Lethal Lawyers

by Dale E. Manolakas

  “Yeah,” Sophia said. “Carlisle was afraid today. I saw it in his eyes.”

  “Can you blame him?” Paul retorted. “I heard they are hiring their own private security guards.”

  “I guess there’s no more confidence in your friend the detective, Sophia?” Tricia pronounced.

  “He’s not my friend.”

  “They tried to make the firm pay for them,” Paul added, ignoring the banter.

  “Pay for whom?”

  “Wake up, Sophia! Pay for their private security.”

  “Naturally, they would,” Tricia said. “They don’t care if they eat up our bonuses.”

  “As far as I am concerned, Detective Rutger is enough of a bulldog to nail anyone he wants,” Sophia started on her bread pudding. “Guilty or not.”

  “You shouldn’t have found Dante’s body,” Tricia added. “That detective is going to have just another reason to harass you.”

  “No kidding . . . lucky me . . . like I had a choice. But bad things happen in threes. I hope this is it . . . the end. I’m done.”

  “What were you doing up there, anyway?” Paul asked.

  “I was taking the bull by the horns. And getting my case assignments back from Dante. Or trying to.”

  “It was a good idea.” Tricia eyed Sophia’s bread pudding and Sophia shoved it into the middle. “I wish I had a client. I would put you on the case. I don’t want you to have to leave, like Doug. What can we do, Paul?”

  “Just start with the list I gave you, Sophia. Doug got on one collection case from it.” He turned to Sophia. “Naturally, it was not enough. But I know you’ll do better.”

  “I’m not going to the next funeral after Dante’s. I don’t like them, and I don’t think anyone will notice.” Tricia downed a huge bite of Sophia’s pudding.

  “That’s a deal,” Sophia agreed.

  “What next funeral?” Paul asked.

  “Who knows?” Sophia said.

  She ate her bread pudding and Tricia took a few more bites. Paul absorbed his whole one.

  “Do you think they’ll cancel the firm retreat?” Tricia sat back, satiated. “It’s close. In a couple of weeks.”

  “They can’t. Too much money to lose,” Paul opined. “They get the resort every year by guaranteeing 150-plus rooms and golfing fees and all that stuff. New Yorkers are coming out. No, they won’t cancel. They’ll put a memorial slant on it and make it in honor of Judith, Frank, and Dante now.”

  “Is Jay coming?” Sophia wondered if Tricia would be free to bum around.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, good.” Sophia lied. She was disappointed at being robbed of Tricia’s company.

  “I’ll take your sandwich in a doggie bag, Sophia.” Paul eyed the sandwich Sophia had not touched.

  “Sure. And that’s why you gave me your absolution to skip my sandwich, wasn’t it? Tricky.”

  “Take my last half, too.” Tricia put her untouched half on Paul’s plate.

  Paul was in hog heaven.

  ⌘

  Chapter 77

  Love Is Blind—and Deaf and Dumb

  When Sophia got back to her office the door was not ajar, as she had left it. Someone had been there or was there. Sophia hesitated, but fortified from her friendship fix and comfort food, she didn’t retreat. She opened the door to find Taylor standing at the window.

  “I called you.”

  “I know.” Sophia reserved judgment.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Lunch. I just had two thousand calories of bread-pudding therapy.”

  “At the deli?”

  “Yeah. Old-fashioned carb comfort food.”

  “That’s Paul’s addiction. Did you go with him?”

  She ignored the inquisition.

  Taylor shut the door and took Sophia in his arms. “I would have taken you.”

  “You seemed preoccupied.”

  Sophia did not struggle in his arms, but didn’t sink into them, either. Loving him was not a feeling she had at the moment.

  “I had to get out of here, so I went with Tricia and Paul.” She mustered a smile.

  “I was worried about you finding Dante like that.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yolanda usually puts his mail in his office every morning.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “They all do. The secretaries. Besides, what difference does it make? I’m worried about you. That’s all.”

  Taylor leaned down and kissed Sophia softly on the forehead. She heard the words and felt the kiss on her skin, but there was no voltage rushing to her heart.

  “Now’s not the time.”

  “You’re right.”

  She broke his hold. Office intimacy was not what she needed behind a locked—or unlocked—door. Besides, she was viewing Taylor in another light right now.

  “I am getting tired of looking at dead faces.”

  She sat behind her desk and put her purse away.

  “Why were you looking for Dante?” Taylor moved on.

  “Can’t you guess after Roger’s phone call this morning?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t Roger tell you what’s happening to me?”

  “No. He didn’t. What is going on?”

  Taylor sat opposite Sophia as she recounted her summary judgment fiasco—the memo, her meeting with Carlisle, and Roger taking her off all her case assignments, except his inactive one.

  “I didn’t know. Honestly.”

  “Well, now you do.” She didn’t believe him.

  “Toak is getting even. He’s probably telling everyone you’re incompetent, too. That guy’s vicious. But more to the point, why would you not expect him to get even after what you did?”

  “I didn’t think he had the power.”

  “He may not be able to finish you off, but he does have the power to start the ball rolling. Are you sure you were right about the standing issue?”

