Chapter 64

“Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent.”

-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, A Case of Identity

Saturday morning

I slept for twelve hours without dreaming despite being worried about James Dodd, sad about Morgan, and wondering about Mitch. I woke up completely stiff and sore. The bruises were already colorful, and my throat was still raw from the smoke. The first thing I did was to get rid of the jacket I’d worn yesterday. The sight of Morgan’s blood was too much to bear. I shoved all the other clothes I’d been wearing into a plastic bag for the cleaners. They needed a challenge. Nonetheless the smoke smell persisted. It had permeated everything.

The morning papers splashed the story of James Dodd all over the front-page, tagging it the Grange murders. Morgan’s death got a lot of coverage, and there were photos of the fire up at The Haven and of Mary Holder as both Nurse and Foundation Director. The news media played up the multi-state dragnet for James Dodd. There were photos of Dodd and considerable coverage about his firm of Morrison, Morrison and Dodd. I would not have liked to be a senior partner today in that firm. The paper printed several stills from the video that the cops released. Now we were no longer the only witnesses, giving me some confidence that Dodd would not come after us.

I threw aside the paper without doing the crossword puzzle. I couldn’t keep my mind on anything. I squeezed two oranges, scrambled two eggs, then picked at them while Cavalier ate his Mighty Cat. When he finished, he brushed along my legs looking for affection. They do say cats know when you’re very low. The paper announced the Chicago Police Department was holding a memorial service for Morgan in a few days. I’d watched him die in my arms, but I still couldn’t really believe it.

I felt like crawling back in bed, but I had an appointment with Karl. As I got dressed my cell rang. It was Mother.

“Did you see what happened, DD? They got the guy who tried to kill you.”

“What?”

“Fox News just broke the story of a shoot out on I-90. Two Chicago cops were injured and the driver of a black Toyota Land Cruiser was killed. They tentatively identified the driver as James Dodd, but they’re waiting for official confirmation.”

There was a long pause while I digested what she’d said.

“Do you want to come over here for a few days, DD?”

“No, I’m going to stay here. I have things to do. But thanks for letting me know. I don’t feel sorry, just safer. I guess I’m glad he’s dead.”

“Me too,” she agreed. “By the way, Mitch called.”

“What? He called you? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I think. He said he called me because he’d been having no luck reaching you on your cell for a couple of days, even to leave a message.”

“Well, that’s true. I had it turned off for awhile.” I was definitely not going to tell her any details about the breaking and entering. “Then Tom and I went up to Wisconsin. It was very remote and the phone service was on and off. How is he?”

“DD, I don’t honestly know. He gave me a message for you. Asked me to write it down so I’d get it just right.” There was a pause while I could hear her fiddling with some paper. “Okay. Mitch said, ‘I’m sending DD a surprise package. Tell her I love her, but I have to stay in Europe for at least another year. I know she’ll understand.’”

“What? Another year? Oh, no.”

“I’m sorry DD. I know he’s such a nice man. He’s so like Scotty, I’ve always thought. They even do somewhat the same kind of work, don’t they?”

“He’s not like Scotty at all, Mother.”

“Oh yes he is, DD. Just like you are like your Auntie Elizabeth.”

I hung up and, half dressed, finished my cup of green tea and wondered what he meant about a surprise package. I realized that sub-consciously I’d been waiting for this shoe to drop. It’s been days since Mitch and I have had a real conversation. Maybe he felt I was ducking his calls, which I wasn’t. How the hell was I going to turn this around? I had to talk to him. What time was it in Paris? Maybe I should fly to Paris? But I couldn’t miss the memorial service for Morgan. And I certainly couldn’t miss my court case. Oh hell. I felt like I was on a roller coaster.

Today was cool again and the sun was shining, but it didn’t suit my mood. I chose jeans and a black turtleneck and left for Karl’s office. Even though it was Saturday, he wanted to strategize for the upcoming court case and, I was sure, chew me out for my trip to Wisconsin. On the way over, I couldn’t help but think about Dodd. He was an unlikely type to die in a shoot out with the cops. Morgan would have said that it’s the unlikely types who often are the evil ones.

Karl’s office had a Saturday quiet feel. I sat in the conference room and waited 30 minutes. Lawyers only do things in fifteen, thirty, forty-five and sixty minute intervals, so I wasn’t surprised.

