The Hearing

But Gabriel Torrey believed in the trappings of power. The prosecutors who reported to him would never have cause to doubt that he was hugely important, more so than they would ever be. Victims of crimes and their families would be reassured that their cases were being handled at the highest level. Other visitors to the office -personal guests as well as opposing attorneys and political acquaintances – were greeted not by a faceless bureaucrat, but by an affable, self-assured gentleman in total control of his world. The subtext, Torrey thought, was clear – this man didn't get here, in these surroundings, by mistake. He was a winner. You crossed him at your peril.

Now, a half-hour after he'd finished a wonderful lunch at La Felce, he sat behind the Desk, the jacket of his Armani suit draped over the wooden valet behind him. He wore a silk tie in deep maroon with gold threads over a starched shirt with a subtle purple hue. On the sofa opposite him was a mid-thirties attorney named Gina Roake. Next to her on the cherry end table, a cup of freshly brewed Blue Mountain coffee, untouched, was turning tepid – Ms Roake was so angry that she couldn't have swallowed a drop to save her life. She was representing another woman named Abby Oberlin in a will contest between Abby and her brother Jim, and things had gotten beyond ugly.

'But my client loved her mother, Mr Torrey,' she managed to say. 'She's the one who has taken care of her for the past seven years. Jim hasn't so much as visited in, I don't know, forever. Five years, maybe more.'

'Which is why her mother left Abby the lion's share of her estate?'

'Yes. Of course.'

'And it's valued at around eight million dollars?'

'That's right.'

'A lot of money.' Torrey let the words sink in. 'And all of it to your client. Less your fee of course.'

This got Gina's back up. She chose not to respond to the latter comment, but she was going to stick up for her client. 'She took care of her mother and loved her. Jim is just a selfish…' She bit at her lip. 'He is lying, that's all there is to it. There was no abuse. Abby didn't…' The words stopped.

Torrey leaned forward. He was in prosecutor mode and Gina's client stood accused of a serious crime. Gina could protest about her innocence all day. Torrey would listen patiently, conveying that he'd heard all this before from other attorneys in other, similar cases, and in his vast experience most of them had done what the other family members had accused them of. He spoke quietly, but with a firm edge. 'Nevertheless, your client's brother contends that the will is invalid. That his mother signed it under coercion. Additionally, he has reported this criminal conduct of his sister and this office is going to have no option but to pursue a vigorous prosecution.'

'But it makes no sense. There's no evidence of-'

Torrey's expression became even more stern as he interrupted. He tapped a file folder on the desk in front of him. 'Don't play games with me, Ms Roake. There is a real case here-'

'Her mother fell. She broke her hip. Then she tried to get up too soon and fell again. It happens.'

'Yes it does. And after the second fall, she contracted pneumonia and died.'

Gina could not entirely keep the panic out of her voice. 'You're not implying Abby killed her, are you? Or caused her death somehow? Even Jim's not saying that, and he'd stoop to anything to get some of the money.'

Torrey shook his head. 'I'm not accusing your client of anything. What I am saying is that we've got significant resources that we can and will bring to bear in this type of investigation. Prosecuting instances of abuse of the elderly is one of Sharron Pratt's highest priorities. We can and will subpoena your mother's medical records. Jim Oberlin contends that he believes his mother was over-sedated.' He sat back, lawyer to lawyer. 'Look, Ms Roake, you know how it works. Investigators will talk to Abby's friends. If she's ever complained about all the work her mother required-'

'Well of course she did! She's not a saint. I'm sure there were days…' Gina Roake shook her head.

'Even so.' Torrey spread his hands wide as if to tell her that's what he meant – it could look very bad for Abby Oberlin. He let a silence gather and then sighed heavily, a brief wash of compassion coming to his face. 'Ms Roake. Gina. Did I not ask you to come and see me as a courtesy?' She nodded.

'Why do you think that is?' He patted the folder again. 'When based on the accusations your client's brother has brought against her, I would have been justified sending out some officers to place her under arrest?'

'Under arrest?'

'That's right. Her name in the paper with the whole story, everything Jim has accused her of.'

'No, you can't do that. It's not…' Visibly, she brought herself under control. When she spoke after half a minute, her voice was calm, reasonable. 'Jim just wants money, Mr Torrey. He has no career. He'll never hold a job. That's just who he is. He's desperate. Abby didn't do anything he says.'

Torrey crossed his hands on the desk, reapplied the stern visage. 'You didn't answer my question.'

She wrung her hands. 'I'm sorry. What was it again?'

'Why do you think I asked you down here today?'

'I don't know.'

'Well, I'll tell you.' The tone softened again. 'I've prosecuted more cases like this than I'd care to tell you about, and I've developed a good sense, a very good sense if I may say so, of how these things play out. In this case, there was verifiable physical trauma to Abby's mother. A finder of fact will conclude that there are grounds for a hearing, and after that in all likelihood a full-fledged trial. You know this. Your client probably will be arrested…' he held up a hand, stopping her protest, 'although bail will be reasonable. She'll spend, if she's lucky, about half a million dollars in attorneys' fees, experts, investigation, which is good news for you, except that she won't be able to take any of it out of the estate while it's being contested. The process will take a minimum of two or three years out of your client's life and after all that, even if we don't prove she did anything she's charged with, some civil jury might give her brother all the money on the theory that definitely he did no harm and your client might have.'

Gina had all but collapsed back into the soft leather of the couch. 'So what do you suggest?' she asked helplessly, talking all but to herself.

He leaned forward, suddenly friend and perhaps savior. 'The truth is that I believe you. Jim doesn't care what happened to his mother, beyond that she is dead.'

'That's what I've been-'

'But that's not saying he won't let all of this… unpleasantness… proceed. From where I sit, it's a no-lose situation for him, and it's no-win for your client.'

She came forward on the sofa. 'She's not going to give him any of the money, Mr Torrey. He doesn't deserve it. He's an evil man, and this is wrong.'

The Chief Assistant nodded in agreement. 'Nevertheless, if this prosecution moves forward, the next time I see you, we won't be talking like this.' He leveled his gaze at her. 'Tell your client that although it's a repugnant solution, if you throw a bone to her brother, I believe you could settle his civil claim. And if he's satisfied, I don't think we'd see any need to file a criminal case. If I were her, from a purely self-protective, even selfish motive, I'd think about that.'

'But it's so wrong…'

Torrey couldn't argue the point and didn't try. 'Be that as it may, that's my advice while I'm still free to give it. After today, we're on opposite sides.'

Gina Roake stood and thanked Torrey. He told her he appreciated her coming by, and hoped that she would come to the right decision, and she told him she'd discuss it with her client, but they would both consider his advice very seriously. Then she left. He could still hear her footsteps in the hallway outside as he picked up the telephone.