Edge of Crime: A Collection of Crime Stories

by John Moralee

  “What?” Jeff said.

  “Oh, it’s probably just me, but I remember the day they called me, saying they wanted to make an offer. All their legal team showed up at my office led by a senior partner, Edward Rittel himself. He took out a gold fountain pen and wrote out a cheque. He took so much time doing it I imagined the figure he was writing was huge. Finally, he says, ‘Show your client this.’ Rittel was smirking when he said it. When I looked at the amount and saw it was only $50,000, I told him my client would be insulted, but he kept on smirking. ‘We’ll see,’ he said. I’ll never forget how arrogant he was – like he knew she would accept it already.”

  *

  Jeff thought about what Harry Dolz had said while walking back to his office. He now believed Rittel had known in advance that Sarah’s mother would accept $50,000. The question was, was it unethical or was it malpractice? It depended on how they gained the information. He knew proving Sloane Rittel had done anything wrong would require more evidence than the words of an embittered ambulance chaser, but he didn’t have anything yet. He would have to have solid proof they had committed malpractice. Evidence of wrongdoing wasn’t something they would just hand over if asked.

  Jeff felt guilty when he saw how busy Melanie had been while he was having lunch with Harry Dolz. Her desk was covered with stacks of paperwork. Though Melanie had never taken the bar exam to become a lawyer, she could have passed it with ease. Unlike Jeff, she had a law degree from Harvard, where she came top of her class. She was smarter than Jeff and could easily have been a great lawyer if not for the fact she was too nice a person. She was a “people pleaser” – a fatal flaw for a lawyer. She hated confrontation and found the whole idea of appearing in front of a judge, making speeches, too terrifying to contemplate. She liked researching and writing arguments, the boring stuff Jeff hated. He took advantage of that fact.

  “How was lunch?” she asked. She just had a deli sandwich on her desk, which made him feel guiltier.

  “The food was so-so,” he lied. It was been excellent. “Harry told me he suspects Sloane Rittel knew in advance what Sarah’s mother would accept during the negotiations, like they had found out somehow. The question is, ‘Was it unethical or was it malpractice?’ Depending on how they found out, we could have a suit against them for malpractice.”

  “Providing you can prove it.”

  “Yes – so ... I was hoping ...”

  “Have I found out anything interesting?”

  He nodded.

  “No,” she said.

  “No?”

  “No,” she repeated. “Though I looked at the names of the lawyers involved in the case and I recognised one. Lloyd Harper.”

  Jeff was friends with Lloyd. They had gone to the same high school, where they’d both been ostracised for getting straight As by the jocks. Lloyd was an associate at Sloane Rittel, married to Jeff’s prom date Lisa. Lloyd still felt like he owed Jeff a favour for stealing away Lisa, though the truth was Jeff had been pleased when Lisa started dating Lloyd after they broke up because it had made him feel less guilty for going out with Lisa’s best friend.

  Jeff knew where he could find Lloyd after work. He would be having a few beers in the trendy sports bar one block away from the steel and glass tower of Sloane Rittel. Jeff went into the bar at six, finding it crowded with lawyers and Wall Street executives de-stressing by loosening their ties, drinking heavily, and backstabbing colleagues. They threw around money on champagne like it was going out of date. Jeff remembered what it was like to be one of them without envy. There was something desperate and sad about them. None of them would have been there if they had anywhere better to go.

  Lloyd was sitting at a table with some other lawyers from Sloane Rittel when Jeff tapped him on the shoulder. Lloyd was holding a Heineken bottle. His eyes looked slightly glazed.

  “Hey, Lloyd. How’s it hanging?”

  “It’s hanging fine, amigo. Gonna make junior partner this year, any luck.”

  “Congratulations,” Jeff said. “Can we talk?”

  Lloyd nodded and excused himself from the group. He followed Jeff to the bar, where Jeff bought Lloyd another beer. “I hate those guys. I need to get wasted, buddy.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Me and Lisa’ve got problems. She moved out last month. It’s all my own fault. I got drunk at the office Christmas party and cheated on her - once. I felt so bad about it I confessed. Big mistake. I should’ve kept it to myself. Now Lisa is living with her mom. She won’t forgive me. She won’t even listen to me.”

