David's Lot

DAVID’S LOT

Robert L. Bailey

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Lincoln Shanghai

David’s Lot

All Rights Reserved © 2004 by Robert L. Bailey

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

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ISBN: 0-595-32352-9 (pbk)

ISBN: 0-595-66535-7 (cloth)

ISBN: 978-0-5957-7146-2 (ebk)

destiny-

The inevitable lot to which a person or thing is destined: fate. A predetermined or inevitable course of events.

Webster’s dictionary

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 1

Anyone who patronized Eddie’s Bar and Grille more than once became acquainted with the owner, Eddie Slovak. Eddie had been running the place in the same building for over forty years, catering to both white and blue-collar workers.

The atmosphere had changed little over the years with the décor and smell of a Bohemian tavern from the old country. Eddie’s mom and dad bought the building and opened the tavern when Eddie was just a teenager. He was pressed into service, first washing dishes then waiting tables long before he was old enough to drink the beer he carried in big glass mugs to the customers. Eddie was sneaking beer from the cooler when he was just thirteen, sharing it with his buddies from school, riding around in the Marvin Sawyer’s old Chevy or up chugging it down on the roof of the building on hot summer nights.

Eddie was a fixture in the tavern. He spent most of his time perched on the first stool at the bar just inside the front door, a perch he chose to be in position to greet each customer by name as they came in. A customer came through that door more than once he knew their name.

Eddie was good to his help but the one common complaint among his few employees was that fact, there were two few of them. Eddie was tight. He didn’t provide enough people to run the place and the obvious result was slow service. The slow service ran off a few customers but the regulars who came back time after time and really liked the place didn’t mind the wait. These customers embraced the change of pace from what they had been doing all day at work.

On slow nights Eddie would run the place with just one bar tender and someone back in the kitchen. If an unexpected rush developed, he would leave his favorite spot and pitch in to help, taking orders, serving the drinks or meals or helping out behind the bar. This Monday night was not one of those busy nights.

The usual rush when the offices closed and the place filled up with the secretaries or clerks or truck drivers or attorneys who stopped off for a drink or two before driving home to the suburbs or catching the commuter train was over by seven. The patrons who came in for dinner were gone by eight thirty and it had been slow the rest of the evening.

Eddie was thinking about closing early but of course he wouldn’t. He always kept the tavern open until eleven and tonight wouldn’t be any exception. What was there for him to go home to? Nothing! Not since his wife Helen passed on. He was thinking about her when the woman came through the front door. He was watching the ball game on the TV set perched on the shelf behind the bar and didn’t notice her until she was seated at a table for four half way toward the back. Charlie started to come around the bar to see what she wanted but Eddie waived him off as he left his stool. He checked her out as he walked to the table. This one hasn’t been in before.

What can we get for you miss?Eddie asked her.

Anything left from dinner?she said.

Sorry, the kitchen is closed for tonight and the cook’s gone home but I can fix you about anything on the grille,he responded.

That’s okay. How about a nice big glass of seven up laced with vodka,she said.

That I can do,Eddie said.

Charlie heard what the woman wanted and took a glass from the shelf behind him.

You know this girl?Eddie asked Charlie.

Never seen her before. She’s a looker,Charlie responded.

Eddie turned to his left, checking to see if either of the two men down at the end of the bar was someone he knew well enough to ask if they knew the woman. That’s Bert Linder down at the end and the guy beside him; let’s see now, oh yea, that’s Vern Waters. Na, they wouldn’t know her he thought. He was just picking up the glass when he heard the front door open. He turned to see two men come in. Well, maybe business will pick up he thought as he started to take the lady her drink.

He was startled when one of the men beat him to the table, grabbed the woman by the arm and pulled her up out of the chair.

What the hell you doing?Eddie yelled.

The man pulled an automatic handgun from behind his jacket. Eddie saw a flash of fire at the end of the barrel just before he felt a sledgehammer blow to his chest. The sound of the discharge was loud in his ears as he fell back against the bar then slid down to the floor. He tried to get up but he couldn’t get anything to work. His arms were so heavy. More gunshots. He couldn’t count how many. They seemed to run together. He could move his head just far enough to look down toward the back. The two guys from the end of the bar were off their stools and down on the floor like he was. He couldn’t sort out what was happening. He fought the darkness pulling at him but he couldn’t stop it. He turned his head toward the front and saw the two men dragging the woman. She sure as hell has spunk he thought. She isn’t going easy. She’s kicking and screaming. He raised his hand, wanting to help the pour soul then he passed out.

