Chapter 10 Reason’s Search for a Lawyer
The following Monday Reason took the day off from work to look for a good lawyer. Miss Sarcasm, Dignity had told her, might be costing him nothing, employed as she was by the City, but she was also accomplishing nothing, or at least nothing that he could see. Please, he had said, would she help him to find someone else, and ideally someone not too expensive?
So she had taken the day off and had begun her task by a perusal of attorneys’ ads in the yellow pages and online. Judging from the texts of the ads, most of these worthies spent the bulk of their time carrying on personal injury and divorce lawsuits. They promised tough, aggressive service and, in some cases, no fee unless they won the case. All offered a first consultation free of charge. None of the ads said anything about saving anyone from heavy obligations to the City, such as those Dignity had thoughtlessly assumed. Looking at the studio quality photographs of the lawyers, she saw in their expressions either cheer or tough mindedness, but neither kindness nor understanding.
Feeling hopeless, she nevertheless drove downtown, parked a few blocks from the courthouse, and began visiting offices. The first was a prettily restored, early twentieth century building with a gleaming brass sign that proclaimed it to be the office of Vengeance and Betrayal, Attorneys at Law. Mr. Vengeance was free and soon was sitting down with her in leather chairs in his high-ceilinged office and listening to her story. The case was tricky, difficult, he said. It would mean convincing the Park Department that it had made a mistake, and that would mean, eventually—and at just the right moment—hitting them with a surprise lawsuit. Even then he could not say the odds of getting Dignity free of the Marshal-ship were any good at all, but only that there seemed a fair chance of freeing him from its legal liability. He could make no promises. Yet this was a chance to make Park Superintendent Greens feel the pain, he said with a slap of his hand on his desk. Even if they lost, Greens would spend some sleepless nights wishing he had never laid this burden on Dignity. Yes, he would regret making the first move in this game.
Vengeance would take the case on the basis of $2500 up front. When that was used up, he would continue on the basis of his usual $250 per hour. The matter would be clear, one way or another, in eighteen months to two years. Reason said she and Dignity would think it over, thanked him, and got out of the building as quickly as she could without seeming to be actually running.
On the street again, she took deep breaths, looked around at all the people who were not in legal trouble (well, not most of them), and realized that already she felt as depleted as if she had been doing this all day. Nevertheless, she tried another office.
Young Lawyer Leach of Bludsucker, Van Pyre, and Leach was of a completely different opinion than Lawyer Vengeance. This was to be a cakewalk. “Give me a thousand up front and I’ll refund whatever is left over,” he said, leaning back in his chair and sucking on the end of a stick pen. “The City can’t force liability on your friend. Hell, he hasn’t even signed anything, you say? Well, that’s it. They’ve got nothing. I write a few letters to the right people, point out a few precedents, and we get back, let’s say, a letter from the City attorneys saying they drop any claim that he’s liable. We can sew it up and call it a handbag by late May.”
Reason agreed that this sounded promising but pressed him about his certainty and about his fees. The answers were that nothing is certain unless you own the casino, and that if the case did require more than a thousand, he would charge $200 an hour.
“Why would the City give up that easily,” she asked, “when it’s so short on money and can’t afford to insure the Grove?”
Leach’s brow remained smooth but his posture stiffened. “You arguing for the other side? Leave it up to me.”
“But also,” she pressed, “you only spoke about getting Dignity free of liability. What about getting him out of being Marshal altogether?”
“Well, as for that, maybe you can solve it at home. Who’s next in line in the family?”
Reason was ready to bristle over this but thought for a moment and smiled back at him instead. “Whoever it is, would you like for me to recommend you to him?” she asked.
He lost his grin. “Hey, if you’re not serious about this, then don’t waste my time.”
“I am serious, and I want to know if there’s any chance of getting the City to move the Marshal-ship to another family entirely.”
“That would be next on the list. Liability first,” he said tersely.
“And cost more money?”
“I don’t do pro bono work. Say, I’ve got to get to lunch. Why don’t you think it over and get back to me?”
Reason also went to eat, passing without any longing the doors of the law firms of Downe and Out, Dimhope and Nunn, and Bottomfeeder and Reek. After a deliberately lingering lunch, she steeled herself to try again and was actually drawn to the cheery exterior of an office with a hanging sign that read ‘Rue and Pitty.’
Soon she was seated in the homey office of Patricia Pitty, a middle aged lady with a warm smile. Her desk was covered with framed family pictures and part of the wall with what looked like the artwork of grandchildren. She tut-tutted and shook her head in dismay while Reason once again told her story.
“That’s awful; the world shouldn’t be like this,” she said at last. “Of course, of course, I’d like to help you.”
“What do you think are the prospects?” Reason asked.
