Chapter 4

Mary: Lawyer Gets Man

Monday, I woke early. As a named partner, someone whose name doesn’t just appear above the line on the side of the stationary but in the actual firm name, I had the luxury of taking time off on my own say so. The problem was that I also had the responsibility for making sure everyone else got paid. I was head of litigation the least profitable sector most years.

This year, I was going to change that.

We had a big product liability suit going where we represented the manufacturer. The fees generated promised to be large, and the number of staff involved promised to be reasonable. Mostly at this point, we were doing E-discovery retrieving every email our client ever generated. It sounds like a big task, but I learned some years back that get the right techs working on the job, and it is done one, two, three.

My job this day was easy; all I had to do was get the client’s officers to order their subordinates to cooperate with our staff and the tech firm we hired. One of the interesting aspects of my work was the protocol. My staff did the actual discovery work, but only I could talk to the high Pooh bahs of the client. So, my morning was to be spent meeting with my staff to make sure I conveyed to the client what was needed.

The doorbell rang just before I was to leave. I opened the door to an overweight man in a tired rayon sport’s jacket.

“Mr. Jason Sweeney,” he said.

Unmistakably he was a process server, and all I could think was that Jason was divorcing me.

“Don’t you mean Mrs. Jason Sweeney?” I said.

He took a quick look at the papers in his hand.

“No, Mr. Sweeney—please,” he said.

At that moment, my mind kicked into gear. Someone was suing Jason. If I said, he no longer lived here, the fat man would go looking to deliver the papers elsewhere. If I accepted service, I would learn who was suing Jason and why.

“I’m Mrs. Sweeney. Unfortunately, Mr. Sweeney is not home at present,” I said.

The man looked at me, suspiciously. I realized my pinstriped dress suit marked me as a lawyer, and he was a bit flustered by that.

“Must be wondering whether he can trust me,” I thought.

He apparently decided that he could.

“Here, please tell him, he has been served,” He said, handing me the papers.

“Just a moment,” I said opening and quickly scanning the papers, “Don’t you want my full name for the affidavit of service?”

He hesitated and turned back, giving me a funny look.

“I’m Mary Sweeney. I stand five foot ten and I weight one hundred thirty-eight pounds and guess how old I am?”

He smiled and took a long look as I posed for him.

“Thirty...”

“Flatterer, I’m forty-four,” I said.

“Well, that I find it hard to believe ... but can I ask a question? Why are you so helpful?” he said.

“Because as a wise man said, the opera ain’t over till the fat lady sings or, in this case, the fat man delivers,” I said closing the door on a very perplexing process server.

I entered my office like a thunderstorm on a hot summer day. I was a hard rain with the promise of a whirlwind to follow. I dispatched the client business as only I can. I flirted cajoled and threatened until I got everything I needed. Then I retreated to my office to plan.

I was there reviewing the suit of Anton Chevas vs. Jason Sweeney and the Mid-Town Boxing Gym. I had just placed a call to my umbrella carrier when Jack Cardigan came in.

“We need to talk,” Jack Cardigan said.

“Can it wait a minute? I have a call going to United General Insurance,” I said.

Jack wasn’t pleased to be kept waiting, but he stayed seated in my office. My secretary informed me that she had the president of UGI on the line.

“Simon so nice to speak to you,” I said then exchanged pleasantries with one of my father’s oldest friends about his family and mine before getting down to business.

“Listen the reason I called is you carry my family umbrella policy, and it appears my husband is getting sued for an accident in a sporting event. The thing is I don’t want you to handle it. What I would like is for you to hire my firm, and I will cover any expenses and any payout,” I said.

Simon was all too willing, but a bit curious. I told him it was a matter of principle. I don’t think he bought it, but I assured him I would send the appropriate paperwork.

Jack sat and listened; I could see his curiosity rising.

“What gives?” Jack said as I hung up.

“It would seem my husband smashed in someone’s face,” I said.

Jack gave a sigh, “That is what I want to talk about. I called Jason to see if I could do something to make amends,” he began

I raise an eyebrow, and he gave me a sad look back.