  Jeff listened to Lloyd unload his problems. Lloyd was crying when he finished.

  “I’m sure she’ll forgive you once she’s cooled off,” he said. “If you like, I’ll talk to Lisa for you?”

  Lloyd wiped his eyes. The hope in his eyes was desperate. “You would?”

  “Sure. We’re buddies.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Dude?”

  “Uh-huh?” Lloyd said.

  “I need a favour.”

  “Uh-oh. What?”

  “You were on a case. Anne Croft versus New Jersey Medical.”

  Lloyd frowned. “So?”

  “What do you remember?”

  “Oh, man, it’s my job if I talk to you.”

  Jeff waited.

  Sighing, Lloyd said: “It was a medical negligence case. A widow was suing the hospital. We knew she deserved ten million. That was what similar cases had been getting, but we tricked her into taking a low deal.”

  “When you say tricked – how exactly?”

  “Beats me – I wasn’t in the loop. All I know is one day there was a meeting with the defendant during which $4 million was on the table. Then the very next day Rittel himself said he could make the plaintiff accept $50,000. I got the impression someone had tipped him off what she would take as the lowest offer. Not that I had proof. You don’t ask you boss if he’s cheated, not if you want to keep your job. Rittel doesn’t do much in a courtroom these days, but when it comes to negotiating, he’s a killer. He must’ve saved our clients millions – earning us bigger contingency fees. It’s a mystery how he does it. I’d swear it’s like he can read minds.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you asking about that case, Jeff?”

  “Would you like another beer?” Jeff said, changing the subject.

  “Of course!” Lloyd had had so many beers he didn’t realise Jeff had avoided answering his question.

  By the time Jeff helped Lloyd into a taxi to take him home, Lloyd could barely remember his own name or stand up. Jeff hoped his friend would not wake up with a hangover. He vowed he would do his best to persuade Lisa to forgive Lloyd. It was the least he could do after exploiting his friend’s condition.

  *

  The next day Jeff was busy in the courthouse all morning and until three in the afternoon when the jury returned a verdict. Melanie was on her computer when he returned. She was wearing her coat. She looked up and smiled when she saw him.

  “How did it go?”

  “The jury awarded $8000.”

  “That’s great. Does that now mean you’ll let us pay the rent so we can get the heating fixed?”

  “No. I’ve told him to fix the heating first. He’ll never do it if we relent. Besides, it’s not that cold in here.”

  “I’m not wearing my coat as a fashion statement, Jeff.”

  “I’ll call and remind him,” Jeff said.

  “Oh, Sarah’s aunt came in earlier. She thought you might need her daytime phone number, in case you had some more questions. I wrote it down for you. It’s on your desk.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You didn’t mention how pretty she is.” Melanie almost sounded jealous.

  “She’s got nothing on you,” Jeff said.

  Melanie smiled. “Jeff –”

  “Uh-huh?”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it.

  “What were you going to say?”

  “I’ll keep research
ing,” Melanie said, though he was sure that wasn’t what she had intended to say originally. Sometimes he couldn’t figure Melanie out.

  In his office he picked up Chloe’s number and made a call. A man answered: “The Ace of Clubs.”

  “Hi. I’d like to speak to Chloe Harrison – tell her it’s Mr Swanson calling.”

  “She’s on stage right now, but she’ll call you back. Does she have your number?”

  “Yes,” Jeff said. The man hung up then. He was left with the words “on stage” in his head. He remembered going to the The Ace of Clubs on someone’s stag night. It was a strip club. Chloe had lied to him. She wasn’t a waitress. She was a dancer. He could understand why she had not wanted to tell him the ugly truth. It bothered him she had to work there.

  She returned his phone call ten minutes later. In the background he could hear a throbbing beat.

  “Hello?” She sounded breathless.

