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Chapter 13

 

Their visit with Mike had been three months earlier. Mike had done what Jack suggested, despite Mike’s misgivings. Once he decided to go, he went all in. Mike’s source in the environmental movement was Dr. Talbot Early, Professor Emeritus of Environmental Studies at Humboldt State University. Mike took forestry management classes from him before he’d gone to Vietnam. He asked Talbot, honestly and openly, if there were an endangered species he could support in the Trinity Area. Then Mike sat down and looked long and hard at how smaller green organizations achieved their goals.

Mike found that full-time management by someone who was committed, someone who didn’t have the distractions of other jobs, someone from the in-crowd of greens, was necessary. Mike picked Dr. Jeremy Bernstein, who according to the headhunter they used he was a perfect candidate. To run the “Friends of the Trinity Vole.” Bernstein did his undergrad work at Berkeley and his Masters at the University of California at Davis. Jeremy had a just finished a postdoctoral fellowship. He’d produced a dissertation on the destruction of rodent populations in Northern California’s mountainous regions during and after commercial logging efforts. He was forty-one and had held two paying jobs in his life, neither in the private sector. His longest period of employment was six months.

Mike funded “Friends of the Trinity Vole” through a blind trust. He deeded the trust 30,000 shares of Intel, current market value at $38.33 a share, or a tad over one million dollars. His cost basis was $4.30 a share. The tax write-off was on the appreciated stock price, and he didn’t have to pay capital gains on the appreciation. There were lawsuits and counter-suits. A temporary restraining order, or TRO, stopping construction before it even started, was issued. An injunction was in the works to permanently halt the prison project.

The spokesperson for the Friends of the Trinity Vole sighted two recent studies published in the Journal of Western American Environmental Study as reasons the Vole was a strong candidate for the endangered species list. The California Department of Fish and Wildlife, or CDFW, had already placed the species on their severely endangered list.

Because the population was so small, the limit set by the CDFW for take incidental was one sixth of a vole. What this meant in English was anyone doing any construction in the area, in addition to normal permitting process, had to put a plan in place proving that only one sixth of a vole would be harmed, killed or have its habitat destroyed by any project. Since this would be impossible, any building was effectively dead in the water.

Mike called earlier that day, leaving a voice mail message. “Jack, I need to talk to you. Something has come up that’s, well… Something important came up. I’ll fly down tomorrow morning.”

Heather answered when Jack called back. Mike was out for his one of his usual afternoon hikes and didn’t have cell phone reception. Jack told her to tell him yes, fly in tonight if he had to. Jack put in a long and productive day of work, walked out of the office and onto the street, enjoying the energy of the crowds of locals and tourists. The tourists were easy to spot. You could see their blue legs because only tourists thought that summer was summer in the City.

There was a cell phone ringing somewhere. He stopped, fumbling in his backpack. It was the emergency ring from Lee.

Her voice calmed him. Something happening to her was his first fear and if she was calling it couldn’t be that bad. Then he heard what she had to say. “Heather called. Mike’s dead. Heather held on long enough to say her aunt is trying to take her again. Heather says she has a copy of a court order appointing you and me guardians. She says there is a typed suicide note with what is supposed to be Mike’s signature. The note says he found out he had cancer of the colon and couldn’t face it. Heather says no way. She would have known if he had cancer and he loved her too much to leave her. Then the phone died.”

Jack didn’t remember hailing the taxi. His friend, his good friend and business partner, was dead. When he tried to look at his anger, it skittered and ran away, like some wild thing that didn’t want to be examined. His ex-wife used to say he only used two emotions and one was anger. She said his anger was the rocket fuel that drove him. She said if he ever managed to let it go he’d never be as successful. She believed in astrology, so what the hell did she know?

He was never furious with himself for the things he had done. He saved his self-directed ferocity for the ‘should haves,’ things left undone. This left the burning bile in his throat of a step not taken. He knew one thing with more certainty than the fact that he should have immersed himself in Mike’s problem. What he knew with absolute certainty was that his friend Mike hadn’t killed himself. Mike’s life had been a brutal series of disappointments. Heather was the brightest spot in his universe. Taking care of Heather, being there for her, was what he lived for.

