“Why would you like that they just named their first female partner? Doesn’t that hurt our argument?”
“No. Are you kidding me? I’m weaving that right into the fabric. Lawsuit filed, lawsuit mentioned in the press, suddenly first female partner named. I wonder how long that was in the works. Ten to one if we depose her, she’ll say she had no idea.”
“Okay, but what about other witnesses. Seems to me we need them.”
“We do.”
“Well, are you going to pull them out of your ass?”
“You know,” Robert began, noticing the sun was busy playing with the different shades of blond in Kat’s hair, “you Houston women are so charming. Here, let me put it in terms you can understand. This isn’t my first rodeo. Watch and learn.” Robert tipped his glass to clink with Kat’s.
“All right, cowboy. Where do we go from here?”
“The firm answered our interrogatories by giving us a list of former female associates and not much else. We have the investigator tracking them down. It also gave us a document dump of mostly irrelevant material. Not surprisingly, it did provide enough information to allow it to argue to a jury that except for Victoria, the other women all left voluntarily,” Robert explained.
“We certainly can’t take their word for it.”
“We’ll need to file a motion to compel asking the court to force the firm to respond to our document requests with complete personnel files. The firm has refused to provide this information claiming it would violate their former employees’ right to privacy.”
“Are they right on the privacy argument?” Kat asked.
“Unfortunately, they have an argument to make. Unless we can show a connection between why we need this information and V’s case, we’re going to have a hard time convincing the court.”
Kat nodded, writing a note to herself. “Let’s table that for a minute. What information do you need from my case?”
“Have your lawyers found anything to support Victoria’s side, like someone’s deviant agenda at work mucking up the claim handling process she had set in place at the insurance company?” Robert asked.
“Except for Big Bill’s handwritten note and a few emails directing employees to focus on gathering claim information, rather than responding to policyholders, there’s little tangible support for a plot to delay payments. In fact, the documents we’ve received seem to reflect the processes V says she put in place. However, I did receive a call from a lawyer who says she represents one of the insurance company’s employees who claims to have critical information that will help our case. She’s afraid to come forward, though, for fear of losing her job.”
Robert stopped mid-wine sip and stared at Kat.
“What is it?” Kat asked.
Robert put his glass down. “I received a similar call about two weeks ago. I was contacted by someone who refused to identify herself. She wanted to know if I was the lawyer handling the discrimination suit against the Acker firm. When I answered that I was, the line went dead. It’s been about two weeks since the call, and I haven’t heard another word. I tried to reverse call and was told it was from out of the country, a dead end.”
Kat frowned. “Hmm. It seems like things are starting to crawl out of the woodwork. Let’s assume each of us has potential witnesses roaming around in the ether that might help our respective cases. For some reason, neither of them wants to step into the sunshine. Why? What’s the common factor that might prevent them from coming forward?”
“Fear,” Robert answered unequivocally.
“There could be other reasons, couldn’t there?”
“Sure.” Robert paused to finish his glass. “But there aren’t. I’ve been trying cases for almost twenty years now, and every time a witness doesn’t want to come forward, it’s fear—particularly in gender discrimination cases.”
“But fear of what?”
“Different things. Take the person who called me, and, for that matter, the person who called your lawyers. Maybe they’re afraid of losing their jobs or maybe they lost their jobs and signed a confidentiality agreement, so they agreed not to discuss specifics but now they want to do the right thing and don’t know where to begin.”
“How do we get their information?” Kat asked.
“We’ll have to offer them something better than whatever it is they’re afraid of losing. We’ve got to make it worth their while to talk and testify.”
“Um, I’m quite sure it’s illegal to pay a witness to testify.”
“Indeed, it is, Kat,” Robert said as he stood and held out his hand. “Come, my Houston friend, let’s get that heart-stopping steak you’ve been talking about. I’ll fill you with
more wine and explain it to you.”
Kat looked up and smiled. With a pleasant buzz, she took his hand, and, much to her surprise, let him lead.
CHAPTER
28
SHE WAS FINALLY finished researching and vetting, having used all the investigatory skills she had developed while representing white-collar defendants. Before her life had come to a screeching halt, her peers had often commented on her uncanny ability to home in on people who were either bending the truth or had a private agenda. She had been so good at it that her colleagues used to bring her into meetings just to get her read on a person, and she rarely had been wrong.
Ironically, it never worked to her benefit. “Some great soothsayer I turned out to be. I wouldn’t even recognize a jackass in my life if he wore a T-shirt that read ‘I’m a jackass in your life.’” She snort-laughed at her own joke and slowed down to look for the address.
Pulling up to the house, she texted and waited. The door opened and out walked a tall, lanky boy who looked no more than twenty. Leaning down on the driver’s side, he tapped lightly on her window. She froze, her heart beating so hard she had to clamp down on her chest to try to get it to regulate. He tapped again.
As she rolled down her window, he stuck his hand through. “Hi. I’m James. Are you Penny?”
“What? Penny? Yes, yes, I’m Penny.”
