This Case Is Gonna Kill Me (15 page)

“I had trouble finding Jake, because he’s moved out of his apartment and changed jobs three times. Looks like he’s trying to beat the court-ordered child support during the separation. But when I asked his former coworkers about him, I got the picture of a really angry guy who hates his wife but still wants to control her. So, I staked out her apartment. Turns out he’s been staking it out too. Fortunately I’m better at this than he is, and he didn’t see me.”

“By that I infer that you didn’t talk to him.”

“Hell no! Domestic disputes are where cops get killed. My assignment was to find out if he killed Chip and then splatted. He didn’t.” John dropped into the chair opposite me and propped his feet on the desk.

“Is this woman in danger?” I asked.

“Probably not until the divorce is final. Then all bets are off.”

“Restraining order?”

“Bad idea. In my experience their usual effect is to incite the guys they’re trying to restrain.”

“So, what’s the solution?”

“Get the money out of him. Get her to relocate and not leave a forwarding address.”

“Tough to do if he ends up with joint custody.”

“So, keep that from happening.”

I made a face. “Thanks, I would never have figured that out without you.” He grinned at me, but his fingers were tapping out a nervous tattoo on his knee. “Let me guess, you want to talk about my Night of Shame.”

“That became the Day of Retribution,” he said.

I leaned forward. “What have you heard? What’s going on?”

“Winchester’s been on the carpet in Gold’s office, getting reamed. Don’t know if it’s going to go so far as to get him banished down here with Sullivan, but the brass ain’t happy.”

“Well, good, but I hope they don’t banish him. Think how uncomfortable that would be.”

“I’d call that an understatement.” He cocked his head and considered me. “You’re an odd little duck.”

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically.

“No, I mean that in the best possible way. You’re the first woman to even acknowledge this, much less take it to DEFCON Three like you did.”

“Why didn’t anybody do this before? Or at least warn a new hire?” I asked.

“Because the women fervently pray the next woman will be a victim too, so they can feel better about themselves. And the men admire him and hope some of it rubs off.” He stood up.

“Men are pigs,” I stated.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Where do you stand?”

“I make it a policy never to get crossways with a vampire.”

“Words to live by,” I said.

“I don’t notice you doing that,” John said.

I just shrugged and turned my attention back to my papers. Then I realized he was still standing there. “What?”

“It’s quittin’ time. Want to grab some dinner?” John asked.

One part of me really wanted to go. I liked him. He was gorgeous, but he was male, and right now I was feeling emotionally raw. I shook my head. “Thanks, but no.”

“Why not?” he asked.

I considered him and decided not to play it safe. “Right now I don’t feel very charitable toward males of any species.”

He nodded. “I can respect that.” He left.

*   *   *

The next day I had Norma call to arrange a settlement meeting between Elizabeth May, her soon-to-be ex, Jake, his lawyer, and me. I asked that Elizabeth come in an hour early so we could talk about her situation. Then I tried to figure out how to tell a woman that she was going to have to leave behind everything she knew and build a new life. It was never easy. Divorce was the primary reason women fell into poverty. Children always compounded the problem. I tried to work out a system where the child support would be paid into a trust, and the trustee would then forward the money to Elizabeth while agreeing to never, ever, ever release her address to her ex-husband.

Deciding I needed a walk to clear my head, I rode the elevator to the ground floor. The security guard at his desk started to call my name, but he was interrupted when a pudgy little man with a tonsure of graying black hair around a shining bald pate bounced out of a chair and accosted me. He didn’t offer his hand. He just got right in my face and said, “Syd Finkelstein. And I’m gonna talk to you right now!”

The fact that his face was thrust pugnaciously into mine gave me a clear indication of his height—short. This close I could see the limp, frayed quality of his shirt collar and the shine off his cheap suit.

The security guard was at Finkelstein’s elbow. “Sorry, Ms. Ellery. Your assistant said not to let him up, and he wouldn’t leave,” he added in an aggrieved tone.

“Damn straight I’m not! Not until we talk,” Finkelstein said.

“And I should talk to you why?” I asked.

“Because Chip and I were working together on a case.”

“I never heard about it,” I said.

