Wearing the Spider (A Suspense Novel) (Legal Thriller) (Thriller)

by Schaab, Susan

Evie adopted a skeptical look, glanced at the orchestra and the empty dance floor and offered a weak smile. “You sure you want to do this?”

  He helped her to her feet and led her out to a far corner of the floor. As they danced, they held each other, with the movement of one imprinting on the body of the other. They didn’t stop dancing until the orchestra announced a break, and then they returned to their table, the electricity still surging between them. Joe pulled her chair out for her and then excused himself to find the men’s room. Evie took her seat next to Ariel, who was deep in conversation with an Italian gentleman on her left.

  After a few minutes had passed, a man approached their table and laid his hand on Evie’s shoulder. She abruptly turned, and glanced up at the man’s face.

  “Hello, Evie. Mike Farraway. Remember me?”

  “Oh, yes. How are you? I heard you’re no longer with Collburn Regan. Is that true?” Evie said, rising to her feet and turning toward him.

  “Yeah. Stan and I couldn’t agree on a strategy for my division. We’d been clashing a long time. It was time for me to go. I’m now vice-president of June Banion & Krist Consulting.”

  Listening to Mike’s words, Evie thought that she might have wrongly attributed Mike’s firing to Alan. He’d boasted he was going to bring it about, but he might have just been using a situation he knew about in advance to intimidate her. There had been no proof, only her speculation. If she’d been mistaken on such a minor matter, might she also be wrong about Alan’s other activities? Maybe she should step back and rethink this whole situation.

  “Congratulations. I’m glad things worked out for you,” she said, shaking his hand.

  “I just wanted to say hello,” he said, looking over as Joe approached.

  “This is Joe Barton,” Evie said, taking Joe’s hand and smiling. “Joe, this is Mike Farraway, a former client.”

  “Maybe future client,” said Mike. Evie smiled and nodded.

  “Good to meet you,” said Joe.

  “Pleased to meet you, Joe.” The two men shook hands and Mike left.

  Ariel had heard the last of Evie’s conversation with Mike and when they were all seated again, she said, “Joe told me you’re a lawyer. What firm do you work for, Evie?”

  “Howard, Rolland & Stewart.”

  “Oh my God,” she scowled. “You must know or at least know of Alan Levenger.”

  “Yes,” Evie said as if she had just discovered something distasteful in her mouth.

  “Have you worked with him?”

  “I’ve worked with him on a number of client matters.”

  Ariel frowned. “I hope he’s not somebody you’re too fond of. I would be careful of him. I saw him in Bacci several weeks ago and you won’t believe what he did.”

  “Actually, I might surprise you.” Evie sipped her water and braced herself for what she knew was not going to be a heroic tale.

  Joe leaned closer to Evie to hear Ariel’s story.

  “This guy, Alan, was at a table with five or six other people obviously having a good ole time. The friend I was dining with said that she had once gone out with him, so we were sort of watching surreptitiously. Anyway, after about five rounds, several of them were getting a bit loud and obnoxious.” Ariel looked around and raised her gloved hand to partially obscure her mouth as if she was afraid of being overheard.

  “Apparently, this girl sitting across from Alan—who I think I recognized as one of those models from Sports Illustrated—anyway, she must’ve said something he didn’t like, and he started screaming at her across the table. She seemed to be holding her own until he got up and walked around to her side of the table.” Ariel paused and leaned forward, speaking more softly, “My girlfriend and I were blatantly watching at this point. We didn’t care if anybody noticed. We were afraid he was going to hit her, but … and I couldn’t believe this, he reached toward her and ripped her blouse completely off!”

  Joe said nothing, but cocked an eyebrow at Evie, a playful frown on his face.

  Evie shook her head and suddenly looked whipped, as if her association with Alan at the same firm somehow made her an accomplice.