It was now deathly quiet in eddie’s bar and grille. The bar tender lay in a pool of his own blood behind the bar. Bert linder and vern waters would live on for a few more moments but both would bleed to death before any help for them arrived.

CHAPTER 2

A new metallic blue Mercedes turned off the street into the parking lot of the Kline, Levinthol and Green building and slowly cruised through the lot to the reserved parking slot near the front door. The lone occupant of the luxury vehicle shut off the engine, unfastened the seat belt and stepped out onto the concrete. He opened the back door and grabbed his briefcase from the seat. He shut both doors then paused for a moment, looking at the recently constructed office building then beyond to the houses surrounding it. He thought that old man Kline, the owner and CEO of Kline, Levinthol and Green, surely had a lot of pull to get a zoning waiver to put up this building right in the center of a residential district.

He stepped up on the curb and headed for the door. He glanced down at the bright red sign on the sidewalk in front of his car, announcing that this space was reserved for Douglas Lowe. He always felt guilty about this perk. Hell, he should park at the back of the lot and get some exercise.

It was straight up nine o’clock this Tuesday morning when he pushed open the glass door and crossed the lobby to the elevator. He rode to the second floor and stepped out into the hallway. He turned right and came out in the foyer where his secretary’s desk was the only furniture in the large reception room.

Good morning Mr. Lowe. Mr. Kline said to tell you he wanted to see you when you came in, his secretary greeted him.

Irene, how old are you? he said.

You know damned well how old I am, Irene responded.

You are fifty one the same as me. We have worked together a lot of years and you know my given name is Douglas. You can call me Douglas. You don’t have to call me Mr. Lowe, he said.

And you damned well know that it is not proper for me to call you by your given name here in the office. When we share a bucket of beer in some watering hole I can call you Douglas. Around here you are Mr. Lowe. Now, I delivered the message. If you don’t go see old man Kline, that’s your problem, she said.

Douglas smiled as he walked past her desk into his office. He put his brief case on the desk, picked up his messages and glanced at them then put them down and went back to the elevator. He rode to the third floor and walked back through the building.

David Kline occupied the largest and most lavishly furnished of all the offices in the building. A well-dressed matronly looking woman sat behind her desk in front of his office door. Her name was Margaret Smithe, a tall thin English woman with a wonderful British accent. Margaret had to be close to eighty but could pass for somewhere in the mid sixties. She was well preserved, proper and well liked by everyone in the firm.

Is David in? he said.

Just came in. He does want to see you, she responded.

She picked up her phone and spoke to Mr. Kline then motioned for him to go in. David Kline left his chair as Douglas came through the door.

Good morning Douglas. I was just getting some coffee, would you like some? Kline said.

Please, he said.

Kline poured two cups from the coffee pot on the credenza next to the wall. He brought David’s cup over to the desk and set it in front of him then returned to his chair.

Before you ask, you know I don’t care if you smoke in here. It’s been over a year since Olivia made me give them up. Want one all the time, Kline said.

Douglas pulled a pack from his pocket, fished out his lighter and lit up. He sipped the hot coffee and relaxed back into the chair. He sat looking at David Kline. He knew that Kline was seventy-two, the son of a wealthy father who had been in the banking business and he had made his own fortune in this very successful law firm. He had a full head of gray hair, he kept in good shape, the result of daily workouts at his private fitness center and he was always dressed in very expensive suits, perfectly tailored and never wrinkled. Kline had persuaded Douglas to leave his own successful law firm ten years before to join the firm as a full partner. He had never regretted the move.

How is Olivia? Douglas said.

Bored out of her mind. I wish the woman could find something to keep herself occupied. She drives me to distraction. If we could have had children maybe she would have been involved in their lives but no sense dwelling on that. How are you getting along? I’ve been out of touch with you these past few days, Kline said.

Business has been good. We have more than we can handle. We’re always referring clients to other firms. The bottom line will be way up from last year. Has Irene been sending up the summaries every day? Douglas said.

Yes she has and I’ve been reviewing them too but they really don’t tell me anything without talking with you. Any big problems? Kline said.

No, the train is running full throttle and staying on track.

