Plain Heathen Mischief by Clark Martin

Author:Clark, Martin [Clark, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 2007-12-18T05:00:00+00:00

Hanes shrugged. “I simply wanted you to know your options.”

“Thanks. I’m completely informed,” she said, making certain she sounded exasperated.

“Okay. Now, let’s discuss a more pleasant topic.” He toyed with a folder but didn’t look inside or remove anything. “Mr. Roland and I have tentatively agreed to settle the case for three million, nine hundred thousand dollars. As per your request, none of that comes from the church or the good reverend—it’s all insurance money, within their policy limit.”

“What happened to four million?” Christy asked. “Aren’t we, like, missing a hundred thousand here? I thought we talked about me getting the max and lettin’ Joel and the church off for nothing.”

“Exactly. You and I discussed that. Unfortunately, you and I don’t write the check for the insurance company.”

“So why won’t they pay what they owe?” She practically whined.

“Who knows what they owe, Christy,” Hanes lectured her. “That’s the point. A jury might award you ten million, or fifty thousand. Realistically, as poorly as Reverend King did when we took his testimony, it seems fair to assume a jury will set him on fire. He was arrogant and despicable and self-righteous and dangerous. The case went extremely well in Roanoke. You were an excellent witness, and I was proud of you.” He smiled at her, then continued: “Mr. Roland and Mr. White know we’re in high cotton, know we have a blockbuster claim, even better than I thought when I first evaluated it. But if we insist on four million, they have nothing to lose. That’s the worst that can happen, so they simply appear in court and hope for the best and wind up no worse off if you get twenty million. They pay four and that’s it.”

“So . . .” Christy was nodding her head, absorbing Hanes’s logic.

“So we give them a hundred thousand and get almost four million. Now they have something to lose, something to think about. Besides, if we go to trial, you’ll have to pay experts and court reporters and miscellaneous expenses.”

“When can I get my money?” Christy thought about smoking another cig, took the pack from her purse and slapped it against her hand until a filter appeared. She extracted a Doral but made no effort to light it.

“I’m not sure. Mr. Roland and I have a pretty firm agreement on the three-nine figure, but he has to sell it to his clients. They’ll want to read the transcripts and take a look at the file before they start writin’ million-dollar checks. Bottom line is that Roland will recommend they take the offer, and when they see the show the preacher put on in depositions, I imagine they’ll be happy to go along. Of course they might buck him and instruct him to return to us with a lower settlement. Nothing’s guaranteed yet.”

“How long do you think it will take?”

“I’m guessing I’ll hear from Roland within the next ten days.”

“How long after that?” Christy asked.

“Well, they have to cut the check and prepare releases. I’d say another two weeks, if everything goes smoothly.

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