Equivocal Death Read online

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  A M Y G U T M A N

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  closing the door, she paused to take stock in a mirror affixed to its 2

  back. She looked healthy and rested, her skin lightly browned from 3

  a week of sun. She quickly ran a comb through her dark brown 4

  hair, cut in the jaw-length bob favored by Samson’s female lawyers, 5

  then straightened her horn-rimmed glasses. The glasses were a re-6

  cent addition, acquired when she started work. Studying her face 7

  in the mirror, Kate decided that she liked the effect. Professional.

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  In control. A woman to be reckoned with.

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  How different she looked now from two years ago, when she’d 10

  roamed the Harvard campus in ratty jeans and a backpack. Yet one 11

  thing remained the same. Her reflected image inspired the same 12

  sense of dislocation that it had since she was a child. Who is that 13

  woman? Me but not me. She didn’t dislike what she saw. To the 14

  contrary, she knew she was pretty. Clear skin, high cheekbones, a 15

  fine straight nose. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue. “Stormy,”

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  her mother used to call them. A full-length mirror would have 17

  gone on to show the strong but delicate form: shoulders broad 18

  enough that she always cut the pads out of her suit jackets, a sweep 19

  of breast not entirely concealed by her black-and-gray Tahari suit, 20

  narrow hips tapering to long, slim legs.

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  So why couldn’t she see this person as herself ?

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  It was an old question, one that she’d long tired of considering.

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  She shut the closet door and turned toward her desk.

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  I’m proud of myself, Kate thought, surveying the well-appointed 25

  office. I did this all on my own. I could have fallen apart. But I didn’t.

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  In the end, Michael did me a favor. . . .

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  But Michael belonged to the past; he had nothing to do with 28

  her new life. Pushing the memories aside, Kate sat down and 29

  turned on her computer. The screen flashed on. Responding to 30

  computer prompts, Kate quickly typed in her user ID followed by 31

  the word password. Then it was on to e-mail. Among the usual 32

  clutter of junk e-mails — a paralegal looking for a downtown sub-33

  let, a secretary with free kittens, an associate seeking a financial ort 34

  planner — she culled the few messages that demanded immediate reg 35

  attention. From Justin Daniels, her old friend and Harvard class-9858_01_003-152_r5hb.qxd 9/28/00 3:57 PM Page 11

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  mate: “Welcome back! We missed you and we know you missed us.

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  Let’s shoot for drinks later this week. Cheers. J. D.” From Andrea 2

  Lee, her friend and comrade on countless late nights: “Can’t wait 3

  to catch up. Call me ASAP.” There was also a plaintive note from 4

  Jonathan Kurtz, a Harvard classmate who’d occupied the office two 5

  doors down until a few months back, when he’d been shipped off 6

  to Kansas for a trial. “I fully believe that I will be here in Wichita 7

  from now until the end of time. I will never perform any task other 8

  than the preparation of cross-examination books that will never be 9

  used at trial or anywhere else. I will never see any of my friends or 10

  family again. On the upside, I will never have to pay for another 11

  meal as long as I live.”

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  Kate laughed. Again, she felt a glow of pleasure, happy to be 13

  precisely where she was. But the sense of satisfaction was short-14

  lived. Soon, she sat staring at an e-mail from Peyton Winslow, a 15

  senior associate at the firm. “Greetings. I hope that you enjoyed 16

  your vacation. Please prepare for a meeting this morning at 10 a.m.

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  with Carter Mills regarding a new matter. The Complaint (which 18

  we believe will be served on January 13) and related papers are in 19

  distribution. Please review and be ready to discuss.”

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  Kate glanced at her watch. Already after eight. Quickly, she 21

  thumbed through the mountain of mail that had piled up during 22

  her vacation. “Will someone just shoot me?” she muttered. Still, 23

  beneath the anxiety, she felt a burgeoning excitement. A new case.

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  And a matter significant enough to involve the illustrious Carter 25

  Mills. To get in on a case like this at the very start — what a coup!

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  So many of Samson’s massive cases had been gathering dust for 27

  decades. There would be nothing for years and then a brief flurry of 28

  activity when the current crop of Samson underlings would try to 29

  make sense of what their predecessors had done. The work often 30

  seemed more archaeological than legal. Now she’d be in on things 31

  from the start, positioned to watch the strategies unfold.

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  The phone rang, but Kate let voice mail pick up as she contin-33

  ued to search through the mail. She finally found what she was 34 sh

  looking for. The complaint, stamped “Draft” across every page, was 35 re

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  captioned for the Southern District of New York, the federal trial 2

  court of Manhattan. The plaintiff’s attorneys must have sent over 3

  a draft in hopes of an early settlement. It was often done, the draft 4

  complaint serving as leverage, proof of the seriousness of plaintiffs’

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  intent and the prima facie strength of their case.

