Noah's Law (9 page)

‘What's the manager's name?' Bernie wanted to know.

‘Harold Webb. Do you know him?'

‘No,' Bernie said. ‘I just wanted to know the name of the bastard who's making up lies about Maureen.'

Ignoring his outburst, Casey continued, ‘They are arguing any payment should be reduced on the basis that any damages Maureen would have been entitled to would have been proportionately—'

‘English please, Casey,' Bernie suggested.

‘If Maureen had lived she would have sued them, correct?'

‘Yeah.'

‘The law says that if the person injured was somehow also responsible for their injury—'

‘
Responsible
? She was murdered! What the hell is wrong with you mob? Jesus! Do you sell your soul to the devil to get qualified?'

‘Bernie, please calm down. Let's just stick to the allegations without addressing the merits or lack thereof. I know this is upsetting—'

‘You're damn right it is. She was me wife! We were married for nineteen years. Those pigs sent her out knowing full well it was risky. They have her blood on their hands. And now they're saying she was partly to blame?'

Casey sighed. ‘I'm on your side, Bernie. I just need you to understand what their argument is so we can then work out how to fight it. Okay?'

Bernie grunted.

‘Now, as I was saying, if the person injured was somehow also responsible for their injury, and this can be proved, any damages they are paid are reduced. Assuming they can prove Maureen was responsible – which I'm not saying they can – it will come down to the credibility of this Webb guy.'

‘Reduced by how much?' Bernie asked.

‘Well, there's no exact science to it really. It's a matter of percentages. We'd basically fight over how much the reduction should be. Worst-case scenario is fifty or sixty percent, depending on the evidence they present.'

‘This is bull—'

The phone rang and Casey answered. ‘Yes . . . I see . . . Well I doubt my client will accept that but I'll get instructions.'

She hung up and turned to Bernie. ‘They're offering twenty-five thousand dollars inclusive of legal costs as a full and final settlement.'

‘Tell them to shove their cash up their—'

Casey jumped back onto the phone. ‘That offer is rejected. We need time to consider your evidence and Webb's statement. We'll contact you once we've gone through it.'

She hung up and Bernie leaped out of his seat.

‘Now can I get out of here? I'm dying for a smoke. I can't handle this anymore.'

‘Okay, fine. I'll wrap things up and show the other side out. I'll be in touch as soon as I've examined the statement in detail and assessed its merits.'

‘Whatever,' Bernie said sullenly, and left quickly.

 

Saleh & Co Lawyers closed for Christmas and Boxing Day.

Amit and I spent Christmas Day at Bondi beach. Dad had to go into chambers to work on an urgent case for some big media mogul. Nadine and Mary went to Mum's for a barbecue (vegie patties, of course). I begged Mum to give me the day to myself on the basis that Dad was forcing me to work through the last holidays I had before year twelve. Always willing to make Dad look bad, so that she could look like the nicer parent, she caved.

Amit and I were drying off in the sun after a swim. It was a stinking-hot day and we were in bikini-perving heaven. Amit reached into my backpack for a packet of chips. The copy I'd taken of Bernie's file fell out.

‘Oh yeah,' I said, sitting up. ‘I brought this from work to show you.'

I took out the photographs of Bernie's wife.

‘Woah, that's gross!' Amit said.

‘Yeah. Bernie's pretty messed up about it all. And now they're screwing him over with some story about how she was partly to blame. Pretty shocking, hey?'

‘Totally.' He paused and then cocked his head to the side. ‘Who on earth has a photo taken in front of Woolworths?'

‘True. Grocery shopping doesn't usually inspire a Kodak moment.'

‘Which brings me to my next question: any Kodak moments with Jacinta to report?'

I hit him hard on the shoulder. ‘You're an idiot. I work with a girl and you immediately assume I'm making moves on her.'

‘You're sixteen,' he said, a baffled expression on his face. ‘That's what we do.'

‘You give new meaning to the word desperate.'

‘Don't be so self-righteous.'

‘Why not?' I lay back on my beach towel and folded my arms behind my head. ‘It's fun.'

He gave me a sober look. ‘You're cracking up. I'm seeing symptoms of an acute ageing process here. Too much time locked away in that firm, obeying instructions and acting mature. It's disgusting and I don't like it.'

‘I couldn't agree more.'

‘We need to get you a life.'

Remembering my pay cheque I brightened. ‘Let's focus on the upside. I got paid. Five hundred bucks for two weeks. I've never had that much money before.'

Amit's conversion was instant. ‘Ask your aunt if she'll give me a job.'

‘You hypocrite.'

‘Five hundred dollars worth of hypocrisy. It's worth it.'

I ended up shouting him to a movie later in the day. As we sat in the cinema munching on popcorn and comparing our ratings of the group of girls sitting in the row in front of us, I felt more like my normal self: girl crazy and a bit of an idiot, with not a photocopying task in sight.