A little investment in time along with effort to fight the inertia of his life and he knew his friend wouldn’t be dead. Damn It!

“What do we do?” Lee asked.

“Get us an air taxi into Redding. It’s a proper airport so we can land after dark. We’ll make the calls we have to now and the rest on the plane. Are you okay?”

“No, but I will be if I can stay busy. That poor girl! Did you know she is going to become a doctor? She was going to give her father his hand back.”

The same mortar round that tore up his back and nearly killed him made sure he’d never father any kids. A tiny hot piece of metal had punched its way into his testicles. That infection went unnoticed amidst all the others. By the time they went in, it was too late. At first he’d felt a sense of relief he wouldn’t have to be responsible enough to be a parent. His parents had done such an actively poor job he would probably have been better off being an orphan. Then he’d felt the pain of never. He’d buried that pain. Or thought he had. What would it feel like to have someone love him as much as Heather loved Mike?

Lee and he divided up jobs by phone while he was in the cab. One of his jobs was to call the Judge. Judge Lionel Thomas Jefferson III wasn’t in his chambers and didn’t answer his cell. The clerk wouldn’t tell Jack where the Judge was, but promised that the Judge would call back in a few minutes.

Jack’s phone rang in less than a minute.

“What is it this time, Jack,” the Judge asked, before a coughing spell that lasted too long and left the Judge struggling for breath.

“Mike Reyes, my partner, my friend, is dead. He fell to his death while he was on a hike. They are trying to say it is suicide, that there is a note, which is total bullshit. There’s no way he’d abandon his daughter. There is supposed to be a document assigning Lee and me as his daughter’s guardians. Her aunt is up there now trying to grab the girl and with her the loot.”

The phone was silent but for a faint hiss in the background, like the SSSSSS from the snake in The Jungle Book. The sound carried on too long. Jack knew that sound and didn’t want to know he knew it. That soft hiss he’d heard in so many hospital rooms was the faint hiss of oxygen. He knew the cough was worse but he hadn’t known how much worse. He had seen too many lives run down hill on oxygen.

“Are you certain there is a document naming you guardians?” the Judge asked.

“Lee says Heather, Mike’s daughter, says there is.”

“We will assume there is. I will need a certified copy. Soon. There should be a copy with Mike’s attorney. Find out who that is for me. I will write an order remanding her into your custody. Where is it again?”

“Weaverville.”

“The county seat is in Redding, I think. No, Weaverville is the county seat. You will need a local attorney strong on family law. Can I reach you on this number?”

“Yes. Thanks, Judge.”

IT COST a whole lot less to charter a plane, at least a small one, than people thought. Jack actually owned a small piece of a jet, but it was down for its annual. Jack’s mind focused on airplanes. Then it focused on airplane noise and then the rough flight. It focused on everything else he could think of so he wouldn’t have to think about the things he should be thinking about. It felt like an hour, but it was only ten minutes into the flight when the phone he blue-toothed into the noise-cancelling headset rang.

“This is Brigit Williams. The Judge asked me to call this number. Is this Jack?”

“Yes it is. Has the Judge filled you in?”

“Pretty much. I was actually on my way to Redding when he called. I don’t know if he told you, but I am semi-retired. Why should I take you on as clients?”

He closed his eyes while he put himself through a cycle of combat breathing. The truth shall set you free. “Mike was one of my best friends and one of the nicest and best men I ever met. He lost his arm right below the elbow in Vietnam flying medical evacuation helicopters. His daughter loves him so much, she was going to become a doctor so she could give him his hand back. Her aunt, who tried to steal Mike’s money twice through his daughter before, is trying to take the daughter again. I will pay you a $50,000 cash retainer when you meet us at the airport.”

“I will pull over and log in so I can download the Judge’s order. Then I will pick you up at the airport. How many are in your party?”

“Two.”

“We’ll stop at the local cop shop to pick up help. I will then help you take custody. If, after I talk to the girl, I don’t get the feeling that she’d be better off with you, I will hand you back your $50K. When do you land?”