“He essentially told me he would be pleased if I killed myself to save him the trouble,” Jack said.

“Hmm, I guess I really underestimated his reaction,” I said.

“Do you think he may be dangerous?” Jack asked

“Well, the answer to that may be in finding out what happened to Mr. Chevas,” I said.

It took only a minute to get Dennis Hoop of White, Branch & Cooper on the phone. He was a young associate and very awed to be speaking to a named partner. He had filed the action on behalf of Mr. Chevas.

“Dennis how good to talk to you. Simon Willard of UGI asked me to call and see if this lawsuit Chevas v. Sweeney is for real. They carry an umbrella policy on Sweeney, and well they suspect this is some kind of nuisance suit,” I said.

“I assure you it is very real that gym put Mr. Chevas, a promising young stockbroker, into the ring with an unstable professional boxer,” Dennis said.

“Hmm, that’s not what I was told. Sweeney is a forty-two -year old schoolteacher hardly capable of hurting a bigger and younger man like Mr. Chevas,” I said.

I was fishing with my statements about size and age, but I had a hunch, and Dennis didn’t deny it.

“Let me tell you I have witnesses who will say that Sweeney boxed like a white Muhammad Ali. He all but caved poor Anton’s face in—I mean Mr. Chevas,”

“Friend of yours, is he?”

“Well, we went to college together so I can tell you he was a very handsome black man before that maniac got to him.”

“Well, still how old does that make him thirty? He was fighting a much older man. Is Mr. Chevas infirmed or very frail?”

“Well, no he’s six-four and maybe two hundred plus, but Sweeney was a professional.”

“Hmm, my sources say no not even a dedicated amateur, but I guess it will all come out in discovery,” I said telling him to expect my answer and hung up.

“Why the big smile?” Jack, who had been patiently waiting, asked.

“It would seem Jason got in the ring with a very large young black man and did him considerable harm,” I said.

“I feared he could be dangerous,” Jack said.

“Yes, but now I have him in my ring, and I mean to make the most of it,” I said.

“Look the reason I came in was actually not about Jason,” Jack began, “I got this strange call from your mother.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, she invited me to tea in Connecticut, but there was something in her voice that was not an invite. It was more a command. She was being very formal. I mean, I’ve known her for years, and I’m rich and socially prominent enough to know what some people say about her. Being as she’s your mother perhaps your not aware—”

My mother is at times a DeVoe first and a human being second. She is in many ways the last of the harsh breed that built the DeVoe fortune. She can at times be an imperious autocrat capable of actions that more scrupled individuals would balk at. When she was in her DeVoe aristocrat persona, she could be demanding and unreasonable. Moreover, beneath her modern woman veneer was a set of values from several centuries ago.

“I’m well aware of how my mother can sometimes behave socially, especially if she thinks her family is threatened. She probably just wants assurances that your intentions regarding her granddaughter’s future are consistent with Tina’s best interests.”

“I’m sure that’s it, but I will tell you and her that I intend that I will be a big part of Tina’s life from here on forward. I won’t try to replace Jason, but I’m Tina’s natural father, and I intend to take my place in her life.”

With that, he left without needing or waiting for my response. I certainly didn’t need the explosion that would come if he spoke to my mother that way, but I knew that Jack was a good lawyer and would put his wishes firmly, but with far more charm to my mother than he had just used with me.

I resolved to talk to my mother as soon as possible to head off any friction, but unfortunately, events moved too swiftly for me, and I was grossly ignorant of some important facts.

My first step in the Chevas lawsuit was to start my investigation. We had a good PI firm, and it took them no time to apprise me of the facts. Poor Dennis had four possible witnesses, two stockbroker buddies, who had accompanied Anton to the gym that night, and two women. He had also approached many of the gym regulars, but they had closed ranks around the gym ownership and what they saw as one of their own.

“I want the names of the women, in particular,” I told our PI.

Dennis preliminary witness list had no female names, and I was sure there was a reason for that. I soon found out when my investigator brought back the name of Latisha White, junior account clerk.

