Some Like It Deadly (2 page)

“And as for my ‘liaisons.’” No, he hadn’t forgotten that question. “I keep a strictly personal-professional line in all areas.”

“Excellent. Do you have any other questions for me?”

He hadn’t, but then changed his mind. “Do
you
have any annoying habits that will interfere with our ability to work together? Do you eat with your mouth open? Prefer meals laden with onions or garlic? Can’t function without coffee? A boyfriend or significant other that might object to my three a.m. calls? The last thing I need is a riled lover accusing me of trying to seduce you.” It was really none of his damn business, but she’d started it.

“No, sir. I’m practically perfect in every way.” She rose, expression absolutely serene. “And I have no interest in Wyoming for a ranch, but Montana, I hear, is very nice. You have twelve minutes before your call. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll review this contract.”

He opened his mouth to ask her what she meant and then snapped it shut again.

A few months before, when he’d been in the hospital, Armand had tossed an accusation his way in a fit of pique.

Armand had laughed. “You make fun now, but sooner or later you’re going to meet a woman who ties you up in knots. And we’ll see who is cracking jokes then.”

“Not gonna happen. I’ll find me some nice secretary who thinks the boss is her meal ticket, she’ll be all yes sir and no sir and thank you very much sir and we’ll have four kids and a dog and a summer ranch in Wyoming.” Richard had snorted. “Now, get the hell out of here and find your girl, or sources close to the prince are going to report you knocked her up.”

Armand was a dead man. “Of course.” He mentally applauded his steady voice, but respect shifted through him as he watched her leave his office. The room’s orderly appearance was a testament to Miranda’s handling of everything during his recovery—thank God she hadn’t left him then. Checking his watch after the door closed behind Kate, he picked up the phone and dialed the prince’s private line. Armand answered on the second ring.

“I take it Miss Braddock made it to her appointment on time?” Laughter danced behind the European accent.

“You’re a dick,” Richard said by way of answer. “And she’s perfect. So go ahead and chortle.”

Armand laughed. “Good. I have another call and Gretchen is giving me the eye. Time for another game tomorrow?”

“Sorry, your highness, some of us have to work for a living. How’s,” he paused and flipped open his tablet to look at his calendar. “Friday?”

“I’ll have to rearrange some items.”

“You’re the one who wants to play.” Richard appreciated the sentiment. “I have another call to make too. Give Anna my regards.”

“Right. Rick?” Worry coated his tone.

“Yeah?” Richard waited, Armand hadn’t been thrilled with his decision to go back to work and while he might be Richard’s most loyal client and oldest friend—he wasn’t the only one.

“Never mind.” The prince sighed, apparently ceding the argument without making it. “Don’t overdo it.” The last came out a direct order, but one made out of concern rather than arrogance. The call ended as abruptly as they’d begun it, but after more than a decade of friendship it didn’t bother him. Picking up Kate’s personnel file, he slid it into the bottom right drawer and locked it. He would read through the rest of it later. He checked his watch again. Another seven minutes until the conference call with the judge.

Fortunately, from the way Miranda organized his calendar, he accessed the file he needed on the tablet by choosing the date and the meeting. Reacquainting himself with the case took him four minutes more.

At two minutes until his phone was due to ring, Kate returned and set the contract down in front of him. She flipped to the next to last page and had circled one sub-section. “We need to amend this to say both parties and I will sign it.”

Curious, he reviewed the line.

This Agreement states the entire agreement between the parties concerning the disclosure of Confidential Information and supersedes any prior agreements
,
understandings
,
or representations with respect thereto.

Changing “the” to “both” would include him in the confidentiality clause of any information she might share with him. With sixty seconds on the clock, he crossed out the word, wrote in “both” and initialed it, before passing over the pen. She turned the sheets around and leaned over the desk. A hint of vanilla and hazelnut tickled his nostrils and he eyed the way she added her initials to each page and then signed the last one before passing him the pen back.

He added his signature and the phone rang. Claiming the handset, Kate straightened. “Richard Prentiss’s office, this is Kate. How may I help you?”

