Oscar watched with great curiosity but said nothing.
Paula said, “Have you ever thought about advertising on television, Oscar? Seems like your firm needs to do something to get more business.”
This was not a new conversation. For thirty years, Paula had dispensed unsolicited advice on how to run the law office, a place that would never generate enough in revenue to satisfy her.
“It’s very expensive,” Oscar said. “Figg wants to pursue it. I’m skeptical.”
“Well, you certainly couldn’t put Figg on television, could you? That would scare away every potential client for a hundred miles. I don’t know, the ads just seem so unprofessional.”
Typical of Paula. TV advertising might bring in some business, and at the same time it was unprofessional. Was she for it or against it? Neither, or both? Oscar didn’t know, and he’d stopped caring years earlier.
“Doesn’t Figg have some Krayoxx cases?” she asked.
“A few, yes,” Oscar grunted. She did not know that Oscar, as well as David, had signed the lawsuit and was responsible for its prosecution. She did not know that the firm was on the line for litigation expenses. Paula’s only concern was the paltry monthly draw brought home by Oscar.
“Well, I discussed it with my doctor, and he says the drug is fine. It keeps my cholesterol under two hundred. I am not getting off the drug.”
“Then you should not,” he said. If Krayoxx did in fact kill people, he wanted her to keep taking the full daily dosage.
“But there are lawsuits everywhere, Oscar. I’m still not convinced. Are you?”
She’s loyal to the drug, but she’s worried about the drug.
“Figg is convinced the drug causes damages,” Oscar said. “A lot of big law firms agree, and they’re going after Varrick. The general feeling is that the company will settle before going to trial. Too much at risk.”
“So, if there’s a settlement, what happens to Figg’s cases?”
“They’re all death cases, so far. Eight of them. If they settle, then we’ll collect some nice fees.”
“How nice?”
“It’s impossible to say.” Oscar was already making plans. If and when the settlement talk became serious, he would move out, file for divorce, then try to keep her away from his Krayoxx money.
“But I doubt they’ll settle,” he said.
“Why not? Bosch here says there might be a big settlement.”
“Bosch is an idiot, and he proves it every day. These big pharmaceuticals usually go to trial a few times to test the waters. If they get hammered by juries, then they start settling. If they win, they keep trying the cases until the plaintiffs’ lawyers give up. This could take years.”
Don’t get your hopes up, dear.
David and Helen Zinc had been almost as amorous as Wally and DeeAnna. With David working shorter hours and their newfound energy, it had taken less than a week to become pregnant. Now that David was home at a decent hour every night, they made up for lost time. They had just finished a session and were lying in bed watching late-night TV when Bosch appeared on their screen.
When he was gone, Helen said, “Looks like a frenzy.”
“Oh yes. Wally’s out there somewhere right now, littering the streets with brochures. It would be easier to advertise on television, but we can’t afford it.”
“Thank God for that. I really don’t want to see you on-screen fighting it out with the likes of Benny Bosch.”
“I think I’d be a natural as a TV lawyer. ‘Have you been injured?’ ‘We fight for you.’ ‘Insurance companies fear us.’ Whatta you think?”
“I think your friends at Rogan Rothberg would howl with laughter.”
“I have no friends there. Only bad memories.”
“You’ve been gone, what, a month?”
“Six weeks and two days, and I have not, for one moment, wanted to go back.”
“And how much have you earned with your new firm?”
“Six hundred and twenty dollars, and counting.”
“Well, we do have an expansion under way. Have you thought about future earnings, things like that? You walked away from $300,000 a year, fine. But we can’t live on $600 a month.”
“Do you doubt me?”
“No, but a little reassurance would be nice.”
“Okay. I promise you I’ll make enough money to keep us happy and healthy. All three of us. Or four, or five, or whatever.”
“And how do you plan to do this?”
“TV. I’ll go on the air to find Krayoxx victims,” David said, laughing. “Me and Bosch. Whatta you think?”
“I think you’re crazy.”
They were both laughing, then groping.
CHAPTER 19
The official name of the gathering was a discovery conference, and it was typically a brief lawyers’ get-together in front of the judge to discuss the initial stages of the lawsuit. No record was kept, just informal notes taken by a clerk. Often, and especially in the courtroom of Harry Seawright, the judge himself begged off and sent a magistrate to pinch-hit.
Today, however, Judge Seawright was presiding. As the senior judge in the Northern District of Illinois he had a large courtroom, a splendid and spacious layout on the twenty-third floor of the Dirksen Federal Building on Dearborn Street in downtown Chicago. The courtroom was lined with dark, oak-paneled walls, and there were plenty of thick leather chairs for the various players. On the right side, and to the judge’s left, was the plaintiffs’ team of Wally Figg and David Zinc. On the left side, and to the judge’s right, was the team of about a dozen or so Rogan Rothberg lawyers toiling away on behalf of Varrick Laboratories. Their leader, of course, was Nadine Karros, the only female lawyer present, and for the occasion she was modeling a classic Armani navy suit, skirt just above the knees, nude legs, and designer platform pumps with four-inch heels.
Wally couldn’t take his eyes off the shoes, the skirt, the entire package. “Maybe we should come to federal court more often,” he’d quipped to David, who was in no mood for humor. Nor was Wally, to be honest. For both of them, it was their first venture into a federal courtroom. Wally claimed he handled cases in federal court all the time, but David was doubtful. Oscar, senior partner, who was supposed to be there with them, taking on the twin Goliaths of Rogan Rothberg and Varrick, had called in sick.
Oscar wasn’t the only no-show. The great Jerry Alisandros and his team of world-class litigators were all lined up to blast into Chicago for an impressive display of strength, but a last-minute emergency hearing in Boston had become more important. Wally freaked out when he got the call from one of Alisandros’s underlings. “It’s just a discovery conference,” the young man said. Driving to court, Wally had expressed skepticism about Zell & Potter.
For David, the moment was extremely uncomfortable. He was sitting in a federal courtroom for the first time knowing that he would not say a word because he had no idea what to say, and his opposition was a team of well-dressed and highly skilled lawyers from a firm he’d once been loyal to, a firm that had recruited him, trained him, paid him a top salary, and promised him a long career, and a firm that he had jilted, rejected. In favor of … Finley & Figg? He could almost hear them snickering behind their legal pads. David, with his pedigree and Harvard diploma, belonged over there, where they billed by the hour, not on the plaintiffs’ side, where you beat the streets looking for clients. David did not want to be where he was. Nor did Wally.