Page 47 of Buddy System

“That’s great news!” I say as Brooke flings her arms around him smiling her head off.

“Furthermore, her medical report included a twisted ankle and skinned knees as well as deep bruising that would indicate the possibility of falling down some stairs as well as being hit—she claims I slugged her, but she never mentioned falling. I guess I’m lucky she didn’t accuse me of shoving her down the stairs.” He still doesn’t look happy enough for this news, and I wonder why. “The prosecutor agreed to drop the case when he heard all of this. I guess he figured it was a waste of his time to pursue something so ridiculous.”

“Wonderful!” Brooke exclaims and kisses the top of his head.

“But…” Skyler takes a deep breath. “According to my loquacious lawyer, Mrs. Henshaw is still insisting that I forced my way into her house and beat her up no matter what anyone says, and she is still going to pursue the civil lawsuit against me for a million dollars. He thinks she hopes her hungry shark of a lawyer can persuade a jury that this big, mean bully—me—took terrible, cruel advantage of her and ruined her life. She claims she can’t work anymore, and I owe her for that.”

“Because her pain and suffering and lost potential wages are worththatmuch? Is she still hospitalized?” I have to ask.

“No! She never was. She showed up at the ER and they stuck some bandages on her and sent her home with the instructions to take some Advilifshe needed it.”

“How did your lawyer get that information?” Brooke asks. “Isn’t it private because of HIPAA?”

Skyler snorts. “Nothing is private in Honeybee Hollow, as you may have noticed. My lawyer’s wife is a nurse at the hospital. But he subpoenaed the records anyway and finally got the official report. There is no doubt that something happened to her, but it sure as hell had nothing to do with me. This makes me curious as to why she’s not looking for another possible attacker.”

Brooke looks like a light just went on when she asks, “Do you think the old fraud might actually have thrown herself down her own stairs to make it look like she was attacked?”

“No clue.” Skyler looks at me. “What do you think?”

“She could have killed herself doing that, so I’m not sure she would have done it on purpose, but maybe she tripped and then decided it was a lucky accident.”

“Ugh,” Skyler moans. “That sounds like something she’d do.”

“Are you going to countersue for slander?” I ask.

“No. I only want my legal expenses covered, so I’m countersuing for that. I don’t need to try to make money from her craziness. The less I have to think about her, the better. Also, I should mention that as soon as the prosecutor dropped the charges, my lawyer immediately filed a motion with the judge asking that the civil case be dropped for lack of evidence. The judge isn’t as reasonable as the prosecutor, obviously. He denied the motion, so the civil trial will go on as planned.”

“Sorry, man.” I tell him. “That sucks.”

“I’m beginning to wonder whether Sheriff Hansen and the judge are poker buddies or something.” Skyler jokes, but he sounds defeated. “Maybe they’re looking for some entertainment.”

This begins a series of depositions and discussions with Mr. Talkative, Esq. Skyler is right. Hamilton loves the sound of his own voice, but I get the feeling he’s competent. Mrs. Henshaw’s lawyer, on the other hand, is a poorly dressed slob who comes across like a guy who bought his law degree from someone in a dark alley. Not that it means anything, but he has a protruding belly that usually has bits of food stuck to it, and his beard is just as unkempt. He’s pretty off-putting. I wonder if he’s the only shyster around who would agree to take her case.

Chapter

Thirty-Six

Skyler

Today’sthe day my trial begins, and I’m about to barf. Levi and Brooke have been incredibly supportive, but I know they’re nearly as worried as I am. I hope it doesn’t drag on forever because all of us have put our lives on hold for too long already. It’s taken months of preparation. My lawyer even asked if I wanted to bargain her down and offer her fifty thousand bucks to see if that would make her go away. I won’t do it though. I don’t owe that awful woman a penny, and I’m ready for the world—or at least Honeybee Hollow—to see that I’m in the right.

Jury selection was interesting. They couldn’t find anyone who wasn’t at least remotely acquainted with one or the other of us. So, among others, we ended up with my second-grade teacher, a friend of my mom’s from her Sewing Bees club, and a neighbor who lives across the street and down two houses from Mrs. Henshaw. The plaintiff’s lawyer excused three people Mrs. Henshaw worked for. They swore their connection to her would not sway their thinking, but he was bright enough to see through that—or at least to be worried about it.

The trial begins with Schroeder, the plaintiff’s lawyer, making his impassioned opening statement about how I ruthlessly mistreated a poor, innocent woman and not only cheated her out of her rightfully earned wages but also caused her such physical harm and mental distress that she could barely manage her own affairs, much less earn a living. I supposedly threatened her and then forced my way into her house, terrifying her and beating her nearly to death in a fit of rage. What an absolute crock of shit. I fight to keep from rolling my eyes since Hamilton cautioned me against it. I keep a straight face and sit up tall.

Hamilton makes his opening statement, regaling my service to my country as a brave soldier in Afghanistan where I was seriously injured in the line of duty. He tells how I have always been a model citizen in Honeybee Hollow and loyal to my country and how I have always had the respect of my peers. Then he switches gears and talks about how Mrs. Henshaw has a history of greed and dishonesty. Her lawyer objects, and the judge tells the jury to disregard that statement. Hamilton apologizes and says, “Evidence will clearly show that Mrs. Henshaw has no reason to hold my client responsible for her injuries and for her self-imposed unemployment. We will demonstrate how this case is a frivolous lawsuit.”

And so it begins.

The shyster Schroeder parades a series of people onto the stand asking them about their association to Mrs. Henshaw. Each one says she worked for them in the past. Each one swears she did her job satisfactorily, but no one is asked why she doesn’t still work for them. My lawyer’s cross examination doesn’t amount to much until he gets to the fifth one.

He asks, “Why did you eventually terminate her employment?”

The witness clears his throat. He shifts in his seat. When he finally answers, it’s truly magical. “My son kept complaining that his piggy bank was getting raided, so we put a hidden camera on it. We have video of Mrs. Henshaw stealing from a ten-year-old.”

There are audible gasps all around the room, and her lawyer jumps to his feet crying, “Objection! My client isn’t on trial here!”

“Your honor, I am simply establishing the possibility that Mrs. Henshaw stretches the truth now and then.”

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