Basically, Michael Moretti despised women. They were too soft. They had no spirit. Rosa, for example. She’s like a little pet dog who does everything she’s told, Michael thought. She keeps my house, cooks for me, fucks me when I want to be fucked, shuts up when I tell her to shut up.
Michael had never known a woman of spirit, a woman who had the courage to defy him. Jennifer Parker had had the nerve to hang up on him. What was it she had said? Nothing you could ever do or say could be of the slightest interest to me. Michael Moretti thought about that and smiled to himself. She was wrong. He was going to show her how wrong she was.
He sat back, remembering what she had looked like in court, remembering her face and her body. He suddenly wondered what she would be like in bed. A wildcat, probably. He started thinking about her nude body under his, fighting him. He picked up the telephone and dialed a number.
When a girl’s voice answered he said, “Get naked. I’m on my way over.”
On her way back to the office after lunch, as Jennifer was crossing Third Avenue she was almost run down by a truck. The driver slammed on his brakes and the rear end of the truck skidded sideways, barely missing her.
“Jesus Christ, lady!” the driver yelled. “Why don’t you watch where the hell you’re goin’!”
Jennifer was not listening to him. She was staring at the name on the back of the truck. It read Nationwide Motors Corporation. She stood there watching, long after the truck had disappeared from sight. Then she turned and hurried back to the office.
“Is Ken here?” she asked Cynthia.
“Yes. He’s in his office.”
She went in to see him. “Ken, can you check out Nationwide Motors Corporation? We need a list of all the accident cases their trucks have been involved in for the past five years.”
“That’s going to take a while.”
“Use LEXIS.” That was the national legal computer.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m not sure yet, Ken. It’s just a hunch. I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”
She had overlooked something in the case of Connie Garrett, that lovely quadruple amputee who was destined to spend the rest of her life as a freak. The driver may have had a good record, but what about the trucks? Maybe somebody was liable, after all.
The next morning Ken Bailey laid a report in front of Jennifer. “Whatever the hell you’re after, looks like you’ve hit the jackpot. Nationwide Motors Corporation has had fifteen accidents in the last five years, and some of their trucks have been recalled.”
Jennifer felt an excitement begin to build in her. “What was the problem?”
“A deficiency in the braking system that causes the rear end of the truck to swing around when the brakes are hit hard.”
It was the rear end of the truck that had hit Connie Garrett.
Jennifer called a staff meeting with Dan Martin, Ted Harris and Ken Bailey. “We’re going into court on the Connie Garrett case,” Jennifer announced.
Ted Harris stared at her through his milk-bottle glasses. “Wait a minute, Jennifer, I checked that out. She lost on appeal. We’re going to get hit with res judicata.”
“What’s res judicata?” Ken Bailey asked.
Jennifer explained, “It means for civil cases what double jeopardy means for criminal cases. ‘There must be an end to litigation.’”
Ted Harris added, “Once a final judgment has been made on the merits of a case, it can only be opened again under very special circumstances. We have no grounds to reopen.”
“Yes, we have. We’re going after them on discovery.”
The principle of discovery read: Mutual knowledge of all relevant facts gathered by both parties is essential to proper litigation.
“The deep-pocket defendant is Nationwide Motors. They held back information from Connie Garrett’s attorney. There’s a deficiency in the braking system of their trucks and they kept it out of the record.”
She looked at the two lawyers. “Here’s what I think we should do…”
Two hours later, Jennifer was seated in Connie Garrett’s living room.
“I want to move for a new trial. I believe we have a case.”
“No. I couldn’t go through another trial.”
“Connie—”
“Look at me, Jennifer. I’m a freak. Every time I look in the mirror I want to kill myself. Do you know why I don’t?” Her voice sank to a whisper. “Because I can’t. I can’t!”
Jennifer sat there, shaken. How could she have been so insensitive?
“Suppose I try for an out-of-court settlement? I think that when they hear the evidence they’ll be willing to settle without going to trial.”
The offices of Maguire and Guthrie, the attorneys who represented the Nationwide Motors Corporation, were located on upper Fifth Avenue in a modern glass and chrome building with a splashing fountain in front. Jennifer announced herself at the reception desk. The receptionist asked her to be seated, and fifteen minutes later Jennifer was escorted into the offices of Patrick Maguire. He was the senior partner in the firm, a tough, hard-bitten Irishman with sharp eyes that missed nothing.
He motioned Jennifer to a chair. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Parker. You’ve gotten yourself quite a reputation around town.”
“Not all bad, I hope.”
“They say you’re tough. You don’t look it.”
“I hope not.”
“Coffee? Or some good Irish whiskey?”
“Coffee, please.”