Now was his chance.
“What’s going on?”
She huffed out a breath. “It’s this statement I have to write for the parole board—about Wally Stewart. Anyway, that’s why I called. Bodhi has a chance to give a victim impact statement, too, but nobody seems to know where he is. Do you?”
Of course.
Stewart’s attack had left her nearly dead, bleeding out. If Bodhi hadn’t been there … He shook the thought away. It had taken Sasha a long time to work through her anger—and, though she wouldn’t admit it readily, her fear—after the incident.
It wasn’t surprising all that angst was being dredged back up as she relived the stabbing while working on her statement.
Before he could press her on her emotions, she was nudging him. “Connelly? Did you hear me? We’re trying to reach Bodhi King.”
Better to wait until they were face to face, anyway. Otherwise, she’d shrug it off. He’d have plenty of chances to corner her for a heart-to-heart during their weekend away.
“Let me think. Last I heard he was staying at a monastery on Honolulu. He has access to email, but it’s sporadic.”
“Hmm. I think Will already called there with no luck. Can you do me a favor and shoot him an email? Ask him to get in touch with me or Will.”
“Definitely. Will you do me a favor?”
“Depends,” she said cautiously. “What is it?”
“Can you get home early enough tonight to do your own laundry? There’s a literal mountain of clothes in the kids’ room to be folded. And I have some work of my own to do.”
“What are you working on?”
“I could tell you, but then—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But then you’d have to kill me. Way to play the G-man card to get out of doing a measly load of laundry. I’m on to you, Special Agent Connelly. But, yes, I’ll be home in time. I’ll even help you fold the twins’ stuff. At least then Fiona’s dresses won’t end up mixed in with my tops again.”
He laughed softly. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”
“You mean about your dad? No, it doesn’t.” Her playful tone cooled. “I’m still really mad at you.”
Great. Just great. Sasha was an expert grudge holder. The upcoming weekend at Deep Creek Lake might be somewhat less fun than he’d planned.
Naya pushed Sasha’s office door open with a loud creak.
“Knock, knock!” Naya sing-songed as her head appeared in the doorway.
Sasha marked her spot in the interrogatories then looked up.
“Who’s there?”
“Allegheny Informational Architecture, Inc.,” Naya responded.
This sounded like the set-up to a terrible knock-knock joke, but she bit, anyway. “Allegheny Informational Architecture, Inc., who?”
Naya sashayed through the door and presented a bottle of champagne from behind her back with a flourish. “Allegheny Informational Architecture, Inc. IPO, that’s who!”
Will appeared in the doorway behind Naya, beaming. “Naya landed AIAI as a corporate client,” he explained. “They’re seeking counsel to take them public, and they chose us.”
“Wow!”
That was news. Naya’d been branching out into corporate transactional work for a while now, but an initial public offering was a big deal.
Maybe bigger than their small shop could handle, if Sasha were being honest. But this wasn’t the time to be a wet blanket.
She stood, circled her desk, and threw her arms around Naya in a hug. “Congratulations. Good for you.”
Naya grinned at her. “Good for us, you mean! Will says Prescott & Talbots’s biggest revenue years were historically the ones when they took a client public.”
“Loads and loads of billable hours,” Will confirmed.
Sasha managed a smile. She foresaw hiring some associates, because she’d rather walk naked down Grant Street than work on a public offering herself. And it wasn’t as if Naya could do all the work alone.
Will seemed to read her mind. “We’ll need to craft an expansion plan. But for now, let’s toast Naya’s success. The details can wait,” he said in a very un-Will-like manner.
Naya popped the cork, and Caroline walked in with her arms full of plastic champagne flutes. The rest of their small staff trailed behind her. Jordana, their teenaged intern, raised a glass filled with what appeared to be sparkling water.
“To Naya,” Sasha said. “We never doubted you’d become a force to be reckoned with.”
“Become? I was born this way, and you know it,” Naya shot back.
