Question of Trust

by Laura Caldwell

  “That’s great, Theo. That’s amazing you took the time to do that.”

  “They took the time to help us start HeadFirst.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “So anyway,” he said, signaling the waitress and ordering a whisky, neat, something I’d never known him to drink.

  “Was Eric in the office?” I asked when he said nothing else.

  Theo’s lips curled in disgust. “He hasn’t been there since I was arrested. He’s telling everyone he’s depressed, and that’s why he’s not coming in, but I know what it is.”

  “What?”

  Theo’s face was hard to read. “He’s the one who got us into trouble.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I know it wasn’t me, and he runs the business side of the company. He’s the one who pays the bills and deals with the money. I figure he probably cooked the books to make it look like it was me.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think he would do something like that. Ever. I trusted him.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “Yeah. He can’t even face me now,” Theo said.

  “Were you able to figure out what he might have given them?”

  We’d talked last night about how the government didn’t have to turn over their evidence yet. Which meant if we wanted to figure this out, Theo was going to have to look around and keep his eyes open.

  “Yeah.” The lips curled more, and his eyes narrowed in anger.

  I sat forward. “What was it? What did they take?”

  “I’m not exactly sure because it was mostly from Eric’s office—but what seemed to be missing were documents about the venture capital stuff we did to launch the company and the original private offering of stock.”

  “Who bought it, the stock?”

  “Me. Eric. My dad.”

  “Your dad?” Hmm. “I hadn’t realized he was involved with the business. Does he still own stock?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you all have equal parts?”

  “Eric and I have a bit more.”

  “Just a bit?”

  He narrowed his eyes further and looked at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I sat away from the snappy tone to his voice. “Nothing.” I raised my hands in surrender.

  “You think my dad caused this.”

  “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying it’s interesting.”

  “My dad would never do that.”

  “Did you say the same thing about Eric?”

  Zing. Theo winced.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Look, I just didn’t know your dad had a stake in your business. This is exactly the kind of stuff we need to know.”

  “Okay, okay.” He seemed to be thinking hard.

  “I’d always thought you and Eric owned the predominant amount of stock,” I said. “I guess I’d always just assumed that.”

  “We owned the controlling interest. But my dad had some and there were other investors, too.”

  “Who were they? I wonder if we should contact them. Get them on our side as witnesses before the Feds do.”

  Theo’s face cleared and he pointed at me, then snapped his fingers. “Yes,” he said with sudden gusto. “I like that. Let’s talk to my dad and everyone who put in money, and maybe they have information on what Eric did.”

  If it was Eric. “Do you still have a contact list that would include those investors?”

  “Yeah, I’ll email it to you this afternoon.”

  I downed my water and stood. “Let’s get at it now.”

  Theo smiled at me, then scooped his arms around me. “I love that you’re my lawyer.”

  It wasn’t exactly I love you (and I didn’t make any response in return except to hug him tight) but it was something.

  30

  “Yeah,” José Ramon said, answering the phone with one word and a flat tone. He’d been waiting for an update, but he would never let eagerness enter his voice when talking to an underling.

  The kid didn’t deal with any bullshit small talk, either. “They were at the Gage on Michigan. They talked about investors in his business when he first started. Anything you’re interested in?”

  “I’m interested.”

  “He said that’s the thing the Feds took from his office. Well, one of the things.”

  “He said what’s the thing the Feds took from his office?” Now he was irritated. Having the sense not to bullshit chat with him was one thing, but not having clarity was another. He fucking hated people who were too stupid to remember or to realize when the person they were talking to didn’t know what they were talking about. Fucking hated it.

  “The contact list. That’s what they were talking about.”

  “What contact list? Jesus fucking Christ, be clear with your words.”

  “It includes the people who took part in the initial public offering. Of HeadFirst.”

  He despised the little bit of fear he felt. But just as quickly as it appeared, he banished it, slashed it, refused to go there.

  “Well, then we better get that list,” he said.

  “That’s the plan.”

  Now the kid was being clear, back in his good graces. “Whatever it takes,” he said.

  “And I take it you don’t want the details about how I get it. Just get it done, right?”

  He felt a little better. “That’s right,” he said. “That’s exactly right.”

  31

  By the time I got back to the office, Maggie was out, so I updated Q on my talk with Theo. There was one thing about the drama with Theo that was positive. Q had been listening to me talk about it, and we felt closer than we had in a long time.

  He nodded and nodded as I spoke. Then said, “Check your email. See if Theo got you those contact lists yet.”

  I pulled out my phone. “Not yet.”

  “Well, you’ve got other cases,” Q said. “Get to work.”

  I frowned at him, about to remind him that this was the only case that really mattered, but then I realized that wasn’t true. I needed to focus on all the cases that had been assigned to me. I would be a help to the firm, not a drain on it. Especially if I wanted to keep my job. And maybe by working harder, I could somehow allow Q to keep his. Maggie had asked me not to say anything yet about the potential he might lose it.

  Q watched my face, watched my expression grow determined. “Go get ’em, tiger,” he said.

