Page 11 of Two Kinds of Stranger

His wife, Gloria, was having treatment for ulcers. The doctors would never say it, but I knew the stress of this case was taking a toll on this elderly couple’s health.

‘How is she?’

‘She’s worried. The business has been in my family for generations. . .to think I could lose it. . .we could lose our home. It’s too much for her,’ he said.

‘Look, Morrie, I’m going to do my best today. This is just a settlement discussion, but if everything plays out, we could finish this...’

‘I told you, I don’t have much money. The goddamn insurance company, I paid them every month for years and they leave me in the gutter,’ said Morrie, and his right hand gripped his chest. His daughter, Julia, had told me Morrie was having chest pains since the lawsuit began. With the amount of damages Neville Carmichael was claiming, Morrie would have to sell his apartment and the store and he could still be in debt.

‘You can’t give them any excuse not to honor the policy, Morrie. I told you, paperwork. . .’

‘Julia thought she did all the paperwork. That’s what I told the insurance guy,’ he said, throwing his arms up. His face, usually a pale red, was beginning to darken into a deep crimson. I could almost hear a hiss from his blood pressure rising.

‘If you don’t have paperwork logging the times and frequency of the floor cleaning, then that violates your insurance policy. It means you can’t prove a reasonable system of maintenance and inspection. And you didn’t write up an accident report, either. That’s why the insurance company wouldn’t indemnify you.’

‘They expect me to write reports? Reports? What am I–thePolizia? If I knew how to write a report, I wouldn’t be chopping meat for a living.’

‘There might be a way out of this. I can’t promise anything, but I believe you when you said the floor was clean. Let me see what I can do.’

I left him on a bench, panting. His head looked like somebody trying to blow up a red balloon. His hand, clutched to his chest, was trembling. I was worried for Morrie. The legal system inAmerica can take lives, but putting a needle full of poison into someone isn’t the only way to kill them. Morrie’s wife, Gloria, was already in the hospital and if this case didn’t go away fast Morrie could be in the bed next to her.

They were good people, let down by a rigged system. Like so many in the country.

And Morrie’s insurance company wasn’t the only one on the make.

As I moved through the crowd, trying to locate my opponent, he grabbed me by the arm and gently pulled me to the side.

Jan Jeffers moved quietly.

‘Eddie, I see your client is here. Good, good. I know his insurance company has pulled the plug so I want to be fair. . .’ said Jan.

He made a clicking sound in his throat as he spoke. It was some kind of tic, or nervous habit, but with the skeletal frame, the gray skin, gray hair, and big eyes, he looked like a dead stick insect in a suit.

‘Jan. . .’ I began, but he interrupted. He was one of those guys who was always on transmit. Like he communicated through a two-way radio, but Jan always had his ‘talk’ button held down. He wasn’t interested in what anyone else had to say.

‘Now, you’re smart enough to realize liability is not going to be an issue for my client. He slipped on a piece of prosciutto on the floor of a deli–it’sres ipsa loquitor. . .’

He pronounced the doctrine of law in what I guessed was his attempt at a Latin accent. It might have been correct, but I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t so hot on the law. That was Harry Ford’s domain, my consultant, best friend and former judge.

Res ipsa loquitoris Latin for ‘the thing speaks for itself’. It can apply in cases like this, where the plaintiff can’t prove a specific act of negligence, like one of Morrie’s employees dropping prosciutto on the floor and not cleaning it up, butit’s clear that Morrie’s people had control of the floor, and the prosciutto, and there must have been negligence for the meat to be there on the floor so his client could slip on it and fall on his ass.

‘I don’t think it’sres ipsa—’ Again, I was getting nowhere fast with Jan.

‘Let me finish, Eddie. I’m going to do you a favor. My consultant orthopedic specialist says this is a compression fracture, tiny, but it’s there, and with pain and suffering and loss of earnings you’re looking at three hundred and fifty grand in damages, easy. Now I know your guy doesn’t have that kind of money. I’ll go easy. Settle today, I’ll recommend two-fifty. That’s the best deal you’ll ever get in your life.’

‘Morrie would need to sell the store and his home and he still wouldn’t raise a quarter million dollars after debts and taxes,’ I said.

‘Shit happens, my client is horrifically injured and it’s Morrie’s fault. He’s gotta pay up,’ said Jan, pointing to his client on the bench.

The guy in the orange shirt I’d seen earlier. The crutches were leaning against his thigh. A pained expression in his face.

The plaintiff, Neville Carmichael.

‘Here’s what I’m gonna do, Jan. I’m going to make you an offer. This is a non-negotiable, one-time deal. You take it today, or it’s off the table forever. You understand?’

‘Don’t low-ball me, Eddie. Just don’t. What’s the offer, ’cause I can’t go below a quarter mil on this case or my client will sue me, and he’d be right.’

‘Here’s the offer. You like Latin? Morrie paysnihil. Nil. Morrie pays you zero dollars. . .’