Rage of Angels (12 page)

They ordered drinks and dinner and busied themselves making small talk. Jennifer let Adam do most of the talking.
He was witty and charming, but she was armored against his charm. It was not easy. She found herself smiling at his anecdotes, laughing at his stories.

It won’t do him any good
, Jennifer told herself. She was not looking for a fling. The specter of her mother haunted her. There was a deep passion within Jennifer that she was afraid to explore, afraid to release.

They were having dessert and Adam still had not said one word that could be misconstrued. Jennifer had been building up her defenses for nothing, fending off an attack that had never materialized, and she felt like a fool. She wondered what Adam would have said if he had known what she had been thinking all evening. Jennifer smiled at her own vanity.

“I never got a chance to thank you for the clients you sent me,” Jennifer said. “I did telephone you a few times, but—”

“I know.” Adam hesitated, then added awkwardly, “I didn’t want to return your phone calls.” Jennifer looked at him in surprise. “I was afraid to,” he said simply.

And there it was. He had taken her by surprise, caught her off guard, but his meaning was unmistakable. Jennifer knew what was coming next. And she did not want him to say it. She did not want him to be like all the others, the married men who pretended they were single. She despised them and she did not want to despise this man.

Adam said quietly, “Jennifer, I want you to know I’m married.” She sat there staring at him, her mouth open.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.” He smiled wryly. “Well, there really was no sooner, was there?”

Jennifer was filled with a strange confusion. “Why—why did you ask me to dinner, Adam?”

“Because I had to see you again.”

Everything began to seem unreal to Jennifer. It was as though she were being pulled under by some giant tidal
wave. She sat there listening to Adam saying all the things he felt, and she knew that every word was true. She knew because she felt the same way. She wanted him to stop before he said too much. She wanted him to go on and say more.

“I hope I’m not offending you,” Adam said.

There was a sudden shyness about him that shook Jennifer.

“Adam, I—I—”

He looked at her and even though they had not touched, it was as if she were in his arms.

Jennifer said shakily, “Tell me about your wife.”

“Mary Beth and I have been married fifteen years. We have no children.”

“I see.”

“She—we decided not to have any. We were both very young when we got married. I had known her a long time. Our families were neighbors at a summer place we had in Maine. When she was eighteen, her parents were killed in a plane crash. Mary Beth was almost insane with grief. She was all alone. I—we got married.”

He married her out of pity and he’s too much of a gentleman to say so
, Jennifer thought.

“She’s a wonderful woman. We’ve always had a very good relationship.”

He was telling Jennifer more than she wanted to know, more than she could handle. Every instinct in her warned her to get away, to flee. In the past she had easily been able to cope with the married men who had tried to become involved with her, but Jennifer knew instinctively that this was different. If she ever let herself fall in love with this man, there would be no way out. She would have to be insane ever to begin anything with him.

Jennifer spoke carefully. “Adam, I like you very much. I don’t get involved with married men.”

He smiled, and his eyes behind the glasses held honesty and warmth. “I’m not looking for a backstreet affair. I enjoy being
with you. I’m very proud of you. I’d like us to see each other once in a while.”

Jennifer started to say,
What good would that do?
but the words came out, “That would be good.”

So we’ll have lunch once a month,
Jennifer thought.
It can’t hurt anything.

One of Jennifer’s first visitors to her new office was Father Ryan. He wandered around the three small rooms and said, “Very nice, indeed. We’re getting up in the world, Jennifer.”

Jennifer laughed. “This isn’t exactly getting up in the world, Father. I have a long way to go.”

He eyed her keenly. “You’ll make it. By the way, I went to visit Abraham Wilson last week.”

“How is he getting along?”

“Fine. They have him working in the prison machine shop. He asked me to give you his regards.”

“I’ll have to visit him myself one day soon.”

Father Ryan sat in his chair, staring at her, until Jennifer said, “Is there something I can do for you, Father?”

He brightened. “Ah, well, I know you must be busy, but now that you’ve brought it up, a friend of mine has a bit of a problem. She was in an accident. I think you’re just the one to help her.”

Automatically Jennifer replied, “Have her come in and see me, Father.”

