Sometimes Quickly

by Anne Laughlin

  Allison prepped Bartoni for his deposition, and they’d spent many hours together reviewing documents. They became friendly. When the case was concluded, the judge found that Johnny wouldn’t have to pay damages. Bartoni associated the good result with Allison, and they’d stayed in occasional touch with each other. She helped his kids buy condos in the city. Now she hoped to call in a favor.

  Allison sat at her kitchen table, sipping coffee as the phone rang. She kept one ear open for Peg coming home unexpectedly early.

  The call was finally picked up. “Bartoni,” a raspy voice said.

  “Johnny, it’s Allison Mitchell.” She felt a touch of nerves now that she had him on the phone.

  “Allison, how are you, my darling?” Johnny sounded delighted.

  “Pretty good. Am I disturbing you?”

  “No, no. I’m sitting here in my dressing gown, waiting for that Ellen DeGeneres to come on.”

  Allison laughed. “You mean her talk show?”

  “Yeah. I love that woman. Very classy, but cute, you know? And she doesn’t do any of that dirty humor they all do.”

  “Geez, Johnny, I didn’t know you were a prude.” Allison was glad to hear him so friendly and relaxed.

  “I’m a gentleman, not a prude,” he said. “Now, I know you called to discuss something other than my TV habits. What’s going on with you?”

  She could hear someone say, “Here’s Ellen,” in the background. She better hurry. “I need your input on something. It has to do with the woman I’m in a relationship with.”

  “My advice, don’t fuck it up.” He sounded serious.

  “I’ll try not to. But we have a problem. A lawyer Peg used to work with has surfaced and is trying to blackmail her.”

  She outlined the story for Johnny, while Ellen danced with her audience.

  “So I was wondering,” she said, “if it’s possible for you to use some of your contacts to find out who bought the location of the protected witness and from whom. I think it’s Braddock, but if we knew for sure, we’d have all kinds of leverage.”

  There was a pause. She heard a woman’s voice ask him if he wanted any coffee. “Is this girl of yours still boozing?” he finally said.

  Allison smiled at his protective tone. “No, Johnny. She quit drinking years ago.”

  “I don’t want you hooked up with an alkie. They’re just a pain in the ass.”

  “I think the only pain in the ass is this Braddock guy. Do you think you could get that information for me?”

  She heard him light a cigarette. “Wow. Do you know who Ellen’s first guest is? That woman she’s with, Portia de somebody. I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but they are a handsome couple. Ellen’s got it all going on. Clever gal.” Johnny sounded like he could be talking about a favorite granddaughter.

  Allison did her best to be patient. “I agree. I’ve always admired her.”

  “Of course you admire her,” Johnny enthused. “She’s your people! You’ve got to stick together, like a family.”

  She sighed. “What do you think? Is this possible?”

  Johnny’s voice became more businesslike. “I’ll try, but I should warn you that I’m not as connected as I used to be. Retirement’s the same no matter what kind of work you do. Once you’re gone, you’re soon forgotten. But I still have friends in New York. I’ll give them a call.”

  “How long do you think that’ll take?” Allison was relieved, but anxious.

  “Impossible to tell. Give me today to make the calls and get the word out, and maybe we’ll hear something by tomorrow.”

  Allison thanked him profusely and got off the phone as she heard Peg drive into the garage. She was pouring more coffee when she walked into the kitchen. She still looked sweaty, her hair was sticking up all over, and her T-shirt clung to her.

  “Oh, my,” Allison said. “I do love that look on you.”

  “What look?” Peg looked herself up and down.

  “Sweaty, disheveled. I’ve told you this before. It’s very sexy.”

  “The bar’s pretty low for you, isn’t it?” Peg smiled as she drew Allison to her. “What’ve you been up to this morning?”

  “Information gathering.” Allison explained who Johnny Bartoni was while Peg poured herself some coffee.