Well I wanted to let you know that I’m planning on taking Olivia on an extended tour of Europe. I think it may cheer her up. We plan to be gone a month. I’ll keep in touch by cell phone but I won’t give this place a thought since I know you keep things moving whether I’m here or not, Kline said.

When do you plan to leave? Douglas said.

Were booked on a flight out of Eppley Airfield on Wednesday. Now is there anything you need of me before we take off? he said.

Can’t think of a thing but I’ll speak with you before you leave. You both have a good time over there, Douglas said.

He put his empty cup back on the credenza and left, stopping at Margaret’s desk.

You going to take some time off with David out of the office? he said.

You know the answer to that. We have a business to run whether Mr. Kline is here or absent, she said.

Douglas rode the elevator down to the second floor and returned to his office. Irene came on the phone as he sat down behind his desk.

Your daughter is on line one, she said.

Good morning Terri. What’s up? he said

Morning dad. I was looking for Mike. I tried his apartment but he’s not there. Do you know what he’s working on? Terri said.

He said something about a new contract with Midwestern Commerce Bank. I didn’t catch if that meant working here at the main office or one of the branches out of town, he responded.

He left his car at the house and I need to use it. Think he would care? she said.

Can’t see why not. Don’t you have classes today? he said.

Not until later. Have to go. Love you, she said and hung up.

Douglas put the phone down and leaned back in his chair. He lit a cigarette and sat thinking about his two children. He thought they were both doing okay in spite of the fact that he had raised them all by himself. How long has it been now since their mother left. Ten, no eleven years. He had never understood why Ellen chose to abandon them all and get a divorce. Terri looks so much like her mother. Let’s see, Terri is twenty-eight now. She has been through college, worked right here in the firm for a couple years before she decided to go back to school and get a masters degree. She is very bright, attractive and has a wonderful personality. Why isn’t she married yet? He had tried several times to get her to go to law school and take the bar exam but she always had some excuse. He was pleased that she still lived at home with him. It was nice to have the company. Her brother Mike couldn’t wait to move into his own apartment. First day after he graduated college he rented an apartment and went shopping for furniture. Mike is a computer whiz. He started his own company with help from a couple of his school buddies. In two years it had grown into more work than they could handle. They were into everything, developing specialized software and systems and hardware sales. The part of the business that really took off was the maintenance of systems. The company now had over fifty major corporations as clients. Last year he bought out his partners and now he directs over eighty employees by himself. He is also twenty-eight and not married. What’s with these kids today he thought.

Irene came into the office, breaking his concentration. She put three files on his desk, pulled a chair up close and opened her cigarette case, took out a cigarette and lit it.

You want to share that ash tray? she said.

He pushed the tray across the desk and smiled at her. Irene is something, he thought. She has to be the best secretary in this world or any world. She is nice to look at, has kept herself in fine shape and dresses about ten years younger than she is. If I could just get her to smile more and swear less.

What? she said.

I was just admiring you, he said.

I’ve told you before that you’re full of shit. What are you after now?

Just having carnal fantasies about you, he said.

If you’re going to talk dirty I better shut the door.

What are these? he asked, pointing at the folders.

Three clients none of the partners want to handle, she said.

Give them to one of the associates.

They don’t want them either, she responded.

Let me analyze this for a moment. We have sixteen partners in the firm, all, competent, well-paid attorneys. We have eight associate attorneys who should be busting their asses every day to become partners. We have six paralegal employees and twenty legal secretaries. Now, with all this brain power and expertise in the firm, why doesn’t anyone want to take care of those clients? he said.

They’re all criminal cases, she said.

It has always been policy that the firm doesn’t handle criminal cases unless they are related to our big clients who we get trapped into representing so we can hang onto the big clients, he said.

That’s what they are. They are all related to big clients, she said.

Well, let me look at them. We’ll find someway to handle them. You know that David is taking his wife to Europe for a month, he said.

Might as well, he won’t be missed. He just comes in and occupies space up there in that big office, she said.

Now you know that he has earned his position as a figurehead. He started the firm, outlived his first partners, Levinthol and Green, then brought in seventeen more attorneys and made them partners. He should just ride along on his laurels now, Douglas said.

Yea, whatever. He does know that we’re up to our asses in work, does he not, she said.

Yes and he expects you and I to handle it.

Okay but you remember it’s going to be more you than I, she said as she snuffed out her cigarette and