Naya was immediately bombarded with questions from Jordana, Caroline, and Lucy, the part-time receptionist. Will used the cover of the excited chatter to steer Sasha toward the window.
“We really do need to discuss her partnership prospects. AIAI isn’t going to want a lead counsel who’s not on the firm letterhead,” he murmured.
“We can talk about it on Friday,” she insisted, sipping her champagne. She focused on the slightly sweet, effervescent bubbles that swirled on her tongue and ignored the mixed feelings that swirled in her gut.
He frowned but smoothed his expression quickly. “Certainly. But, we do need to celebrate properly. Why don’t we and Caroline take Naya and Carl out for dinner tomorrow? Spouses, too, of course. Can you arrange for a sitter on such short notice?”
She caught Jordana’s eye from across the room and called to her, “Hey, Jordana, can you babysit the twins tomorrow night?”
“Sure,” the teenager said eagerly.
“Done,” Sasha told Will.
While he pulled out his cell phone to make a reservation for eight, Sasha drained her glass, thinking. Naya’d proven herself as a lawyer a dozen times over. She was one of Sasha’s closest friends. She’d been the maid of honor at Sasha’s wedding. So why did the thought of naming her as partner set Sasha’s stomach aflutter?
3
The Creole-inspired oyster bar around the corner from the office was one of Naya’s favorite places, hands down. And when the waiter heard what they were celebrating, a couple of bottles of wine appeared, unbidden, at the table.
Between the flowing wine, the noise of the crowded bar, and the happy chatter of the group at the table, Leo thought he might be the only one who noticed that his wife was uncharacteristically quiet. But he wasn’t.
He offered Carl a grilled oyster from the platter they’d ordered for the table.
Naya’s long-time boyfriend waved off the oyster, content with his gumbo.
But he leaned toward Leo, tilted his head toward Sasha, and said in a low tone, “Is she okay? She seems kinda … down.”
He nodded. “She’s fine. A little tired, maybe.”
For a moment, he focused on his plate. Perfectly charred, slightly spicy from a sprinkling of red pepper flakes, and deliciously briny. It tasted as though someone had managed to grill seawater to perfection. But his worry about his wife overshadowed the food.
He assumed Wally Stewart’s upcoming parole board hearing was still eating at Sasha. He’d be glad when the hearing was over. Stewart would be denied parole and tossed back in a cell, where he belonged, rather than taking up space in Sasha’s mind.
He turned toward her, but she was deep in conversation with Caroline. Across the table, Will caught his eye.
“How’s everything, Leo? Are you and Hank busy?” Will asked in a tone that suggested he knew full well Leo couldn’t talk about his work, but that it was still polite to ask.
“Busy enough to keep me out of trouble.”
They shared a small laugh.
Then Leo remembered Sasha’s request. “Oh, I wanted to tell you—I sent Bodhi King an email yesterday. Sasha mentioned you’ve been trying to reach him.”
“I have. Did you have any luck?”
“He emailed me back from a library somewhere near Chicago. The monks in Hawaii passed along your telephone message, too. He said he’s going to get in touch with you tomorrow.”
“That’d be
good.” Will smiled, and the muscles in his forehead relaxed as if his body had been holding a lot of tension.
Leo was about to mention to Will the effect the upcoming parole hearing was having on Sasha, when a middle-aged couple approached the table.
The man, who wore a mild, bemused expression, looked vaguely familiar. Leo didn’t think he’d ever seen the woman before. She was dark-haired and fair, and she hung slightly back behind her companion.
“I thought I recognized you folks from across the room,” the man said, resting a hand on Will’s shoulder.
Will twisted in his seat to look up at the speaker. “Dr. David,” he said in evident surprise. “Are we still on for tomorrow?”
The man squirmed but didn’t answer.
David? Leo searched his memory. Did he know a Dr. David?
