We nod in unison. I’m counting and spending my fortune. Deck, no doubt, is doing the same.
“Are we ready for tomorrow?” Bruiser asks me. We argue Great Benefit’s motion to dismiss at nine in the morning before the Honorable Harvey Hale. Bruiser has had one unpleasant conversation with the judge about the motion, and we’re not looking forward to the hearing.
“I think so,” I reply with a nervous twinge. I prepared and filed a thirty-page rebuttal brief, then Drummond and company fired back a counter-rebuttal brief. Bruiser called Hale to object, and the conversation went badly.
“I might let you handle some of the argument, so be ready,” Bruiser says. I swallow hard. The twinge turns into panic.
“Get to work,” he adds. “It’ll be embarrassing to lose the case on a motion to dismiss.”
“I’m working on it too,” Deck adds helpfully.
“Good. All three of us will go to court. God knows they’ll have twenty people there.”
Sudden affluence triggers a desire for the better things in life. Deck and I decide to forgo our usual soup and sandwich lunch at Trudy’s, and dine instead at a nearby steakhouse. We order prime rib.
“He’s never split money like that before,” Deck says, twitching and jerking around. We’re in a booth in the back of a dark dining room. No one could possibly hear us, but he’s anxious nonetheless. “Something’s about to go down, Rudy, I’m sure of it. Toxer and Ridge are about to walk. The feds are all over Bruiser. He’s giving away money. I’m nervous, real nervous.”
“Okay, but why? They can’t arrest us.”
“I’m not worried about being arrested. I’m worried about my job.”
“I don’t understand. If Bruiser is indicted and arrested, he’ll be out on bond before they turn around. The office will stay in business.”
This irritates him. “Listen, what if they come in with subpoenas and hacksaws. They can do that, you know. It’s happened before in racketeering cases. The feds love to attack law offices, seizing files and carrying away computers. They don’t care about me and you.”
Honestly, I’ve never thought about this. I guess I looked surprised. “Of course they can put him outta business,” he continues, very intense. “And they’d love to do it. You and I get caught in the crossfire, and nobody, absolutely nobody, will give a damn.”
“So what’re you saying?”
“Let’s bolt!”
I start to ask what he means, but it’s rather obvious. Deck is now my friend, but he wants much more. I’ve passed the bar exam, so I can provide an umbrella for him. Deck wants a partner! Before I can say anything, he’s on the attack. “How much money do you have?” he asks.
“Uh, fifty-five hundred dollars.”
“Me too. That’s eleven thousand. If we put up two thousand each, that’s four. We can rent a small office for five hundred a month, phone and utilities will run another five hundred. We can pick up a few pieces of furniture, nothing fancy. We’ll operate on a shoestring for six months and see how it goes. I’ll hustle the cases, you make the court appearances, we split the profits evenly. Everything’s fifty-fifty — expenses, fees, profits, work, hours.”
I’m on the ropes but thinking fast. “What about a secretary?”
“Don’t need one,” he says quickly. Deck has spent time on this. “At least, not at first. We can both cover the phone and use an answering machine. I can type. You can type. It’ll work. After we make some money, then we’ll get us a girl.”
“How much will the overhead run?”
“Less than two thousand. Rent, phone, utilities, supplies, copies, a hundred other smaller items. But we can cut corners and operate cheaply. We watch the overhead, and we take home more money. It’s very simple.” He studies me as he sips iced tea, then he leans forward again. “Look, Rudy, the way I see it we just left twenty-two thousand dollars on the table. We should’ve walked away with the entire fee, which would cover our overhead for a year. Let’s get our own show, and keep all the money.”
There’s an ethical prohibition against lawyers establishing partnerships with non-lawyers. I start to mention this, but realize the futility of it. Deck will think of a dozen ways around it.
“The rent sounds low,” I say, just to be saying something, and also to see how much research he’s done.
He squints and smiles, the beaver teeth glistening. “I’ve already found a spot. It’s in an old building on Madison above an antique store. Four rooms, a rest room, exactly halfway between the city jail and St. Peter’s.”
The perfect location! Every lawyer’s dream spot. “That’s a rough part of town,” I say.
“Why do you think the rent’s so cheap?”
“Is it in good shape?”
“It’s okay. We’ll have to paint it.”
“I’m quite a painter.”
Our salads arrive, and I cram romaine lettuce into my mouth. Deck shoves his around but eats little. His mind is racing too wildly to concentrate on food.
“I’ve gotta make a move, Rudy. I know things I can’t tell, okay. So trust me when I say Bruiser’s about to fall hard. His luck’s run out.” He pauses and picks at a walnut. “If you don’t wanna go with me, then I’m talking to Nicklass this afternoon.”
Nicklass is the only one left after Toxer and Ridge, and I know Deck doesn’t like him. I also strongly suspect Deck is telling the truth about Bruiser. A quick perusal of the newspaper twice a week, and you know the man’s in serious trouble. Deck has been his most loyal employee for the past few years, and the fact that he’s ready to run scares me.
We eat slowly in silence, both of us contemplating our next moves. Four months ago, the idea of practicing law with someone like Deck would have been unthinkable, even laughable, yet here I am unable to create enough excuses to keep him from becoming my partner.
“You don’t want me as your partner?” he says pitifully.
“I’m just thinking, Deck. Give me a minute. You’ve hit me over the head with this.”
“I’m sorry. But we have to move fast.”
“How much do you know?”
“Enough to convince me. Don’t ask any more questions.”
“Give me a few hours. Let me sleep on it.”
“Fair enough. We’re both going to court tomorrow, so let’s meet early. At Trudy’s. We can’t talk in our office. You sleep on it and tell me in the morning.”
“It’s a deal.”
“How many files do you have?”
I think for a second. I have a thick file on the Black case, a rather thin one on Miss Birdie and a useless workers’ compensation case Bruiser dumped on me last week. “Three.”
“Get them out of your office. Take them home.”
“Now?”
“Now. This afternoon. And anything else you might want from your office, better remove it quickly. But don’t get caught, okay?”
“Is someone watching us?”
He jerks and glances, then carefully nods his head at me, eyes rolling wildly behind the crooked glasses.
“Who?”
“Feds, I think. The office is under surveillance.”
Twenty-three
Bruiser’s casual little aside that he might let me handle some of the argument in the Black hearing keeps me awake most of the night. I don’t know if it was simply the usual bluff of the wise mentor, but I worry about it more than I worry about going into business with Deck.
It’s dark when I arrive at Trudy’s. I’m her first customer. The coffee is brewing and the doughnuts are hot. We chat for a moment, but Trudy has things to do.
So do I. I ignore the newspapers and bury myself in my notes. From time to time I glance through the window into the empty parking lot and strain to see agents out there in unmarked vehicles, smoking filterless cigarettes, drinking stale coffee, just like in the movies. At times Deck is perfectly believable, and at times he’s as nutty as he looks.