“Okay,” he nodded, peering into the car with a questioning look. “You’re the one who hired me?”
“I am.”
“Good. Well, we’re getting somewhere. Why don’t you come into the house and I’ll take a look. You brought it, right?”
“I did.”
James had recently opened his business to help pay his way through college. He was quickly learning there were a lot of weirdos he would have to work with, and “Penny” seemed to be one of them.
He tried again. “Would you like to come in? I can take a preliminary look and tell you what I think.”
“Here. Sign this first,” Penny ordered, shoving paper and pen out her window.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a nondisclosure and confidentiality agreement. It says that everything you see and all we discuss is confidential and cannot be discussed with anyone at any time. Any problem with that?”
“Nope. None.” James took the pen and signed and dated the paper. “Okay, are you getting out, or shall I go back into the house and wait for you?”
“I’m getting out.”
“Great.”
While James was quite sure she was a nutcase, he somehow felt a little tinge of sorrow for her. She was waif-like and when she moved, her clothes looked like they were trying to dance off her frame. Her skin was pale, and her hair was unkempt. In fact, it looked as if it’d been cut with a butcher knife in a fit of rage. There were bits and pieces of different lengths, and each seemed to head in a different direction. But, she was smart. That much he knew, based on how thoroughly she had vetted him. Somehow, she knew her way around government and court websites, as she’d tracked back to junior high. He had easily followed her cyber steps.
He walked up the few concrete front steps and opened the door. “Come on in.”
She paused and peeked inside. “Who else is here?”
/>
“No one. I live with my parents, and they’re both at work. They’ll be home in about an hour.”
“I’ll be gone by then,” she said.
“Okay. Let’s get inside so I can look at what you’ve got.” Looking around—and in every corner—Penny nervously followed James into the house. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Coming up on two years. I was doing it for free before I realized I have a skill people will pay for. I opened my business about six months ago. It helps pay for college.”
James looked over at Penny fidgeting with her hands and looking around. God, he thought, I hope she’s not a crackhead. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What’s the story? What is it you want me to do?” James asked, seating himself at his desk and opening his laptop.
Penny felt her eyes fill with tears. Feeling disgusted with herself, and in an effort to prevent her emotions from controlling the situation, she blurted out, “Enough!”
Startled, James looked up from his laptop. “Look, if you have a problem that involves more than cyber issues, I can’t help you.”
“No. Please. I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I haven’t trusted anyone with this—ever—not even my husband. So, this is— well—new ground for me.”
“Listen, I know you don’t know me, but you can trust me.”
Penny burst out laughing. “Famous last words. But here’s the deal. I’m tired of cowering and hiding and being ashamed—at least I’m trying to be.” Reaching into her bag, she retrieved the thumb drive. “Here,” she said. “It appears to be me in the video. It’s mortifying. I was, and am, married. I have a young daughter. I don’t recall any of it. I had a good job at the time. Please. I have nowhere else to turn.”
James nodded and inserted the thumb drive. The screen came to life and there she was: fully exposed and compromised. He zoomed in on her face as she knelt to the floor on screen. “Do you really need to do that?” she asked.
“I do. Try to relax. You’ve made a decision to trust me, so let me do my job.”
Penny watched as he switched angles, stopped, started, and reversed. A film came over the screen and seemed to somehow separate the video into frames. After about a half hour had passed, he stopped the video and leaned back in his chair.
“Well?” Penny asked.
“Well. That definitely appears to be you, but I can’t make any determination yet. I’m working on a few programs that will let me back into the process that may have been used.”
“What do you mean ‘back into the process’?”
“The best way I can explain it is to think of it as rewinding a movie. That really doesn’t do it justice, but I think it’s as much as you need to understand for now. If I find out anything more, I’ll give you a full explanation. Okay?”
“Fine,” Penny said, feeling ashamed and unable to look him in the eyes.
“I’m sorry I can’t tell you more right now. It will take a bit of time for me to work on it. Can I keep it for a few days?”
“No. I’m sorry, but no. I’ll come back again. I should leave now since your parents will be here soon.”
“Listen, my gut’s telling me something’s off. I just don’t know what that is yet,” James said as he handed the thumb drive back to Penny.
“Thank you.” Penny left cash on his desk, turned, and quickly walked out of the house.
CHAPTER
29
“HEY, WAKE UP,” Armond spoke softly, gently pushing Victoria’s hair off her face. “We’re here.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry, Armond. I don’t know what happened,” Victoria said, sitting up straight.
“Nothing happened. You fell asleep on the ride from the airport.”
“Oh my God, I was drooling,” Victoria groaned, mortified. Handing her his handkerchief, Armond smiled. “There’s nothing to be upset about, V. Jet lag always hits when you least expect it. One minute you feel great, and the next, you nod off. It’s good you slept. Any last-minute questions before we head in?”
“Yes, where’s the coffee? I need coffee before, during, and after the meeting.”
“They’ll have plenty of coffee. They’ll be very attuned to our needs. Any questions about this group of potential investors?”
