“Father Ryan said you were in an accident a few years ago. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“It was my fault, I’m afraid. I was crossing an intersection and I stepped off the sidewalk and slipped and fell in front of a truck.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Three years ago last December. I was on my way to Bloomingdale’s to do some Christmas shopping.”
“What happened after the truck hit you?”
“I don’t remember anything. I woke up in the hospital. They told me that an ambulance brought me there. There was an injury to my spine. Then they found bone damage and it kept spreading until—” She stopped and tried to shrug. It was a pitiful gesture. “They tried to fit me with artificial limbs, but they don’t work on me.”
“Did you bring suit?”
She looked at Jennifer, puzzled. “Father Ryan didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“My lawyer sued the utility company whose truck hit me, and we lost the case. We appealed and lost the appeal.”
Jennifer said, “He should have mentioned that. If the appellate court turned you down, I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done.”
Connie Garrett nodded. “I didn’t really believe there was. I just thought—well, Father Ryan said you could work miracles.”
“That’s his territory. I’m only a lawyer.”
She was angry with Father Ryan for having given Connie Garrett false hope. Grimly, Jennifer decided she would have a talk with him.
The older woman was hovering in the background. “Can I offer you something, Miss Parker? Some tea and cake, perhaps?”
Jennifer suddenly realized she was hungry, for she had had no time for lunch. But she visualized sitting opposite Connie Garrett while she was being fed by hand, and she could not bear the thought.
“No, thanks,” Jennifer lied. “I just had lunch.”
All Jennifer wanted to do was get out of there as quickly as possible. She tried to think of some cheering note she could leave on, but there was nothing. Damn Father Ryan!
“I—I’m really sorry. I wish I—”
Connie Garrett smiled and said, “Please don’t worry about it.”
It was the smile that did it. Jennifer was sure if she had been in Connie Garrett’s place she would never have been able to smile.
“Who was your lawyer?” Jennifer heard herself asking.
“Melvin Hutcherson. Do you know him?”
“No, but I’ll look him up.” She went on, without meaning to, “I’ll have a talk with him.”
“That would be so nice of you.” There was warm appreciation in Connie Garrett’s voice.
Jennifer thought of what the girl’s life must be like, sitting there totally helpless, day after day, month after month, year after year, unable to do anything for herself.
“I can’t promise anything, I’m afraid.”
“Of course not. But do you know something, Jennifer? I feel better just because you came.”
Jennifer rose to her feet. It was a moment to shake hands, but there was no hand to shake.
She said awkwardly, “It was nice meeting you, Connie. You’ll hear from me.”
On the way back to her office, Jennifer thought about Father Ryan and resolved that she would never succumb to his blandishments again. There was nothing anyone could do for that poor crippled girl, and to offer her any kind of hope was indecent. But she would keep her promise. She would talk to Melvin Hutcherson.
When Jennifer returned to her office there was a long list of messages for her. She looked through them quickly, looking for a message from Adam Warner. There was none.
12
Melvin Hutcherson was a short, balding man with a tiny button nose and washed-out pale blue eyes. He had a shabby suite of offices on the West Side that reeked of poverty. The receptionist’s desk was empty.
“Gone to lunch,” Melvin Hutcherson explained.
Jennifer wondered if he had a secretary. He ushered her into his private office, which was no larger than the reception office.
“You told me over the phone you wanted to talk about Connie Garrett.”
“That’s right.”
He shrugged. “There’s not that much to talk about. We sued and we lost. Believe me, I did a bang-up job for her.”
“Did you handle the appeal?”
“Yep. We lost that, too. I’m afraid you’re spinning your wheels.” He regarded her a moment. “Why do you want to waste your time on something like this? You’re hot. You could be working on big money cases.”
“I’m doing a friend a favor. Would you mind if I looked at the transcripts?”
“Help yourself,” Hutcherson shrugged. “They’re public property.”
Jennifer spent the evening going over the transcripts of Connie Garrett’s lawsuit. To Jennifer’s surprise, Melvin Hutcherson had told the truth: He had done a good job. He had named both the city and the Nationwide Motors Corporation as co-defendants, and had demanded a trial by jury. The jury had exonerated both defendants.
The Department of Sanitation had done its best to cope with the snowstorm that had swept the city that December; all its equipment had been in use. The city had argued that the storm was an act of God, and that if there was any negligence, it was on the part of Connie Garrett.
Jennifer turned to the charges against the truck company. Three eyewitnesses had testified that the driver had tried to stop the truck to avoid hitting the victim, but that he had been unable to brake in time, and the truck had gone into an unavoidable spin and had hit her. The verdict in favor of the defendant had been upheld by the Appellate Division and the case had been closed.