Читать книгу Someone Like You - Сьюзен Мэллери, Susan Mallery - Страница 8

JILL CAREFULLY LOCKED the BMW before leaving it parked by the foul line of the practice fields. A quick glance at the sign-up board told her that there would be several teams practicing over the next few days. With a little luck, they could all have a close encounter with the 545.

Maybe she should look into a rental car while she was in town, she thought, as she shifted her briefcase to her left hand and began the three-block walk to her new office. If she left Lyle’s car all over the place, how would she get around? Not that there were all that many places to go in Los Lobos.

The morning had dawned cool and clear, which was good. Fog was death on her hair. She’d blown it dry, used the flatiron and her forty-seven products to produce a sleek, smooth cascade of stick-straight hair before coiling the whole length into a neat knot at the base of her neck. In deference to working in the more casual setting of a small town, she’d put on a pantsuit instead of a skirted suit, but the label still read Armani even though she knew the elegance would be lost on her clients. No matter, it was really all for her. When she dressed better, she felt better about herself. And today she would need all the help she could get.

The law offices of Dixon and Son were on Maple Street—a road with plenty of trees but no maples. Trendy antique stores leaned up against old bookstores. There were coffeehouses, cafés and the chamber of commerce on the corner. It was quiet, picturesque and pretty much as it had always been for the past fifty years.

Jill tried to convince herself that it wouldn’t be so bad—but she knew she was lying. She’d only been in Mr. Dixon’s office a couple of times, but the details of his building were firmly etched in her brain. She didn’t mind that the place was old, musty and in serious need of paint. What she most objected to was the fish.

Mr. Dixon had been an avid fisherman. He’d gone all over the world, fishing his heart out and bringing back trophies for his office. The fish he’d caught were often stuffed, or whatever it was one did with dead fish one did not eat, and mounted onto plaques. These plaques hung in his office. Everywhere.

They stared down at clients, frightened small children and collected dust. They also smelled.

“Please God, let them be gone,” Jill whispered to herself as she opened the glass door that led into the foyer and reception area and stepped inside.

God was either busy or chose not to oblige. Jill stopped on the scratched hardwood floor and felt dozens of eyes focus on her. Small, dark, beady fish eyes.

A huge swordfish hung up by the beamed ceiling. Midsize fish about ten or twelve inches long mounted on dark wood plaques circled the room just above the bookcases. There were fish by the light switches, fish along the wall leading upstairs, even a fish mounted on the front of the reception desk.

The smell was exactly as Jill remembered it—an unpleasant combination of dust, pine cleaner and old fish. The lone piece of toast she’d had for breakfast flipped over in her stomach.

A chair squeak jerked her attention from the large multicolored, large-toothed creature on the front of the desk to the woman sitting behind it.

“You must be Tina,” Jill said with a warmth she didn’t feel. “How nice to meet you at last.”

Tina—her assistant/secretary/receptionist—stood up with a reluctance that made Jill think she wasn’t the only one not happy about the change in circumstances. Tina was in her midthirties, with short brown hair in a sensible cut. She looked efficient, if not particularly friendly.

“You’re in early,” Tina said with a tight smile. “I thought you might be, so I had Dave get the kids off to school. I don’t usually get here until nine-thirty.”

Jill glanced at the old grandfather clock in the corner. It was 8:25 a.m.

“This is about when I start my day,” Jill said. In San Francisco, it had often started closer to five-thirty, but she wasn’t on the partner track anymore.

“I have three kids,” Tina said. “They might be out of school, but I still have to get them off to their activities. Little Jimmy’s in the baseball camp down by the park and Natalie is…” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t think you’re that interested in my children, are you?”

“I’m sure they keep you very busy,” Jill told her, trying not to stare as she noticed the other woman was wearing a polo shirt and Dockers. In a law office?

Tina caught her gaze and tugged at the front of her shirt. “Mr. Dixon didn’t care if I dressed casually. You didn’t want me to wear a dress, did you?”

Her tone indicated that it didn’t much matter what Jill wanted. “You’re fine,” she said, reminding herself that it wasn’t important. Who was there to impress?

“Good. Then I’ll just show you around. This is the reception area. You probably guessed that. Recently closed cases are in that cabinet back there.” She motioned to a set of dark wood file drawers.

Not even locked, Jill thought in amazement.

“The older files are all stored upstairs. Your office is in here.” Tina walked through the open door and Jill followed.

The fish motif was in full swing. Dozens and dozens of those from under the sea had been mounted on wooden plaques and hung on nearly every inch of available, paneled wall space. Fishing net draped across the front of the large wooden desk, where a couple of long-dead starfish hung on precariously.

Bookcases lined two walls, while two open doors led to what looked like a storage room and a bathroom.

“It’s very…” Jill turned in a slow circle and searched for the right word. Or any word. “Clean.”

“There’s a service that comes in once a week,” Tina told her. “The coffeemaker’s in the storeroom. I guess I could make it if you want me to, but Mr. Dixon always made his own.” Her dark brown eyes turned misty. “He was a wonderful man.”

“I’m sure.”

“The heart attack was very sudden.”

“Was he at work?”

“No. Out fishing.”

Of course, Jill thought, trying to avoid beady fish-eyed glares from the décor.

Tina took a step back toward the reception area. “The paralegal comes twice a week. She’s home with twins, so sometimes she can’t make it in, but she gets the work done. I’ll let you know when I have to be gone. I try to bunch up things like games and doctors’ visits, so I’m not always running back and forth.”

Jill had a feeling that Tina would go out of her way to make herself scarce.

“Where are Mr. Dixon’s open cases?”

Tina pointed to the desk. “There are a couple of wills, that sort of thing. Oh, and you have some appointments. Mr. Harrison later today and Pam Whitefield on Wednesday.”

