CHAPTER 8

 

Frank Walker stood in Herb Leeber's law office, gazing through the half-open window blinds and thinking about what to do next. "I tell you, Frank," said the attorney, "you'd be better off to leave this thing alone. Keep it out of the papers. You've got nothing to gain from going after this kid and if -for some reason which would be known only to yourself -you do pursue him, you run the risk of having this guy Walt Vrbas' family coming after you."

"Could they build a case?" asked Walker, his back still turned to Leeber.

"I don't know," Leeber said. "Things are changing, Frank. Ten years ago I would have said 'no.' But these days ... Some courts have held that an employer is liable for injuries suffered to workers due to the employer's failure to create a safe work environment. I suppose they could argue that by putting that kid behind the wheel of a truck when he wasn't even licensed to drive a car ..."

"Shit!" said Walker, anticipating the rest.

"I'd let it go," Leeber said. "As your attorney, I'd advise you to let it go. I don't see what you've got against this kid anyway."

Walker moved away from the window and reseated himself in front of the lawyer's desk. "You know a farmhand named Jake Jobbs?" Leeber shook his head.

"Name doesn't ring a bell." "Well, he used to work for me," said Walker. "I fired him ...I don't know, a week or so ago -a few days before the Walt Vrbas thing. That Mulvane kid idolizes him, thinks he's a God." Leeber looked like he wasn't getting the connection. "I hate the son-of-a-bitch." "Mulvane or ...what's his name?" Leeber asked. "Jobbs, damnit! I hate the mother fucker!" said Walker.

"Calm down, Frank," Leeber said. "Good God, I've never seen you so rattled. What'd this guy do to you, anyway?"

Walker looked away for a moment, searching for a way to say what he had on his mind. He looked ready for a stroke, the veins in his neck bulging, over-filling to feed blood to facial muscles that were strained to breaking. "The bastard ...g ot involved with my little girl, for one thing?"

"Got involved?" Leeber said.

"Had sex! They had sex!" said Walker emphatically.

Leeber frowned and repositioned himself in his chair. "Well, how old is your girl now, Frank?"

"She's seventeen," he said.

"It was mutual consent?" Leeber asked. "I ask because she's a minor, Frank. How old is this Jobbs fella?"

Walker seemed to bristle at the sound of Jake's name. "I don't know, he's old. Thirty-five. Maybe more." "And the consent?" Leeber asked. "We aren't talking about rape here, are we?" And at that, Walker drew a big breath and let his head fall back on his shoulders so that he was looking up toward the ceiling. "No, I don't think it was rape. I think Lily wanted ..." He exhaled haughtily and shook his head. "I hate this bastard, Herb. I want to kill him."

Leeber looked around his office as if he were hoping sweeping eye movements might clear the room of irrational thought. "Well, you can't kill him," he said impatiently, "but it sounds like you got a case for statutory rape. Does your daughter admit to having sex with this guy?"

"No, she doesn't admit to having sex with this guy," aped Walker. "But I know she did."

Leeber seemed confused. "Well Frank, your thinking this guy had sex with your daughter is not a lot to build a case on. In fact, you're in worse shape on this one than you are on the accident case." He seemed to have reached wits end. "What is it with you these days, Frank? What has gotten into you that you want to bring all these legal actions against everyone? I don't think it's healthy. I don't, Frank! I've known you since we were school boys and I've never seen you this way."

"It's Jake Jobbs," Frank said bitterly, "That mother came right into my house -and he helped himself, like he had some right ... He robbed me!"

"He what?" Leeber asked.

"I caught him taking money out of my payroll drawer -right out of my office desk!" said Walker. "I caught him red-handed!"

Leeber leaned forward, interested, his elbows resting on his desk. "Well you didn't say a thing about this. Did you report this to the police?" Walker shook his head 'no.' "Well why not?" Leeber asked. "If you hate this guy so much, there was your chance! What were your losses?"

"None, really," said Walker, a little defeated. "He got some money, but -it was his."

"What do you mean it was his?" Leeber asked.

"I mean it was pay that I withheld from him and ...he didn't steal the money," said Walker, his own words tracing the disintegration of yet another case. He looked at Leeber and could tell the lawyer was waiting for the rest of the story. "I've got cash missing -and other things have been lost from the ranch," said Walker. "Little things. Tools, riding tack. Gasoline." "Gasoline?' Leeber asked. "I just been noticing that the gauge on the tank is showing that we're going through a lot more gasoline than we usually do. And it all began when this damned Jake Jobbs showed up," Frank said.

"Well where'd you get this guy, anyway?" Leeber asked.

Frank grunted. "I don't know -Jarvis found him somewhere. He seemed okay when I first met him so I took him on as a farmhand. Not a cowboy -he ain't no cowboy. But he said he'd driven trucks quite a lot, and I needed a hand for the hay season."

"Which kind of brings us full circle, doesn't it," Leeber said.

"Jobbs would have been driving that truck the other day instead of that kid," said Walker.

"And presumably this guy Walt Vrbas would still be alive," Leeber said, helping Frank with the story.

"Presumably there would have been no accident," Frank said, putting a period on it.

"And now you hate Jake Jobbs for having gotten himself fired and allowing this whole thing to happen on your property," Leeber said.

"And to my daughter!" said Walker, his voice rising again. "The bastard came into my home, stole from me, took money out of my desk, and ruined my little girl!"

"Oh Frank, don't get melodramatic," Leeber said. "I hardly think he ruined your girl. I saw Lily just this morning and she didn't seem ruined to me. In fact, she was over to the drug store having sodas with the little Wilkerson girl and they both seemed flush with health." Frank Walker looked away and Leeber could see that his old friend was needing some reassurance and some direction. He got up and walked around to where Walker was seated. There was a box on his desk which was filled with cigars, and he held it open for Walker to take one. He declined. "Frank, I think you need to take a little break. You've been working too hard for too long, and it's warping your perspective. This guy Jake -it don't sound to me like he's done you any real harm. The law says

he's got no business having anything to do with someone your daughter's age, so if that's something we need to follow-up on, we'll do it. Beyond something like that, you've got to let your girl grow up, Frank. Be there when she needs your help, but let her grow. And quit being so angry all the time. You're a great man, Frank -a war hero, a leader in this community. This kind of behavior -wanting to bring charges against people all the time, get even with everybody -it's not becoming to you. It's beneath you, old friend. It's something that's not helping you."

Frank Walker did not like being lectured to, but he took it, bracing in the chair the way he would if having to face old Doc Kessel, the dentist. When Leeber finished, Frank cleared his throat and moved on to new business, as if sweeping aside all that had just transpired. He got up from his chair and looked hard at his lawyer. "I want you to make arrangements with a private investigator to find out what you can about Jake Jobbs," he said sternly. "I want to know everything there is to know about the guy. Then we'll see whether or not all this is something I should put behind me." Then he turned and walked to the door of the office. "Thanks, Herb," he said, before closing the door behind him.

 

END OF CHAPTER EIGHT