Karl sank into one of his upholstered roller chairs, leaned back and grinned. “I am a genius, DD. I only hope you’ll appreciate what I’ve done today.”

“I’m all ears.”

He sorted out a stack of papers into several smaller piles and picked up one pile and fanned some pages out in front of me across the table. It was the sound of lawyering.

“I’ll explain what this is. I’ve been conferring most of the day with Ivy Douglas. She’s been taking my advice.” Karl stared at me. “God you still smell like smoke,” he shook his head. “I should have asked if you’re doing all right. Are you?”

“Not great, but I’m hanging in there. Morgan was a great guy. Did you know that people scream a lot when they are burning to death?”

Karl looked sick. “You’ll get over it, DD. At least they got Dodd and now you don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder.”

“I know. I’m glad he got the death penalty.”

“And he didn’t have to wait 30 years for it,” Karl said with a thin smile. “Now, to another topic, DD. Let me give you some news from this end. Point number one. Naturally Ivy Douglas has requested that Morrison, Morrison and Dodd resign as the estate executors, which they have done. I’m sure she’s considering legal action against them. Point number two. She’s hired the firm of Morton and Kennedy to handle the estate, a firm that I recommended and am now, even as we speak, working with to smooth the transition. Their staff is kindly generating all this paperwork for me as a gesture of thanks for getting the new business.”

“You’re not really a lawyer, are you? You’re a horse trader.” The smile would have blinded a jury.

“Wait till I tell you the rest. Ivy Douglas expressed sympathy for Philip Green and Lt. Fernandez.”

“That in itself is a miracle, considering her bad attitude toward everything except getting to the next party.”

“She was, I believe, somewhat worried about you and Tom Joyce suing her and or the Grange estate.”

“I see by the twinkle in your eyes that you somehow caused her to have this worry, am I right?”

“Well, yes. I indicated that you were both my clients and were considering suing her, the estate, the firm of Morrison, Morrison and Dodd, and The Haven, and adinfinitum. Basically I suggested that the two of you could ruin her life. She’d be living in court for years trying to straighten out the estate.”

“I know she wants that estate settled.”

“Here. Look at these papers. She’s agreeing to drop all charges against you for Criminal Trespass. She’s willing to write a letter to the Chief Judge of Misdemeanor Court explaining the circumstances of what you did and requesting that your case be dismissed with prejudice. And one more thing, she won’t sign a complaint against you for breaking and entering The Haven.” He triumphantly passed me a page and pointed with his pen. “Note she’s signed off already on all this.”

I glanced at the document where her flowery signature was on several lines.

“In return for... what?”

“You agree not to sue her or the estate.”

“What about Tom?” I asked.

“I’ve transacted two separate agreements with her. See. Here’s the one for Tom. They’re mutually exclusive. As far as Tom is concerned, she’s expressed her apologies for what happened when Dodd pushed him down the stairs. She’s taking no responsibility for that, of course, so we’ve gotten agreement that Morrison, Morrison and Dodd will pay all his medical bills. They’re also forking enough over to pay everybody’s bill to me.”

“That sounds good.”

“And furthermore, Ivy Douglas wants Tom to return to work at the Grange mansion on the appraisal as soon as possible so they can go forward with the auctions and the property deal. She also agreed to drop all possible charges against Tom for breaking and entering The Haven.”

“Again in return for Tom not suing her or the estate?” I asked.

“You got it.”

“What’s your recommendation?”

“DD, I brokered this deal, and I think it’s excellent for you and for Tom. Neither one of you wants to be in court for the next five years trying to win a suit against the estate.”

“Isn’t that what you told Ivy Douglas in reverse to convince her to sign this?” I asked. The law is a mobius, I thought.

“Yes. I told her the same thing. When you’re in a court case, it costs you a lot of money and a lot of time, energy and determination. That goes for both sides. I’ve talked to the Judge’s clerk, and we’re asking the judge to order the case be DWP’d.”

“DWP’d?”

“Sorry, DD. Dropped Without Prosecution. Then it never comes back and is expunged from your record. I have every confidence after speaking to the Judge’s Clerk that he will consider this.”

“So I wouldn’t even have to go to court?”

“So you wouldn’t even have to go to court.”

“Where do I sign?”