Sasha’s eyes widened and she pushed her seat back from the table. “Saul,” she said as she stood. “What a surprise. You’ve been on my mind lately.”
Of course, Dr. Saul David. The Allegheny County Coroner. And the third of the three people whom Stewart had planned to kill that afternoon in the park.
The coroner leaned across the table to give Sasha an awkward half-hug. “You’re looking well.”
She smiled and scooted back into her seat. “I’ll be better when this parole hearing is over with.”
Dr. David smiled absently, but his eyes clouded. “Yes, yes.” He shifted his gaze to Leo. “Mr. Connelly, it’s nice to see you again.”
Leo lifted himself halfway out of his seat and shook the coroner’s proffered hand. “You as well, Dr. David. And … Mrs. David?”
Saul reached for the hand of the woman beside him and gently pulled her slightly forward. “I don’t believe any of you have met my wife, Mona. She wasn’t at Wally’s trial.”
Introductions were made around the table.
Mona David flushed pink when her husband announced, “She’d left me there for a while. You know, after that mess with Mackenzie. But she’s taken me back now.”
Saul turned to beam at his wife, and she nestled against his side, still blushing.
Leo didn’t know the full story but he did know Mackenzie Lane, an ambitious assistant to the mayor, and Saul David had had an affair. Mackenzie had used Saul to advance her career and interfere with the coroner’s office’s investigation into the sudden deaths of several seemingly healthy women. That much was public knowledge, because the Pittsburgh media had shouted it from the rooftops. But it was hardly a love story for the ages.
He stared at the cooing couple, unaware that his mouth was agape—until a sharply placed elbow from Sasha alerted him and he snapped his jaw closed.
“How lucky for you that she’s so forgiving. I wish both of you every happiness,” Sasha said.
“Oh, I’m the lucky one,” Mona said sincerely. “It’s a great gift to be able to give.”
“What is?” Naya asked.
“Forgiveness.”
The Davids turned and walked back to the bar, hand in hand. The eight of them sat around the table in mildly surprised silence for several seconds. Then Carl cleared his throat and broke the silence. “I think I will try one of those oysters, Leo.”
Leo passed the plate to him wordlessly.
It was nearly eleven o’clock when the raucous group said their goodbyes on the sidewalk in front of the now quiet and nearly empty oyster bar. Sasha and Connelly waited while Naya, Carl, Will and his wife, and Caroline and her husband piled in the Uber X they’d ordered to take them all home.
Sasha waved a tired goodbye to her colleagues, and Connelly caught her free hand in his. They laced their fingers together instinctively, his larger ones wound around hers.
“That was fun,” he observed as they fell into step together for the short walk home.
“Mm-hmm,” she muttered automatically, lost in thought.
“Odd running into Saul David and his wife, wasn’t it?”
She glanced up at him. “Not really. I think they live in the neighborhood—over on the other side of Darlington.”
“No, I meant running into them together.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, I didn’t realize they’d reconciled.”
They walked a few more steps in silence before she added, “I mean, more power to them, if they can make it work.”
“Especially, after such a breach of trust.”
She nodded her agreement. The idea that Saul David’s wife considered herself lucky to have the chance to forgive her errant husband was a notion she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around. But, then, it was really none of her business.
After another moment, he spoke again. “You were awfully quiet at dinner. Are you still thinking about your statement for the parole board?”
His tone was casual, but she could feel his eyes boring into her.
“I’d be lying if I said I’m not preoccupied by it. But, honestly, that’s not what was on my mind this evening.”
“It’s not?”
“No. It’s something else.”
“So, is this something else on a need to know basis or what?” He poked her in the side.
“Will and I have a partnership meeting tomorrow.”
“Don’t you usually meet on Fridays? That’s your treat day, right?”
“Yeah, it’s our standing meeting. But tomorrow he wants to talk about adding Naya as a partner. And ….”
“And?”
“And I don’t think the time’s right.”