  “I haven’t called at a bad time?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. There was a pause. “I guess you know what I do now. Sarah doesn’t know I work as a ... I tell everyone I’m a waitress, but it doesn’t pay enough money. I had to find something to pay the bills. If it’s a problem -”

  “No, I understand,” he said. “Chloe, I need to know something. Did Anne ever talk with you about settling?”

  “At first she was determined to see it through to a trial ... but as the months went by she started losing hope it would ever reach a courtroom. The depositions were taking forever. Endless questions. Stupid questions. It was very tiring for her. She never mentioned settling, not to me, but maybe she told her therapist? I don’t know. Sometimes it’s easy to talk to a stranger.”

  “She saw a therapist?”

  Chloe nodded. “Since Joe’s death.”

  *

  Dr Phyllis Hoffmann welcomed him into her office - once he had explained who he was. She wore a light brown blouse and a beige skirt probably chosen to calm down her patients with their neutrality. Her tortoiseshell glasses made her look studious. Her unfashionably long black hair hinted at a hippie past.

  “Anne came to me three times a week. She was suffering from insomnia, anxiety and depression caused by the loss of her husband. She was finding it hard to cope with her problems, such as her financial difficulties, the stress of the lawsuit, the demands of being a single mother.”

  “What did she say about the lawsuit?”

  “Not a lot. She didn’t like talking about it. But she did say she wanted the lawsuit to end so she could move on, but the hospital’s lawyers were making it a nightmare. She said she would be quite happy if she could just pay off her debts if it meant no more worrying. She owed banks and credit card companies almost $50,000.”

  “$50,000? She said that specific figure?”

  “Yes – it’s in my session notes. $50,000.”

  “Did you ever tell anyone that?”

  She looked offended. “No – my sessions are confidential. I keep my notes locked in my filing cabinet. Only I ever see them. I only agreed to talk to you because you have the permission of her family. Nobody else knew, I assure you.”

  *

  Jeff came back from the psychiatrist’s office to find Melanie at her desk still wearing her coat, shivering.

  “Guess what?” she said. “A repairman came to fix the heating but it’s still not working. He was in your office longer than mine.”

  “But the heating’s fine in there.”

  “Yes, but he said he had to check yours too. What an idiot.”

  Jeff called the landlord to complain but the landlord denied sending out anyone. “You pay the rent, I fix the heating,” he said before hanging up. Jeff was confused, wondering why a bogus repairman would come into his office ... It couldn’t be ... Feeling paranoid, he went down the street to use the public phone. Jeff used a private investigator on many cases. His name was Dennis Odello. Dennis was the perfect “everyman” – average height, average build, average looks – instantly forgettable – just the kind of man for detective work. His connections in the intelligence community meant he could access state-of-the-art counter-surveillance equipment. Jeff asked him to sweep his office for bugs. Dennis arrived with his bag of tricks at the end of the day.

  Jeff didn’t expect him to find anything.

  Dennis found five bugs.

  One was in his phone, another in his laptop computer ... and the others were hidden around the room in a lamp and the electrical sockets. It was like something out of a Cold War movie. Dennis told him about them once they were out of range.

  “They’re audio-only bugs. The technology’s old but reliable. The KGB had bugs like them when they were called the KGB. You want me to remove them?”

  “Yes – no.” Now Jeff he knew about the bugs, he decided not to tamper with them, tipping off whoever planted them. He could use the bugs to his advantage, he hoped, though it made him uneasy to know he was under surveillance. He visited Melanie at her home and told her what Dennis had discovered. It freaked her out as much as him. Though nobody was listening to them, Melanie lowered her voice to a whisper.

  “That’s illegal,” she said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “We should call the cops.”

  “No. Just be careful what you say in the office,” he warned her. “At least now we know someone’s scared of us.”

  “Who?”

  “My guess is Rittel hired someone. What can you remember about the repairman?”

  “He was in his forties. Dark hair. Quite handsome, in a rugged way. He had a slight accent.”

  “What kind of accent?”

  “Russian, like my dry cleaner.”

  “Could you recognise him if you saw him again?”

