The Rooster Bar

29

Two days later, Mark was sitting in the courtroom of the Honorable Fiona Dalrymple, waiting for a client who would plead guilty to shoplifting. As usual, he pretended to review an important document while watching the lawyers come and go as their cases were called. It was a zoo all right, with the monkeys firmly in control. Some of the faces were familiar, others he’d never seen before, and once again he marveled at the number of lawyers it took to keep the wheels of justice churning along. A blast from the past appeared in a hideous suit and scanned the courtroom, the way all lawyers did when they wanted to be seen. He walked through the bar, chatted with an assistant prosecutor who looked around, saw Mark, and nodded.

Darrell Cromley walked over and sat down next to Mark. He thrust over a business card and said softly, “I’m Darrell Cromley, and you’re Mark Upshaw, right?”

We’ve met before, Mark thought, and this cannot be good. “That’s right.”

“I’ve been hired by Ramon Taper. Let’s step outside and talk.”

Mark glanced at his business card. Darrell Cromley, Personal Injury. He specifically remembered that his other card was for Darrell Cromley, DUI Specialist. Darrell must be a man of many talents.

In the hallway, Darrell was all business as he delivered the dreaded news. “My firm has been hired by Mr. Taper, who had the misfortune of getting picked up while driving under the influence.”

So that’s the connection. Cromley froze and looked at Mark closely. “Have we met before? You sure look familiar.”

“Haven’t had the pleasure. There are a lot of lawyers around here.”

“I guess so,” Darrell said, still not convinced. He whipped out some paperwork from his battered briefcase and handed it to Mark. “Here’s a copy of our contract with Mr. Taper, along with a letter from him terminating your representation. We’ve spent the last two days investigating his med mal case down in Virginia, and it seems as though the statute of limitations has expired. You’re aware of that, right?”

“Sure. We looked at the case and had it reviewed by a doctor. He said there’s no negligence. It’s a dead end.” Mark felt a slight weakness in his knees as his heart pounded away.

“Well, it’s certainly dead now that the statute has run. Did you guys file a quickie lawsuit to toll the statute?”

“Of course not. There’s no liability. A lawsuit is a waste of time.”

Darrell shook his head, frustrated, as if he were dealing with an idiot. Mark wanted to hit him but thought better of it. A veteran street hustler like Cromley was probably a pretty fair brawler himself.

“We’ll see about that,” Cromley said like a real tough guy. “First, I want the medical records. I’ll have them reviewed by a real expert, and if there’s even a hint of liability, then your goose is cooked, pal.”

“It’s a dead end, Darrell.”

“If I were you, I’d put my errors-and-omissions carrier on notice.”

“So you’d sue another lawyer?”

“Damned right, if the facts are there. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.”

“I’m sure you would.”

“Send the records over, okay?”

At that moment, a frightened young woman approached them and asked, “Say, are you guys lawyers?”

Mark was too paralyzed to speak. Darrell, though, was quick on the draw. With his frown, he said, “Sure, what’s the problem?”

Mark backed away and left them to their business.

At the Rooster Bar, the partners huddled in a booth, as far away as possible from the late afternoon crowd. Mark had just finished his Cromley story and they were deflated. Zola asked, “So what happens next?”

Mark said, “Let’s assume the worst. The likeliest scenario is that Cromley looks at the medical records, which I can delay for a few days but he’s not going away, and then he has them reviewed by another expert. If liability is as clear as Koonce says it is, Cromley will know before long that Ramon and his ex-wife had a damned good case. Since he can’t sue the doctors and the hospital, he’ll have no one to come after but us. So he’ll file a $10 million lawsuit against our little firm and then the fix is in. At some point, and we can’t predict exactly when, we’ll be exposed. He’ll check with the Bar Council and learn the truth. The Bar Council will then notify the courts and start an investigation. Our names are on dozens of court orders, so it won’t take long to piece things together.”

“And this will be a criminal investigation?” Zola said.

“Yes, we knew when we started that unauthorized practice is a crime. Not a serious one, but a crime nonetheless.”

“But a felony, as opposed to a misdemeanor.”

“A felony.”

Todd said, “There’s something else, Zola. We were going to tell you but just didn’t get the chance.”

She said, “Can’t wait. Let’s hear it.”