“Um, I couldn’t say. The important thing is to get started. You’ll soon feel better if attempts are being made.”
“But, uh, no. It’s true we’re about to fire a lawyer who was making no effort at all, but unless the attempts you were to make would meet with success, we’d only feel worse. The question is, what’s to be done?”
Pitty’s smile didn’t slip a bit. “That’s always the question, isn’t it? I’d start with a letter from me to the City Attorneys. It would simply ask them to convey to the Park Super that your cousin requests to be released from his agreement to be Marshal.”
Reason’s confidence, which had begun to mend, suffered an instant relapse. “Oh, but didn’t I tell you Dignity never actually agreed to anything?”
“I know, but he’s gone to meetings, taken up the responsibilities. He can’t claim to have turned his back on the Marshal-ship.”
“I suppose so. Still, I hardly think the City will release him just because he asks nicely.”
“You never know. Anyway, if that doesn’t work, I’ll try another letter.”
“OK, and what will the second letter say?”
“Oh, pretty much the same as the first, only we would put some teeth in it. Something along the lines of, ‘Mr. Dignity strongly requests,’ and that if he isn’t released he will be deeply saddened.”
Reason winced. “Not enough, I’m afraid. A third letter?”
“Oh, no, we don’t want to push it. Let them think we’re hounding them to death, and they’ll only harden their position. If another communication is necessary, we’ll wait a few months and then send a nice card just reminding them of where things stand.”
“You’ll wear them down,” Reason said dryly.
“We’ll win them over. Most people aren’t as bad as they’re painted, you know. People are good inside and want to help others.”
Reason thanked Mrs. Pitty, shook her soft hand, and soon left without asking about her fee.
On the street again, she slowly discovered that she had given up. She did not want to even look at another lawyer’s office; her feet were taking her toward her car. She walked along, munching the chocolate chip cookie that Pitty had given her as she was leaving (home baked) and trying to think how to apologize to Dignity for having come up empty. Her steps were taking her out of the lawyer’s district though she was still passing a sign now and then. She got in her car and drove slowly toward home, still looking for lawyers’ signs in a half serious sort
of way.
Such a sign appeared near the curb on her left, in front of an old school building that had been converted for commercial use and now held several small businesses, each with its separate entrance. On the sign was lettered: Providence Means, Attorney. She would have driven on but was arrested by the office hours named: Always Open. Below that was: Ask about my pro bono work.
This raised the question of how Lawyer Means could be so desperate as to be waiting for clients twenty-four hours a day and yet be offering free representation to at least a few. Maybe the mention of pro bono was a ploy to bring people in the door. She preferred not to have to tell Dignity that she had tried just three offices, so with a grimace she pulled into the parking lot.
When she had entered the door to the lawyer’s office, she had to stand still and reorient herself, for she found herself in an immense foyer, much wider than the narrow business front she had seen from outside. Because the business fronts were continuous, the explanation had to be that Lawyer Means was taking up several addresses while appearing to operate out of one. Yet, had she not seen indications that the spaces outside to left and right had been occupied by other concerns? She must have been wrong, that was all.
Even more surprising were the luxurious furniture, carpet, and wallpaper, all in exquisite taste. And was that a Modigliani original on the wall? No, two of them!—and if not originals then very good reproductions. The other offices she had visited that day had been presentable, even somewhat impressive in a manner calculated to impress; but this went way beyond impressive, it was princely. On the far side of the room was a reception desk staffed by a bright looking, older woman who now beckoned to her with a slight motion.
“We’re here to help,” she said pleasantly.
Reason came closer but stood irresolute, noting that the name sign on the desk read ‘Mrs. Escape’ and wondering if Dignity could possibly afford a lawyer with a taste for early twentieth century masterpieces and—oh my, was that a Ming dynasty vase on the marble-topped table against the wall? An intercom system was playing Telemann. Yes, she was way out of her league. Nevertheless, just being here gave here a reassuring feeling. Why did she suddenly feel like a little kid looking for comfort?
“My second cousin Dignity has a bit of a problem,” Reason almost mumbled. “It’s very hard to solve.” Only after she had said this did she realize that her voice was a trifle unsteady and her eyes damp.
“You’ve had a rough day,” Mrs. Escape said warmly. “Mr. Means would like to see you as soon as you’re ready, but first you ought to take advantage of our relaxation room just down the hall. Let me show you to it.”
Taking it that relaxation room was a pleasant euphemism for waiting room, Reason followed her a surprisingly long distance down a hallway. Shouldn’t they have reached the alley behind the building by now? Finally they turned right and passed through a doorway. The relaxation room proved to be just as oversized and splendidly equipped as the foyer. Before returning to the front desk, Escape introduced Reason to an attendant, Miss Release, who first took her to a kitchen area and pressed upon her complimentary snacks and a soft drink, then led her to one of the room’s heavily cushioned reclining chairs, with built-in massage and headphones that featured music selection. Release also opened a curtain along one side of the room, revealing, on the other side of a glass wall, a large indoor swimming pool. No one was in the pool, but a lifeguard was on duty.