“No. I’ve read everything your team gave me, and I did a bit of research on my own before we left the States. I’m good.”
“Good. Now, at the risk of getting on your wrong side—which is not hard to do, I might add—remember they will not expect you to take the lead, and if you do, they may become so uncomfortable they might end the meeting.”
“We’ve been over this. I’m to be seen and not heard. If you and your company want to pay me a shit-ton of money for sitting there and looking pretty, well, then have at it.”
“Hmm. That comment makes me more, rather than less, uncomfortable. It’s nothing personal. It’s the culture.”
Victoria paused to freshen her lip gloss. “Armond, would you like to know what I think about that?”
Armond accepted the now-used handkerchief from Victoria, stuck it in his man purse, and pulled out a perfectly-folded clean replacement. “No. But unfortunately I believe that was a rhetorical question.”
“I think ‘it’s nothing personal’ is one the most passive-aggressive phrases ever uttered,” Victoria answered determined he would hear her out. “Of course it’s personal. In fact, whenever someone wants to make sure you know they’re giving you a personal dig, they say that.” Victoria put her lip gloss away, took one last look in her mirror, and smiled at Armond. “And as far as you being uncomfortable, well,”—Victoria shrugged her designer-clad shoulders— “you’ll just have to deal with it and wonder when I might snap like a twig. Okay, I’m ready. Let’s get this party started, shall we?”
Sighing, Armond followed Victoria out of the car.
CHAPTER
30
BIG BILL STOMPED around his mansion like the proverbial bull in a china shop. Except for the staff, he was alone. He still had a hard time believing Jenny had gone through with the divorce. He had always been able to control her. Damned if he could figure out what burr had gotten under her saddle.
While he didn’t miss her, he did miss the consistency and stability of marriage. Since he ran the plantation business from home, he had naturally depended on Jenny to have things arranged and in order. She had been particularly good at ensuring his meetings were adequately staffed and business lunches and dinners were properly prepared and served on time. She had been relentless about learning little details about his investors and then using the information in just the right way so each of them felt special. During their marriage, they had effortlessly—or so it had appeared to Big Bill—hosted black-tie affairs for senators, governors, and even two vice presidents at their home.
Since the divorce, nothing was the same. So far, he’d gone through two highly recommended managers, who couldn’t handle shit as far as he was concerned. Shaking his head in disgust at his current state of affairs, he called over his shoulder as he headed out the door, “Jeremiah, call the boys and let ‘em know I’m heading over to shoot.” Normally, he would have driven, but today he was jacked up and felt like walking.
“Yes, sir.” Glancing at the time, Jeremiah gave a gentle reminder. “Your lawyers are scheduled to be here within the hour.”
“Tell them to kiss my ass. For the amount I pay them, they can wait. If one of those assholes has anything to say about that—and I mean even one fucking little peep—tell him he’s fired.”
Jeremiah nodded. He’d been employed by Big Bill for twenty years and was extremely well-paid. He intended to stay another twenty, so he had no qualms about delivering Big Bill’s message, word-for-word.
As Big Bill walked toward his skeet deck, he was disturbed to realize he was still thinking about the divorce. “What more could she have wanted?” he said, surprising himself with that comment. He had
given her a mansion, wealth, and a place in society. She certainly never would have gotten any of those things as a low-salaried prosecutor, running around the courthouse dealing with the slime of the earth. The fact that he screwed women on the side should have come as no surprise. That it had apparently been the straw that broke Jenny’s back was baffling. His friends all had mistresses and they kept them within a thirty-minute drive of Atlanta so they could see them as often as they chose, while he’d been considerate enough to house his in Bermuda. Well, no good deed goes unpunished, he thought as he stepped onto his deck, pulled his cap down low on his forehead, and pushed his sunglasses closer to his face to block the sun’s glare so he could have clear shots. “Morning, Sam. You ready for me?”
“Yes, sir. Got your favorite right here,” Sam answered.
Big Bill picked up his favorite gun. That’s another thing Jenny fucked up for me, he thought as he nestled the barrel into his shoulder. “Pull!” he yelled, and a clay disc soared through the air for a few seconds until he brought it down.
“Nice shot, sir.”
“Thank you. This is just what the doctor ordered. Pull!” Jenny and his mistress had somehow connected and the next thing he knew, Wilhemena was represented by Jenny’s lawyer and asking for a pile of cash and the Bermudian house. When he objected, all the lawyers did their bullshit powwow thing and he was told if he didn’t acquiesce, Wilhemena would go public with the fact that he had started banging her when she was seventeen.
“It’s not like she wasn’t asking for it,” Big Bill said to no one. “Pull!”
God, that felt good, he thought. Loading his gun, he suddenly realized what he needed to do. He needed his life back, the way it had been. He’d get married again, find another mistress, and go back to the way things had been when life was good. “Sam, you know there ain’t nothing like a little shootin’ to solve life’s problems,” Big Bill slapped him on the back and handed him his gun.
Private Agendas: A Victoria Rodessa Legal Thriller Page 12