Mark and Todd exchanged looks, and Todd began, “Well, there’s this cute little prosecutor in Division 10, name of Hadley Caviness. Mark met her in a bar a few weeks back and they hooked up. Evidently, she hooks up a lot and likes variety. I met her in court one day, one thing led to another, and we had some fun. Twice. Over a bagel the morning after she lets me know that she’s onto our little fake firm. She says she’s cool, thinks it’s funny, likes to keep secrets, and so on, but in this business you can’t trust anyone.”

“Especially fake lawyers,” Zola said. “I thought we agreed to limit our contact with others.”

“I tried,” Mark said.

“She’s very cute,” Todd added.

“Why haven’t you told me before now?”

“It just happened last weekend,” Mark said. “We think she’s harmless.”

“Harmless?” Zola said, rolling her eyes. “So, we have cute little Hadley to think about and Darrell Cromley to actually worry about.”

“And don’t forget Mossberg down in Charleston,” Mark said. “He’s an ass and he’d love nothing more than to burn us.”

“Brilliant,” she said. “After three months in business, Upshaw, Parker & Lane is going under.” She took a sip of her soft drink and looked around the bar. Nothing was said for a long time as the three licked their wounds and pondered their next moves. Finally, she said, “Signing up the med mal case was a bad move, wasn’t it? We had no idea what to do with it, and we really screwed it up. A disaster for us, but think about Ramon and his ex-wife. They get nothing because of us.”

“They sat on the case for two years, Zola,” Mark said.

Todd said, “We can rehash this forever and get nowhere. We need to focus on tomorrow.”

Another long gap in the conversation. Todd walked to the bar, got two more beers, and returned with them to the table. He said, “Think about this. When Cromley sues us for legal malpractice, the named defendants will be Todd Lane, Mark Upshaw, and Zola Parker. Three people who do not exist. How can he discover our true identities?”

Zola said, “And we’re assuming cute little Hadley does not know our real names either, right?”

“Of course not,” Mark said.

“And Mossberg?”

“He has no clue.”

“So, we have to either hide or run,” she said.

“We’re already hiding,” Todd said. “But they’ll find us. Hell, if Ramon can get this close, I’m sure professional investigators can track us down. Our address is on at least a million of those business cards we’ve been throwing at people.”

“Nothing will happen fast,” Mark said. “It’ll take Cromley a month or so to file a lawsuit. We’ll know when he does because we’ll be watching the dockets. Then he’ll realize he’s sued some people who don’t exist, and that’ll screw him up for even longer. The Bar Council will chase its tail looking for three phantom lawyers.”

Todd said, “I guess we need to stay away from the criminal courts.”

“Oh, yes. Those days are over. No more hustling the poor and oppressed.”

“What about our pending cases? We can’t just drop these people.”

Mark said, “That’s exactly what we’ll do. We can’t close these cases because we can’t risk going back to court. Again, those days are over. Starting now, don’t take any phone calls from a client or anyone else for that matter. Let’s use prepaid cell phones to keep in touch and ignore all other calls.”

Zola said, “I’m already carrying two phones. Now a third?”

“Yes, and we have to monitor all of them to see who’s looking for us,” Mark said.

“And my days as a hospital vulture are over?” she asked and managed a smile.

“Afraid so.”

“You weren’t very good at it,” Todd said.

“Thanks. I hated every minute of it.”

A manager walked over and said, “Hey, Todd, you’re on tonight. We’re shorthanded and need you now.”

“Be there in a sec,” Todd said and waved the guy off. When he was gone, Todd asked, “So, gang, what’s next?”

“We go after Swift Bank,” Mark said.

“And dig a deeper hole,” Zola replied, but it was not a question.

Morgana Nash at NowAssist sent Mark an e-mail that read,

Late that night, and after several more beers, Mark responded,

Rex Wagner of Scholar Support Partners e-mailed Todd:

While Mark was typing his response to Morgana Nash, Todd fired off one to his loan counselor.

Evidently, Mr. Wagner was working late, or, as Todd imagined, was sitting in his recliner, in nothing but his boxers, watching porn and monitoring his e-mails. Within minutes he replied,

To which Todd immediately replied,

Zola’s correspondence was slightly more professional. Tildy Carver at LoanAid wrote,

Zola was almost asleep. She responded,