Submitted by OldBayJ t3_yblz14 in WritingPrompts
AShellfishLover t1_ithb1cu wrote
Reply to comment by AShellfishLover in [WP] It's hard being an estate lawyer in the land of necromancy. by OldBayJ
Marvin Entwistle was a member of the Church of Eternal Love. He was also pretty unlucky when it came to spouses.
I read the list as the Hack's team drew me on dead legs to my destination. Shirley, young and beautiful, his first love. Dead by 23, drowned in her bath. Then there was Elizabeth, a bit older, had some money, died of falling down a flight of stairs during the Drop. Lauren, an heiress to the Savoy clan of embalmers, died of misadventure on their honeymoon.
It was Lauren Savoy who had been the nail in his coffin. Marvin, in his middle age, had gotten sloppy. Like so many pricks who decided to put their hands on their women, he had left some marks that they had found when Lauren was shipped back to the States. Down in the Islands it was easy enough to pay someone off and write whatever you wanted on the death certificate, but the Savoys had a full forensic done, and then when Lauren was Raised she gave the whole story.
Our boy Marvin was a busy bee. A lonely hearts killer, who hadn't read the room. He has moved towards having his other loves quickly written off and Finaled before they could say anything. But Lauren, clever woman she was, had a prenup, a postmort, and a paid package for representation by Gray, Grey, and Gris for legal issues caused or arising from her demise.
Marvin had seen the writing on the wall and decided to add to it with a bright red underline, going for a twelve gauge pen down in the Crypts. His neighbor had heard the commotion and, hoping to gain a Stiff who didn't have any loved ones to claim him, contacted the Morgue and requested a Raise. Marvin hadn't accounted for there being enough of him to come back from his brilliant exit strategy, and had been patched up, run through the records, and found to have a hefty civil lien on his immortal person for his role in Lauren Savoy's demise.
I got to the Morgue with two hours to spare. The courthouse's cold marble steps were a great place for homeless Stiffs to keep themselves chill overnight, preventing some rot. I saw one Stiff in ragged Army surplus begging for credits to get a leg swapped out under the statue of Columbia striding over a pile of Stiffs. The plaque beneath it was in Latin: in morte servimus.
"Spare a bit, sir? I was at Halifax, during the Czar's invasion? Lost my paperwork, but if I could get some cash I could get it and maybe get my Service closed out." the Stiff's glassy eyes and dragging leg made me feel sorry for him. I slid my card through his reader, wincing as I was worried about paying rent this month. But nobody deserved to serve and then Serve because of those damned contracts. He was probably born in the Crypts or some other necropolitan hellhole, and just wanted to Rest.
"Bless you, sir. May you find Rest."
I would, just as soon as I sorted out this Entwistle case.
AShellfishLover t1_ithf0dq wrote
I tried not to think of how screwed my client was as the hot water washed over me. I scrubbed my skin not for the first time wondering if I should wrap up this public defense nonsense and start chasing hearses. Big civil settlements, a cushy spot for me and Dad, maybe even a nice suit or two. Not having to live in a place where I was cheek to cheek with rot every day. Get Dad wrapped, maybe a full jaw replacement.
No. While I'd miss him, this case would finally clear him to go into the ground. Public defense of necro-civil cases wasn't glamorous, but we split the judgment with the Court, and 50/50 of a fat case like Entwistle v Savoy was better than 80% of chasing down penalties like the one Dad had earned in his accident.
I did what I could to look presentable, scrubbing and rinsing, drying and shaking out my clothes. If I hadn't have helped that Stiff vet outside I would have gotten another coffee, maybe a pan dulce from the sweet old woman who ran the commissary Cafe in the courthouse. I adjusted my badge declaring myself a Defender of the Dead and shambled to the Pit to collect my notes and rub elbows with my fellow civil servants.
