Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.
Chapter Seven
Lawndale, Maryland, USA
Mid-January 1988
If Millie's Diner were any more
crowded, feet would have been sticking out of the windows but Jake, an overcoat
draped over his green U. S. Army service uniform, entered anyway. Nerves
prevented him from eating anything other than a dry piece of toast that morning
so he was hungry but did not feel like driving back to the house nor did any
one of the several fast food places in the neighborhood tempt him. What did
were the alluring odors waffling from the grill of Millie's that teased
his nose all the way across the street.
A few patrons looked at him
curiously. Despite the town's proximity
to Washington, D.C. and the military bases that surrounded it, soldiers were
not that common in Lawndale let alone one in full uniform in the middle of a
weekday but, other than one police officer that nodded a friendly greeting at
Jake, none paid him any mind.
"Aw, hell," a voice behind Jake
muttered.
"Excuse me," Jake said.
A tall lean man with greying hair
dressed in a sharp, dark blue suit that even Jake's unpracticed eye knew to be
very expensive waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing," he said. "I was just
forlornly hoping to get and out in a hurry. I knew that it would be packed as
always but I have a craving for their country fried steak."
"Good?" Jake asked shedding his overcoat.
"Best in Maryland," the man replied.
'I'll have to try it than," Jake said.
"You know, it's just me. I'm willing to share a table if you don't mind eating
with a stranger."
The man smiled broadly. "Thanks,
Captain," he said extending his hand. "Charles Ruttheimer."
"Jacob Morgendorffer," Jake answered
as he shook hands.
A hostess in an outlandish pink
uniform bustled up to them. "Table for two?" she asked.
"Yes, please," Charles responded.
"So what brings a JAG officer to
Lawndale," he asked after they sat down at a booth.
"You recognize the insignia," Jake
said somewhat surprised.
Charles shrugged slightly. "I did my
two years right after college. Managed to achieve the exalted rank of Lance
Corporal."
"Marine Corps, than."
"Yeah."
"Viet Nam?"
Charles shook his head. "No," he
replied. "The war hadn't heated up quite yet while I was in. Spent a year in
Korea, though."
"I just got back from there," Jake
said.
Charles whistled lightly. "I wasn't
getting shot at there but the winters are something else, colder than a witch's
tit in a brass bra."
"Oh, yeah," agreed Jake
wholeheartedly.
Charles noticed the waitress walking
up to them. "I don't need a menu, miss," he said politely. "I'll have the
country fried steak, home-style potatoes, green beans, a roll and black
coffee."
"Make that two, please," Jake added.
"Except I'll have baked instead of green beans."
"I like men who know what they want,"
the waitress said as she placed cutlery rolled in napkins and glasses of water
on the table. "Any dessert?'
Both men shook their heads.
"All righty," the waitress
said. "Be out in a jiff."
"What brings a JAG officer to
Lawndale?" Charles asked again.
Jake sighed. "I had a job interview
across the street," he replied. "At Vitale, Horowitz, Riordan, Schrecter,
Schrecter, and Schrecter."
"Vitale's a grade 'A' horse's ass,"
Charles said. "Riordan's about as bad. The rest I don't know although I'll go
with guilt by association."
"I need a job," Jake countered. "I'm
officially off active duty next week."
Charles grinned. "Do you always go to
job interviews in uniform?"
Jake formed a rueful smile. "No but
five minutes before I was going to leave the house my one good suit collided
with a bowl of oatmeal."
Charles laughed heartily. "Been there.
When my son was about a year old he threw up into my brief case," he said.
"Regurgitated pears all over a several hundred thousand dollar contract.
Fortunately, the client was a father and a grandfather so we just shared a good
laugh and drew up another one. Still use that same briefcase. Been rather lucky
for me over the last few years."
Jake nodded. "Maybe the accident will
bring me the same kind of luck," he said apathetically.
Charles frowned. "I get the feeling
that you really don't want the job with Vitale, Captain."
Jake leaned back. "If I had my
druthers, I'd stay in the army," he said after a moment. "It's funny. I spent
years avoiding the service because of some bad blood between me and my father
but once I got in, I loved it."
"I knew several draftees who felt the
same way," Charles replied. "So why not stay in?"
"My wife," Jake answered simply.
"Ah," Charles said in understanding.
"She wants me out so there it is,"
Jake replied. "But I am transferring to the active reserves. Keep a toe in the
water, anyway"
"Good," Charles laughed. "We can't let
the wives have their way totally."
"Just ninety-nine percent," Jake
returned.
"Oh, yeah, you've been married a
while, too," said Charles. "Well, I know that being a service wife can be
difficult."
"Actually, she joined JAG when I did
but got out as soon as her obligation was up," Jake said. "She was hired by
Davis-Miller here in Lawndale."
"I know them, "Charles said. "Miller's a feminist firebrand who sees sexual harassment in
every innocuous comment but Davis has her head screwed on mostly straight. So
your family is already here?"
"Yeah," Jake answered. "Since last
summer. Helen, my wife, bought a house and moved her and our two girls here
while I was still in Korea."
The waitress scooted to a halt by
their table, a laden tray in her hands. "Here you are, gentlemen," she said.
"Enjoy."
Both had several mouthfuls before Jake
broke the silence. "You were right, "he said. "This is very good."
