Page 161 of A Dead End Wedding

Voice mail sucked.

I slammed the phone down in its cradle, and it rang instantly. It was Charlie.

"Finally! I've been leaving messages for you everywhere," I said.

"I know. That's why I'm calling. What's up?" he asked.

"Five million dollars is what's up. Here's the deal." I filled him in on my brief call from Addy.

He whistled. "Five million dollars? It sounds like they're getting desperate to get rid of me. What did you do to them?"

"I wish I knew. There is one lead, but I won't know more until I receive the discovery the judge just ordered them to provide," I said. "You'll be happy to know your lawyer kicked butt in court today."

He laughed. "I'm thrilled, but what do I do about this offer?"

I tossed my pen on the desk and leaned back in my chair. "That's up to you, Charlie. You told me you did not want to sign a sealed agreement under any circumstances. If that is still true, my advice has to be to decline, because there's no way BDC is going to give you five mill to go public."

"Right. But five million dollars — even after your fees and costs — would give me a huge donation to the American Cancer Society," he said slowly.

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "That's true. I know we didn't discuss this, but I would reduce my fee considerably if we settled at this early of a stage. And it's also true that whatever evidence I discovered, it's likely that the other plaintiffs will discover, too."

Unless Greenberg and Smithies are in on the cover-up with Langley, Cowan.

But my duty is to MY client, as much as I may wish I could affect social justice on a large scale.

"World peace," I mumbled, thinking of Max's pageant days.

"What?"

"Nothing, just thinking out loud," I said. "Look, it can't hurt to at least meet with them. Do you want to set up a meeting and find out more?"

"Yes. Can we do that? I hate deciding in the dark," he said, sounding relieved.

"Definitely. I'll try to set up the meeting for this evening, given our twenty-four-hour timeframe. I'll call you back as soon as I arrange something."

"Great. Call my cell phone," he said.

After we said goodbye and hung up, I asked Max to call and arrange the meeting, because I didn't want to talk to Addison again until I'd had time to think more about his offer. It's a rare trial that yields five million for the plaintiff, especially a sum that large that's not eaten away with expert witness fees, lawyer fees, and trial costs.

If BDC really was covering up something as heinous as prior knowledge of a defect in the insulin, could I live with myself if we let it go?

Under the rules of professional responsibility – the code by which all attorneys were sworn to work – I'd have to live with it. If Charlie signed that confidentiality agreement, I could never violate attorney-client privilege to disclose a single thing about it.

Ever.

Since I believe fervently in the purpose behind the doctrine of attorney-client privilege – that a client must feel completely free to tell her attorney everything in order to assist with preparing her case – this wasn't even a hard choice for me. I'd never tell.

But that didn't mean I could livehappilywith the choice, either.

As I sat there, playing with all the possibilities in my mind, the phone rang again. It was my toxicologist. "What did you find out, Dr. Phillips?"

"There's no way an error in the production process caused this defect. You've got a tampering case on your hands."

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