  I went to my office and closed the door. I analyzed police records from a case where one client was accused of picking pockets on the “L” train. I wrote a motion for nolle prosequi on a marijuana possession case where there was no evidence the pot was our client’s. I called the state’s attorney on a DUI case and tried to negotiate a plea.

  When all that was done, I felt calmer, and that I’d accomplished something.

  And so it was time to work on Theo’s case. To orient myself, I pulled up the federal embezzlement statute on my computer, reading it closely, looking for anything—even something tiny—that might provide a defense. Then I studied the statutes on search warrants or permitted entry. If I could prove the contents of the office were somehow obtained illegally, they wouldn’t be able to use them as evidence.

  I got on my email and—finally!—I saw one from Theo with an attachment. “Let’s get at it,” I muttered to my computer, trying to channel Q and his coachlike motivation.

  I opened the attachment and found lists of buyers for the initial offering of HeadFirst stock. Theo was mentioned, then Eric, then Brad Jameson. The rest of the names were unfamiliar to me. I searched the internet for them, and found a few were partners of hedge funds and venture capital firms that routinely put money into new businesses. A few other names I could find nothing on.

  I sat back for a second and thought about what I knew. According to Theo, some documentation about HeadFirst’s initial public offering seemed to be missing, and so we assumed the Feds could be interested in who was involved in that initi
al stock offering. But whether their case was based on who bought the stock, I had no idea.

  Stymied, I printed out the contact list, then picked up the coke-on-a-boat file again, thinking I would tackle it once more. But my brain felt as soft as mush.

  I would, I decided, take the records home and read them in the morning when, hopefully, a more optimistic frame of mind and a well-firing brain would help me.

  My phone vibrated as I slipped on my coat. A text from Theo. I’m going to stay at the office a little later.

  I felt disappointment. I’d hoped we could spend time together, time that didn’t involve his case, but I understood.

  Take your time, I texted back.

  When I got home, Kim Parkway stepped out of the second-floor condo as I climbed the stairs.

  “Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” she said. She was wearing a black sweater-dress under a black shearling coat and a light blue scarf that sparkled at the ends. “Hey, I’m on my way to meet Danny and Jeff for dinner. Do you by any chance have a black bag I could borrow? I still haven’t quite finished unpacking my stuff.”

  “Sure. C’mon up.”

  I walked the stairs, Kim following me.

  Inside, Kim looked around. “Your place is great.”

  “Thanks.”

  She gestured at the door we’d just walked through. “Why doesn’t everyone have the same locks on their doors?”

  “I put mine in last year after I had a break-in. That’s when I asked the building management to put the keypad on the front-door lock, too.”

  Kim’s face was concerned. “So there was a break-in right before I moved in?”

  I tried not to grimace. “Yes. I’m sorry, Kim. This place is safe. I swear. I’ve just had some strange things happen over the last year. I’ll tell you the whole story when you’ve got time.”

  “Was anyone else’s place broken into last year?”

  “No, just mine. My fiancé had disappeared.” As if that explained everything.

  Kim stood there, looking like she was trying to process it all. “And Theo…” she said. “The person who owns the condo on the first floor told me…” Her voice died away, but I could hear the rest of that sentence.

  “Yes, Theo was arrested. He’s out already. He’s at work actually.”

  Thankfully, Kim only laughed. “Sounds like we need to have that talk over a bottle of wine.”

  I laughed with her. “Exactly.” I gave her the choice of a few handbags and she left with one. As I watched her trailing back down the stairs, I found myself looking forward to sharing that wine with Kim.

  32

  “Kill her,” the guy said. He was huge, tattooed, his face covered in a beard, his bangs long and in his face. He looked around the room, then back at me.

  Tentatively, I shook the hand he offered. “I’m Izzy,” I said.

  “David. Your place is killer. Love it.”

  “Oh, killer. I thought I heard you say something else. Well, thanks.” I glanced around. The condo did look pretty good tonight—candlelit, Theo’s stuff stashed in various closets, about forty people mingling.

  It was the end of a long, tumultuous week. Our studying of the contact list had revealed little, and the past few days had crawled by. I wanted to help Theo feel better in some way, so I’d suggested that we have a small party. I knew from experience that taking part in social activities, trying to be as normal as possible, helped to get over the slivers of shame and paranoia that could creep in after traumatic events. And I wanted Theo to feel like the condo was truly his place now. When he suggested he invite all the people from HeadFirst whom he’d had to let go, it made me like him even more. When I heard that most of those employees had quickly accepted the invitation, it made me proud of him, knowing that those people wanted to support him.

  “Yeah, I heard a lot about you from Theo,” the big guy, David, was saying now.

  “You did?”

  He nodded. “He talked about you a lot at work.”

  I smiled. “What did you do at HeadFirst?”

  “I’m a SAGB.” He said it like sag-ba. When I squinted in confusion, he said, “Systems analysis gigabyte detailer.”

  I squinted some more.

  He laughed. “It’s kinda specialized.”

  “And how did you like it at HeadFirst?”