The Pit was a large open office, and at this point in the morning it was just starting its day. I nodded to my fellows, and the two or three folks still practicing public defense of the living. After the Government removed that pesky right to an attorney if you were still breathing the public defenders had unioned up, and the more masochistic among any class decided to work their fingers to the bone doing the Lord's work to keep the living safe from hearse chasers and cops who wanted to put them into a situation where being a Stiff was a better option. There were a lot less criminal cases amongst the breathing sect these days, since you could just pop whoever was giving you trouble and hope the Stiff had enough debt to make prosecuting their murder too expensive to worry about.
"Another day, another dead guy." Morty quipped, sitting a cup of coffee and a cream-filled donut in front of me. "Entwistle is on the docket early today, figured you wouldn't have any creds left after passing through the sob stories outside."
Mort was good people, a defender who went down at his desk due to overwork and never stopped working. Since our License gers pulled when we turn room temperature he couldn't practice, but now that he didn't sleep he was our own little necrolegal bulldog. Mort spent his death filing briefs, keeping the paperwork legit for the pool of suffering legal vultures and making sure we were fed and ready. In return we kicked what little we had into keeping him in good shape. Hell, if it weren't for the Stiff collar he was forced to wear in the courthouse most folks might think Mort was just pale and had a heavy hand on his aftershave.
"Yeah. The Greys have got me by the shorthairs on this one. The guy definitely popped three wives, but he's still got a right to defense. Every person —"
"Whether breathing or not should be entitled to fair and equal treatment under the law." Mort chimed in, finishing off the line. "I think dying really liberalized Roberts. Death can change your perspective, let me tell you."
We sat in a companionable silence, me writing notes and Mort checking over them, suggesting precedents to point out here, a juicy line of legal reasoning to slip in there. Stiff's memories were just better than living grey matter, and Mort was a lifeline for those of us trying to keep the peace between red and dead.
"You gonna have enough to put your Dad to Rest after this, right?" the old Stiff asked, handing me back my legal pad after adding some notes.
"That's the plan. I just need to win this case, but we'll see."
I saw the sad smile creep onto Mort's face in a wave, the slow reaction of dead flesh as it fired the muscles and nerves to put it all back in perspective.
"You're a good kid, Jake. Don't let anyone tell you different."
AShellfishLover t1_ithj3dc wrote
I looked on as the bailiffs slid the placards for assignments onto the big board, and winced. I was going to have to make the case before Halloran, and I wondered if Dad could afford to wait another decade or two for his Rest.
Judge Halloran. Shoot First and Don't Ask Questions Halloran. If this was a few centuries back Halloran would have been a hanging judge, but these days he mostly covered for cops who had been 'bit rough' with a stiff. As the rights of the Dead were civil and not criminal in these cases the old viper got away with legal murder as much as the police he helped get away with it.
"I'll go with you." Mort said, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder. "If you're gonna lose, lets do it in style."
My client was led into the court by Shaky, the Stiff bailiff aid that shuttered around and touched the dead when they got rowdy. Whoever put Marvin back together had skimped on the replacement parts. The poor Stiff's head was wet from the drizzle outside, the papier-mâché and cotton batting clumpy and already giving off the odor of cheap embalming fluid. The Stiff had obviously dressed himself, missing a few buttonholes, the tie half-Windsored, and two different colored dress shoes.
"Yuh betherr bu ghuud." the remnants of Marvin's palette demanded, his body falling into the seat after finding the armrests.
Lauren Savoy, in contrast, was the fear of the uncanny Valley manifest. She walked into the room with the swagger of a woman ready for war, not a hitch or stumble as you see in most Stiffs. She wore funerary black, a long veil covering her face and her hands in lacey gloves, the whole ensemble looking like a couple month's salary. Her lawyers, two young guys who looked like pale slumming European aristocrats, came behind as royal retainers, pulling out her chair as they were seated.
You don't care about the preamble. Legal stories are all about the juicy bits. I'm not going to waste your time with the mumbo jumbo, the addressing of pre-trial motions, the briefs, the feints and parries that lead up to a satisfying conclusion. It's boring, even to me, to think of the tap dancing I had to do to dodge the hour of legalistic bullshittery that the fine folks at 3G threw my way.