  “I remember Bartoni’s name from when I was an ADA,” Peg said. “He ran a lot of legitimate businesses here in Chicago, didn’t he?”

  “He was the front man, which is how he ended up on the pension fund’s board of directors. He clearly answered to the organization, though. I’m hoping he can still pull a few strings and get us some information.”

  Peg sipped her coffee as she studied Allison. “There’s something else we should talk about that we didn’t touch on last night.”

  Allison felt a tug in her middle, a sort of belly alarm bell that there might be more trouble. “All right.” She sat down and gave Peg her full attention, after combing her fingers through Peg’s wild hair. “I can’t look at you like that.”

  Peg sat across from Allison. “Any number of scenarios could mean a very different life for us.”

  “Why?”

  “Say your friend Bartoni finds out that Braddock was the one that sold the information to the mob. That means I’d have an obligation as an officer of the court to make authorities aware of it. And that means I inform them of my own role. I could be prosecuted. I certainly would lose my law license.”

  “Why inform them? If we can show Braddock was the source, why not let it go, let him go, and keep your license?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do. He or someone else is directly responsible for someone losing their life, and I’m indirectly responsible.”

  Allison shifted in her seat. “Why didn’t you come forward back then?”

  “That had to do with Jenna. I was convinced she’d be prosecuted for the leak because of the circumstantial evidence. I was one of the few people who knew his location, and someone overheard me telling Jenna where it was. They could build a case around that. It’s unlikely she could be prosecuted at this point, but I need to do the legal research. If we can show it’s someone else, then Jenna’s not in jeopardy anymore. If she’s not in danger, then I have to come forward. That would have the added benefit of getting rid of Braddock’s blackmail.”

  They were quiet for a minute or so. It was the first time she’d felt uncomfortable with Peg.

  “I wish there were a way for you to keep your license. What’ll you do? Sell real estate?”

  Peg laughed. “I’d be rotten at it, is my guess. Who knows? Maybe it’s the best thing that will ever happen to me, other than you, of course. We need to take it one thing at a time.”

  “And the possible prosecution?” Allison asked.

  “Let’s research it. You can help me with that. I need to talk to Jenna, because that will determine a lot in this puzzle. Do you think your private investigator can locate her?”

  “Yes. She’s very good.”

  Peg stood up. “I need to get to New York by tomorrow morning. I’m scheduled to meet Braddock at six thirty and I want plenty of time to talk to Jenna, if we’re able to find her.”

  Allison stayed seated. She was having a hard time keeping everything sorted out. “But, Peg. What if you’re prosecuted and sent to jail?” She looked up at Peg and felt a bit childish.

  Peg looked calm, confident. “This whole mess stems from my bad behavior. I have to take responsibility for it. I think it will actually feel good.”

  “Good?”

  “A relief. I’ve lived in denial about this for a long time, conveniently forgetting about it or thinking that the status quo would go on indefinitely. But I don’t think I’ll be prosecuted, and if I am, the prison time would be brief. Don’t worry.” She stood behind Allison and put her hands on her shoulders.

  “Easy for you to say,” Allison said.

  *

  Halfway through her shift, Morgan put the new Ben on some paperwork and snuck
out of the office. She drove to Laura’s offices in Skokie. As soon as she entered the reception area of the office, she could sense the same deflation she’d seen on her previous visit, the day of the disastrous FDA meeting. There were no burst balloons or unopened bottles of champagne. Laura didn’t want to tempt fate by bringing them in. But the emptiness of the room had the same unmistakable air of defeat. Morgan walked into the large, open office space and looked around for Laura, or for anyone who could tell her what happened. Laura wasn’t in the room, or her office, or the conference room. The only person she saw was the same young man she’d briefly talked with before. He sat at the same desk, leaning back in his chair with a keyboard in his lap.

  “Please don’t tell me things went to hell again,” Morgan said as she approached him.

  He glanced at her and returned his eyes to his computer screen. “Okay. I won’t tell you.”

