this report?” Oscar asked, suspiciously.

“I did. Twenty-five hundred bucks.”

This caused a gap in the conversation as all four looked at the report. Finally, Oscar asked, “Have the parents signed a contract with our firm?”

“No. They’ve signed a contract with me so I could get the medical records and begin the investigation. They’ll sign one with the firm if I ask them to. The question is simply this: Does Finley & Figg take this case? If the answer is yes, then we need to spend some money.”

“How much?” Oscar asked.

“The next step is to hire Sandroni’s outfit to go into the apartment where the boy and his family live and look for lead. It could be in other toys, paint on the walls that’s chipping, even in the drinking water. I’ve been to the apartment, and it’s at least fifty years old. Sandroni needs to isolate the source of the lead. He’s fairly confident we have the source, but he wants to exclude everything else.”