He blinked. “Really? But she just brought in a huge client.”
“She did.”
“And she’s a great attorney, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And your best friend.”
“Yeah.”
“So, it’s a no-brainer. What’s the issue?”
She wasn’t sure whether it was the wine or the late hour, but she found herself admitting to Connelly something she hadn’t even fully admitted to herself.
“The issue is that when the chips were down—when I was set up in that bar fight and Prescott & Talbott tried to have me removed from the arbitration—they didn’t have my back. Will and Naya ganged up on me. I was placed on leave from my own firm, the firm I started, by my partner and my best friend. You want to talk about a breach of trust?” Her voice shook with fury and unshed tears.
He stopped about a yard or so from their house and took her by the shoulders.
“You don’t mean that,” he told her in a soft voice. His thumb brushed her chin and she lifted her face. “I know you don’t.”
She raised her lips to his, but as he covered her mouth with a kiss, the thought rumbled through her mind like a train: ‘Like hell, I don’t.’
For an instant, she contemplated pulling back and voicing the truth, but she’d rather have another salty kiss than a lecture about her grudge-holding.
She pressed her mouth against Leo’s eager lips and kept her thoughts to herself.
4
As was their tradition, Sasha arrived for the partners’ meeting with fresh, hot coffee from Jake’s, and Will came bearing treats from the patisserie near his house.
Sasha didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but she had even less of a taste for the administrative tedium of partners’ meetings. When she’d been out on her own, practicing as a solo attorney, she’d made her decisions quickly and easily. But Will liked to mull over the issues—he was thorough, she’d give him that. At some point, he’d tried to lure her into a meeting about changing their time-keeping software by offering her a chocolate croissant. And a ritual was born.
Something about a buttery, flaky croissant oozing dark chocolate made spreadsheets, fine print, and Will’s careful consideration of every contingency moderately more appealing. She atoned for her indulgent partner meetings with salmon for lunch and an extra mile on her run.
She passed him his cafe Americano, and he handed over the still-warm French pastry.
“Last night was fun,” she murmured as she pinched off a chunk of the croi
ssant to dip into her coffee.
“It was. We should have more firm get togethers,” he agreed.
“Maybe we could have a picnic at the end of the summer before Jordana goes back to school?”
“Excellent idea. We can celebrate Naya’s partnership at the same time.”
She placed the pastry on her plate and picked up her mug. She’d hoped to save the issue of Naya’s promotion for the end of their meeting, but it looked like Will wanted to tackle it first.
“Will … ” she began heavily. She trailed off and sipped her coffee.
“Surely you agree she deserves to be named partner?” he said in disbelief.
“I do. But I don’t know that this is the time,” she hedged.
“Of course this is the time, Sasha. She’s brought in a big client. We’re going to be expanding. She needs to manage the corporate work, and she needs to be in a position of authority to do that properly.” He abandoned his treat and reached for a stack of folders.
As he fanned them out, he said, “I understand you want to be cautious. But I’ve run the numbers under three different scenarios—each of them fairly conservative, by the way—and her draw isn’t going to impact the bottom line negatively. She’s going to be bringing in so much revenue with this initial public offering that I highly doubt it will even be revenue neutral. We’re all going to be making more money. The budget for AIAI’s public—”
“This isn’t about money.”
“Then what is it about?” He leaned forward and locked eyes with her, a furrow creasing his brow in puzzlement.
Her pulse hammered. She placed her palms flat down on the table and said, “It’s about trust, Will. You and Naya tossed me out last spring. I can’t forget that. Now, I agree, she should be compensated for bringing in the work. And we can talk about a raise or a bonus and even a new title. But, frankly, I’m not ready to have the two of you as equal partners, not after what happened.”
Her throat was dry when she finished speaking. The croissant was about as appealing as a brick. She pushed it away and gulped her coffee.
[Sasha McCandless 10.5] The Humble Salve Page 2