  “Dead right. I’m sorry. Poor word choice.”

  “Yeah . . .” Taylor smiled just enough that his soft dimples showed. “You know, Sophia, if you’re right about the standing issue, and Toak gets more egg on his face when the summary judgment is dismissed, then his attacks on you will escalate.”

  “That’s probably why none of the other people reviewing the motion told him about it, isn’t it?”

  “I could find out for sure, but the short answer is more than likely yes. None of them care enough about him or his clients, who are all his Daddy’s friends.”

  “Why didn’t Carlisle or Paul or Tricia stop me?”

  “Paul and Tricia aren’t experienced enough here to know all the inroads. That takes years. And Carlisle . . . he always has an agenda. He plays everything close to the vest. I would have warned you.”

  “You would have?”

  “Of course. But I think you would have done it anyway. I mean, it’s clear to anyone who cares to observe you that you disapprove of men like Toak.”

  “I’m still that transparent?”

  “You are, at least to me. And you decided to show him up. Dangerous decision.”

  In that moment, Sophia realized that Taylor was too right and expressed himself too matter-of-factly to be a man in love. He was almost cruel in his detached analysis. Much like the way he had sex—with no sensuousness or passion, no intimacy or emotion.

  “You wouldn’t have done it?”

  “No, definitely not. I don’t have the alliances to take him on. Besides, what do I care? The client’s money is spent. All it would do is make Toak an enemy. There was nothing to be gained by crossing Toak. And that’s what you did when you went to Carlisle. You crossed him. You sealed the deal . . . but you knew that.”

  “I don’t know if I saw it that clearly . . . as clinically as you do.”

  “Being right, Sophia, is not always being smart. Sometimes it’s smart to keep your mouth shut. Keep things to yourself. A lot goes on in this firm. If you see something, it doesn’t me
an you should be the town crier.”

  “Yeah, I get it. But . . .” Sophia stopped suddenly. She thought Taylor’s analysis could also be a warning to her to back off from him and his friends’ activities.

  “You can’t right every wrong in life. Stop trying. It’ll kill you.”

  The word “kill” exploded in Sophia’s mind as she looked at Taylor. He didn’t say another word. Taylor’s agenda clearly was to warn her to keep her mouth shut. But did he do it because he was afraid for her, or afraid of her?

  She felt her office become a black hole of misery. She felt all the air being vacuumed out. Then, she realized she had been holding her breath. She filled her lungs.

  “It’ll kill me?”

  “Figure of speech. Probably a poor choice of phrase under the circumstances.” Taylor smiled his once irresistible smile. “Let’s catch dinner.”

  “Sure.” Sophia was not at all sure.

  “I’d better get back to the powers that be now, or at least those who are still alive. A lot of stuff is hitting the fan.”

  “You’d better.”

  “I’m glad I helped.”

  But he hadn’t. Taylor had made everything worse. Whose side was he on?

  Sophia didn’t get up. Taylor did. He walked over to her and kissed her gently on the forehead.

  He left.

  * * *

  Sitting in her office alone, Sophia had nothing on which to bill, not one case. And, she couldn’t scavenge for work on a day like this. She’d look like a ghoul.

  “A ghoul? I’d fit right in,” She muttered to herself.

  She took out her package of firm orientation materials, noted the time, and read and billed to administration. She would do this until things settled down. She read a good two hours on sexual harassment and then watched the accompanying video. She leafed through the remaining sexual harassment pamphlets and took the final quiz. This would fill the day with about five or six hours billed to admin.

  At four, Taylor called and cancelled dinner because the junior partners were meeting. Sophia was just as happy. She decided to go home early to avoid Detective Rutger, calls from Ben the reporter who weaseled his way through the firm operators, and everyone else. But before she left, she wrote down a “value billed” eight hours to admin.

  “The hell with it all. I learn faster than ninety percent of these people.” Sophia upped her value billing to nine—not eight—hours for the day.

  * * *

  At home, Sophia could simply choose not to answer her door and to turn off her cell phone. And she did just that, but only after she called her mom to convince her everything was all right. She knew they were worried because her father got on the phone and lectured her again on going back to teaching. She accommodatingly and dishonestly told him she’d think about it, but knew she couldn’t afford it. She convinced him the press was just having a field day. He accepted it because he hated the press and he loved her.

  There was a knock at her door later. No one called out her name. She did not answer it, because presumptively it was the detective or possibly Ben who had upped his game.

  ⌘

  Chapter 78

  The Chess Game Sees a Check

  On Tuesday morning, Sophia sat in her office, nervously nursing a coffee and billing to the firm’s administrative number again. As her lips touched the black and gold mug, she remembered that, once again, she had forgotten to bring her own mug from home. She thought it was perhaps for the best, because she might not be at Thorne & Chase that much longer if things kept going as they were.

  The night before, the detective had left five messages on her cell phone to call him. She was glad she had it off. This morning, however, Sophia did leave several of her own messages with Roger to remind him she needed work.

