Brush Back

IT AIN’T BEANBAG

“That was terrible,” Bernie said when we were back in the car.

“Yes, I’m sorry you heard all that. It’s the bad part about my job—trying to find out what happened tears scabs off wounds and you see people at their rawest.”

“But who was right? Joel is a crybaby, like his father says. Maybe he was wrong about the people he used to work for?”

“I don’t think so. For one thing, I don’t know Spike Hurlihey personally, but I know how he operates, ru

“What was this machine that the father stood up to?”

I tried to give Bernie a one-paragraph primer on Illinois politics and power. “Politics is a way dirtier game than hockey.”

“Hockey isn’t dirty!”

“Enforcers?” I quizzed her. “Trying to whack people in the ankles to get them out of your way?”

“Oh, that—it’s what you have to do if you want to win.”

“Maybe you’ll become a U.S. citizen after you finish with Northwestern: you’d be perfect in a state legislature. Congress, for that matter. Money changes hands, and sometimes there’s physical violence, too. Like the first Mayor Daley—he had goons who went around breaking windows on people’s cars or houses if they put up posters for candidates ru

“Hockey is definitely not so dirty as that. And it’s easier to understand. Does anything the crybaby said make you know if he was lying about Uncle Boom-Boom and the diary?”

“He made me know about someone else who was lying, or at least holding back on the truth. I want to talk to her while I’m still south, but I can drop you at the Metra station to catch a train back to the Loop.”

Bernie elected to ride over to Ninetieth and Commercial with me, to Rory Scanlon’s building, where Thelma Kalvin held the fort for the Paris-shopping Nina Quarles.

It was nearly the end of the business day when we pulled up in front of Scanlon’s building and Thelma Kalvin was not happy to see us.

“We’re about to close the office. If you make an appointment for later in the month we will find a way to fit you in.”

“We won’t take much of your time,” I said, perching on the edge of her desk. “This young woman is a co

“I told you before that I admired his playing but that I don’t know anything about the accusations brought against him by that woman who murdered her daughter.”

“That’s an interesting phrase, isn’t it? ‘That woman who murdered her daughter.’ You don’t remember the meeting in which the partners decided that Joel Previn would represent Stella Guzzo? You worked here then, A

I spoke loudly enough for people at the other desks to hear. Except for two people on the phone, everyone stopped what they were doing to watch, including a young couple consulting a man at a desk near the windows. The couple, who’d been arguing softly with each other when I came in, stopped their bickering to watch me.

“It was painful, so painful that I suppressed the names,” Thelma said. “If you’d ever worked with—”

“Lame,” I said, looking at Bernie. “Would you agree, a pretty lame excuse?”

Bernie was startled, but she picked up the cue and nodded. “For Uncle Boom-Boom I expect a good lie, a creative one that is interesting to hear.”

“So you chose not to talk to me about Stella and A

Thelma’s look would have stripped the blades from a pair of ice skates. “Get out of this office now, or I’ll call the police and have you removed.”

“Judge Grigsby, he couldn’t have been here,” I mused, “he would have recused himself from trying the case. At least, I think he would have. It’s Illinois, you never know.”

Thelma looked at the staff and the two clients, all unabashedly eavesdropping: it didn’t look like a group of people eager to back her up. “I keep telling you to leave because we’re shutting down for the day. This isn’t a safe place for people to be after dark; I can’t keep the office open for you when you don’t have an appointment.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll be glad to drive you home so we can finish the conversation in safety.”

The young couple laughed, but the staff stared owlishly, waiting to see how the story would unfold. Thelma bit the tip of her index finger: she wasn’t the boss, just the office manager—she might run the place for Nina Quarles, but she couldn’t order the lawyers around.

When Thelma didn’t make a move, I asked, “Why does everyone from you to Ira Previn to Judge Grigsby still care about Stella Guzzo? Why did the firm care about her in the first place?”

“Everyone has a right to counsel,” Thelma said.

“Now, that is interesting,” I said to Bernie. “Do you remember what Joel said when he was describing what the partners said when they were pressuring him to take on Stella’s defense?”

Bernie blushed. “It was something nasty about him and A

“That, but also they said, didn’t he remember Gideon v. Wainwright?”

“But I don’t know what that is,” Bernie protested.

“It was a famous lawsuit, where the Supreme Court ruled everyone has a right to counsel, even those too poor to pay for a lawyer themselves. What’s interesting is that Gideon became the party line here at Mandel & McClelland. Everyone repeated the phrase so many times: we are representing Stella Guzzo, who murdered our young clerk, because we are such noble lawyers, we believe in Gideon.”

I continued to speak exclusively to Bernie, as if Thelma and the rest of the group weren’t in the room. “We don’t know why the partners wanted to represent Stella, but Thelma has proved that they coached the people who worked for the firm all to give the same story. It makes me wonder if someone in the firm knew more about A

“She wasn’t better or faster, she just knew how to flirt with old Mr. Mandel!” Thelma interrupted, spots of color burning her cheeks.

“You didn’t like her, Joel said.”

“Joel—he was pathetic. He was in love with A

“It sounds as though the person Joel killed would have been Stella, if he’d do anything for A

“Her mother beat her,” Thelma said. “Stella admitted it, right in court.”

“Maybe A