This was the point at which Reason had to either laugh and leave or stay and be further seduced by an establishment that must be heart stoppingly expensive. She had rejected the idea that it might be a scam: no scam artist could afford a setup like this in order to inveigle just any middle class person wandering in off the street. No, Means must be counsel for millionaires, and perhaps people more familiar with the City’s elite could have advised her to stay away from him. Just by staying and taking the time of his staff, she was defrauding Mr. Means! As a matter of personal honesty, she must go. But my, those recliners looked inviting to a sad and tired little woman.
As Release helped Reason to settle into one of them, selecting a setting for the massage feature, the attendant waved away her questions. “Just take it easy and enjoy,” she said gently. “Nap if you like. When you feel all refreshed, press that green button on your chair arm and someone will come to take you to Mr. Means. He knows you’re here and is looking forward to helping you and your cousin. Bye now.” She dimmed the lights as she left.
Reason ate some of the bite sized dark chocolates she had selected from the kitchen and, presently, put on the headphones and flipped on the music switch. She had made no use of the selection dial, and yet the music began with one of her favorites, “Soon It’s Gonna Rain” from The Fantasticks. She listened for a few moments, considering the long odds against this happening by chance, then settled back and cried freely. She found that a tissue dispenser was built into the chair.
About twenty luxurious minutes later, a push of the green button brought yet another employee of Mr. Means to her side. A tall and quiet young man named Tower led her toward Means’ office, first passing door after door in another impossibly long hallway and then going up in an elevator to the seventh floor. She thought she had observed from outside that the building was only two stories tall and was sure it could not be more than three. Were the extra elevator buttons an imposture? When she inquired about the almost preposterous size of the office suite, Tower explained that Mr. Means had included many hotel-like rooms in the floor plans, for the use of clients who might want an overnight stay. Some people, Means felt, just needed to get away from their troubles in a safe and comfortable place. Tower added that the hotel aspect included the pool she had already seen, a lounge with live musicians, and a gourmet quality restaurant. He mentioned that Mr. Means also kept both a doctor and nurse on staff, ready to attend to clients’ needs.
Reason would have assumed he was joking if she had not already seen the pool. She wondered why it was that she was not overawed, why it was that she did not feel completely out of place. Rather, her experience here was beginning to feel a little familiar.
When she had sat down across from the desk of Lawyer Means, and Tower had departed, she at last found herself in a room of reasonable dimensions. Rotund, middle aged, and bald, Means wore an ordinary suit and seemed quite an ordinary person. He welcomed her and said that he hoped he might represent Mr. Dignity.
“I’m afraid he can’t afford you,” Reason replied almost apologetically. “And yes, I know your street door has something written on it about pro bono work, but it would not be right for us to ask. I’m sure that’s for the poor.”
“But it’s my pleasure,” he said mildly. “As long as he doesn’t turn me down, I’m prepared to work without a fee. On the other hand, if it would offend Mr. Dignity to pay nothing, then I am just as ready to charge according to his ability. You see, I’ve been eager to have him for a client for quite some time. It’s quite a feather in my cap.”
This was meaningless to Reason, unless it had something to do with Dignity having long ago been a boyfriend of the celebrated Fame Vainglory. Rather than try to puzzle it out, she explained Dignity’s predicament for the fourth time that day and then began to ask her standard questions. What were Dignity’s prospects? How would Mr. Means proceed?
“Prospects? Excellent,” Means replied. “You see, I have been preparing for this case for a long time in anticipation of Dignity’s coming to me.” He gestured toward a file lying on his desk. “I received a memo some time back.”
“May I see that?” she asked suspiciously.
“Certainly.”
He opened the file, took out a paper, and handed it to her. She began to examine it.
To: Providence Means, Attorney
From: The King of Heaven
Date: Before Time
Subject: Representation for Mr. Dignity
She looked up sharply. ?
??Really, Mr. Means! From my King? And dated before time!”
“We try not to let things sneak up on us,” he said. “You’d have to agree that, if you’re to have any certainty about the result of a case, then everything has to be factored in, everything that has ever happened. By beginning before time, I’ve eliminated the incalculable.”
Reason could not argue with this in the abstract. She knew that, if this memo were genuinely from her King, nothing she had experienced in this office suite today ought to be really surprising. It also meant that the reassurances that Means and his staff had been giving her could be trusted, that she was on solid ground. She finished the memo, finding that it contained simply a brief request from her sovereign that Means see what could be done about Dignity’s legal difficulties, naming the present year and month as the time when help would be needed.