  Sitting back in her soft desk chair, she studied her office, where Doug had spent his last desperate hours, weeks, and months trying to survive. She took out Doug’s calendar from beneath the drawer where it was taped. She flipped through it and scanned his notations. The day she found them, she had thought they were so significant. Now, she realized she had been silly. Everyone actually knew about the group of revolutionaries. She ripped the calendar into pieces and threw them in her trashcan.

  As time wore on, there was no return call, no message, and no email from Roger.

  Sophia couldn’t stand her office any more, and turned around to look out the window. The sky was cloudy, and rain was on its way. She had so many regrets. She wished she had never come to this firm. She thought of sending her resume out, but how would she get a recommendation from anyone at Thorne & Chase? She didn’t have the requisite experience under her belt. She didn’t even have one year, and her Bode firm ties were severed.

  Sophia glanced over at her trashcan with the calendar pieces at the bottom. She hesitated and then picked up her Thorne & Chase mug of coffee and poured it onto Doug’s confetti'ed calendar.

  She gazed out the window again. She knew she had to change to survive. She accepted Taylor’s advice, no matter how heartless it seemed. And, she would stick with him. He was what she wanted, if not who she wanted. Even though she and Taylor were not going to go public with their dating, and she knew she couldn’t call it a relationship—dating was the step just before.

  She would recommit to the firm and her career path. She would find the right time to apologize to Toak. She had miscalculated his power base. And that fact alone, she now fully appreciated, actually made him the smarter one. She was ready to play ball and get along with everyone here.

  “Taylor does . . . Paul does . . . and Tricia does,” Sophia argued to herself. “I will.”

  “Will what?” resounded through her office.

  Detective Rutger again . . . with his proverbial head stuck in her office, intruding on her space.

  Sophia whipped her chair back around.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  “That’s not very friendly.” He shut the door and planted himself in the same chair yet again.

  She smiled and started practicing her new “get along” MO.

  “Sorry. You just startled me.”

  “I tend to do that. Sometimes a surprise visit is the only way I can get a conversation around this place.”

  “Understandable, don’t you think?”

  “Fair enough. But I left you messages on your cell to call me. I even texted.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy. But just out of curiosity, how did you get my cell number?”

  “From . . .”

  “From the office. Of course.”

  The detective shrugged. “I wanted to drop by your place last night to talk privately about something important.”

  “Well, this looks private enough. Don’t you think?”

  “Sure.”

  Sophia was as pleasant as she could be. This man was tracking her down everywhere and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like that she had kissed him back in the stairwell. She didn’t like that she remembered it. And, she didn’t like that she kept comparing it to Taylor’s kisses.

  Detective Rutger quietly studied her.

  “Go ahead. But I’m very busy here.”

  She moved files from one pile to another and then opened the top one.

  “I know you’re not. I know what has happened to you. Just like I know what happened to Jim and Doug and Roger before Frank so conveniently died. And, by the way, it doesn’t hurt your boyfriend or his buddies that Dante’s dead, too.”

  Sophia didn’t react.

  “That’s right. Think about it, Sophia. Each and every one of them benefited. I wonder which one killed Dante. Or, maybe all of them did.”

  “No one killed Dante,” Sophia countered with the coolness of a litigator, closing ranks to preserve her life and paycheck and any chance she had left at Thorne & Chase. “The paramedics said it was a massive coronary.”

  “Naturally, they said that. It’s an easy conclusion for an old fat victim, but a detailed autopsy has
been ordered. I know it was no heart attack, and I’m going to prove it.”

  “Like you proved Frank was pushed?”

  She challenged his competence because she needed to distance herself from him. She needed to make a living more than seek out any truth about people already dead.

  “I will prove he was pushed, Sophia, and by Roger . . . with or without your help. In fact, I was on my way to San Francisco to do just that when Dante died . . . was murdered. I’m here about that, Sophia. I have a star witness to his demise. A star witness . . . or an accomplice.”

  “Who?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “I have you on the security tapes going to Dante’s office on Saturday twice.”

  “But I thought he died on Sunday.” Sophia knew what it meant if Dante died on Saturday.

  “Sunday? No. He was murdered on Saturday, and your friends let him rot there for two days.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. You had better tell me what you saw Saturday.”

  “Nothing.” Sophia knew she hadn’t “seen” anything. She may have heard something, but that is not what he asked.

  “You’ll be telling me now or later.”

  “I don’t want you in here.” She couldn’t deal with anything beyond her own survival right now. “I don’t care if I’m busy or not.”

  “I’m telling you that I am going to do every tox screen test there is on Dante. I don’t know if it was sodium fluoroacetate or Altripine or something else, but I will find out. Time is on my side. I believe Taylor and his friends are involved.”

  “I didn’t see anything Saturday. I . . . I don’t . . .” Sophia thought about the disappearing chicken dinner and the lattes.

  She collected her thoughts and looked straight at the detective, but couldn’t speak. Had she witnessed another murder? She could not believe that of Taylor. The others possibly, Roger probably, but not Taylor. Sophia analyzed whether the detective was right. Roger was always using the stairs. Why wasn’t he or anyone else on the surveillance cameras on the stairs Saturday, like her? Did they purposefully avoid them?