  Morgan read the name Jeremy Wolcott on his cubicle. “What the hell happened, Jeremy?”

  “Who are you again?”

  “I’m Laura’s girlfriend,” Morgan said, liking the way that sounded. “I came by to congratulate her, but it looks like disaster has struck again. What happened?”

  “If you’re her girlfriend, I’m sure Laura will tell you.”

  Morgan moved in front of Jeremy and pushed her jacket aside to show her weapon on a side holster. “I’m also a police detective whose head is about to explode. You really don’t want to keep me this way for long. Now tell me what the fuck happened.” Morgan used her best “this is your last chance” voice.

  Jeremy looked a little less smug. He put his feet on the floor and stood. “It’s all over. The meeting was a major fuckup, and we don’t know what happened.”

  Morgan felt sick to her stomach. Laura was beside herself the first time. She couldn’t imagine what she was going through now. “Where’s Laura?”

  “She left about an hour ago. She said we should consider the project over and everyone on paid leave until further notice. Then she was gone. Everyone else left right after.”

  “Why are you still here?” Morgan asked.

  Jeremy shrugged. “I’m still looking for what went wrong. I don’t think I’ll find it, but I have to keep trying.”

  “So was it the same thing as before? The software didn’t work when the meeting started?”

  “Just like that. The FDA reps were doing Laura a favor by having their local people take the meeting here. The software worked fine on the system we set up in the conference room this morning. The minute we started it up for the demonstration, it crashed.”

  Morgan was starting to feel rage. Either someone on the team was making a mistake that was ruining everything for Laura or someone on the other team was sabotaging her. “Why is this happening?” she asked.

  “I felt sorry for Laura, man. She kept it together while they were here, but I could tell she was panicking when the system went down. We went from computer to computer, but it didn’t work on any of them. The computers themselves were perfectly fine—they ran all their other programs.”

  “This is not right,” Morgan said. She rubbed her face and looked around the desolate room. “What did the FDA do?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “Not sure. I wasn’t invited into the room. Word is, though, it was along the lines of ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you.’”

  “Fuck,” Morgan said. She spun on her heel and left.

  *

  Camille sat in her office, staring out the window. Alarms and notifications flashed onto her computer screen, telling her she should be doing this or that, she should be calling so and so. She ignored them all. There was only one call she’d take. When her cell phone rang and she saw who it was, she grabbed it.

  “Talk to me,” Camille said in her all business voice.

  “Ms. Bardon, it’s Henry. Or Jeremy. Which am I supposed to use when I talk to you?”

  Camille would normally not care in the least what anyone called themselves. Almost everyone was in and out of her life so quickly, it wasn’t worth the brain space to remember their names. But in this case, it made a difference. “What’s your real name?”

  “Henry.”

  “Use the other one, then. What’s going on over there? I’ve been waiting for a report.”

  “It all went off as planned,” Jeremy said. “Her product is dead.”

  “Excellent. How is Laura Daniels?”

  “Don’t know for sure. She left right after the meeting and she looked ragged. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s committing suicide.”

  Camille chuckled. “I wouldn’t be surprised either. Good work, Jeremy. I’m going to send you to New York tomorrow to help our client put together their package.”

  “There’s one other thing you should know. Laura’s girlfriend was just here checking up on her. She’s a cop, you know.”

  Camille sighed. There’s always that one other thing. “You didn’t tell her anything, did you?”

  “Of course not. But the cop will hear it all from Laura. You don’t think she’ll figure out what happened, do you?” He sounded nervous. Camille, however, was amused.

  “Don’t worry about it. They’ll never be able to find what we planted. I doubt they’ll even look.”

  Jeremy paused. “Whatever you say. How long do you think I’ll be in New York?”

  “You should plan on a month or two. This is going to be a slow process. You’ll have to make it look like two different programmers wrote the two products. You know all this, right?”

  “McNally and I have been through it.”

