To provide some modicum of management in the midst of such hostilities, the firm relied on Diantha Bradshaw—the rock, the mediator, the unofficial third partner. Her office was in the demilitarized zone behind the front receptionist, equidistant from both wings. When Kirk needed something from Rusty, which was rare, he went through Diantha. Same for Rusty. When an important decision was at hand, she consulted with both of them, separately, then did whatever she thought was right.
In a profession where firms explode weekly, the Malloys should have split and pursued their own callings without the burden of family complications. But that could not happen for two important reasons. The first was a harsh partnership agreement Bolton had forced them to sign before he left for prison. Each agreed, practically at gunpoint, to remain as equal partners for the next fifteen years. In the event one decided to leave, then all of his cases and clients and fees would remain within the firm. Neither could afford to walk away. The second concerned the matter of real estate. The building was entirely owned by Bolton and he leased it to the firm for one dollar a year. He figured he was making money from its appreciation. A fair monthly rental would be somewhere in the neighborhood of $40,000. If the firm blew up, then everybody got evicted, past rent was jacked up and accelerated, and in general life for all involved would be miserable.
Bolton had always been a controlling, scheming, even shifty father, partner, and boss. No one missed him. His comments about early parole were upsetting.
Malloy & Malloy, both wings, needed Bolton to stay in prison.
（2）
It was early on a Thursday, a workday for Kirk, and he turned off 10th Street and into the underground garage beneath the Malloy building. There were a few scattered vehicles, belonging to Rusty’s staff, all there before 8:00 a.m. because the great man himself was in trial. Near the elevator were four reserved spots, with names on large signs to guard them. Rusty’s was occupied by a massive Ford SUV, a vehicle so large it barely fit within the tight space. On its bumper was a new sticker that read: hal hodge for governor, vote democrat.
Kirk parked opposite the Ford and next to a shiny Audi owned by Diantha. The fact that she was at the office so early meant she was monitoring the progress of Rusty’s latest courtroom adventure.
When Rusty went to trial, the entire firm, both sides, held its breath.
Kirk got out, grabbed his briefcase, and began walking toward the elevator. He stopped to sneer once again at Rusty’s bumper sticker. In his opinion, Hal Hodge was a useless bureaucrat who had spent twenty-plus years in the state legislature and had little to show for it. Kirk turned and admired the new sticker on the rear bumper of his own spotless BMW. reelect governor sturgiss, a real republican.
Kirk had supported Sturgiss four years earlier by writing checks and hosting fundraisers. He was a likeable enough politician whose greatest asset at the moment was the fact that he was already in office and likely to be reelected. Missouri was a solid red state.
In the elevator, Kirk adjusted his silk tie and straightened his collar. Attire was another flashpoint. When Bolton was in charge he ran things with an iron fist, including the dress code. He insisted on coats and ties, suits in the courtroom, and appropriate outfits for the women, though he did admire shorter skirts. The day after he went to prison, Rusty quickly caved to his younger staff and tossed aside all the rules. His associates and staff were now wearing jeans, khakis, boots, and never ties, at least around the office. In court, though, and in serious meetings, they could still look like lawyers. Kirk loathed the unprofessionalism and maintained Bolton’s dress code for his side of the building. His associates seethed at what they perceived as unfair treatment.
At Malloy & Malloy there was always a group seething about something.
The elevator opened into the main lobby, and for a moment Kirk toyed with the idea of wandering into Rusty’s wing to see how the trial was going. He walked over, went down the wide hallway, and realized that the lawyers and staff were in a meeting. He put an ear to the door of the conference room, then decided to leave it alone. An unexpected appearance by him would irritate his brother and disrupt the meeting.
Diantha was in there and she would brief him later. She was not watching the trial, but word from a mole was that it was not going well for the plaintiff.
（3）
On the other side of the door, Rusty paced while he talked. The mood was tense. His staff, all properly dressed for trial, seemed fatigued at 8:00 a.m., which was not unusual several days into a big jury trial. Tall coffee cups littered the long, marble conference table. A platter of pastries appeared to be untouched.