Her white teeth sparkling against her mahogany skin, she offered Clark a smile and asked if she could help him.
“I’m looking for one of your employees, a Marilyn Marlow. I believe she has worked here for close to a year.”
“Ms. Marlow is no longer with us,” the receptionist replied matter- of-factly.
Clark’s face registered his obvious disappointment.
“Are you a personal friend of Marilyn’s?” she asked in response to his expression.
“No. It was a business matter,” Clark replied.
“Would you like to talk to her replacement?” the woman offered.
“I don’t think that would help me. Any idea where she might be working now?” he asked, hoping it would be somewhere in the area.
“Perhaps they could help you in personnel. They’re on the third floor.”
“Thanks. I’ll try that.” Clark smiled, nodding to her as he strolled past her desk to the elevator.
“Marilyn Marlow. Now there’s an interesting character,” Chad Jenkins said, shaking his head as if continuing to be puzzled by her.
“When did she leave Mather’s?” Clark asked.
“Tell me again why you’re looking for her?” Chad requested. “We don’t usually give out information on our employees without their permission.”
“I’m working on a case right now, and I think Ms. Marlow may have some critical information for me. Since the case is confidential, I can’t really go into any more details. I could subpoena the information, but I was hoping you’d help me avoid the hassle.”
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you when she left. It was a month ago. We were all surprised when she gave us notice. Lots of the guys were really bummed to see her go, if you know what I mean. Marilyn’s quite the babe. But she seemed to have a thing going with some guy in accounting. He left around the same time she did. Lucky cuss. Bart Thomas was his name. Never could figure out what she saw in him.”
Clark smiled. Very interesting. Ms. Marlow disappears with someone from accounting while John Ackerman is framed for embezzlement. The pieces were all coming together. “Hey, thanks, Mr....Uh...”
“Jenkins. Chad Jenkins.”
“Mr. Jenkins. Right. Thanks again. You’ve been most helpful.” Clark extended his hand and grasped Chad’s in a firm handshake.
“Glad I could help you out. Hope you find Marilyn,” Chad added with a wink.
Clark just smiled, turned, and walked to the elevator.
Sheila hurried to open the front door, her arms loaded with groceries and her heart racing as she heard the phone ringing in the kitchen. Ever since John’s “accident” she felt her anxiety levels rise whenever the phone rang. Though part of her was relieved to be back home, in some ways life in Bridgeport had been simpler. Her days had been filled with her bedside vigil in John’s hospital room.
Now she was thrust back into the daily routine of life -- keeping up with the mail and bills, housework, grocery shopping, laundry -- all the activities that occupied a normal homemaker. In addition to those obligations, she was immersed in helping to clear her husband from the embezzlement charges that had driven him to attempt to kill himself in a lonely motel in Bridgeport.
Dropping the groceries on the counter, she grabbed the phone from its resting place. “Hello?” she asked breathlessly.
“Mrs. Ackerman?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“This is Clark Christianson.”
“Mr. Christianson -- I’m so glad to hear from you.” She pulled up a chair and sat down as she cradled the phone to her ear. Please let this be good news, she hoped silently.
“I’ve found a lead I’d like to discuss with you and your husband. Is it possible for me to meet with you both at the rehab center this evening?” Clark knew he might be rushing his conclusion, but a gut-level instinct told him he’d found the key player in John’s case. He was eager to get John’s reaction to the names he’d gathered from personnel at Mather’s.
“Tonight? Well, I guess that would be fine,” Sheila said tentatively. She knew John was exhausted at the end of each day of intense therapy, and she wasn’t sure if he’d be up to any kind of meeting with his attorney. But she also knew that the resolution of the lawsuit could be just the healing balm her husband needed.
“What would be a good time?” Clark asked.
“How about 7:00? He’ll be finished with dinner by then. Hopefully he’ll still be awake and alert. Therapy takes a lot out of him,” she explained.
“7:00 will be fine. Room 121, right?”
“Right. At the end of the hall on your left.”
“Okay. I’ll see you there,” Clark said, and then added, “I really think this is the break we’ve been looking for.”
Sheila sighed as she sank further down into the chair. “I hope you’re right.” Hanging up the phone, she began putting the groceries away.
Boxes of frozen meals made up much of her purchases these days. She didn’t feel motivated to cook for just herself.
Tim usually came over on Wednesdays and Sundays, and she fixed something for the two of them those nights. The remainder of the week, Sheila had a hard enough time forcing herself to microwave a frozen entrée before heading back to her husband’s side at Rancho Vista Rehab Center.
She tried to stay and eat with John the first night he was there, but his frustration over the mess he made trying to feed himself resulted in the therapist asking her to take a break at dinner time and go home to eat. It made for lonely meals, but seemed to help John focus on his retraining process rather than wrestling with embarrassment.
