Tales Out Of Court

Swallowed a Fly

..... by John Davis Collins - © 1997 Copyrighted by John F. Clennan, Esq.

One of my faithful if not only readers John Guiffrey (JAG Inspection Unit) JAGIU@webtv.net" writes, "I like Tales Out of Court for its view of the melodrama of law from the back staircase, but why are the stories so sad? Can't you write something more up lifting?"

I'm sure my counternumber from the police constabulary Donald Grant DeMan - "The Man" deman@mars.ark.com is chuckling. Yet like Barbara Allen of auld we sing of life as it is not the way we'd like it to be...

Yet not is all doom and gloom. We do have a moment for laughs...

I was sitting next to Dolores on a park bench not far from my office. Blond hair tied in a dark scarf and wrapped tightly in a white trench coat she read the newspaper, while I munched on a hot dog, I bought off the truck which came to the park every day rain or shine. When I was sure no one was watching, I handed her a plain envelope.

The park was under the keen eyes of Fred, a dreary eyed cop who every year or so walked about the park. Ordinarily, Fred-the-cop took no interest in me, but Fred was a frightful gossip with some of the little old ladies who knitted on the park benches.

No I wasn't a spy. I was just the local lawyer paying a client who wanted to keep her car wreck money away from the sight of the watchful eyes of her husband.

In a less hectic time, small shot lawyers idled long afternoons away sitting on benches watching life go by. In our money driven age, even time stolen away from the office for a few minutes of peace from faxes and ringing phones had to be devoted to productive business. And this park bench had been mine since I was released from the service and descended on the park to scout for auto cases from among Vietnam Veterans who had once collected here.

In the days of the Vietnam Veterans, Fred the cop did take an interest if he thought drugs were being used too openly, but even then Fred spent most of the day sleeping on a lawn chair under a tree.

The Vietnam Veterans had evaporated into the great American Dream, but others with different types of hardship liked to conduct business steathfully away from the prying eyes.

"Here's your money." I advised Dolores. "Do two things with it, divorce your rotten husband and go to secretarial school. You showed so much resourcefulness that you'd be a great legal secretary..."

"Nope," Dolores tartly replied, "too injured... you read the doctor reports..."

I smirked, "The case is over, life can go on. With your husband, you have a life of... police and welfare..."

"Actually, my husband has moved out. I think he's a little afraid of my boyfriend."

Dolores' personal business was her own affair. I thought enough of Dolores talents to give friendly advice. I tried to remind myself not to be so helpful. Heck sick, sore, lame and lazy people were good for my business.

About a week or so later, I had just finished talking up an accident case with another potential client when Dolores approached me. She wore a checkered cotton dress. A gangling youth with short cropped hair clung to her arm. After introductions, her companion Jerry said, "You a lawyer. I know lots of lawyers. I just got back from a 1 to 3 bid for B & E."

I sighed.

Not many weeks later, Dolores visited my refuge with stories of beatings at the hands of Jerry.

"Police and the Court washed their hands of me." Dolores complained. " If I won't move out of my own flat, the cops won't do anything. Jerry's parole officer days no law is broken, until the courts take action...What do I do ?" Dolores pled with outstretched hands.

"I told you to get a divorce, not find some muscle bound idiot to scare off your husband," I grunted with annoyance.

I smirked as I added, "Abuse in the house... Hey that's Fred-the-cop's department not mine." I looked at Fred's favorite tree and pointed.

Fred was sprawled out in his lawn chair so sound asleep he hadn't noticed that some twit had stolen his shoes.

"Ever vigilant," I closed my eyes and chuckled.

"It's risky, but I do have an alternative," Dolores bit her lip.

Not long later Dolores visited my private office on the bench. Dolores had with her Elaine, a dark eyes, long black haired beauty with large brown eyes.

When Dolores excused Elaine for a private word, Dolores whispered in my ear, "I only had to say three magic words: 'I am gay' and Jerry ran off like the whole F.B.I. was chasing him."

I shook my head. Dolores had proven to be very resourceful at every turn in her accident case.

The honeymoon was brief. Soon, Dolores visited the park with complaints about Elaine.

"She's not beating you ?" I asked.

"No she's worse than a man. Elaine wants me to get off the dole, to go to school, 'better myself,' go to plays and the opera and realize 'my potential as a woman.' And I thought it would be a meaningless tumble in the hay!" She exclaimed in disbelief.

"Why don't you tell your friend Elaine the truth : You had some fun, but don't want to build a life together. I think that's the right thing to do."

"Humph, I know what to do," she snorted.

I hadn't seen Dolores for some time. I wondered how Dolores had handled the breakup with Elaine. Then one day Dolores bounced into the park.

I smiled slightly. "Elaine gone ?" I asked.

"More difficult than the others." Dolores looked to the sky thoughtfully. "I claimed to be having an identity and moral crisis and threatened suicide..."

"So Elaine--," I asked hestitantly, "she just up and moved out."

"Oh no, Elaine worried about me. Sicked her friend the psychiatrist on me, So I told the psychiatrist the truth... I used Elaine and played along to dump Jerry, I was afraid of being committed..."

"And that got rid of Elaine...?" I queried.

"Oh no, Elaine wanted to support me in whatever I decided to do, even offered to help me find 'a suitable gentleman' ?"

"So you're still with Elaine ?" I asked.

"No. I took up with Fred the policeman. Fred persuaded Elaine to go."

I looked at Fred sprawled in his lawn chair. Fred had cat's bells tied to his shoe laces now so that Fred could sleep unperturbed.

I hope this slice of life re-assures JAG@webtv.net that in all travails a sense of humor is preserved.

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