I'm good. And once they realized that? We were ready to continue.
AShellfishLover t1_ithp4gb wrote
We recessed shortly after the last motions were slapped down, and I'd say we were still doing alright. What had started as a route became a horse race when the changes of venue, requests for experts, and a long-winded speech on victims rights fell hard in front of Halloran. Like it or not, I was glad that Justice was not only blind but tone deaf in the morning.
The coffees had done their work and I was standing at the urinal running through my questions for the inquest when she crept up behind me. Bathrooms have become unisex in the age where the Dead outnumber the living, so it wasn't odd to hear heels on the tile. I just hadn't been suspecting the lady of the hour to creep up on me.
The late Mrs. Entwistle-Savoy was a knockout. Don't get me wrong, she was dead. And no, I'm not faulting Sandra and Donny from their relationship. Love is love, no matter the color of your skin or the content of your bloodstream. This wasn't a romantic observation either. I was taking in Lauren from an aesthetic perspective. Whatever hands had done the work to put her makeup on had been amazing, the life they had been able to touch into pallid skin made a flawless approximation of flesh, even if it was a bit pale. I turned to her and saw a woman, not a Stiff trying to approximate what it had been in life. Even the smell of her was light, lilacs and a small coppery tang, not like the rotting miasma that still clung on even the best prepared Stiffs.
"Mr. Smith. Can I call you Jake?" she asked, a soft proper tone with just the hint of some European accent I couldn't quite grasp mixed in with her English.
"Here? I'd prefer you let me finish my business and then we can talk."
"Ahh. Yes. Sometimes I forget how inconvenient it was to be alive. My apologies." the ex-living ex-wife of my client backed away, moving gracefully to the corner of the restroom as I wrapped up my business. "I just felt it was time to discuss the arrangements you have made with my late husband."
"Arrangements? Ma'am, I just work the cases I receive, with as little judgment as possible. I can't afford to dig into the moral ramifications of the actions of my clients." I washed my hands, scrubbing as I waited for her next move.
I hadn't expected the move to be sliding behind me, or putting her hands around my waist.
"My family has been here for some time, though I spent much of my youth abroad. I know that the life of American barristers is usually much more, what is the word? Lucrative than what you must be making." She tightened her grip on my hips, making me stand fully and look at her in the mirror. The look on her face was one of someone who knew how to get her way.
"I do well enough. And my work lets me pay the bills."
"Oh, but it could be better. I am willing to make it so, if you would do just one small thing for me. A tiny, teensy favor." Her hands began... well, it's been a long while, but I'm above such crude attempts at persuasion. I put my hands over hers, and hoped I was about to make the right decision.
Then I stood quick and slammed my head into this creepy dead seductress's face. I'm not gonna lie, the crunch of her nose was very satisfying.
"Mr. Smith! That was uncalled for! I will have your License revoked!" Lauren put her hands to her face, a sickening twist and the sound of bones sliding back into place echoing in the tiled room.
"Bribing or making an advance to seek favor on a duly appointed member of the Court is a criminal matter, even for the Dead. I'm protected, and it will be a he said, dead said case. Think for a moment, Miss Savoy, before you continue this line of questioning." I watched her in the mirror, my hands shaking as they held a death grip on the sink. As I took her in, I saw the way to win our case written clearly across her disbelieving face.
"I would never. How dare you accuse me of —
"Get. Out. I will see you in the courtroom, Miss Savoy." I waited until she gathered herself, and gave ten seconds for her to leave before I sprinted back to Mort at the pit.
"I need everything you have on the Savoy family." I demanded, catching my breath and trying to will my heartbeat back into my chest.
"Pulling all of those case files in an hour would be murder, Jake. I've got to..." I cut Mort off.
"I don't need case files. Pictures. Portraits. Hell, oil paintings if you can find them. All female descendants of the Savoy line, go back to before they came across the Pond."
I smiled as Mort started working, looking down at the pale flesh tone makeup covering my palms.