Dad managed to have breakfast with us on Boxing Day, though he had to be at the office by noon to work on a case. We were sitting on our back porch eating pancakes. Nadine and Mary had made a huge batch. Dad was sipping mint tea and reading the latest edition of the
Law Society Journal
.

‘So Amit's mum's considering suing her boss,' I said casually as I drowned a pancake in maple syrup. ‘A negligence case. That basically means her boss stuffed up somehow, right?'

I had a general idea of what negligence meant, but I still couldn't work out how Rodney was to blame for somebody else smashing Maureen's head in. I got that Jenkins had a dodgy way of handling the money. But even still, why should Rodney's business cop the blame for a murderer's crime? It seemed a big stretch.

Dad put down his magazine and sat up in his chair. I could see he was excited.

‘Son, I think we can do better than that in defining negligence. Negligence is part of the law of torts which determines whether a loss that befalls one person should or should not be shifted to another person. In an action of negligence, a plaintiff must show that the defendant, or shall I say alleged tortfeasor—'

‘Dad,' I interrupted, ‘Amit wanted me to ask you so he could explain it to his mum. Her English isn't too good. Could you maybe simplify it?'

‘Could you maybe get a life and talk about something else?' Nadine snapped.

‘I have spoken to her before and her English was perfect,' Dad said, ignoring the interruption. ‘Anyway, I thought Amit's mother had a PhD in electronic engineering from Sydney University?'

‘Er . . . well, that's all pretty technical. You know what non-humanities faculties are like – robots without language, as you say.'

Dad did his elitist chuckle. Appealing to his egotistical superiority complex always worked (he was of the opinion that the legal faculty was the only legitimate source of education in a university).

‘Okay, well, to put it simply – and oh, how this pains me, Noah, as the law is a beautifully complex framework – a person is guilty of negligent conduct when they owed another person a duty to take care, they failed to take care, and their failure caused the other person to suffer physical injury to person or property. That is a hopelessly simplified summary. There are established relationships in which a duty of care is owed, an employer/employee relationship being one of them.'

Nadine rolled her eyes. ‘Dad, do you realise you are quite possibly the nerdiest human being in Sydney?'

Dad beamed. ‘Thank you, Nadine. I sincerely appreciate the compliment.'

I mulled over Dad's words. Putting aside all the jargon, it seemed to me that it basically came down to this: Jenkins Storage World was supposed to have taken care of Maureen (whatever that meant). Maybe done something to prevent her death. It didn't. She died. So Jenkins Storage World was negligent.

‘And what's loss of expectation of benefit mean?' I asked.

Nadine jumped in again. ‘It's like when you expect to have breakfast and end up listening to a law lecture.'

‘Put the two together and you're in heaven,' Dad said. Then he turned to me. ‘The answer to your question depends on the scenario.'

‘Say someone dies at work and their, er, wife survives and sues for a loss of expectation of benefit. What does that mean?'

‘Does Amit's mother know somebody who's died?'

‘Um, I think so . . .' I shrugged. ‘I'm just the messenger, conveying the questions. I can't be sure.'

Dad raised an eyebrow but didn't challenge me. ‘In the circumstances you've cited, it means that the surviving spouse is suing as a dependent on the basis that had the deceased not died, they would have had an income to depend upon. So their expectation of that income no longer exists and they seek to be compensated accordingly.'

‘In other words, they're no longer able to sponge money off their spouse so they should get compo?'

‘Well, I suppose you could put it that way. But really, Noah, you have a better vocabulary—'

‘Okay, cool, thanks,' I said, cutting him off. I stuffed my mouth with pancake to send a clear signal that the conversation had come to an end.

 

The office was fairly quiet on Monday morning as some of the lawyers had chosen to extend their leave. Jacinta was working through the holiday season to earn some extra cash, but Aunt Nirvine had her in the Supreme Court library all day researching a new case law precedent so I didn't get a chance to talk to her until the end of the day when we left the office together.

‘How's the flatmate-hunting coming along?'

The doors of the elevator opened and we walked outside onto the crowded street.

Jacinta groaned. ‘Terrible. Why is everybody so weird? At least the agent has finally put someone normal forward. Apparently she's studying engineering and works part time at Myer. But who knows? She's probably an undercover devil-worshipper.'

‘Well, at least you know she'll be able to pay the rent.'

She laughed.

‘I overheard Aunt Nirvine talking to Casey today,' I said brightly. ‘They said that my photocopying sucks and because you're so good at it, especially those right-angle staples, they're giving you a big photocopying job over the weekend.'

Her eyes boggled. ‘
What
? The weekend? Are they kidding?!'

I nodded solemnly. ‘You'll get overtime, don't worry. You wanted the extra cash, remember?'

‘Yeah, on my own terms, not theirs!'