Mountain Top(227)

“Did they agree to the right kind of arbitration clause?”

“You remembered. Yeah, any disagreements will be resolved through a dispute resolution firm of maritime experts based in London.”

I started to leave.

“No, wait,” he said. “Why did you come to see me?”

“I won’t bother you. I wanted to talk to you about the case assigned to me yesterday at the luncheon, but it can wait.”

“Let me see the file,” he said.

I handed it to him. He read the charges.

“Moses Jones,” he said. “Drawn out of the water by the local police and thrown in the pharaoh’s prison. How many counts of trespassing?”

“Twenty-four.”

Zach handed the file back to me.

“Should I file a motion for bond?” I asked.

“No, go to the jail and talk to Mr. Jones. They usually set bond in cases like this when the person is arrested. Advise him not to give a statement to the police.” Zach yawned. “I could give more help if he’d been abducted from a Portuguese freighter in the Malaysian Straits. We have a firm that knows the exact amount of ransom to offer. I just don’t have time to do much with you until I catch a break in my caseload. Until then, you’re on your own.”

I left Zach’s office hurt and confused. When I returned to the library, Vince was giving Julie her copy of the materials he’d prepared for me. Julie was wearing black slacks and a tight-fitting top. She smiled when I entered.

“You should have gone with me last night,” she said. “There was a great blues band at one of the clubs along the river.”

She turned to Vince. “Vinny, does blues music make you happy or sad? I think it can go either way. For me, hearing about someone else’s problems puts my own in perspective. But it makes one of my friends sadder.”

Vince glanced down at his laptop and didn’t answer.

“Isn’t it the same with Southern gospel music?” Julie asked me. “You know, lyrics describing life as a peach pit until Jesus spits it out so that it can grow into a tree that reaches to heaven.”

I wanted to tell Julie to shut up, but before I spoke, I saw a spark in her eyes that let me know she was baiting me.

“That’s the worst idea for a song I’ve ever heard,” I responded. “And you’re confusing the Gospel of Matthew with ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’ I’m not a big fan of Southern gospel music, but it’s nothing like the blues. In Southern gospel, hardships are real, but sorrow is not the final destination.”

“That’s poetic,” Vince said.

“I need to get to work,” Julie said, rolling her eyes. “You can continue the music theory discussion without me.”

“I’ll check with you about eleven thirty,” Vince said, moving toward the door.

After he left, Julie turned to me. “Sounds like a lunch date. Did he call you last night and ask you to go out with him today?”

“No, first thing this morning.”

“I may be wrong about gospel music, but I know men. All the world’s greatest matchmakers are Jewish.”

“That’s why I’m praying to Jesus and asking him to find the right husband for me. You know Jesus is Jewish, don’t you?”

“Yeah, a lot of Jews have a touch of the messiah complex in them,” she replied. “Let’s work on Folsom v. Folsom. A dose of divorce will keep you balanced as you go forward with Vinny.”

We spent most of the morning sorting through financial documents and memos to and from Mr. Carpenter and J. K. Folsom. The business dealings were as confusing as a shell game at the county fair, but one thing became clear—Mr. Folsom didn’t want his estranged wife looking in every place he’d hidden money. Julie contacted the law firm she’d worked for in Atlanta, and a paralegal e-mailed research and pleadings Julie had prepared in two other cases.

“Are you sure this is okay?” I asked. “The agreement I signed with the firm said it owned my work product.”

“I didn’t sign anything in Atlanta.” Julie shrugged. “Beth is a friend who wouldn’t do anything wrong. It’s mainly research and sample questions, not facts about an identified client.”

I had to admit that the information was very helpful. Julie had done a good job.

“Did you make up all these interrogatory and deposition questions?” I asked.

“No. Most of them were pulled from other files and transcripts. I organized them and made them fit our case, just like you’ll do for Folsom.”

“I wish I had something like this for my criminal case,” I said. “I talked to Zach Mays for a few minutes early this morning, but he stayed up all night working for Mr. Appleby and doesn’t have time to help.”