Perri O'Shaughnessy - Unfit to Practice

“T HREE FILES,” SANDY said back at the office. “Our trickiest cases.”

Five P.M. The end of the day had arrived. Unlike every other day, when they would leave the door unlocked until they actually left, this Friday they had locked the door promptly and turned on the voice mail. The public business of this calamitous day had ended.

Nina had already reviewed Kevin’s hearing and its probable outcome with Sandy, who had reacted with initial restraint at the news that Nina had probably lost. Now Nina stood beside Sandy’s computer and pointed to a sheet of lined yellow paper. “These weren’t complete files, so I’ve tried to outline what I know was there in some detail over here.”

“What’s this?” Sandy said, her beringed finger hovering over a small dark blob on the sheet.

“Jelly,” said Nina promptly.

“Is not. You cried.”

“I never. But I know I shouldn’t worry so much. My files are as dry as dead beetles to anyone but another lawyer. They’re in a trash can somewhere, dumped by the delinquent who stole my car. The courthouse is always swarming with criminal defendants. If you tried to think of the worst place to drop your car keys, try the place where car thieves spend half their lives.”

“Whoo-wee.” Sandy examined the list.

“The client-intake notes are my biggest concern. People are forthright with me, and of course, like a good schoolgirl, I write it all down. And as I’m listening, I’m scribbling my thoughts and impressions.”

“Not to mention doodling all over the page. Let’s start with Kevin Cruz.”

“The secret’s out. Ali Peck testified. The result isn’t going to be pretty.”

“Quite a coincidence, her showing up at the last minute. Her name’s in the missing file.”

“I know. They might have found Ali without the file, but the time frame-”

“Anything we can do?” Sandy asked.

“Not about the hearing. It’s too late to do anything about that,” Nina said.

“That man’s gonna win,” Sandy said, referring to Riesner. “And we were five and O!”

“I wasn’t keeping score. This isn’t about-”

“You can bet he was.”

Nina stuck to the point. “Kevin was having a relationship with a young girl. Milne isn’t a prude, but, boy, she looked young up there.”

“Well, don’t sound so guilty. He slept with her, not you, for Pete’s sake,” Sandy said. “How’d they say they found out about her, anyway?”

“In court this morning, Riesner said he got a tip at home early this morning. Implied she called him.”

Sandy frowned. “He claims he just found out about her but it’s my policy never to believe a word he says. Maybe he knew months ago and sprang it on you. However. Maybe he did get a phone call. From a car thief.”

“Exactly what I’m afraid of.” Nina noted with clinical interest that her throat seemed to be closing up. She went over to a client chair and sat down and knew she was finished for the day. Time to go home.

“Wish knows Kevin. Says he’s seen him around the community college. Says Kevin comes down hard on the druggies.” Sandy’s son, Wish Whitefeather, helped around the office, studied criminology at Lake Tahoe Community College, and now drove Paul’s old van. He idolized Paul, and made a good sidekick when Paul needed help on his Tahoe work for Nina. “So. Moving right along. Number two-the arson case-the Hmong. The Vang family.”

Nina went to the window. The purple mountains’ majesty didn’t soothe her as much as usual. A Sunfish with its tricolored sail hoisted high glided into view on silver water toward the Tahoe Keys Marina in the distance. False tranquility, Nina thought. Too beautiful to be true. She remembered someone telling her once there might be bodies lingering on the bottom of Lake Tahoe, perfectly preserved in the melted snow.

She said, her back to Sandy, “The Hmong. Nobody, but nobody, knows about the insurance claim I filed.”

“It’s a pitiful story. What was the worst thing in the file?”

“Kao Vang’s address. He didn’t want to give it to me but I insisted. Kao said, he warned me, that his family would be in danger if the news got out that he might recover a settlement from the fire. People might get angry.”

“Angry enough to do what?”

“I don’t know. The Vangs won’t talk about it.”

“What should we do?”

“I don’t know.”

Nina’s voice must have told her assistant to leave things at that, because the usually exhaustively thorough Sandy moved briskly forward. She scribbled a note in pencil, then went back to the list. “Brandy Taylor and Angel Guillaume.”

“Witnesses to a murder. Deeply buried, until I wrote it all down for our thief. I have to get Brandy and Angel to the district attorney and get them protected. How I hate unknown quantities. Those two are about as unpredictable as my cooking, especially the younger one, Brandy. She got dragged here by Angel in the first place. They could get hurt, Sandy. My intake notes-I listed Angel’s address here in Tahoe, and maybe even Brandy’s in Palo Alto. Along with the whole story they told me.”

“Yeah, it’s bad. I read your notes while I was making up the file.”

“Anyway. The weekend is starting. I’m taking a run down to the Monterey Peninsula tomorrow morning, and I plan to ask Paul to come up here as soon as he can next week.”

“Wish could help out in the afternoons.”

“We could use his help. Could he come in next week?”

“You kidding? He’ll make time.”

Nina already felt better.

“The A-Team,” Sandy said. “Back together again. Last time was, I think, the Nikki Zack case.”

“You know, Sandy,” Nina said, “believe it or not, I saw these cases as a symbol of our success. We were helping ordinary people in the worst trouble of their lives who heard such good things about our work, they trusted us to do a good job.” She found herself unable to continue with the thought. “Let’s finish here quickly and go home. I have to see everyone on Monday.”

“Maybe you should wait longer.”

“I can’t. I’m not feeling good about even taking the weekend. I have an ethical duty to tell these clients promptly that there’s been a possible breach of confidentiality. Monday’s as late as I can wait. If the files turn up, great. Maybe the police will find the car with the files intact. But I have to give myself the weekend. I have to think and talk to Paul, and the insurance company. And-” She stopped.

“Two days to pray.”

“Exactly.”

Sandy said, “Things were rolling along so great. For a minute there we had so many clients we almost had the money for bigger offices. If this gets out, we’ll be lucky to keep the fig in Miracle-Gro.” They both looked over at the plump-leafed tree, which, in spite of the misfortune of living in a law office, thrived in its sunny corner. “Look. Let’s get some perspective here. Some skunk is banging around in your Bronco, having a whee of a time. He has zero interest in a briefcase full of papers lying on the floor in the backseat under his empty beer bottles.”

“The Bronco bunged up and the papers ignored-that would be the ideal outcome, and I never thought I would feel so casual about my truck. I love my truck.”

“Question.”

“Yes?”

“You pay that legal-malpractice-insurance bill I put on your desk a couple of weeks ago?”

“Sent it out last Thursday.”

“Good.” She punched her lip with a pencil, thinking. “So we went down today.”

“It’s not a football game, Sandy. Like I said.”

“He makes a lot of money.”

“Yeah, he does.” Nina had had the distinct displeasure of visiting Riesner’s leather-swaddled, mahogany-bedecked offices a few times in the past.