By reason of insanity

25

When Quinn finally strolled into the office at 9:30 Monday morning, Melanie pounced. Though Quinn's young assistant could be annoying at times, he still considered her one of the three smartest persons in the sixty-lawyer firm of Robinson, Charles, and Espinoza, behind only Robert Espinoza and Quinn himself, not necessarily in that order. Though Melanie had dropped out of college to get married, she still possessed twice the street smarts of most lawyers in the firm, their diplomas from the big-name California law schools notwithstanding.

"You're up to twenty-six unreturned phone calls," Melanie announced as Quinn tried to slide past her desk. She handed him the telephone slips. "The top four are potential new clients. Eleven media calls are next. On the bottom are calls from other lawyers and bill collectors."

Quinn grabbed the pink slips, his schedule for the day, and a printout that showed the billed and collected numbers for the firm's attorneys. On top of everything else, he knew his unanswered e-mails could easily be in the hundreds.

"And Mr. Espinoza said he wanted to see you as soon as you arrived," Melanie said. "He asked me to call him."

"About what?" Quinn asked, though he already knew. Managing partners cared about two things: billable hours and collections. With Annie's case dominating his year, Quinn had done just fine on billable hours. Collections were another matter. If Quinn lost his sister's case, she would be ineligible as a beneficiary of her husband's estate, including his life insurance proceeds. If Annie had been any other client, Quinn would have resigned by now.

Quinn took his seat and started working through his e-mails. He had fired off at least ten responses by the time Espinoza came in and closed the door. The sixty-year-old attorney with salt-and-pepper hair, an angular face, and a long pointed nose took a seat on the other side of Quinn's desk.

"You know why I'm here?"

Quinn shrugged. "This?" He tossed the firm's latest billing and collections report on his desk. "You know I'll hit my numbers again as soon as Annie's case is over. She's my sister, Robert. I can't just leave her hanging."

"I'm not asking you to drop the case, Quinn. But I am worried about the rest of your files. You used to do a lot of white-collar stuff. I've been watching the new file list lately. It's a lot of insanity plea work." He said it with disdain, as if Quinn had a lineup of clients in straitjackets right outside his office door. "Can these folks even pay?"

Quinn shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like lying to his managing partner. "I'll make it work somehow. Work a few more hours. Only accept rich crazy folks." He tried the famous Newberg grin, but it didn't seem infectious this morning. Maybe he should rely on his track record-six strong years as an associate and two even stronger years as a partner. "Have I ever missed my numbers for an entire year, Robert?"

"No. And that's what's got me worried now." Espinoza crossed his legs, obviously trying to keep it casual. "Quinn, I think what you're doing is great work. Somebody's got to take these cases. But the other partners are grousing. Your comp is tied to your white-collar work. Plus, they're worried about the reputation of the firm."

At this, Quinn laughed. "That white-collar work, as you describe it, is about 90 percent mob work. Interesting how nobody cared much about the reputation of the firm as long as the bills got paid."

Espinoza frowned. "You remember Dennis Rodman in the NBA?"

"Sure."

"Well, nobody cared about how many tattoos he had or whether he was into cross-dressing as long as he got his rebounds. But you know what happened when he stopped getting his rebounds, Quinn?"

"They turned him into a point guard?"

"Not quite. He became trade bait." Espinoza stood. "So here's what I need you to do. Beat the heck out of Carla Duncan. Get a unanimous not guilty verdict for your sister. But make your numbers, Quinn. I want you around this firm a long time. But your partners aren't willing to subsidize someone to represent the mentally insane, no matter how famous you become."

Quinn had a thousand retorts but knew how the game was played. Espinoza was managing partner. Espinoza got the last word. To this point, Quinn had only been worried about paying his experts and the consultants in Annie's case. But now his own partners were grousing about the firm's unpaid legal bills, most of which were comprised of Quinn's own work. They would never fire Quinn, not with the name recognition he had brought to the firm. But Espinoza had delivered his message. Getting famous was no substitute for his partners getting rich.

When Espinoza left, Quinn leafed through his reports and found the totals for Annie's case. The legal bills alone, not counting consultants and experts, totaled more than three hundred thousand. Not a single dime of the attorneys' fees had been paid.