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  The draft complaint was twenty-three pages. Kate quickly 7

  skimmed its contents, trying to get the gist of the claims.

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  And then paused to let it all sink in.

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  This was, in no uncertain terms, a sexual harassment suit charg-10

  ing Chuck Thorpe and WideWorld Media with violations of both 11

  state and federal law.

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  Chuck Thorpe.

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  WideWorld Media.

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  Kate grappled with the implications.

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  WideWorld was one of Samson’s largest clients, a sprawling 16

  communications behemoth with a seemingly insatiable appetite 17

  for new acquisitions. Its recent purchase of Catch — a “relentlessly 18

  provocative” men’s magazine edited by Thorpe — had sparked a 19

  firestorm of protest among stockholders. If they had been upset be-20

  fore, this would send them over the edge. While the controversy 21

  might be good for circulation — further enhancing Thorpe’s status 22

  as publishing’s reigning enfant terrible — it would not play well 23

  with the board of directors.

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  A tentative knock on the door broke into her thoughts.

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  “Come in!”

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  “Hi, Kate. Welcome back!” In the doorway stood Jennifer Torri-27

  celli, her unflappable nineteen-year-old secretary. Jennifer’s dark 28

  fantasia of a hairstyle gave new meaning to the phrase “big hair,”


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  but there the stereotype ended. She typed ninety words a minute, 30

  kept flawless tabs on Kate’s ever-changing calendar, and managed 31

  to be nice as well. In theory, Kate was supposed to share her ser-32

  vices with a first-year associate named Terry Creighton. But for the 33

  past six months, Creighton had been in Nebraska, where he spent ort 34

  his days in an unheated warehouse, poring through corporate files.

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  Kate could barely remember what he looked like.

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  “You must’ve had a good vacation,” Jennifer said. “You look 1

  great!”

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  Kate gave her a distracted smile. “It was fine. Relaxing. But it’s 3

  good to be back.”

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  Jennifer looked at her, incredulous. “I don’t believe you guys.

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  The hours that you put in here. And then you don’t even like va-6

  cations. Boy, if I ever went to the Caribbean, I don’t think I’d ever 7

  come back.”

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  Kate glanced anxiously back at the papers on her desk. “I’ll tell 9

  you about it later. Right now, I have to get ready for a ten o’clock 10

  meeting with Carter Mills.”

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  Jennifer’s eyes widened at the mention of Samson’s presiding 12

  partner. “Wow. Good luck. Listen, I just wanted to say that there’s 13

  a message from Tara on your voice mail.”

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  “Thanks,” Kate said. She’d been right not to pick up the phone.

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  Tara was her best friend and college roommate. It would have been 16

  hard to cut short the conversation.

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  “Let me know if you need anything,” Jennifer said, closing the 18

  door behind her.

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  Returning to the complaint, Kate glanced back at the caption to 20

  find out the plaintiff’s name. Stephanie Friedman. Briefly, Kate 21

  wondered what she looked like, this woman behind the lawsuit.

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  But her thoughts quickly moved on. Where would things go from 23

  here? Of course, everyone knew that sexual harassment cases were 24

  notoriously easy to file and hard to get rid of, making them a fre-25

  quent weapon of choice for disgruntled employees. In her year of 26

  legal practice, Kate had already seen more than a few such suits 27

  filed on tenuous facts in hope of a speedy and substantial settle-28

  ment, a sort of legal blackmail. Who knew what had really hap-29

  pened? Still, it didn’t take hours of research to know that Thorpe 30

  and WideWorld had a mess on their hands. There was nothing 31

  subtle about the allegations.

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  Thorpe routinely referred to women as bitches, cunts, whores.

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  He demanded that the women who worked for him wear short 34 sh

  skirts and tight sweaters.

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  He interrogated female employees about their sex lives, de-2

  manding detailed descriptions and subjecting them to elaborate 3

  dissections of his own encounters.

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  He’d threatened to fire several women if they refused to sleep 5

  with his music producer pal Ron Fogarty.

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  It went on from there.

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  Kate tried to remember what she knew about Thorpe. With her 8

  eighty-hour work weeks, she had scant time to keep up with cur-9

  rent events. But it would have been impossible to miss the media 10

  frenzy that broke out several months back when Catch weighed in 11

  on sexual harassment. The magazine’s glossy cover featured a par-12

  ody of Hustler’ s famous meat grinder shot, a woman’s legs thrust 13

  high in the air as her body disappeared in the utensil’s gears. But on 14

  the Catch cover, the head disgorged by the grinder was that of 15

  feminist icon Anita Hill. Smaller photos inside paired head shots 16

  of prominent female activists with bodies from lasciviously posi-17

  tioned porno pix.