* * *

The afternoon flew by in a flurry of phone calls and Richard had to give Kate a hell of a lot of credit. She’d parachuted into the chaos and rode out the storm with an easy smile and cool demeanor. He was on his fifth call of the day, and weary as hell. Judge Ryan’s intractable position was sending his blood pressure skyrocketing, when she stood and set her digital tablet, steno pad, and pen on the desk, inviting his attention.

“Forgive me, Mr. Prentiss,” Kate had interjected in the midst of the judge’s tirade about the number of delays the case had experienced—none of which had anything to do with Richard’s recent stint in the hospital and subsequent recovery.

“Miss Braddock?” Richard stared at her. Interrupting a judge was never a good idea, but she didn’t wait for the man on the speakerphone to voice his objections.

“You have another call with Judge Wilkerson in five minutes and you need to take your medication.” She walked to the wet bar on the far side of his office, opened the fridge and retrieved a can of soda, a sandwich container, then nudged the fridge shut with her leg before retrieving a small prescription bottle from the shelf above.

“If you have Wilkerson in five, Prentiss, you should take your medication before the call.” Judge Ryan gruffed, his contrary tone less biting. “You have a continuance for one week. I expect the brief on my desk no later than Monday morning at nine or I will rule in favor of the plaintiff. Am I clear?”

Surprised, but unwilling to look the gift horse in the mouth, Richard straightened. “Yes, sir. Thank you, Judge Ryan.” The call clicked off and Kate set the clear plastic container holding a deli sandwich down in front of him, along with the can of regular Coke and the prescription bottle. Without missing a beat, she picked up her steno and added a notation regarding the brief, the case number, the time and date it was due.

“I don’t have a call with Wilkerson. How did you know I needed these?” Richard asked, but he opened the prescription bottle because she was right.

He
was
due for his medication.

Losing his spleen meant he had to take supplements regularly. Losing his kidney meant watching his liquid intake, hence the one can of soda he permitted himself per day, but how the hell had Kate known? They hadn’t had a chance to go over any of those details.

“Ms. Keen kept meticulous notes and set up several reminders in her calendar.” Kate turned the digital pad around and pointed to the message that had popped up.
Remind Richard to take medication.
Must be taken with food.

“Oh.” Mollified, he popped the can open, and tossed back his two pills. “And Judge Wilkerson?”

“According to the notes taped to the bottom of her keyboard, there are five judges’ calls never to be missed or ignored. Wilkerson sits at the top of the list and is labeled as a total PIA.” Kate’s voice betrayed no hint of humor, despite the gleam in her eyes. “I hazarded a guess that if the judges’ names warranted that type of documentation, they might give Judge Ryan room to walk back his temper.”

So she’d noticed the judge’s testy tone growing more recalcitrant through the call. “I don’t think I paid Miranda enough,” Richard mused then took a bite of the sandwich. “When you have a chance, pull Leonard v. Johnson file. I want to go over the previous two continuances. They were from the plaintiff. This is the first time I’ve asked for one. But I have to wonder what pressure the judge is getting.” The judge had been more amenable on the first case he’d called about—one that had begun as a simple divorce—but the plaintiff was a highly respected plastic surgeon and he and his attorney had gone after the soon-to-be ex-wife with everything they had. The sheer malice in their initial filing had incited Richard’s protective instincts and he’d usurped the case from one of his associates. “And put a call into Mrs. Ramsey, let’s see if she has time to sit down with me this week.”

Kate nodded and added another note to the steno. “You have another phone call in thirty minutes. Do you want me to hold your calls so you can take a break?”

Did he look tired? Rubbing the back of his neck, he shook his head. “I’d rather get a few letters done. I’m supposed to be at a charity function at six-thirty—oh, that reminds me. Do you have evening wear?”

“Cocktail or formal?” She’d set the steno down then worked on her tablet.

“Both, but for tonight—cocktail.” The event was a minor one, but he hadn’t been able to do much for it over the intervening months and he wanted to put in an appearance. “We can go, mingle for about an hour and then get dinner and go over the rest of the week.” He’d devoured most of the sandwich, a hell of a lot hungrier than he’d realized. Of course, he’d skipped lunch to interview Kate then been on the phone since.