“I think you’ll have to go to her. She’s a quadruple amputee.”

Connie Garrett lived in a small, neat apartment on Houston Street. The door was opened for Jennifer by an elderly white-haired woman wearing an apron.

“I’m Martha Steele, Connie’s aunt. I live with Connie. Please come in. She’s expecting you.”

Jennifer walked into a meagerly furnished living room. Connie Garrett was propped up with pillows in a large armchair. Jennifer was shocked by her youth. For some reason, she had expected an older woman. Connie Garrett was about twenty-four, Jennifer’s age. There was a wonderful radiance in her face, and Jennifer found it obscene that there was only a torso with no arms or legs attached to it. She repressed a shudder.

Connie Garrett gave her a warm smile and said, “Please sit down, Jennifer. May I call you Jennifer? Father Ryan has told me so much about you. And, of course, I’ve seen you on television. I’m so glad you could come.”

Jennifer started to reply, “My pleasure,” and realized how inane it would have sounded. She sat down in a soft comfortable chair opposite the young woman.

“Father Ryan said you were in an accident a few years ago. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“It was my fault, I’m afraid. I was crossing an intersection and I stepped off the sidewalk and slipped and fell in front of a truck.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Three years ago last December. I was on my way to Bloomingdale’s to do some Christmas shopping.”

“What happened after the truck hit you?”

“I don’t remember anything. I woke up in the hospital.
They told me that an ambulance brought me there. There was an injury to my spine. Then they found bone damage and it kept spreading until—” She stopped and tried to shrug. It was a pitiful gesture. “They tried to fit me with artificial limbs, but they don’t work on me.”

“Did you bring suit?”

She looked at Jennifer, puzzled. “Father Ryan didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“My lawyer sued the utility company whose truck hit me, and we lost the case. We appealed and lost the appeal.”

Jennifer said, “He should have mentioned that. If the appellate court turned you down, I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done.”

Connie Garrett nodded. “I didn’t really believe there was. I just thought—well, Father Ryan said you could work miracles.”

“That’s
his
territory. I’m only a lawyer.”

She was angry with Father Ryan for having given Connie Garrett false hope. Grimly, Jennifer decided she would have a talk with him.

The older woman was hovering in the background. “Can I offer you something, Miss Parker? Some tea and cake, perhaps?”

Jennifer suddenly realized she was hungry, for she had had no time for lunch. But she visualized sitting opposite Connie Garrett while she was being fed by hand, and she could not bear the thought.

“No, thanks,” Jennifer lied. “I just had lunch.”

All Jennifer wanted to do was get out of there as quickly as possible. She tried to think of some cheering note she could leave on, but there was nothing.
Damn Father Ryan!

“I—I’m really sorry. I wish I—”

Connie Garrett smiled and said, “Please don’t worry about it.”

It was the smile that did it. Jennifer was sure if she had been in Connie Garrett’s place she would never have been able to smile.

“Who was your lawyer?” Jennifer heard herself asking.

“Melvin Hutcherson. Do you know him?”

“No, but I’ll look him up.” She went on, without meaning to, “I’ll have a talk with him.”

“That would be so nice of you.” There was warm appreciation in Connie Garrett’s voice.

Jennifer thought of what the girl’s life must be like, sitting there totally helpless, day after day, month after month, year after year, unable to do anything for herself.

“I can’t promise anything, I’m afraid.”

“Of course not. But do you know something, Jennifer? I feel better just because you came.”

Jennifer rose to her feet. It was a moment to shake hands, but there was no hand to shake.

She said awkwardly, “It was nice meeting you, Connie. You’ll hear from me.”

On the way back to her office, Jennifer thought about Father Ryan and resolved that she would never succumb to his blandishments again. There was nothing anyone could do for that poor crippled girl, and to offer her any kind of hope was indecent. But she would keep her promise. She would talk to Melvin Hutcherson.

When Jennifer returned to her office there was a long list of messages for her. She looked through them quickly, looking for a message from Adam Warner. There was none.

Melvin Hutcherson was a short, balding man with a tiny button nose and washed-out pale blue eyes. He had a shabby suite of offices on the West Side that reeked of poverty. The receptionist’s desk was empty.