  Ariel continued the story as she removed the white glove from her dominant left hand, finger by finger. “Of course, Bacci’s manager came over and escorted him out, but this girl just sat there stunned for several seconds before she realized she was topless. This silk blouse she had been wearing was now in tatters on the floor.” Ariel shook her head. “I felt really bad for her. I’m sure she was trying to process what had just happened. Some of the people with her were laughing, some were yelling. Eventually, she just got up, muttered something, wrapped a friend’s jacket around herself and left.” Ariel fluttered her eyelashes and fanned herself with the liberated white glove. “It was unbelievable.”

  Evie shook her head slowly, closing her eyes to let the information sink in like a foul tasting medicine.

  “Shocking. The public displays of affection some people engage in,” Joe said leaning back in his chair grinning.

  Evie turned to him shaking her head, and Ariel rolled her eyes. Both women laughed.

  After a few seconds Evie asked, “Didn’t anyone call the police?”

  “The girl apparently refused to press charges. That’s what someone at the table said.”

  “I will never understand Alan,” said Evie. “That’s not the first story like this I’ve heard about him.”

  The evening continued, and Joe was visibly pleased that Evie and Ariel seemed to like each other. The women exchanged promises to have lunch in Manhattan sometime soon. As the tables began to empty, Joe kissed his sister goodnight and took Evie’s hand. Ariel said she and Bradley might be traveling to Los Angeles in the next few days to visit a friend and she would call Joe if their plans solidified.

  Joe and Evie walked down the green-carpeted stairs onto Park Avenue and out into the night, hand-in-hand. At the curb he turned to her. “Shall we?”

  Evie thought about the wisdom, or lack thereof, of taking time off while Alan was busy planning traps for her. Her body and mind screamed for relaxation. It occurred to her that clarity of mind might actually improve her ability to handle whatever might be ahead. She needed time away from the demands of the office to think.

  “Let’s go tonight,” she said.

  He smiled and squeezed her hand in agreement.

  The black sedan door opened and Joe instructed the driver to return to Evie’s apartment. Upon their arrival, he stayed in the car making some arrangements on a cell phone while Evie dashed inside to pack a bag. When she reappeared at the curb with a small suitcase in hand, his smile made her weak in the knees.

  16

  The sea breeze and the warm sun embraced her as she sat in the passenger seat of Joe’s Mercedes convertible. The Pacific Coast Highway carried them on a succession of bell curves as the surf seemed to serenade them from a cordial distance. She looked over at Joe. He had one hand on the leather-wrapped wheel and one hand on the volume. A flamenco guitarist sent crisp rolling notes through the sound system. Her hair floated in slow, smooth choreography. Joe glanced over at her and winked.

  “Nice to be on the open road, huh?”

  She realized that she must be wearing her relaxation. “I’ve actually never ridden in a convertible before. I haven’t owned a car at all since I moved back to New York.”

  “I want to introduce you to my favorite beach. From what you said, I don’t think you’ve experienced how lovely a beach in California can be.”

  “I’m intrigued. You said this beach has very little traffic. Is it private?”

  “No, but it’s off the beaten path and slightly difficult to access.”

  Evie smiled. “And how did you find it?”

  “Actually, it sort of found me. Kayaking a few miles north. I broke a paddle and the waves deposited me there.”

  “Do you believe in serendipity?”

  “Well, I think it’s more interesting to ask if coincidences happen for a
purpose.”

  “Yes, well … do you think they do?

  “Yes. Trick is … to recognize the purpose.”

  “So you think it was significant that we were seated next to each other on that New York flight?”

  “Absolutely. We were supposed to meet.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Won’t it be fun to find out?”

  Evie smiled and watched the waves crash against the shore as they drove along the Pacific Coast Highway. Each series of waves was backlit by sun-filled accents that sent off cascades of luminosity.

  “Yes. I think it will,” she said.

  She let her gaze settle on the rapidly changing vista as they crested each new hill, accented by the topography of the four-lane highway. Colors were softened by the ocean’s moisture. The breeze felt feathery against her skin, like transparent cotton. The sun warmed without aggression. The acoustic guitar notes passed over her as if after entertaining her they had other engagements. There was easy theatre about the whole scene. It could not have been more perfectly orchestrated to set her mind to rest. She leaned back and closed her eyes as her hair continued to dance around on the headrest. She could feel Joe’s gaze during the brief intervals his eyes left the road.