“Anton was talking smack, you know egging the older guy on. Anton had his latest squeeze there some married slut he was impressing,” Latisha said, “I was only there because my boss was going and he knew that I dated a boxer in college.”

She gave a little frown and said, “You’re a professional woman, and you probably know how these guys are always trying to get in your pants. He was trying to impress me by taking me to this boxing club to watch Anton beat up on some old boxer. I mean would you want to see your old love end up as some punching bag for some Wall Street jerk like Anton Chevas.”

I was interviewing her in a nice bar off of Maiden Lane. It was a stone’s throw from the New York Stock Exchange. She was quite cooperative, but I would never call her as a witness for exactly the same reason that the plaintiff was afraid of her.

“Well we get there, and I could see from the look this guy gave us that he was not some dumb bull that Anton was going to get in the ring with. He was smart. You could just tell, and he was in great shape.”

“So, this new squeeze of Anton’s,” I said, “ let me guess she was a white woman and a bit older than the rest of you?”

“Yea, how did you guess?”

“Lucky, but tell me how did the older fighter react to her?”

“He was all professional. You know, he took a look at us and must have thought what a bunch of rich creeps we were. It couldn’t have helped that Anton was talking bull shit and acting like the asshole he is.”

“Can you tell me how Anton got hurt?

“I guess when Anton let his guard down, the white man just hit him. It was very quick, like an eye-blink quick. I kinda felt good for him. He wasn’t bad looking either in an older sort of way,” Latisha said, and I could see that she was understating her physical attraction to my husband.

“Well, thank you,” I said.

“He’s going to be okay, right?”

“I think Anton will recover,” I said.

“Who cares about that creep? I mean the old guy he was only doing what he was paid to.”

I had to smile poor Latisha had no idea that Anton was paying for the sins of another, or that the poor old white guy was about to get an unpleasant shock.

“Please sit down,” I said.

“Isn’t there something unethical about this?” Jason said.

“I can’t see what,” I said with a smirk.

“You’re about to be my ex-wife,” he said.

“Oh, have you filed a divorce petition.’

“Well, no, I thought you would take care of that. After all, I left you.”

“Dream on. You don’t get away that easy. I’m your wife, and I intend to stay your wife, but right now, I’m your lawyer. So, sit your ass down.”

Jason was not happy, but he sat down. We were in the big conference room. I was pulling out all the stops. I intended to show my husband, who was the boss, and just why that was the proper designation of roles.

“Now let me tell you how I see this,” I said.

I had a yellow legal pad with notes and the complaint with notations in the margins.

“It says here that you negligently injured one Anton Chevas, but we both know that this was no accident. He walked into that gym with a married woman on his arm, and you did to him what you did to Frank Patterson, only more so.”

“Oh, did I hurt your boyfriend?”

“You know damn well you did, and you could have killed him. And you probably would have killed this idiot Chevas if they hadn’t stopped you. So, let’s call it what it was, a vicious assault by an angry husband,” I said.

“I see. These guys get to destroy families, and there is no consequence for them.”

“You are not the dark avenger. You are a professor of mathematics and the father of three young women who need you. You have been acting like an overgrown child, but you are a strong man and the physical equivalent of a professional boxer.

“If the attorney, who brought this suit, learns the truth, you could end up in jail. So, I suggest you put aside your anger at me and the world. I can get you out of this, but we need to cooperate. Then I will leave you alone. I will not divorce you, and I will fight any action for divorce you file. But I will not seek more than remaining your wife and praying that you find it in your heart to forgive me.”

I could see him thinking and arguing with himself. My strategy was to get as close as possible with the intent of working my way back into my husband’s affections. The odds were with me. In seventy percent of all cases of female infidelity, the parties stay together. In the thirty percent that don’t, it is a matter of the woman divorcing the man. Men rarely leave their wives solely because they strayed.