“Gone to lunch,” Melvin Hutcherson explained.

Jennifer wondered if he had a secretary. He ushered her into his private office, which was no larger than the reception office.

“You told me over the phone you wanted to talk about Connie Garrett.”

“That’s right.”

He shrugged. “There’s not that much to talk about. We sued and we lost. Believe me, I did a bang-up job for her.”

“Did you handle the appeal?”

“Yep. We lost that, too. I’m afraid you’re spinning your wheels.” He regarded her a moment. “Why do you want to waste your time on something like this? You’re hot. You could be working on big money cases.”

“I’m doing a friend a favor. Would you mind if I looked at the transcripts?”

“Help yourself,” Hutcherson shrugged. “They’re public property.”

Jennifer spent the evening going over the transcripts of Connie Garrett’s lawsuit. To Jennifer’s surprise, Melvin Hutcherson had told the truth: He had done a good job. He had named both the city and the Nationwide Motors Corporation as co-defendants, and had demanded a trial by jury. The jury had exonerated both defendants.

The Department of Sanitation had done its best to cope with the snowstorm that had swept the city that December; all its equipment had been in use. The city had argued that the storm was an act of God, and that if there was any negligence, it was on the part of Connie Garrett.

Jennifer turned to the charges against the truck company. Three eyewitnesses had testified that the driver had tried to stop the truck to avoid hitting the victim, but that he had been unable to brake in time, and the truck had gone into an unavoidable spin and had hit her. The verdict in favor of the defendant had been upheld by the Appellate Division and the case had been closed.

Jennifer finished reading the transcripts at three o’clock in the morning. She turned off the lights, unable to sleep. On paper, justice had been done. But the image of Connie Garrett kept coming into her mind. A girl in her twenties, without arms or legs. Jennifer visualized the truck hitting the young girl, the awful agony she must have suffered, the series of terrible operations that had been performed, each one cutting away parts of her limbs. Jennifer turned on the light and sat up in bed. She dialed Melvin Hutcherson’s home number.

“There’s nothing in the transcripts about the doctors,” Jennifer said into the telephone. “Did you look into the possibility of malpractice?”

A groggy voice said, “Who the fuck is this?”

“Jennifer Parker. Did you—”

“For Christ’s sake! It’s—it’s four o’clock in the morning! Don’t you have a watch?”

“This is important. The hospital wasn’t named in the suit. What about those operations that were performed on Connie Garrett? Did you check into them?”

There was a pause while Melvin Hutcherson tried to gather his thoughts. “I talked to the heads of neurology and orthopedics at the hospital that took care of her. The operations were necessary to save her life. They were performed by the top men there and were done properly. That’s why the hospital wasn’t named in the suit.”

Jennifer felt a sharp sense of frustration. “I see.”

“Look, I told you before, you’re wasting your time on this one. Now why don’t we both get some sleep?”

And the receiver clicked in Jennifer’s ear. She turned out the light and lay back again. But sleep was farther away than ever. After a while, Jennifer gave up the struggle, arose and made herself a pot of coffee. She sat on her sofa drinking it, watching the rising sun paint the Manhattan skyline, the faint pink gradually turning into a bright, explosive red.

Jennifer was disturbed. For every injustice there was supposed to be a remedy at law. Had justice been done in Connie Garrett’s case? She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was six-thirty. Jennifer picked up the telephone again and dialed Melvin Hutcherson’s number.

“Did you check out the record of the truck driver?” Jennifer asked.

A sleepy voice said, “Jesus Christ! Are you some kind of crazy? When do you sleep?”

“The driver of the utility truck. Did you check out his record?”

“Lady, you’re beginning to insult me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jennifer insisted, “but I have to know.”

“The answer is yes. He had a perfect record. This was his first accident.”

So that avenue was closed. “I see.” Jennifer was thinking hard.

“Miss Parker,” Melvin Hutcherson said, “do me a big favor, will you? If you have any more questions, call me during office hours.”

“Sorry,” Jennifer said absently. “Go back to sleep.”

“Thanks a lot!”

Jennifer replaced the receiver. It was time to get dressed and go to work.