  He paused, and I wondered if he would reveal (or if I could get him drunk enough to talk about) anything he might know about what was going on at the company. Maybe if I understood Theo’s work more, I would understand his world. Then I could help him more. Be a better lawyer on his case.

  David’s face filled with a little bit of wonderment. “HeadFirst was a kick-ass place to work. I loved it. Everyone I know loved it.”

  “Huh. I’m a lawyer. I don’t often hear anyone say that about their job.”

  He laughed. Then his face turned sad. “We believed in Theo and Eric,” he said. “Still do.” He gestured with an arm around the room, where people were talking in groups, and Theo was showing some women how to play Madden on his Xbox. “We’re all moving on, but we’ll be there when they need us back.”

  I thanked David for his loyalty and showed him toward the bar we’d arranged on the kitchen counter.

  When I turned around, Mayburn was there, frowning at me. “You set up my girlfriend?” he said indignantly, no other greeting acting as a buffer.

  On one case that Mayburn and I had worked together, he met Lucy DeSanto, a Lincoln Park mom with a husband she didn’t know was a bad guy. The bad guy was now in prison, he and Lucy were getting divorced, and Mayburn was in love with her.

  I looked around and saw sweet, blonde Lucy talking to one of the other guests. “She’s not your girlfriend, is she?” I asked him. “Last I checked, she didn’t want to move on to another relationship and you two were hanging out as friends.”

  I’d always thought of Mayburn as being average height and weight, but last year, when he thought he might lose Lucy forever, he couldn’t eat. He lost weight, and despite efforts to the contrary, had kept it off. So now, the cheekbones in his face were distinct, his skin pale. His brown hair looked spiky somehow. The whole thing made Mayburn appear sharper and a little dangerous, in a good way.

  He glowered at me now.

  I told him what I was thinking.

  “Dangerous in a good way?” He mulled that over. “Thanks.”

  “So anyway, I didn’t set Lucy up exactly,” I said. “She came out with Theo and me at the end of the summer and she met someone.”

  “Well, you should have stopped her.”

  “Excuse me? The two of you were broken up, and she’s an adult.”

  “But you’re my friend. You should have had my back.”

  “I don’t know how to tell you this, but you sound like a seventh grader. A seventh-grade girl.”

  Mayburn’s brown eyes searched the room, searched the faces of Theo’s friends. He leaned toward me. “His name is C.R., right? How freaking stupid is that name? Which one is he?”

  I debated whether answering his question could cause trouble. Mayburn was a low-key guy—except, it seemed, when it came to Lucy. “You’re not going to get all caveman and hit him or anything, are you?”

  A pause. “Of course not.”

  I looked across the room toward my fireplace, where Theo was now helping C.R. shove in some logs. Neither of them looked like they knew what they were doing. I was about to point out C.R. when I thought of something Mayburn could do to him, something worse than jacking C.R. in the face. “They’re not going out anymore, you know that, right? You’re not going to dig up info on him and mess with him.”

  As one of the best private investigators in the city, Mayburn had tools in his arsenal that were more powerful than a fist.

  “Shut it, McNeil,” he said.

  “You’re very pleasant this evening.”

  He gave me a glance that said his patience was thin.

  I jutted my chin toward the fireplace. “He’s the one wit
h Theo.”

  Mayburn stared, glared. C.R. was probably the hottest guy in the room besides Theo. He had eyes like dark blue denim. He wasn’t the smartest guy, and he wasn’t particularly charming, but he sure was pretty.

  I heard the door opening behind me. Then I heard Mayburn say, “Whoa.”

  I turned around quick and saw a man towering in the doorway. Got a flash of panic. But then I recognized him. “Bernard!” I said as I walked over and gave him a hug.

  “Hey, man!” I heard Theo say as he crossed the room and patted Bernard on the back. The two had met during the summer when Maggie and I were in Italy, the same trip where Maggie met Bernard.

  Bernard was a massive Filipino man with thick black hair that always seemed to stand up. He wore his typical off-duty uniform—a pair of baggy jeans and a solid color shirt.

  “Where’s Maggie?” I asked.

  “She’s looking for parking. I told her I would do it. But she doesn’t trust me.”

  “You have to know how to park in this city,” Theo said.

  “That’s what she said, but I’m from Asia, man.”

  I laughed. Maggie thought that everything in the city of Chicago required inside knowledge.

  A few minutes later Maggie was there, and she and Bernard were talking with Mayburn. And next to them, Theo was planning to see a band with my brother, Charlie. Next to them, Charlie’s friend Zim was talking to Spence and my mom.

  I stopped for a moment and smiled. This was the kind of scene Sam and I had envisioned when we planned our future, when we’d decided to get married, to live in Old Town, to keep our friends close and each other closer. We had envisioned occasions just like this—when all of our friends would be around, friends from different places and different stages in our life. Times like these were a human scrapbook of sorts—a place to see all those people and family members in one place. Now here they were, and Sam was noticeably absent.

  I heard a knock on the door, but by the time I’d reached it, Q had opened it up and was greeting people as he shed his coat.