Page 23 of Maddy's Justice

“Troy McGovern,” Carvelli began. “Grew up on the East Coast, Connecticut. dad’s name is Bertram and is a partner at a Manhattan big bucks firm. Troy is an only child and followed dad through Yale as an undergrad and Yale law school. Looks like dad paved the way. A new wing of the law library is named for dad’s firm. Troy was, and this is being kind, an average student. He got a job with the U.S. Attorney, Southern District of New York out of law school.”

“That’s a plumb position for an average student,” Marc said.

“Daddy,” Connie said.

“Probably,” Marc agreed.

“Troy worked there for three years getting trial experience. Um, we got a peek at his performance reviews. Don’t ask how. He may have been on the verge of being fired.

“After the three years, he joined Stafford, Hughes and has been there ever since. Three divorces, two adult kids. We didn’t check on his personal life and finances yet, but we can,” Carvelli said.

“Hold off on that, for now,” Marc said. “I just wanted to get a feel for him.”

“Entitled, obnoxious brat from birth,” Connie said.

“Yeah,” Marc agreed, “But he’s also a hustler. A first-class Rainmaker. What’s next?”

“Interrogatories, request for documents and admissions are all set to go out for each of these six plaintiffs,” Connie said. “Once we get those back, we’ll schedule depositions.”

Marc looked at Maddy and said, “Keep interviewing the women. I’m going to start on the men.”

“Elena said something else that’s bugging me,” Maddy said. “She was a little drunk and high, but she said something about two lawyers, both women, who were in the mass torts department when she started there. Then about six months later, both submitted resignations and vanished. Disappeared completely.”

“Did you get their names?” Marc asked.

“I tried, but she brushed me off. She tried to act as if it was nothing and she shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Let’s see if we can find their names. If they are around, if Lori Quinn knows where they are, we could be blindsided with them.”

EIGHT

“What are you thinking about?” Connie asked Marc. They were on the first floor of the Wells Fargo Center waiting for an elevator.

Marc looked at her and said, “Why do women always ask that? We’re probably not thinking about anything. Or, according to women, we’re only thinking about sex.”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“I got news for you. I’ve known enough women to know you think about it a lot more than we do.”

“Okay, so, what are you thinking about?” Connie asked again as the elevator started going up.

“I’m thinking what a pain-in-the-ass it’s gonna be to have to read through all of that discovery crap we sent out,” Marc said.

“And bill at four fifty an hour for every minute of it,” Connie reminded him. “Besides, Jeff can go through it and cut out most of the bullshit.”

“Why doesn’t he go to law school? Everybody in the office would help him.”

“He doesn’t want to. He says he hates school and is happy doing what he does and, he says he’s scared to death of the thought of courtroom work,” Connie answered.

“Here we are,” Marc said as the door started to open.

“Where do you want to do this?” Melanie Stewart asked.

Marc and Connie were in her office and had driven downtown for a purpose. They were going to sit down with, first, Troy McGovern and then the senior firm partners. The subject was the recording of Troy with Stephanie Chapple.

“Do you have a conference room we can use?” Marc asked.

“How about Troy’s office?” Melanie replied.

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