A. Fair - Up for Grabs

”I’m still not saying anything,” I said.

“Don’t,” he told me. “Just come on over.”

I walked over to his cabin.

He pulled the shades, brought out a small portable picture projector and a screen.

“This isn’t quite as good a job as the insurance company did in those other cases,” he said, “but they had screened cameras, long focal-length lenses and professional photographers.

“I had to buy these shots from an amateur — one of those shutterbug tourists,” Melvin went on. “But you’ll get a kick out of the pictures.”

Melvin switched off the lights, started the camera.

There was a bright light on the screen and a flickering, then suddenly colored motion pictures, small but distinct, came to life.

Homer Breckinridge was in a swimming suit and lounging by the pool, looking up at Dolores Ferrol who was seated by the pool, one foot dangling in the water.

Breckinridge was lounging on one elbow.

He said something that caused her to laugh. She leaned forward, dipped one hand in the water, held it up and snapped the fingers, sending drops of cold water on Breckinridge’s face.

He made a grab for her. She tried to elude him but didn’t get up quite fast enough. He caught an ankle, pulled her to him, then switched from the ankle to the leg. He held her down, reached his hand down into the swimming pool then came up with a cupped palm full of water.

She talked him out of it, lying there looking up at him smiling, her legs across his lap.

Slowly, he moved his cupped palm back over the swimming pool, opened it, shook the water out of it and wiped his hand off on his bathing trunks.

Then he patted Dolores on the bare leg.

She squirmed seductively, getting up away from his lap and to her feet.

Breckinridge got up and walked away with her.

The camera showed them walking over toward the main house. Breckinridge put his hand on her shoulder, then let it slide down and gave her a little pat on the fanny.

The motion pictures flickered off, sputtered for a moment then came on with another scene.

This was a twilight scene. The illumination wasn’t so good here. The figures were mostly silhouetted but it was possible to recognize Breckinridge and Dolores.

They were talking earnestly over by the corrals apparently they had just come in from a ride. Dolores was dressed in a tight-fitting riding outfit, and Breckinridge was wearing Pendletons and a five-gallon sombrero, looking like the dashing cowpuncher.

Dolores said something to him, then reached up and took his hat, took it from his head and put it on her own, tilting it up. She tilted her chin up and looked at him. Her manner was challenging.

Breckinridge grabbed her and kissed her, then they melted together into one dark blotch.

“Light wasn’t very good on that one, Melvin explained. I believe it was actually a few minutes after sunset.”

The screen flickered again, then a scene of a breakfast ride came on. Breckinridge swung awkwardly off his horse. Dolores, supple and graceful, came down from the saddle.

Breckinridge took her arm with a proprietary air, piloted her over to the chuck wagon. They had coffee, then ham and eggs. They were talking earnestly.

When they had finished, Breckinridge extended his hand. Dolores took it. They shook hands, then walked away down over to where the horses were standing. They walked around a horse, stood for a moment with the horse screening them from the rest of the party.

The camera flickered off.

“Getting a new camera angle,” Melvin said. This will be good.

The camera came on again. The photographer had apparently managed to move around so the picture showed the other side of the horse, showed Breckinridge and Dolores standing there. This time Breckinridge took her in his arms with tenderness. They clung to each other for some ten seconds, then separated hastily as one of the wranglers came walking into view past the horse’s rear.

Melvin shut off the camera and started reversing the film.

“More?” I asked.

“It gets boring after a while,” Melvin said. “This will give you the idea. This motion-picture business is something two people can play at.”

“And just what do you intend to do with those pictures?” I asked.

“That’s up to you,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“These pictures,” Melvin said, “are part of Bruno’s case.”

“How come?”

“Oh, it’s just the way I propose to handle it,” Melvin said. “I’m not certain that I can get all this introduced in evidence as being pertinent, but my idea is to try to show the fact that the insurance company, instead of trying to minimize the damages and lessen my client’s pain and suffering, was actually trying to exaggerate them by putting him in a position where he’d be inclined to overdo, to overexert himself and to violate the doctor’s instructions.

“In order to show that, I’m going to prove that this whole dude ranch business is a trap maintained by the insurance company for the purpose of getting people to overexert and overextend themselves.

“I’m going to put on quite a little story. First, I’m going to show Breckinridge getting acquainted with Dolores Ferrol, then I’m going to take Breckinridge’s deposition and ask him if he didn’t reach an agreement with Dolores by which she was to act as representative of the insurance company and use her sex appeal to get these people to try to show how masculine they were, and all that stuff.

“Of course, I’ll be frank with you, Lam, I’m not certain that I can get away with having all this stuff in evidence. It has to be on the theory that instead of offering treatment to the injured, the company actually engaged in a conspiracy to try and get him to do things that would damage his case in front of a jury, but which, at the same time, would enhance his injuries.

“For instance, yesterday while you were gone, Dolores was making quite a play for Bruno. She got him up out of his wheelchair a couple of times and got him to walk down to the corrals with her. That was contrary to the doctor’s orders and against my instructions. He’s not supposed to be walking over rough ground without a cane. The girl’s clever.

“Bruno told me that afterwards when he got back to his cabin he had quite a dizzy spell. Now, as far as I’m concerned that constitutes an aggravation of injury by the insurance company.

“Anyway, this reel of motion pictures is not intended to be used except as a part of my case. I wouldn’t use it personally to embarrass Breckinridge for anything on earth.”

“It would be blackmail if you did,” I pointed out.

“Provided I wanted anything for it, it would be blackmail,” he corrected me, “but I’m only using it in connection with Bruno’s case. As Bruno’s attorney, I’m entitled to use it.”

“What you’re trying to tell me,” I said, “is that once the case is settled you’ll give me a complete release from Bruno and turn the reel of motion pictures over to me.”

“Right.”

“How much?”

“A hundred grand,” he said.

“You’re way, way, way off,” I told him. “No questionable whiplash injury is going to be settled for a hundred grand.”

“Suit yourself,” he told me. “I’d just as soon go to court over it. I think I have a good case.”

“Well, you’re not going to get any hundred thousand settlement,” I told him.

“You’re a pretty cocky young fellow,” he said. “Before you make any final statements like that, you’d better talk with Homer Breckinridge.

“When I sue, I’m going to sue for two hundred and fifty thousand and I’m going to file suit within the next forty-eight hours, and as part of my complaint I’m going to allege that, as a result of the conspiracy on the part of the insurance company, my client had his injuries aggravated.