“As to method,” Means said when she had handed it back to him, “timing is everything. I’m sorry to say that I can’t extricate your cousin from his Marshal-ship immediately, but it won’t be long. At the right moment a simple phone call will do it.”
Reason was beginning to mildly object to such overconfidence when the door opened and a big, red haired man in rough clothes stepped in without knocking.
“Hey, mouthpiece!” he said loudly to Means. “It didn’t go the way you expected. His wife got the mower going.”
“Very good, thank you,” Means said quietly. “Actually it did turn out as expected, Ad. Mrs. Reason, I don’t believe you’ve met my employee Mr. Adversity. I asked him to stop in while you’re here.”
Adversity held out his hand to her, but she kept her own hand down at her side. Slowly he withdrew his.
“Yeah, well, I know your cousin,” he said. “An OK guy, I guess, but frets too much.”
“You’ll report to me after we’re through here?” Means asked him.
“Sure, Prov. Meanwhile I’ll go swim in the pool.”
When he was gone, Reason turned to the lawyer with anger.
“Adversity works for you!”
“Yes, yes, and I asked him to come by while we were talking because I wanted you to know that. Please consider what a plus it is for you and Dignity. As I said before, my aim is to take literally everything into consideration for the good of my clients, so if I were to leave out Adversity, I would fall short. However, since he’s my employee, he can do you no harm. You’ve probably heard the advice to keep your enemies closer than your allies? I’m keeping Adversity so close that he’s effectively tamed.”
“That’s—wonderful—if true,” Reason said.
“Well, I hope you’ll report to Dignity that you’ve found counsel for him.”
She took a long time replying. Nothing here felt at all like the way the City did things. The extravagant set up instead felt very like what she had experienced for many years from the Heavenly Embassy and more recently from the Gloria Dothan. Really, there seemed no way that Means and his staff could be phonies. Neither the world nor the devil could afford this.
“I’ll report to my cousin,” she answered at last, “and since you ask, I think I’m going to recommend that he retain you.”
“Why, thank you. I appreciate your confidence. Now, you don’t need to go right away. You look tired, so why not stay overnight in one of the guest rooms? It’s no charge and meals provided. No? But of course you want to go tell your cousin where things stand. Be sure to let him know that he doesn’t need to pay me anything. The King subsidizes me, you see. Here’s my card. I’ll call Mr. Tower to show you out.”
When she and Mr. Tower had descended the elevator and were on the way out, she noticed a woman standing at the reception desk and, consequently, quietly asked the young man to accompany her out to the parking lot.
“I just wanted to warn you about something,” she said more loudly. “I noticed as we came through the lobby that the lady talking to Mrs. Escape is Mammonette. I know she’s so rich and powerful that she must seem like a very desirable client, but Mr. Means might think twice about representing her. She’s always been in deep with Mr. Power, and though my cousin Dignity tells me she may have lost some clout lately—something about Power of Attorney for her husband—still I’m sure she should not be trusted.”
“We are being very careful,” Tower said with a smile and a jovial lift of his brown eyebrows.
“That’s good. And by the way, I’m not fishing for information, of course. I know that lawyers must practice confidentiality.”
“She’s not a client,” Tower said, “and we have no expectation that she will be. She’s looking for counsel, but though Mr. Means has been willing to talk with her, he intends to persuade her to get help from someone else, someone who isn’t an attorney.”
“Oh, that must be discouraging for her,” Reason said, remembering her depressing experiences of earlier in the day. “It’s so hard to keep reaching out for help. Come to think of it, Dignity told me he’d heard she’d tried other lawyers and had been turned down by them all.”
“Yes, and I think she is viewing Providence as a last resort. Still, as a non-Heavenite asking his help, she has to expect that certain things will be required of her in return—I mean even for the advice he’s giving her of who else to see.”
“Well, she can afford to pay, I’m sure. Still I almost feel sorry for her,” Reason said.
“Yes, do pity her.” Tower stepped closer and spoke more quietly. “Perhaps you’ve heard that she had her husband Mammon declared incompetent and has been running their affairs by herself? But the Mayor and his people want the Mammon empire’s money as emergency funding for the City, so they directed the City lawyers to have Mr. Power, as an old friend of Mammon’s, made the old man’s guardian in place of Mammonette.”
“But surely they can’t do that! Not legally?”
“It depends how you define legal, whether it means whatever you can get away with. Without actually taking her on as a client, Mr. Means has warned Mammonette that the City will do anything, and I mean anything, to get her husband’s money.”
“Oh, yes, they do very ugly things,” Reason said. “But I didn’t think they’d devour one of their own. Thank you, Mr. Tower. Oh, no, you don’t need to escort me to my car, though it’s very kind of you to offer. Good bye.”