I knew my case was a bit unique. My sins had been long and plentiful, but this also gave me an advantage. We had a long relationship which had been until recently a very happy coupling. We had been through a lot together and been exceedingly close and happy. Money can’t buy happiness, but the lack of financial stress had given our marriage an easy road. Therefore our current problem was the first true stress the marriage had faced.

I knew that Jason would divorce me only as a matter of his anger. Just sitting across from him, I could feel the fire of his rage. I had truly betrayed him and earned that angry reaction, but I intended to mend my ways and make up for the hurt I caused. I had time I felt because Jason had no need to divorce me, and I had the legal skill and resources to make any divorce difficult and time-consuming. So long as no other woman entered the picture, I had the expectation that in time, his fury would cool and he would remember the happy marriage we once had.

“So, let’s begin,” I said, “Have you ever had a professional fight?”

It was two months from Christmas. Our daughters had been working on Jason to come home and spend the school break with them before he left for his new job. I thought he was about to cave on the point. Once, I got him home; I intended to seduce him.

Sex with Jason had always been a mutual experience that was more about fun than passion. I never needed to play all those female games you learn in your youth and master as you age. I was relaxed with my husband and comfortable. Looking back, I had been too comfortable. I intended to show him a time in the bedroom like nothing he had ever known. He saw me now as a slut. Well, I would show him what a slut can bring to his bed. But first, I had the depositions for the lawsuit.

Dennis Hoop wasn’t a bad lawyer, but he just wasn’t on my level and felt it.

Manny was the third person deposed by Hoop. He was a feisty witness. He had been knocking back Hoop’s questions for about two hours when Dennis finally got to the central issue.

Hoop: Why did you pick Mr. Sweeny to spar with Mr. Cheves?

Manny: I didn’t pick anyone. Mr. Cheves picked Jason from the list of partners and paid for the bout.”

Hoop: Did you think it a fair match up?

Manny: Hell no, Chevas was bigger and younger. By all rights, it should have been a blowout.

Hoop: Then, how do you explain what happened.

Manny: Well, I could see that Chevas wasn’t keeping his hands up as he should—and well, Jason had been training pretty hard. You know some older guys overdo the training to keep in shape. Case of one man overconfident and the other underestimating himself, I guess.

Dennis wasn’t buying it, and he had a strategy of his own and had done his homework.

Hoop: You didn’t want Mr. Sweeney on the list of sparring partners. Why was that?

Manny: He’s forty-two. I was afraid he’d get hurt. These young guys can do a job on an older fighter. They don’t always know their own strength or remember it’s all just a sporting event.

Hoop: Mr. Silverman wasn’t George Foreman 45 when he beat 27-year-old Michael Moorer for the heavyweight title?

Manny smiled before answering.

Manny: I know George. He’s a big man and powerful. Sweeny was a light heavyweight fighting a bigger man. Sweeney had the skill and experience, but, Counselor, your man, had the power. He just didn’t keep his hands up.”

I nearly laughed because my interviews with the fellows at the gym had clued me to the fact that Jason was exceeding quick an Ali, not a Foreman. What they all agreed Jason lacked was the fire in his belly. Poor Antone had given him that if only for a brief few minutes.

I decided to end this farce.

“Ah, might we stop for lunch at his point, and after that, I would like to examine what I believe will be a hostile witness for me,” I said very casually.

Hoop was not fooled, “ May I ask who?”

“I have her under subpoena, Rachael Weisz. Mrs, I believe, and an eyewitness.”

Hoop turned a bit green. I offered him lunch at a fine restaurant at which I pressed him.

“Ok, you know who I got, and what effect she would have on a jury. Your guy shows up at the gym with his arm around another man’s wife, the mother of three. He will seem like a right creep. He gets in the ring with a man a weight class lower who he picked to spar with because he’s old and washed up. He then makes fun of his opponent. He’s out to impress his girl and his buddies.

“You can’t know that.”

“That’s not me talking, but Ms. White another witness you are afraid of. I have Manny to say your guy let his guard down and caused his own injuries. Latisha to say he was acting like an idiot, and Mrs. Weisz to make any jury hate your client. What do you honestly think your claim is worth?

I could see Dennis blink.