“Thirty-five minutes, the pilot says.”

“I don’t think I can get to the airport that fast in this tank, but you shouldn’t have to wait too long.”

Lee arched her eyebrow. He switched the intercom to talk to her and said, “This lawyer’s got balls. Judge Lionel recommends her.” Jack showed her the information on his cell. Brigit started off in Mergers and Acquisitions, made a ton of money, and went into family law after a co-worker tried to adopt a baby and couldn’t. The baby in question died of neglect. She had a very autistic son and had moved to the north coast five years ago to take care of him and chase trout.

Jack made six of his calls on the way to the airport to track down an acquaintance from the Judo club. Friend was stretching it. He was an acquaintance whose company Jack enjoyed. He felt as if it was mutual, but for some reason they hadn’t taken it to the friendship level. Martin Giddings was a pathologist in private practice. He wasn’t as famous as some of the big egos in his field, but when he’d called around, Martin’s name kept coming up. He told him about Mike’s death and that they were trying to call it a suicide.

“What do I have to do to get an autopsy?”

“You don’t have to request one. In the case of apparent suicide there is always an autopsy. The coroner is required by law to order one. In the case of accidental death, if there is any doubt at all, there has to be one. Why do you doubt suicide?” he asked, his voice tired even over the phone.

It was his normal voice, one of those people who are always tired, never enjoying the pleasure of a well-rested body and mind, too certain they’d miss something in their sleep. What they missed was the rest of their lives, too rushed and tired to be in the moment. He had watched Martin in practice, giving time to the kids, being careful with his throws, a gentleman. You learn a lot about a man when you put him in a strangle hold and he has to submit.

“Dr. Giddings, Mike was checking into something he thought was illegal. The powers that be started to build a prison right next to where Mike lived. Mike was convinced the site selection process was rigged. He’d spent money, thrown lawsuits around. He did a good job and stopped the prison.”

“There’s a second reason, a stronger one. His life was a series of bitter disappointments. His daughter Heather was the light if his life. He lived for her. There is no way he’d take the easy way out and leave Heather to face life on her own. I’d like you to fly up there and do the autopsy or at least sit in on the one they are going to do. Could you, would you, do that, please? I would be happy to double your going rate.”

It had taken all those phone calls and all the sweet-talking he could muster to get through to the doc. He finally found him by talking his way into his emergency cell number. His only granddaughter was having her third birthday party. Three year olds squealed in the background, trying to please their parents by being happy about something they didn’t understand.

“I’ve watched you fight for what, three years now?” Martin asked.

“Closer to four, I think,” he answered, not knowing where Martin was going.

“During that time I’ve seen a little mean streak, a little temper.” Martin stopped — expecting an answer, he thought. He didn’t give him one. As he waited for the doc to think his way through it, he visualized Martin saying yes. Martin was just past fifty, which Jack knew because the judo club had thrown him one of many fiftieth birthday parties. He was one of those people who look like what they are. He had graying dark brown hair, calm brown eyes that reminded Jack of a beagle, with ever-present circles under. He moved gracefully and surely as if he had time to think about every movement before he made it. His thin 5’ 11” frame carried the kind of strength you only get from years of hard work.

“I’ve seen you give points away when you didn’t think you deserved them. You like what we used to call ‘fairness’ in a more innocent time.”

There was a squeal and a thud. A little voice with the music of a three-year old girl asked, “Grandpa, open presents?”

He heard the bass of Dr. Giddings muffled reply to his granddaughter, and then he said, “I will do as you ask. I don’t know the set-up there, but I’ll make some calls. Calling me in is going to raise a red flag. Should I let people know I am working for you?”

Did he want to go in big and noisy or soft and easy? “Tell them you are working for the estate, part of his recent instructions in case of his death. Hell, by the time we find his papers that might be true. I’ll have a plane waiting so you don’t have to drive up. “

“No need. I’ll fly myself into the Weaverville Airport if it’s open and into Redding if it isn’t.”

He hadn’t even known Martin was a pilot.