“Okay, that tells me all I need to know.” Finkelstein turned and started for the door.

I grabbed his arm. “Oh, no, no, no, no. You’re coming up to my office and telling me what this is about,” I said. I punched the button to call the elevator and looked back at the guard. “And next time call me directly.”

“Bypass the dragon?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Will you protect me?” the guard asked plaintively.

The elevator arrived and I indicated for Finkelstein to precede me. We rode in silence. The little lawyer studied me.

“You look younger in person.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Then I added, “How did you—”

“Recognize you? Your mug’s been all over the papers, and if you Google
Linnet Ellery, breast
, you get about fifty thousand hits. Sometimes they show your face too.”

“Great.”

“Hey, there’s no such thing as bad publicity,” Finkelstein said.

“Yes, yes there is. Especially when you’re in a White-Fang law firm. They don’t like notoriety.”

“The Powers can’t go public and expect to keep doing their work in secret,” Finkelstein said with a shrug.

I was surprised he didn’t say
spook
. If anybody was the type to toss out the slur, Finkelstein seemed like that guy. We stepped out on the seventieth floor, and it was instantly obvious that my guest wasn’t from around these parts. The cheap suit, the too-pointed toes on his highly polished shoes, and the big, gaudy cuff links all screamed
ambulance chaser
.

As I led Finkelstein to my office, Norma glared at me and gave a loud sniff of disdain. I shut the door firmly behind us and took my chair behind the desk.

“Now, what can I do for you?”

“I represent Chastity Jenkins and her child, Destiny.”

I blinked at him. “Okay.”

“Destiny is Henry Abercrombie’s daughter.” I sank back in my chair.

“How old is Destiny?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Oh God. I take it Henry didn’t marry Chastity?”

“Nope, but just before he died, Henry told her he was having a new will drawn up leaving everything to her and her daughter.”

“Do you have a copy of this will?”

“No. Not the executed will. Henry wrote out the broad terms on a napkin one night at Hot Lips.”

“Hot Lips?” I said faintly.

“That’s the joint down in Roanoke where Chastity used to strip.”

“Oh,” I said. I then went to the salient issue. “Forgive me, but without a will you have no case.”

“Chastity is sure the will was real, because Henry hired a lawyer down in Virginia. She just didn’t know the guy’s name. I’ve been trying to track him down, but haven’t had any luck. I told Westin about this, and since he had a lot more resources than me, we decided he’d look into it. The last thing he told me was that the courthouse where Henry kept his important papers burned down. We both thought that was pretty fucking convenient.”

Now the letter from the Appomattox County Clerk made a lot more sense. Chip had been looking for a copy of this reputed third will. Which made no sense, because if the will was real and had been witnessed and executed, it kicked the crap out of our case. Chip had been working against his own clients’ interests. I remembered the phone conversation when Chip had abruptly hung up. He must have been on the phone with Finkelstein. I also remembered the conversation when he seemed to indicate that he didn’t want Marlene and the kids to get the company. It was all so unethical it left me breathless.

I desperately needed time to think, so I stalled. “Look, I’m just getting into Mr. Westin’s files and obviously he didn’t tell me about you and your clients. So why don’t you fill me in?” Then I promptly interrupted him by adding, “And why did you and Chip work in secret? Why not join the cases and have the clout of an IMG behind you?”

“I considered that, but Chastity didn’t want to be associated with Marlene. Not even a little. She said Henry talked a lot about his ex, and everything he said led Chastity to believe that Marlene was a world-class bitch. Chastity said Henry used his wolfism as the excuse for the separation and later divorce, but he couldn’t wait to get away from the bitch.”

Note to self—do not call in testator’s stripper girlfriend to offer testimony about the state of the Abercrombies’ marriage. Further note—hope to hell that the attorneys representing Securitech don’t call said stripper. That would kill our case dead.

“And why are you just turning up now? It makes your client’s claim seem very questionable.”

“Chastity wasted years on some two-bit lawyer down in Virginia. He took her case, but all he did was fart around for years, run up bills, and then tell her Securitech is incorporated in New York State so she was in the wrong venue. The big firms kept blowing her off, but then she found me.” I guess my face gave me away. Finkelstein bristled. “Look, I’m not some fly-by-night, ambulance chaser.” He paused. “Okay, I have been known to take the occasional personal injury case, but I’ve got an instinct about people. I can tell when they’re being straight with me.”