“Very well. I’ll send someone to pick up a dress for me.” She flipped the tablet around and passed it over to him. The case file for Leonard versus Johnson was open. Sliding his finger over the screen, he paged through. Kate retrieved the empty container and the prescription bottle, disposing of the first and returning the latter to the shelf.

“We can swing by on the way to it, if you think you can change fast.” It would save time. “And I can dictate a few letters in the car.” Richard grimaced and dragged his attention up from the file. “I’m sorry, Miss Braddock, you really are going to have to jump in the deep end this week. While I do demand a lot, it won’t always be this chaotic.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll adjust and make sure I keep an array of clothing choices on hand for future events. I noticed you have the scholarship charity dinner on Thursday, but you RSVP’d as a maybe. Should I decline or accept it?”

“Accept. It was only a maybe to get Armand off my ass.” When his friend had been trying to manipulate him into declining any number of events so he’d stay home. “That will be full formal and I have a half-dozen clients who will also be attending in addition to the grand duke, so we’re not going to have a lot of time to enjoy the function. Do you need something to eat? I have more sandwiches stocked.” It was the one habit Miranda drilled into him. She had a service stock the fridge weekly and he had to eat at least half of them or she’d start canceling his appointments.
I
wonder if Miranda put that in her notes?
Would Kate make the same kinds of threats?

“I’m fine, thank you. Water?” She’d retrieved two bottles and returned to the desk before he could nod. A line in the second continuance held his attention and he had to read it three times.

Leonard stipulated he’d suffered grievous injuries during an armed robbery in Johnson’s convenience store. The owner, Johnson, had also been injured—he’d sustained a gunshot wound to his shoulder. Total physical damages amounted to about fifteen thousand dollars, but loss of work and having to close his store for repairs while in the hospital had cost Johnson considerably more. Leonard’s suit cited Johnson’s refusal to cooperate with the armed robbers—identified as two men of Latin descent in their late teens, early twenties. Though they were wanted on a string of related crimes, neither subject had been apprehended.

When Leonard brought suit against Johnson, he maintained he’d been unable to work, had suffered mentally, physically, and emotionally following the attack and had a doctor diagnose him with PTSD. But the second continuance had been asked for and sustained because Leonard had to be out of town.

The judge had granted the request because Richard had been in the hospital and still recovering. Richard hadn’t thought much of it, but he’d also been on painkillers. Scrolling through the pages, he looked for the attending evidence attached to the continuance—where had Leonard needed to be that he couldn’t be in court?

Reaching for the phone, he punched in the number for one of the investigators he kept on retainer. “Hey, Mitch, it’s Richard.”

“Welcome back, man. How’s your first day?” A former member of the LAPD, Mitch Blake had taken medical disability after a drunk driver left him with a permanent limp and partial hearing loss, but neither injury had done anything to damage his sharp mind.

They’d met via a case when Richard had defended another officer in a civil suit. Mitch had been honest about his fellow officer’s anger management issues, but adamant that he’d been in a solid frame of mind during the arrest. After his accident, Richard had offered his services free of charge and they’d worked together on several cases since. Mitch was a straight shooter, and he’d helped Richard with other delicate cases including two relocations.

He trusted him.

“Busy as hell. Look, I know you’ve probably got a lot on your plate and this may be nothing, but I need a fast turnaround on some information.” Richard picked up a pen and twirled it around between two fingers. Across from him, Kate held up her notepad with a single question mark on it.

“Whatcha got?” Brisk and to the point—it was why he and Mitch worked so well together.

Shaking his head in answer to her silent query, he tapped his pen on the desk. “John Leonard, age 42. Lives at 4421 Wilkins Avenue—he stipulated that on April 14th he had to be out of town and was unable to attend court. Can you find out where he went?”

“Sure thing, boss. Anything else?”

“No, that’s all for now—anything you can pull together on that and if it smells fishy...?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll drop a line. Talk to ya soon.” Mitch hung up and Richard drummed his pen again. He’d missed something when he’d reviewed those papers and being medicated didn’t excuse it.