  The time passed quickly; the hum of the car engine was soothing and comforting as she distanced herself from the other cars speeding by on the highway. She felt the car slow and turn onto an unpaved road and opened her eyes wide to a deserted sandy stretch that seemed to wind toward the ocean between some rocky shoreline hills. Joe was smiling at her, enjoying her reaction to the crowdless beach area. He jumped out of the car, grabbed a canvas bag from the trunk and walked around to Evie’s side of the car. He opened her door and extended his hand to help her out. She grabbed her sun hat and her bag with one hand and took his hand with the other.

  They walked single file through narrow cliff passages toward the stretch of open sandy beach. There were no other people in sight. Joe retrieved a blanket from the canvas bag and spread it on the sand twenty feet from the reach of the waves. Evie sat down and stretched out her legs in front of her. Her tennis skirt covered a tank bathing suit, but she felt shy about removing it. Joe took off his shirt and Topsiders. He reclined on the blanket next to Evie, his head resting against the bag, his eyes closed.

  “This is unbelievable. A public beach completely empty on a Saturday. Joe, did you set this up?” She smiled, still gazing out at the water.

  “Actually, this is the first time I’ve been here when it’s been completely deserted. Usually there’re a few people. I knew you were going to be good luck.” Joe squinted up at her.

  It was a recognizable feeling now, his eyes on her. Far from intrusive though, she felt his looks sought to give something to her rather than take something away. She finished arranging the deposits of sand through the blanket to create a smooth bed and turned to meet his gaze.

  “So, Joseph, tell me. When was your last serious involvement?”

  “Involvement. Hmmm … I’m always amused at the use of that word.” He paused. “A relationship with a woman named Sandra just ended.” Joe rolled onto his side facing her and propped himself on his right elbow, his eyes studying hers.

  “May I ask why?” Evie took her first sustained look at his partially bare body. His broad shoulders were well-muscled, his chest was defined and his stomach muscles were toned, but he was not in exaggerated body-builder shape, like many California men she had seen. He had a strokable amount of hair on his chest and his skin was a golden bronze, but not darkly tanned. He wore dark green swim trunks with a faded sporting company logo on one of the legs.

  “She probably has a different perspective, but … we let it go on too long.”

  Joe continued, “She’s an engineer. Incredibly bright and twice as competitive.” He paused. “She’s a senior executive vice president at her company, Seismic Plans LTD in L.A., well respected in her industry and yet, she was jealous of my silly little patent.” He grinned. “She seemed to enjoy finding technical weaknesses in it. She puzzled why I was able to make money from it.”

  He flexed his arm and shifted slightly as if trying to find a more comfortable position while continuing to lie on his side. “In the beginning, we argued about technical theories … industry strategy. Lately, we were fighting about everything.”

  Evie nodded in understanding and said, “You’d think she’d be happy about your success.”

  “Yeah … Y’know this patent is pretty basic stuff. I’ve met people who hold many more patents, who’ve originated sophisticated scientific breakthroughs and made ten times the money, who were less competitive. It was just a hang-up she had.”

  “Why did you stay with her?”

  “I don’t know. Yes I do. In all honesty I think it was because I knew our relationship would eventually end, so it was easy to let it go on. I know that sounds strange, but if you know someone is not right for you, you don’t spend time asking yourself whether she might be. It was lazy passivity on my part.”

  “I know what you mean. Even if you understand something, I mean you can know what the right thing to do is and still not do it. Why do you think that is? Why do you think it’s so difficult to do the right thing, so easy to do the wrong thing?”

  “Maybe it depends on timing. Maybe people make the choice they are supposed to make for that particular situation. They don’t see at the time that the choice they made may have actually been the right choice.”