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  By all accounts, the credit for the uproar was entirely due to 19

  Thorpe, a flamboyant entrepreneur whose editorship of Catch had 20

  made him a household name. A North Carolina native, Thorpe 21

  had started Catch straight out of college with money raised from 22

  wealthy classmates. Kate recalled him from television interviews, a 23

  compact, powerful figure who pulsed with contained energy. He 24

  seemed to take a grim delight in baiting the talking heads who 25

  grilled him. “I respect women,” he said repeatedly, in an exagger-26

  ated Southern drawl. “In fact, my mother was one. My sister, too.”

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  Intriguing legal issues, celebrity scandal — what more could a 28

  young lawyer want?

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  She couldn’t wait to begin.

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  Rounding the corner outside Carter Mills’s office suite, Kate 33

  slammed into the portly figure of Bill McCarty, who was charging ort 34

  in the opposite direction. Her notebook and pens scattered to the reg 35

  floor.

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  “Excuse me,” she gasped, bouncing back from the impact.

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  McCarty, red-faced and breathing hard, responded with a short 2

  grunt and continued full-speed down the hall, his short arms jog-3

  gling at his sides. As she gazed after the stout, balding figure, Kate 4

  rubbed her shoulder and wondered what had him so upset. While 5

  she’d never worked with McCarty, she knew him by reputation as 6

  diffident and unassuming. McCarty was a workhorse, not a show 7

  horse. Rumor had it that his election to the Samson partnership 8

  stemmed from his willingness to endure crushing workloads with-9

  out complaint. Fits of temper seemed entirely out of character.

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  Kneeling to pick up her things, Kate heard a clipped British ac-11

  cent behind her.

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  “No need to bow before entering. They did away with that years 13

  ago.”

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  Kate looked up to see Peyton Winslow. Not that she’d had any 15

  doubt who was speaking. Despite three years at Yale Law School 16

  and six at Samson & Mills, Peyton’s Oxford intonations only 17

  seemed to grow stronger with each passing year. Today, he sported 18

  a large pair of red-framed glasses. The glasses were Petyon’s signa-19

  ture; he had a wardrobe of different styles, all slightly eccentric by 20

  office standards.

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  “Very funny,” said Kate, clambering back to standing position 22

  and smoothing her gray wool skirt. “I was just cut off at the pass by 23

  Bill McCarty, and everything went flying. He seemed furious about 24

  something. Any idea what?”

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  Peyton gave her a skeptical look. “Interesting,” he said. “I 26

  thought he was com
puter-generated. It never occurred to me that 27

  emotions were part of the package.”

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  Kate grinned. She was always surprised by Peyton’s bouts of ir-29

  reverence. A rangy figure in his early thirties, Peyton often seemed 30

  younger than his years, all eager legs and feet. But appearances could 31

  be misleading. Everyone knew that Peyton was a rising star. He was, 32

  in the Samson vernacular, “highly regarded.” Affectations aside, 33

  he was incisive, hardworking, and an excellent manager. He’d be 34 sh

  up for partner in two years and was widely viewed as a shoo-in.

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  Together, they proceeded into Carter Mills’s reception area. His 2

  secretary, Clara Hurley, was immersed in dictation, her fingers fly-3

  ing across the computer keyboard. She jumped when Peyton 4

  tapped her on the shoulder.

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  “You scared me,” she said reprovingly, pulling the Dictaphone 6

  headset off her tight gray curls.

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  “Sorry ’bout that,” said Peyton. Clara visibly softened. Peyton 8

  had clearly gotten on her good side. Smart move, Kate thought.

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  When you were trying to get a brief out on time, a good relation-10

  ship with the person typing it was at least as important as your le-11

  gal skills.

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  “Have a seat, and I’ll see if Mr. Mills is free,” she said. Clara’s use 13

  of Mills’s last name sounded quaint to Kate’s ears. Except for the 14

  most inveterate old-timers, everyone at Samson was on a first-15

  name basis. But of course, Clara had been with Mills for decades.

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  Waiting outside the closed office door, Kate felt shy and very 17

  young. She could feel her heart beating faster. From the corner of 18

  her eye, she saw that Peyton was working. His features were locked 19

  in concentration as his pen flew across some junior associate’s 20

  draft. Kate envied him his seeming calm.

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  For what felt like the fiftieth time, Kate turned back to her 22

  notes. If even a fraction of the allegations were true, Thorpe and 23

  WideWorld had a major problem. And even if they weren’t true, 24

  the case had all the earmarks of a public relations nightmare. The 25

  timing — right on the heels of Thorpe’s splashy attack on the very 26

  laws under which he was sued — couldn’t have been worse.

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  “Come in, come in.” Carter Mills was standing in the doorway.