  Camille got off the phone and twirled her chair back toward the lake view. The news was exactly what she was hoping for. Her client would be pleased she effectively neutralized their competitor. Even if Daniels refused to give up, she’d have to write the program from the bottom up. She’d probably suspect a virus caused the program to crash, but wouldn’t be able to find it or who planted it there. The only slightly sour news was about the cop. They were naturally suspicious. But she could be dealt with if she started to get too close.

  *

  Morgan sped down to the Wicker Park house. Laura wasn’t answering her phone and her fear escalated that she’d done something drastic. She parked in the drive and raced to the front door, only to find it standing open. As she entered, Laura walked down the stairs with a suitcase in hand. Her face was devoid of any expression at all.

  “Thank God,” Morgan said, moving toward Laura. “I was so worried.”

  Laura walked past her, set the suitcase down, and headed into the kitchen. There she put down food for Vita. She went into the living room and set a timer on one of the lamps.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Laura?”

  “No.” She walked back to the front door, put her coat on, and turned to Morgan. “You’re blocking my car.”

  Morgan looked pleadingly at Laura. “You’re running away again.”

  “Don’t start, Morgan.”

  “Someone at your company is fucking with you. Don’t you think someone is purposely doing this to you?”

  “That’s the most logical explanation.” She spoke like an automaton.

  “Let me help you,” Morgan said, trying to block the door. “That’s what I do. Find bad guys. You have to stay and fight.”

  “No, I don’t. The FDA is done with me, so I’m done. Without their approval, I have no market. There’s nothing to fight for.” Laura picked up the suitcase and gestured Morgan out the door before her.

  “Nothing to fight for? You’re wrong. Someone’s sabotaging your work, and it’s not right that you’re letting them get away with it.”

  “Fuck you, Morgan. You don’t know the first thing about it.” Laura’s face flushed with anger. “Get out of here.”

  Morgan drew closer to Laura. “Please tell me where you’re going. Promise me you’ll call.” Morgan reached out to touch her arm, but Laura jerked away from the contact.

  “Just go,” Laura rasped. “Now.�
�� Not looking at Morgan, she held the door again. When Morgan finally walked through it, she closed it hard behind her. Morgan could hear the lock being thrown.

  She stared at the closed door, unable to believe this was the same woman who’d seemed crazy about her just the night before. She was not clear on how to handle the psychology of the situation, but she did know how to investigate. As she pulled away from Laura’s house, her mind was already on what expertise she could call on to find out how the sabotage occurred and who was behind it. She called Danni, the private investigator she’d become friends with through work. Danni would be much more capable with the computer and technical aspects of Laura’s problem.

  She also called Peg to get some legal advice on how patents work. Her secretary said she was out of town for a couple of days. As she headed back to work she tried Peg’s cell phone but only got her voicemail. She didn’t leave a message.

  *

  Morgan and Ben caught a case late in their shift, an autoeroticism victim found hanging from the pull-up bar in his bedroom. He shouldn’t have died, but he did, and since it was clearly not a homicide, they had only paperwork to do to put it to bed. Still, it made Morgan late for her meeting with Danni. She drove to the Lincoln Square house Danni shared with her girlfriend, Lisa. As they sat around the scarred kitchen table, Morgan told them what had held her up.

  “In England they would call that ‘death by misadventure,’” Lisa said. She spoke in a low Southern drawl. This was new since the last time Morgan had seen Lisa. Then she was sporting a wobbly English accent. Her hobby, for lack of a better way to describe it, was to take on different personae from different locales and time periods. Morgan no longer questioned the state of Lisa’s mental health, since no one else seemed to. She found it all a bit tedious, but Danni seemed charmed.

  “Lisa, what happened to the English accent?” Morgan said.

  “Lisa’s British mystery is being read by an agent, so she’s moved on to something new,” Danni explained. Lisa was dressed like Maggie in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, which is to say she resembled Elizabeth Taylor in her prime. Morgan found herself staring.