“Your client is a stripper who spent years having an affair with a married man. She waits seventeen years before showing up. Forgive me if I don’t share your instinct.”

“She’s not a gold digger. Henry told her he was getting a divorce, and for probably the first time in history, it was actually true,” Finkelstein replied.

“So, why didn’t he marry her after he
did
get the divorce?”

“That dickhead Deegan convinced Abercrombie that marrying a stripper would hurt their chances to land federal contracts. They do a lot of work for the State Department. Henry bought Chastity a house and a new car every year, sent Destiny to private schools, and paid for her college education.”

“And what did Destiny study?” I asked cautiously. I didn’t want to sound like a snob, but …

“She got a degree in comparative literature—Soviet gulag and Cuban shit. I’m actually kind of amazed. When you name a kid Destiny she’s gonna end up on the pole, but so far she’s resisted,” Finkelstein said in his blunt way.

“And what about Chastity? Presumably she’s not still…” I was finding that a lot of my sentences were ending by just trailing off.

“Stripping? Nah. There is definitely a sell-by date on strippers. Not that Chastity isn’t a fine-looking woman, but I don’t want to look at a fifty-two-year-old ass, and sagging fifty-two-year-old boobs. She’s the manager at Hot Lips now.”

I was beginning to see why Norma had such a low opinion of Syd Finkelstein. This kind of earthiness and political incorrectness was not going to sit well with her.

“Look, I can tell when there’s something to a case,” Finkelstein said. “This case is solid.”

“You don’t have a will. Not the usual definition of solid,” I countered.

“In our last conversation, Chip said he was onto something and he’d get back to me after he’d dug a little deeper. Next thing I know I’m reading about Chip’s murder. I figured the worst had happened. So, was he actually killed by a werewolf?”

“Yes.”

“You can bet your ass Deegan’s behind it.”

This matched my own conclusion. A conclusion that had become even stronger now that Finkelstein had entered the picture.

“Look, Chip’s files are a mess, and I’m just starting to dig out. Give me a little time. And could you not say anything to the senior partners until I get back to you? If this got out it would … well, it would really damage Chip’s memory, and it could blow back on the firm.”

I stood and extended my hand. Finkelstein took it. He had an oddly limp shake for such a dynamo. He hesitated, ran a hand across his bald spot. “Look, Ms. Ellery. Chip wasn’t a very good lawyer, but he was a really good man. He knew if we could find this will, the biggest private army in the world wouldn’t be in the hands of greedy shits or crazed jingoists like Deegan.”

He left, and I sat down and stared at the closed door while I analyzed the situation. Deegan had control of the company, had gotten control seventeen years ago, and nothing we’d done had affected that. Yes, it cost him money to deal with the arbitration, but he had money. So what had changed?

Well, Chastity and Destiny were a change, and Chip had thought there was enough to the story that he was making inquiries about a document in Virginia and working with another lawyer against his own clients’ interests. It wasn’t impossible to assume that Deegan, with his resources, had found out. Deegan could safely ignore Finkelstein, since he was a sole practitioner with no resources, but Chip … He might have been a drone in Sullivan’s unkind estimation, but he was with IMG, and we did have resources. Deegan must have thought there was something to the stripper’s story, so he had had Chip killed.

Now prove it,
came a nasty, snarky little voice in my head.

To do that, I would need to finish pawing through the boxes, take another look at everything in light of this new information, and decide if I was going to continue Chip’s inquiries. The case from hell had suddenly gotten a lot more interesting, and
potentially really fucking dangerous.
But right now I was hungry, and I decided to head out to lunch.

*   *   *

There was a hole-in-the-wall deli a few blocks from the office where the food was plentiful and good. I ordered lox on a bagel, then settled down at a table by the window. Caroline came stalking past the deli, long blonde hair swinging, the hem of her dress kissing her knees. She must have sensed my stare, because she suddenly looked over. Our eyes met. She hesitated. Then she shocked me by walking into the deli and taking the chair across from me.