  “I think so.”

  *

  It was almost midnight when Jeff knocked on the door of Lloyd Harper’s apartment. Jeff had made sure nobody was following him by swapping taxis on the way; he wanted to take no chances if he were under surveillance. A light went on and Lloyd opened the door. His eyes were half-closed with tiredness. He was wearing a bathrobe. He looked surprised to see him.

  “Jeff? What time is it?”

  “It’s late, but can I come in?”

  Lloyd nodded. Jeff stepped into the apartment. He noticed the door to the bedroom was closed.

  “Who is it?” said a sleepy woman.

  “It’s Jeff, honey. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

  “Lisa’s come back?” Jeff said.

  “Yeah - thanks to you. We’re working things out ... which is why I’ve got to tell you something. The other day my boss called me into his office. One of my so-called colleagues had told him I’d been seen talking to you. He asked me why. I was in an awkward situation. I had to tell him you asked about Croft verus New Jersey Medical. He would’ve fired me if I hadn’t told him. I’m sorry.”

  “You had no choice,” Jeff said, though he was hurt by the betrayal. “I’m glad you and Lisa are back together. I’m sorry I put you in an awkward situation in the first place, Lloyd.”

  “Look, I owe you big-time. If there’s anything I can do ...?”

  “I need some information. Do you know the name of the PI firm Rittel used in that case?”

  “Um – yes. Sleuth Incorporated. Same as always. They’re a big company, very good.”

  “I don’t suppose you could get me their report?”

  “Rittel keeps sensitive things like that in his office safe. I can’t get access.”

  “Okay. You’ve helped me more than enough.”

  “Jeff - we never had this conversation.”

  “What conversation?”

  *

  Over 150 people worked for Sleuth Incorporated, which was based in an office building on Wall Street. The PI firm opened at seven a.m. so Jeff and Melanie arrived at the café across the street before the doors opened. Melanie watched employees arriving while they enjoyed a delicious but hideously expensive breakfast. They had been waiting for ov
er an hour when Melanie pointed at a man wearing a dark suit.

  “That’s the repairman,” Melanie said.

  Jeff took some photographs. Later, he showed them to Dennis.

  “Can you find out who he is?”

  “Seems like you’re doing a good job without me,” Dennis said, but he took the photograph and said he would contact Jeff soon. Four hours later, Jeff was finishing a pleading when thought he saw Dennis leaving the courtroom. As he was packing up his paperwork, he noticed a new file among his things. Dennis had left it. As soon as Jeff was alone, he looked at the contents.

  The repairman was Alexei Rubokov, a senior investigator at Sleuth Incorporated. Alexei had immigrated to America after the Cold War ended. In Russia he had worked for the KGB. Now his services were employed against the plaintiffs in multimillion-dollar lawsuits, but he had no proof of criminal activity. If Jeff accused Alexei of planting the bugs, he would deny it. It was just Melanie’s word against Alexei’s. But Jeff thought of a way to use the bugs.

  *

  “Chloe, it’s Jeff. I could have some good news.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “A friend of mine has just given me some copies of Rittel’s private documents. I haven’t read them yet, but I’m going to do it tonight. Hopefully there’ll be something incriminating.”

  He heard her sigh. “Are they safe?”

  “They’re locked in my filing cabinet.”

  Jeff and Melanie had lunch at their usual time, after locking up their office. When they came back, the police were there. They had arrested Alexei Rubokov as he sneaked in to steal the documents. Dennis had set up surveillance cameras that caught everything on video. The police had caught the Russian breaking the law. Not only would he lose his PI’s licence, he would probably go to prison for his crimes.

  He was more than eager to make a deal. He showed the police his own personal files, which showed how over the last eight years he had put several people under illegal surveillance on the specific orders of Rittel. He had recorded those incriminating conversations on tape. Jeff was shocked when he listened to the one where Rittel told Rubokov to “find out what that bitch is saying to her shrink.” Rubokov put a bug in a lamp next to the couch, where he recorded a conversation that told Rittel exactly what he wanted to know.