With Thanksgiving right around the corner, Sheila was glad her parents were coming down for a visit. Their presence would fill the house with companionship and hope. They always brought a feeling of peace with them that she desperately needed. This whole trauma with her husband had her reconsidering her own beliefs and yearning to go back to her childhood faith. I guess I loved John so much, I was willing to throw that all away for him, she thought. Now maybe I need to grab a hold of it again for his sake as well as my own.
Shuffling through the frozen dinners, she selected a casserole. While it cooked, she continued putting the remainder of the groceries away.
A few minutes later, she sat at the kitchen table and ate her instant dinner while opening the day’s mail. This was her new routine. Read the mail while eating dinner. It helped keep her mind off the empty place setting across the table.
Finishing up, she decided to go to the hospital earlier than usual in order to prepare John for Clark’s arrival. Perhaps she could help him stay focused and alert for their evening meeting.
Clark walked down the long hall off the foyer of the rehab center. When he entered John’s room, Sheila was adjusting the covers on the bed and helping him get into a more upright position. This was only the second time Clark had seen John, but he noticed an improvement in his coordination right away.
“Hello, John. Sheila.”
Sheila turned to face him and smiled. “Hello. We were just getting ready for your visit.” John simply nodded his head in acknowledgement, his eyes narrowing to study Clark’s face.
“Well, John, I think I may have a lead.”
“What?” John asked after a moment’s hesitation.
“There appears to be a link between your case and another similar case I won last year. It involves a person who worked at my prior client’s company and at yours.”
John was listening intently. Sheila held his hand as she, too, eagerly awaited the information.
“Do you know someone by the name of Marilyn Marlow?” Clark asked John.
Immediately John closed his eyes and turned his head away from Sheila. “What is it, John?” she asked him. He did not reply. She turned to look at Clark and shrugged her shoulders.
“Could I have a few minutes alone with your husband?” he asked.
Sheila stood up, looking very puzzled, and nodded as she walked out of the room.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Steve, look what I found at the Stork’s Nest,” Michelle said as she pulled a lamp with a Noah’s ark base out of a bag.
“What’s that for?”
“For the baby’s room, doofus. I’ve decided to start collecting things as I find them. I’d really like to do a Noah’s ark theme in there.”
Steve put his notepad aside. “Michelle, we don’t have a baby yet.”
“I know, but I was shopping with Kelly today for their nursery, and I couldn’t resist this. It was on clearance. It might have been gone by the time I got pregnant.”
“It just seems a little premature, honey. We’ll have plenty of time to find baby stuff.”
“So do you want me to take it back?” Michelle asked defensively, turning her face away from him to hide the tears beginning to well up. Why does everything have to be such a big deal? she thought to herself.
As if he realized he’d crossed the line with her, he said gently, “Come on, Michelle. This isn’t worth crying about. If it’s that important to you, go ahead and buy whatever you want.”
Michelle just nodded her head. After composing herself, she said, “You’re right. I’m getting ahead of myself here. Seems like I’m always either worrying about Dad or obsessing about a baby. It just gives me hope when I focus on stuff about the baby.”
Steve got up from the table, rinsed out his coffee mug, and walked over to give her a hug. “That’s fine. Just don’t go overboard with buying stuff until we know we’re really going to have a baby.” He paused and then added, “I’ve got to work on the notes for my briefing tomorrow. Are you and Monica still going out for a while tonight?”
“Yeah. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Do you need any money?”
“No, I’ve got enough.” She hesitated for a moment and then added, “Sorry I snapped at you.”
“It’s okay. You’ve got a lot on your mind. If it’s any consolation, I really think this Christianson guy is going to be able to resolve your dad’s legal battle.”
“That’s what Mom says, too. She has a lot of confidence in him.”
The doorbell rang and Michelle leaned down, picked up Max from his resting place on the chair, and walked out of the kitchen. “That’s Monica, Max. You remember her? She bought you all those toys.”
“Hey girl,” Michelle said as she swung open the front door.
“Michelle -- It’s so good to have you back. Let me hold that baby for a minute.” Monica reached out to Max, who showed no resistance as he was handed into her arms. “ I miss you, Maxie,” she said in a high-pitched, singsong tone.
“You spoiled him, Monica.”
“I know. But I had fun doing it.” She released Max, who had spotted his toy mouse on the floor. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yep. Just let me grab my coat. Bye, Steve,” she called over her shoulder.
“Have fun,” he replied.
After spending a laborious half-hour with John, Clark now understood why Marilyn Marlow’s name brought such a reaction from him. John did not want his wife or kids to ever know about his fling with Marilyn. Clark would have to approach this carefully.
The added difficulty with this case was John’s physical limitations. His speech was still very hesitant and hard to understand; yet Clark knew he deserved the same chance to fully tell his story and to be able to do it confidentially.
While Sheila could understand everything John said, she could not participate in these sessions. Clark had tried to explain to her the delicate issues involved in any corporate case involving money and frame-ups. He hoped he had successfully explained the need to talk to John privately without arousing her suspicions.