  “Or maybe the lesson learned or the challenge faced in making that wrong choice makes it positive—a valuable overall experience.”

  “Remind me never to have a philosophical argument with you.” Joe smiled and reached toward her face with his fingers, gently brushing the hair out of Evie’s eyes.

  “Are you always so tan?” she asked as she surveyed the expanse of his exposed skin.

  “Let me put some sunscreen on you. I don’t want you to burn,” he responded abruptly as if her question reminded him of her vulnerability. He sat up and pulled out a bottle from his bag.

  Evie paused and looked off in the distance for a moment. Then she stood and pulled off her t-shirt and skirt, revealing the black tank swimsuit she had put on in the LAX airport bathroom. The suit was modestly cut in front but hugged her well-rounded chest tightly and dipped down low from her shoulder blades revealing the gradual curvy smoothness of her back. It was French-cut at the legs leaving long outlined expanses of creamy skin at the tops of her thighs. She leaned down and rolled the discarded clothing tightly and deposited them in her bag. She sat again, her back to Joe, and reached behind to lift up her shiny brown hair off the back of her neck. With both hands she twisted the length of it into a bun and inserted a wooden pin at an angle. Over the bundled hair, she put on a straw hat that cast a shadow over her face.

  She could hear Joe squeezing out the lotion and she could smell its aroma. Something like a coconut and—what was that—sort of a spruce smell. Unusual combination for a sunscreen, but very nice. It made her think it must be some kind of chemical-free product from a health food store—something that claimed to be organic and not tested on animals. She wondered about the potential for a relationship between a city-dependent, sunless, New York-workaholic attorney and an athletic, beach-critiquing, environmentally-aware scientist. She recoiled slightly at the cool lotion he massaged into her skin. Then she began to relax under his touch.

  “Joe, did you know that people, on average, have about five million receptor cells on a membrane in the nasal cavities? These cells are responsible for the physiological process of smelling.”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” he said as he continued to caress her skin, spreading the suntan oil.

  “Ever since I’ve been doing work for an aromatherapy company, I’ve been interested in the science of smell. Apparently, the more receptor cells a person has, the greater that person’s sense of smell.”

  “Dogs have some fifty times man’s ability to discern smells.”
>
  “Yes. For humans, there are only four basic tastes: sweet, sour, salty and bitter. Everything else is an odor communicated to the nose. We just attribute it to taste or flavor.”

  “Don’t tell the restaurant industry.”

  She laughed. “It’s interesting. There are often psychological connections between memories and specific smells.”

  “And do you classify men according to their smell?”

  She turned around and glared at him with a playful frown.

  “Evie, tell me why you’re so wary of men.” Joe moved his hands to her lower back and massaged in another palm-full of sunscreen. She was silent for several minutes. He stopped rubbing and froze in place inviting her to turn to him.

  “I wish I understood myself.” She shifted around to face him. He handed her the bottle of lotion and she continued its application on her legs and arms. Joe returned to his reclined position facing Evie and studied her face, supporting himself with his right elbow.

  “At the risk of being melodramatic,” she said, “I always seem to fall prey to men with hidden motives. Not always sex … I mean other motives. I never seem to realize what’s happening until my reservoir of trust is depleted.” She closed the cap on the bottle and placed it on the blanket.

  “What type of motives? Free legal work?” Joe said as he took a bottle of water from his bag and unscrewed the lid.

  “I know I must sound like a bleeding heart, but men are very creative, it seems, in the ways I can be used.”

  Joe looked at her, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That must’ve sounded insensitive.” He offered her the bottle of water. “And you think I’m just another smelly guy out to take from you. Looking for a conquest … or a victim?”

  After a slow breath and a drink from the water bottle, Evie handed it back to him and looked out toward the ocean as she spoke, “What makes you different?”

  “I’ll leave that for you to decide.”

  She extended her legs and submerged her toes in the warm sand and directed her eyes toward his. “Joe, what is this? I mean we live on opposite coasts. Long distance relationships are the least likely to survive.”