Con Law Part 17

'I want to go home, but I believe it was an accident.'

'Why?'

'The sheriff doesn't seem like a fool. He's investigated a lot of car accidents. If Nathan was murdered, he'd know it. And why would Billy Bob murder his own lawyer? For money? He's rich enough to pay eighteen million in legal fees to Dunn. To stay out of prison? How many rich guys go to prison? He'd blame any contamination on his employees, the company would pay a fine, and he'd stay in business. And if Nathan had proof, he would've shown it to his wife or his best friend. Professor, you're emotionally invested in this case. You're not looking at it objectively. Because Nathan saved your life.'

'He saved my life, but I wasn't there to save his. I owe it to him to find out how he died.'

'You did. Nathan Jones died in an accident.'

'He shouldn't have died that way.'

'And my sister shouldn't have died of cancer when she was eight.'

'Eight?'

His intern's voice cracked. 'It destroyed my parents. Their marriage. Our family.'

She paused.

'After she died, we never had a real Christmas tree. My mother bought an artificial one.'

Book's instinct was to embrace his intern, but he resisted.

'I'm sorry, Ms. Honeywell. That's just not ...'

'Fair? One thing I've learned, Professor, life is unfair. I couldn't make it fair for my sister, and you can't make it fair for Nathan.'

Or his own mother.

'Professor Bookman?'

Book looked up to a young man smiling down at him. He stood.

'I'm Tim Egan. I took your cla.s.s five years ago. What brings you to Midland?'

'Nathan Jones.'

The smile left his face. 'Bad deal. He was a good guy.'

'You work at the Dunn firm?'

'We all do.'

'Oil and gas?'

'Yep.'

'Fracking?'

'Fracking is the oil and gas business today.'

'You know anything about groundwater contamination caused by fracking?'

'Nope. And I don't want to know. I do what I'm told and keep my mouth shut.'

Book's thoughts of disapproval must have registered on his face.

'Look, Professor, we're not cops. Our clients hire us to do their bidding, not to turn them in to the Feds.'

'I take it you didn't go to law school to make the world a better place?'

'I went to law school to make money.'

Disapproval turned to- 'Don't look so disgusted, Professor. I graduated with a hundred thousand dollars in student loan debt, money I borrowed so UT law professors can make three hundred thousand a year teaching two cla.s.ses a semester. I couldn't pay my loans off working at a nonprofit. So you guys are as much to blame for the state of the legal profession as we are.'

'What grade did I give you?'

'B.'

'I should've given you a C.'

Nadine had scooted down the bench when the lawyer had engaged the professor. She now smiled. The professor was growing on her.

'Nadine?'

She turned to the familiar voice and saw a familiar face.

'Sylvia?'

She stood, and they hugged. Sylvia Unger had graduated law school the year before. She was holding a venti Starbucks cup.

'There's a Starbucks here?'

'Right around the corner.'

'Oh, thank G.o.d.'

Nadine fought the urge to s.n.a.t.c.h Sylvia's cup and suck the coffee into her caffeine-depleted body.

'I thought you wanted to work in Dallas?'

Sylvia shrugged. 'No jobs in Dallas, so I came to Midland.'

'You still dating that lawyer in Dallas?'

'He dumped me for an SMU cheerleader.'

Nadine shook her head. 'Guys say they want brains and personality, but what they really want are big t.i.ts and a tight a.s.s.'

'He left me for a male cheerleader.'

Nadine groaned. 'I hate it when they do that. Leaving you for another girl is bad enough, but for another boy?'

'Tell me.'

Sylvia was not from San Francisco, so it was probably her first experience with romancing a gay guy. Her expression said she had not gotten over him. Nadine thought it best to change the subject.

'You like it out here?'

'Beggars can't be choosers.'

The wind tried to blow Sylvia's dress over her head. She clamped her arms down both sides of her body like a vise.

'Does the wind ever stop blowing?' Nadine asked.

'No. It doesn't. And the oil smell never goes away.'

'Is the practice of law fun?'

'Fun?' Sylvia almost laughed. 'Nadine, "fun" and "the practice of law" do not belong in the same sentence.'

'What kind of work are you doing?'

'Estate planning.'

'Do you like it?'

'It's a living. So what are you doing here?'

Nadine aimed a thumb at the professor. 'Working for Bookman.'

'Wait-you're not his intern?'

'Uh ... yes, I am.'

'Be careful.'

'He's a nice guy.'

'He's crazy. He's got a death wish or something.'

'We rode out here on his Harley.'

'See?'

'Sylvia, did you know Nathan Jones?'

'We met. I'm up here, he's in Marfa. Was. He seemed like a nice guy. I didn't work with him, but he must've been a good lawyer, working for the firm's biggest client.'

'Billy Bob Barnett?'

'Yeah. What are you and Bookman doing in Midland?'

'We came to see Tom Dunn.'

Sylvia frowned. 'The dark lord. He's so creepy. When he talks to me, he talks to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s.'

'I noticed. And I barely have b.r.e.a.s.t.s.'

'It's just the thought of it, for guys like Dunn.'

They shared a giggle.

'I didn't see you at Nathan's funeral yesterday,' Nadine said. 'Did you go?'

Sylvia shook her head. 'Dunn said he was going for the firm, told us to stay here and bill hours. He's sentimental like that.'

'Nathan wrote a letter to the professor, said there was some funny business going on with fracking. Is there?'

Sylvia shrugged. 'I don't know. Those guys in the oil and gas department, they're like a fraternity. They don't talk to us girls in estate planning. And the first thing you learn in the practice is to not ask questions and to keep your mouth shut.'

'Nathan must have missed that cla.s.s. Anyone else who might know if anything odd was going on?'

'Becky.'

'Who's she?'

'Nathan's secretary.'

'Nathan treated all the girls like sisters instead of secretaries,' Becky Oakes said. 'Most lawyers treat us like slaves.'

Becky had been Nathan's secretary for the entirety of his legal career.

'Becky, did you know about the letter Nathan sent to me?'

Nadine had pa.s.sed on a tour of the Petroleum Museum in Midland, so after a quick stop at the Starbucks-Nadine had drunk a venti frappuccino on the ride back- 'Don't spill that down my saddlebags,' Book had cautioned her.

'n.o.body likes a tidy freak,' she had responded.

-they had returned to Marfa and caught Becky as she was leaving for the day. She glanced up and down the sidewalk then lowered her voice.

'He told me about it. What he thought was happening, with the groundwater.'

'Did you tell anyone?'

'No. I swear. No one.' She hesitated. 'Except my husband.' 'What does he do? Your husband.'

'He's a roughneck. For Billy Bob.'