AShellfishLover t1_ithuk1p wrote
The first hour of legal fencing after the recess was, honestly, just relaxing. I had the case in the bag since the plaintiff's attempts to whammy me while I was in the restroom. Mort's searches of public records went quick, and we got the prints done just ahead of the call to return.
I was almost giddy.
We got to the meat of the case after the last attempt to dismiss outright failed, and the deposition of Marvin ran long. He wasn't exactly the best at speech, due to the missing top of his head, but we all got through to the best of our ability and I sat palming the smoking gun as I watched my case fall to pieces.
A case I didn't even care to defend, to Judge Halloran's chagrin.
"It is quite an unusual stroke of genius or madness to not refute the mountain of claims made by plaintiff's case. Surely you should mount a reasonable defense of your.." the Judge paused, trying to cover his disgust. "Client. I will not have this Court be claimed prejudicial due to your failure to provide a robust defense, Counsel."
"Your Honor, I believe that my case will be best served in examining the statements of the plaintiff on the matter."
Halloran paused, looking at me, then back at the slowly deflating head of my client.
"Well then. It's your ball game counsel."
The former Mrs. Entwistle-Savoy's questioning was even longer. I feared Halloran would move towards continuing until tomorrow. I don't know whether it was the insanity of my first play or the desire to get this over and done, but the Judge decided to push forward and see where we were headed.
I palmed my case-winning charm and started into mh questioning of the aggrieved.
"Miss Savoy, our records show you were 37 at the time of your passing. Is that correct?" I looked down at my notes, miming checking for my next move.
"That is correct. "
"And you are, as your birth certifacte shows, the daughter of Leonard and Sheila Savoy?"
"That is correct."
"Your State Department shows regular visits abroad, notably throughout your youth as well as yearly travels after."
"Yes. I was at boarding school from a very young age, but still go back every year to see old friends and visit my family's estates."
"Interesting. Now, on these trips, what exactly do you do?"
"Oh, I visit, shop, go out to dinner. As you do when you catch up with friends and family."
"Yes, yes. Do you have records of these travels?"
"Objection. Relevance." one of the Vulture twins hopped on that.
"I'll take that back. You are known to travel abroad on a yearly basis. Clubs, outings. You live a full life, a socialite in the circles you would travel as a alumna of the prestigious boarding schools you attended."
"Yes, I would say there are many who know me from my time there."
"Ahh. Yes. And plenty of photographic evidence of your travels, surely."
Lauren's calm broke. Her lawyer, seeing her discomfort, called for a further objection, and I switched tactics.
"You are aware of the longstanding history of your family both here in the United States and abroad."
"Yes. We have been in the funerary arts for centuries."
"And it was during the time when the dead began to rise that your family became the purveyors of these arts to an elite clientele."
"I would assume so."
"And during those centuries you have done well."
"My family has, yes."
"I know that this is unorthodox due to the nature of these proceedings, but the defense would like to present further evidence which has come to its attention over the period of our first recess."
There was a bit of a legal row, but I knew what I was doing. Even though Halloran was a hardcase and a bigot, I knew if I played up the idea of this new evidence he would have go along. The Hail Mary worked, and I brought out our evidence.
"The exhibits I have to present to the Court are labeled G-K. Starting with G, Miss Savoy, can you identify the woman depicted in this image?"
The woman was a deadringer for the plaintiff, decked out in full Elizabethan garb.
"I believe that would be my ancestor, the Duchess of Malfi."
"Yes. And exhibit H?" an image of a woman looking quite like Lauren Savoy, this time in the French style of Chardin.
"This is Lauren Savoy, my many great grandmother."
"I see. And exhibit I?" A watercolor, a noblewoman in repose in clothes from the 19th century.
"This would be my... great aunt? Lilian Savoy-Harper."
"Yes. And Exhibit J?" a 20th century print, depicting a nude in charcoal, looking much like Lauren.
"My grandmother, Eloise Savoy."
"There is a striking family resemblance, wouldn't you say Miss Savoy?" I asked, and saw the realization come over the 30something before me.
