Dead Man's Rule by Rick Acker

stack of documents and found the appropriate pieces of paper. She glanced at them for a few seconds, then said, “Let’s take a five-minute break.”
    Ben and Dr. Ivanovsky went out to the hallway for privacy. “How am I doing?” asked Dr. Ivanovsky as soon as the door was shut.
    Ben glanced through the glass conference-room door and saw that Anderson had a calculator out. He smiled. He had added up the receipts two days ago and knew they would come out to $5,064. “Terrific. She’s gotten absolutely nothing useful out of this deposition. In fact, I think that last line of questioning was their great hope for destroying your case, and it completely cratered.”
    “Cratered?” asked Dr. Ivanovsky with a puzzled look. “What does this mean?”
    “You know how if you fire a rocket into space and it fizzles and falls back to earth, it makes a big hole in the ground, a big crater? Well, that’s what just happened to their theory that you couldn’t have gotten the $5,000 to pay Nicki because all the banks were closed.”
    “Cratered,” repeated Dr. Ivanovsky, chortling happily. “I like that word here. Just like the early American satellite rockets. That is very funny. So you think they have no hope of destroying my case?”
    “There are no guarantees,” Ben said, reciting the rote cautionary boilerplate of every confident lawyer. “Anything can happen at trial, and the other side has very good lawyers. But things are looking pretty good so far. The documents are inconclusive, but they’re all consistent with your story. It’ll basically come down to your word against Nicki’s. I still need to take his deposition, but I think you’ll be a lot more believable than him.”
    The door to the conference room opened and the court reporter appeared. “We’re ready to go back on the record.”
    Janet Anderson was already seated as Ben, Dr. Ivanovsky, and the court reporter resumed their places. “Okay, back on the record at 3:46 p.m.,” the reporter said, and started typing again.
    “No further questions,” said Anderson.
    “I have no questions,” said Ben.
    The court reporter began, “We’re going off the record at—”
    “Hold on a sec,” Ben interrupted. “There’s one scheduling matter I’d like to take care of first. Counsel, I need a date from you for Mr. Zinoviev’s deposition.”
    “Counsel, this is something we can take care of off the record,” Anderson responded.
    “We’ve tried that,” said Ben. “On three separate occasions over the past week, I’ve tried to get a date from your firm, and you still haven’t given me one. That’s why I need a response from you on the record.”
    “I don’t know my client’s schedule—”
    “There’s a phone on the credenza behind you. Call him.”
    “And Tony will be defending the deposition. I don’t know his schedule either.”
    “Call him too.”
    She glared at Ben. “It is highly inappropriate for you to ambush me like this. We will get you a deposition date as soon as we can.”
    “You guys have been saying that for a week,” Ben replied calmly. Doing this on the record at a deposition was a little unusual and aggressive, but it was hardly inappropriate in light of their stonewalling. “Can you promise to give me a firm date by tomorrow afternoon?”
    “This is ridiculous,” Anderson said as she shoved her papers in her briefcase and stood up. “This deposition is over. I’m leaving.”
    As she walked toward the door, Ben said, “Janet, if you can’t promise right now to give me a date by four thirty p.m. tomorrow, I’ll be in front of Judge Harris tomorrow morning on an emergency motion to compel, and the transcript we’re making will be Exhibit One.”
    Anderson paused as she reached the door. She was a competent lawyer and knew as well as Ben that Judge Harris would be irritated with both of them for wasting his time with their discovery dispute, but that he would probably be most irritated with her. “Fine. I’ll