"Wouldn't steer a soldier wrong,
"Charles said. "If corporate law doesn't float your boat, what kind of law do
you want to practice, Captain?"
Jake took a long sip of coffee as he
gathered his thoughts. "What I enjoy most is helping with wills, setting up
trust funds, that sort of thing," he answered.
"Estate Law," Charles said.
"Yeah," Jake replied lazily as he
attacked the rest of his food.
The remainder of the meal passed in
silence as both men concentrated on their plates. It was not until the bills
were paid and both men found them outside in the cold January wind did either
speak.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mister
Ruttheimer," Jake said putting out his hand. "Thanks for the tip on the country
fried steak. It was great. I'll have to bring Helen down here sometime."
"My pleasure was mine, Captain,"
Charles said shaking hands. "If you want to take the wife to some place really
good for dinner, I'd suggest The Fiddling Crab or if you want to indulge
in our German heritage, Café Konigsberg."
"To be honest," Jake said. "My family
comes from Alsace."
"Der
Deutschlandlied says that its part of Germany, too so who are
we to disagree?" Charles laughed. "Hang on a second," he added as Jake turned
to leave.
Jake watched inquisitively as Charles
reached into his overcoat and extracted a business card on which he quickly
scribbled something on its back.
"I don't know if it will amount to
anything but if estate law's your preference here's a firm you can try," he
said as he handed Jake the card.
"William Von Rheinbaben," Jake read
aloud. "211 Oak Street."
"That's downtown near city hall,"
Charles clarified. "He's the estate lawyer for most of the old money families
in town as well as several of the nouveau riche like me. He might be in
the market for an associate. I think another one just quit on him."
"That's reassuring," Jake laughed.
"But thank you," he continued. "I'll definitely go see him."
"Don't be put off by his manner,"
Charles said. "I think he was the man for whom they came up with the word
curmudgeon but he's honest as the day is long and loyal as a beagle, traits
that you have in spades unless my first impression gauge is seriously out of
whack."
"Thank you," Jake repeated sincerely.
"We Germans have to stick together,"
Charles said as he headed into the parking lot. "Good luck, Captain."
*********
"May I help you?"
Jake looked around spotting a woman
smartly but conservatively dressed in a pale lavender blouse with a bit of
ruffle at the throat and a darker violet skirt. Her hair, done up in a bun, was
mostly blonde. Grey eyes stared at him but their twinkle matched the friendly
smile on her lips.
"Yes, ma'am," Jake replied. "I was
hoping to see Mister Von Rheinbaben."
"In regards to what?" she asked not
impolitely.
"I'm an attorney," Jake told her.
"I've heard that he might need an associate."
The woman gave him a long look.
"You're not a spring chicken, are you, Captain?"
"A secretary who takes her gatekeeper
duties seriously," Jake thought. "Well, I guess I'll have to answer the
sphinx's riddle if I'm ever going to see Von Rheinbaben."
"I'm thirty-seven," he answered aloud.
"So what's the story?" she asked.
"Have you been passed over by the promotion board for the third time so now the
army's kicking you out?"
"You're familiar with the army I see
but no," Jake replied. "I've only been in five years. I'm transferring to the
reserves and looking for civilian employment."
The woman eyed him speculatively for
several more moments before visibly relaxing with a deep sigh. She walked over
to him with her hand extended. "I'm Mrs. Camphausen."
"Jacob Morgendorffer," he replied
shaking her hand briefly.
"The truth of the matter, Captain
Morgendorffer," she said quietly. "Is that we could use at least two
associates."
Jake smiled. "I was told that he could
be difficult."
Mrs. Camphausen smiled in return. "As
the old saying goes, a lot of the bark got left on him but he is a very good
man if you look past the crust. I have been his legal secretary for nearly
twenty years and haven't regretted a day of it."
Jake's reply died when an office door
opened and a very short, completely bald man in a rumpled tweed jacket walked
through into the room. Thick glasses perched on a bulbous nose that dominated a
profoundly wrinkled face.
"Who's this," he barked.
"This is Captain Jacob Morgendorffer,"
Mrs. Camphausen introduced. "He is inquiring about the associate's position, Mr.
Von Rheinbaben."
"Dammit," Von Rheinbaben irritably snapped.
"You didn't go behind my back and advertise for an associate, did you?"
"Charles Ruttheimer told me that you
might need one," Jake said before Mrs. Camphausen could speak. "I took a chance
and came down here because Estate Law is what I want to practice."
"Ruttheimer, eh?"
Von Rheinbaben said as he scrutinized Jake closely.
"I have a resume with me," Jake said,
as the silence grew uncomfortable.
The elderly attorney snorted.
"Resumes," he hooted. "Might as well hand someone a copy of Huck Finn as
little as most of them have to do with reality."
"There is nothing in my resume that
isn't accurate," Jake snapped. "And I sure as hell resent the implication."
"You can resent it seven ways from
Sunday for all I care," Von Rheinbaben loudly fired back. "I don't know you
from Adam so why should I give a damn what you think?"
"Because if I walk out, a
bad-tempered, pea-brained gnome like you isn't going to get anyone near as good
as me to walk in," Jake retorted. "No matter how much you advertise."
After staring at Jake for several
moments, Von Rheinbaben slyly grinned shoving a shar-pei
pack's worth of wrinkles toward his cheekbones.
"Came into my office, Captain," he
said.