"And for exhibit K..." I smiled, producing my smoking gun. A clamshell powder makeup case, the mirror buffed to a high polish. "Could you please wipe that expensive foundation off your face and let the Judge see your reflection?"
AShellfishLover t1_ithxtzv wrote
The room exploded, and the objections flew. I stood there smiling, knowing I had just got my father settled. After the dust settled and the required products were produced, Lauren cleaned her face and showed Judge Halloran an empty mirror, only his own face staring back at him.
"The Court has seen the evidence. While United States v. Harker established precedent for the handling of sangrophagic entities as full and living citizens, it did require a renunciation of all claims to material assets in perpetuity for all claimants under the Harker Acts and registry with the State Depatment as a sangrophage. Miss Savoy, by not conducting herself in that matter, has broken countless laws, the most germane to our proceedings today being in the entry into marriage with one Marvin Entwistle without filing required paper establishing their blood status and renouncing rights to all assets held under said contract."
"Miss Savoy entered unlawfully into any prenuptial or postmortem agreements with my client. As my client, through no fault of his own, was put into this untenable position? He cannot be held to those contractual obligations."
"Objection! Your client attempted to kill my client, and acted under the assumption he had!"
"While that is true, you have produced living, if not breathing, proof that Miss Savoy was not harmed. While my client has been put beyond the reach of criminal law due to misadventure by his own hand. This puts him beyond the reach of criminal court for his actions, and civil penalties for the death of Miss Savoy cannot be levied as Miss Savoy never died in the first place."
You could hear a exsanguinated pin drop in the Court. After that? It was all just cleanup.
I gathered my claim ticket from Judge Halloran. The sum after a bit of negotiation in chambers was enough to cover my rent for a year and put Dad to Rest. And a little bit besides.
"Well, that was a hell of a case Jake." Mort said, putting up an umbrella to the rain and letting me stand beside him underneath it. "Savoy will fight it, but she's going to get tossed back to whatever hole she's been retreating to."
"And I bet the police there will have a talking to her. I get why she came over. They're not really liked over there, and she'll probably be burned for it by the Euroquisition." I felt bad, but she was a killer. There were cases dating back decades in the area, and it wouldn't take long for the cops over there to put it together.
"Hope the families will find justice." the Stiff finished for me. "Wanna go grab a drink? I could watch you down a few."
"Sounds good." I started walking towards the Gravedigger. "Why did you decide to come watch my case?"
Mort chuckled, putting his arm around my shoulder. "I like you Jake. And someone had to keep my brother honest."
OldBayJ OP t1_iti14t4 wrote
Just want to stop in real quick and say thanks so much for writing for the prompt! I can't get to reading it at this moment, but I will read a bit later tonight!
AShellfishLover t1_itiiht5 wrote
Thanks for checking in! It sometimes feels a big weird and lonely writing on WP as noone comments on half of my stuff.
OldBayJ OP t1_ititubj wrote
Yes, that is the battle, isnt it? you aren't alone tho, we all go through it
Ready-Comment4423 t1_itjhpdr wrote
My brother in Christ. I was entertained though the whole thing thank you
AShellfishLover t1_itjk9s2 wrote
Check my profile, as I'm stretching for Nanowrimo by picking up several prompts/day!
StoneJudge79 t1_itii55x wrote
Very nice.
AShellfishLover t1_itiic1g wrote
That's high praise coming from a judge. Thank you!
StoneJudge79 t1_itiisbn wrote
The "Judge" is more of a personal indictment, I am not inthe legal profession.
AShellfishLover t1_itiiztc wrote
Your Honor, don't take this moment from me. It's like when Kingofboobs told me he wasn't a monarch on my story of royal intrigue.
StoneJudge79 t1_itijbbo wrote
Oh, I claimed the Judge Moniker honestly. I Judged myself worst, and first. After I gotten good at it, I applied my skills to other people. If I am feeling charitable, I merely Assess them.
[deleted] t1_ithqt9w wrote
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