His next step was to begin his search for Marilyn. Perhaps a visit to the man found responsible for Brady’s charges would give him some more insight into Ms Marlow. Preston was serving time at a low security facility just outside the county line. Clark phoned ahead to request a meeting with him and set an appointment for the following day. Now he had one more delicate call to make.
Harrison Brady picked up on the first ring. “Harrison? It’s Clark.”
“I was just thinking about you.”
“Really? You must be psychic.” Both men chuckled.
“What’s up? How’s the case going?” Brady asked.
“It’s going fine.”
“Good. I hope you nail whoever’s after that guy. I remember that feeling.” Harrison’s voice shuddered at the fear that had invaded his life and family.
“Listen, Harrison, I’ve got to ask you something personal. Are you alone right now?”
“Yep. Just me and a stack of work that’s been staring at me all morning.” Harrison took a deep breath before adding, “Talk to me.”
“You remember me mentioning Marilyn Marlow.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got to know if there was any connection between you and her —- anything personal.” The phone line was silent. “Harrison, are you there?”
“I’m here.”
“Well? I know this may seem like it’s none of my business, especially since your case has been settled and put behind you, but it could really help me piece things together at this end with my new client.”
“You know I’d do anything to help you, Clark. I don’t know where I’d be today without your expertise.” Harrison paused and then continued, “I’ve rebuilt my life here. I have a good family and I intend to protect them. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Anything you repeat about what I’m going to tell you now, I will deny ever saying.”
“Understood. This is completely confidential.”
“Marilyn and I knew each other, intimately, for a very short season. When she first came to Burksted’s, I had just been turned down for a key promotion. Things were not going well at home, either. Sharon was struggling with her interior design business and had very little time for me. Marilyn was temporarily assigned as my assistant on a project we were working in Dallas. We spent three weeks together installing a system for a research lab.”
“And that is when you and Marilyn had an affair?”
“If you could call it that. She was so focused on me, so appreciative of my skills and knowledge, and she let me know it.” Harrison paused and sighed. “Guess I let my ego get the best of me. You understand why I didn’t tell you this when you called last time? Sharon was in the next room. It would kill her to know about Marilyn and me. She’s already been through enough, and we’ve got a solid marriage now.”
“Sure. I understand. Who broke off the relationship between you and Marilyn?”
“I did. Even in the short span of three weeks together, I could see she had big plans for us. There was no way I was going to break up my family.”
“How did she react?”
“Surprisingly calm. She said she understood and that everything would work out for the best in the long run.”
“Doesn’t sound like a woman scorned.”
“That’s what I thought, but I figured I was lucky to get off so easy.”
“You might not have gotten off so easy after all.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I think Marilyn is behind Preston’s plan that backfired.”
“You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. I think she used Preston as a pawn in your case.” Harrison could see the pieces of the puzzle coming together.
“So that’s why she left Burksted’s right after Preston was arrested?”
“Yes.”
“But why wouldn’t Preston turn her in?”
“He had more to lose by doing that. He’d already been proven guilty of the legal issues involved. Why would he risk losing his marriage too? If I recall, his wife was clearly stationed at his side throughout the trial and swore to stand by him in spite of his ‘mistake’.”
“You’re right. Tami would never tolerate infidelity.” Harrison whistled softly in amazement. “
So you think the whole thing was Marilyn getting back at me?”
“Yep. And I think that’s what’s happening with my other client now.”
“Can you pin anything on her?”
Clark hesitated and then said, “I don’t know, Harrison. She’s shrewd. She knows the men she’s ‘punishing’ have more to lose by blowing the whistle on her than they do by turning the other cheek. The beauty of her plan is she uses her charm to involve an accomplice, who ends up doing most of the dirty work for her and who takes the fall if the frame-up collapses. My guess is that she purposely involves them in a sexual relationship with her too, so they have more vested interest in keeping her name out of the picture.”
“I have to give her credit,” Brady admitted. “I never would have thought she had the brains.”
“Here’s the real clincher. In the case I’m working on now, both she and her accomplice actually got away with the money. At least for now, that is.”
“Great. Well, I hope you track her down and serve her what she deserves.”
“Thanks. I’m working on a way to do that.”
“Remember what I said about this conversation, Clark. It’s just between the two of us. I hope it helps you solve your new case, but please respect that my case is over.”
“Gotcha,” Clark replied. “Give Sharon my best.”
“Okay, I will. Call me anytime if you think I can help. But if it’s about Marilyn, don’t call at home.”
“Will do. Bye.”
Clark sat at his desk thoughtfully gazing out the window, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair and his fingertips pressed together in a steeple. In all of his years of practice, he’d never seen such an intricate web of deception. The fact that these two cases were linked made him wonder how many other men were falling victim to this woman’s ploys. How much money had she managed to embezzle from companies without being caught? Was she off on some tropical island sipping margaritas with Bart Thomas, celebrating John’s demise while they squandered the money he was accused of stealing?
Through the Tears (Sandy Cove Series Book 2) Page 12
