“Right! Caleb—Mr. Wilton—he’s willing to unilaterally amend this offer. The one I made in the original letter, sent by registered mail. You first saw a copy of it at my office.”
I raised my brows. “I’m familiar with it. You’re talking about that part of the letter where you demanded one hundred ninety thousand dollars?”
He gave a sheepish chuckle. “Yeah. That feels out of range, in light of what you’ve shared. I’m authorized to settle for a payment of twenty thousand.”
I didn’t just laugh. I howled. The man was hilarious. “Arch, I’m not paying your client a damn dime. You know that.”
“But it would resolve the issue, Judge. Wilton couldn’t come back later to make another claim.”
“Let him come. I’m ready to take him on. Arch, I think your client Wilton is a liar, who never had dealings with this mysterious Abraham Stone. Or alternatively, Abraham Stone is a phony who conned your client.”
I leaned forward. Placed my elbows on my desk. Toyed with a letter opener shaped like a dagger. “Either way, it’s not on me. In law school, I had this commercial law professor. He beat something into our heads. He’d say: ‘He who deals with the bad actor is lost.’”
“Yeah, I had him, too.”
“Then you know.”
I wasn’t blowing smoke. Wasn’t just talk, trying to get a more attractive offer. Arch Pearce couldn’t make an offer I’d accept. He and his client would never make me surrender, no matter what terms he laid out.
That being the case, I was ready for Pearce to dislodge himself from that chair and get out of my office. Wished I were wearing a wristwatch, so I could pull back my sleeve and stare at it. Toss that “gotta go” trick right back in his hungry face.
But I didn’t need it. Luna saved me. The office line buzzed. When I picked up, Luna said, “Your sister’s here, Judge.”
Uh-oh. My sister? At the courthouse. “Which one?”
“Miss Jordan.”
Took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting her, though the timing was ideal.
“Arch, we’ll have to cut this off. Something’s come up.”
He took the hint. Picked up his file folder and left, passing my sister in the reception area.
Jordan sidled into my office, looking peaked. It worried me. I rose from my chair, half inclined to press my palm to her forehead, like I did when she was little. Check for fever.
She said, “Nellie told me to come. She can’t leave school, or she’d be here herself.”
“Sit on down,” I said.
Jordan shut the door before she sat. Perched on the edge of her chair. Acting for all the world like there was trouble, that she was gonna break some terrible news.
I tensed up. “What’s the matter with Nellie?”
“It’s not Nellie, it’s about the nurse. School nurse.”
Gave my head a shake. Ashamed to admit, but I was wondering what awful thing they were going to say the woman had done.
“Yeah, so? What about her?”
“She’s dead.”
Jordan’s voice was flat when she said it. Like she didn’t believe it.
I could hardly believe it myself. “Dead? Cocheta Bass? The woman’s just in her forties! Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Nellie heard all about it. Cocheta didn’t come to school this morning. And they couldn’t get her on the phone. She’s been living alone in that little house outside of town, since her divorce last year.”
“Right.” I was aware of the divorce. Not amicable. It was abloodbath. I should know, it was filed in my court. I signed the judgment, divided the property. “I know the place. I drive right by there.”
