The only good Lawyer by Jeremiah Healy Page A

shifted in his chair. “Correct.”
    “And how much on Mr. Gant?”
    Neely seemed to want to shift again, but didn’t. “Straight million, same as each of us.”
    “You mean, on each partner?”
    “On each attorney. Don’t let Uta hear I said this, but the associates are worth at least as much as the partners in terms of time invested on cases.”
    But not, I’d have thought, rainmaking. “I’m sorry, Uta is...?”
    “Uta Radachowski. She’s my third...” Neely closed his eyes briefly. “She’s my other partner, now. Elliot Herman and Deborah Ling are the associates.” Which would probably make Herman the man I saw in the reception area. “So, not counting Mr. Gant, the firm has only four attorneys, total?”
    Neely did shift again this time. “Yes, but what difference does that make to your work?”
    “I don’t follow you.”
    The man came forward in his chair, the hairy hands having a hard time nesting comfortably on his desktop. “John, I’ve shown you my cards so far, don’t you be holding yours close to the vest, okay?”
    “Frank, I honestly didn’t get what you meant.” Neely sat back. “You’re working for Mr. Spaeth, you’d be wanting to know about the blowup here when he threatened Woodrow.”
    Neely’s cooperation was important to me, even if keeping it meant telling him I might have some cards in my hand. “Frank, there are enough things about Mr. Gant’s death that bother me, I’m not sure what I want to know.”
    “The police seemed to think your Mr. Spaeth is their man.”
    “I don’t.”
    The lawyer’s eyebrows closed together, two caterpillars trying to pass on the same twig. “You genuinely believe somebody other than Mr. Spaeth might be responsible for Woodrow’s death?”
    “Yes.”
    Neely looked down at his hands a moment. “I’ll not ask you who or why, because in your position, I wouldn’t say. I’d ask only that you bear some things in mind.” He looked back up at me, some of the combat stare in his eyes. “The people in this firm are like family to me, and, I believe, to each other as well. When Len died, Uta and I were the only attorneys here. The emotional impact was as though she’d lost an uncle and me a brother. But Woodrow’s... death was worse. Far worse. Senseless, horrible, someone else’s nightmare come home to roost. We all cried openly in the halls and offices for days, and it’ll be years before we can think about it without pain.” Neely paused, I think to see if I’d say anything. I didn’t.
    He nodded once. “But, John, I’m a lawyer too. And I believe every criminal defendant has a right to vigorous, zealous advocacy. Only way to keep our system honest. And I also call the shots around here. When the police first contacted me about Woodrow, I was in shock, but even then I realized that somebody from the defendant’s side would be calling on us about the scene in the conference room, and I’ve been bracing myself for it ever since. I was prepared to let whoever that somebody might be talk to everyone who knew anything about it, air the incident out and be done with it. But now you’re telling me you think that might not be all, correct?”
    “Correct.”
    “Very well, John. You have carte blanche. Ask your questions of all of us, though I’ll not order anyone to say something he or she wants to keep in confidence. And obviously I can’t let you invade the privacy of our clients.”
    “Understood.”
    “Understand two more things, then. First, I want whoever killed Woodrow—Mr. Spaeth or otherwise—drawn and quartered. Second, if I find that you’ve put anyone in this firm to unnecessary grief because of questions that didn’t need to be asked, I’ll make you sorry you ever heard the name Frank Neely. Have I been clear enough?”
    “ Crystal .”
    We looked at each other the way I remembered from my war.
    Then Neely said, “I’m not trying to dictate your program here, but I’d start with the lawyers. Probably Uta