The latter name startled Jill. “Is this the same Pam who married Riley Whitefield?”

“That’s her. She said she had some trouble with a real estate transaction.” Tina shrugged.

“I’m surprised she’s back in town.” Pam had been a couple of years ahead of Jill in school and had always made it clear she was destined for a great future that didn’t involve Los Lobos.

“She never left.” Tina inched toward the door. “I’ll be out front if you need me.”

Jill glanced around the office. It was like standing in the middle of an aquarium for deceased fish.

“Mr. Dixon caught all of these himself?” she asked.

Tina nodded.

“Perhaps Mrs. Dixon would like them as a reminder of her late husband.”

“I don’t think so.” Tina shifted back a bit more. “She told me she liked knowing they were here in the office. Sort of like a tribute.”

“I see.”

While Jill didn’t want to get stuck with the aquatic menagerie, she couldn’t blame the widow for not wanting them in her home.

“Thanks, Tina. What time is Mr. Harrison coming?”

“About eleven-thirty. I have to leave about noon to take Jimmy to the orthodontist.”

Why was Jill not surprised? “Of course you do. Will you be back?”

Tina’s shoulders slumped. “If it’s important to you.”

Jill looked at the fish, the paneling, the net and the long-past-dead starfish. “I’m sure we’ll be fine without you.”

IT TOOK JILL less than two hours to bring herself up-to-date on Mr. Dixon’s open cases. She contacted the clients, offered her services and was prepared to give referrals if they preferred.

No one did. Every single one of them made an appointment to come see her, which would have been gratifying if anyone had showed the slightest interest in his or her legal issues. Mrs. Paulson summed it up perfectly.

“That old will,” the elderly lady had said with a laugh. “I don’t take it very seriously. I mean, I’ll be dead. What do I care? But sure, honey, if it makes you happy, I’ll keep my appointment.”

Rather than tell the woman that very little about the situation made her happy, she put a check mark next to the time and date in the appointment book and told Mrs. Paulson she was looking forward to meeting her.

“Your daddy was a fine man,” the older woman said. “A good judge. I’m sure you’ll do us all proud, just like he did.”

“Thank you,” Jill said before she hung up. As her father had talked her into being here, he wasn’t one of her top-ten favorites at the moment.

With all the appointments confirmed, Jill pulled a disk out of her briefcase and slid it into her computer. With a few keystrokes she was able to pull up her résumé and began to update the information.

Mr. Harrison arrived promptly at eleven-thirty. Tina didn’t bother knocking—she simply pushed open the door and showed him in.

Jill stood to greet him. There hadn’t been any hint as to his problem in the appointment book, but she figured she could handle it.

“I’m Jill Strathern,” she said, walking around the desk and holding out her hand. “How nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” the older man said.

Mr. Harrison was one of those thin elderly men who seemed to shrink with age. His hair was white and thick, as were his eyebrows. Wrinkles pulled at his features, but his blue eyes were clear and sharp and his handshake firm.

When he’d taken the leather chair in front of her desk and just to the right of the fishing net, Jill returned to her seat and smiled.

“I didn’t find any notes in Mr. Dixon’s file on your case. Had you been in to see him before?”

Mr. Harrison dismissed the other man with a flick of his wrist. “Dixon was an idiot. All he cared about was fishing.”

“Really?” Jill murmured politely, as if she wasn’t aware of dozens of beady eyes watching her. “So what seems to be the problem?”

“Those bastards stole some land from me. Their fence is about twenty or twenty-five feet on my side. I want it moved.”

He spread out several large sheets of yellowed paper showing deeds and land tracts. Jill stood and leaned over the desk while Mr. Harrison traced the various property lines. She found her interest piqued.

“We’d need an official survey to determine the boundaries, but from what I can see here, you’re right. Your neighbors have put a fence on what is clearly your property.”

“Good. Now they can take it down.”

Jill grabbed a legal pad and sat. “What kind of fence is it?” she asked as she began to make notes.

“Stone. About six feet wide.”

Her head snapped up as she stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I’m not saying it’s not a nice fence and all. It works, but it’s in the wrong place.”

A stone fence? She’d been picturing chain link or cedar. “Why didn’t you stop them when they started to put up the fence? A project like that would have taken weeks.”

“I wasn’t around. Besides, it’s not my responsibility to patrol my own borders. This isn’t Iraq.”

“Fair enough.” But a stone fence. That had to cost a fortune. “Have you talked to your neighbors about this?”

His mouth tightened. “They’re young and they listen to rock music. Cotton wool for brains. No point in talking to them. They probably take drugs.”

She sent up a quiet prayer of thanks that Mr. Harrison didn’t live next door to her. “When was the fence built?”

“Near as I can tell, 1898.”

The pen slid from her fingers and landed on the hardwood floor. Her mind simply wouldn’t wrap itself around the information.

“That’s over a hundred years ago.”

His gaze narrowed. “I can do math, little lady. Why does it matter when it was built? It’s stealing, plain and simple. I want that fence moved.”

Jill might not know a lot about real estate law, but some truths were universal—one of them being that a fence in place for a hundred years was unlikely to be moved anytime soon.

“Why are you dealing with this now?” she asked.

“I don’t want to leave a big mess after I’m gone. And don’t bother telling me no one will care. Dixon already tried that argument.” He glared at the nearest fish.

Jill felt the first stirrings of a headache. “Let me do some research, Mr. Harrison. There might be a legal precedent for what you want to do.” Although she had her doubts. “I’ll get back to you next week.”

“I appreciate that.”

Mr. Harrison rose and shook her hand, then headed for the reception area. As he didn’t close the door behind him, she heard him clearly when he spoke to Tina.

“What were you going on about?” Mr. Harrison asked the receptionist. “She doesn’t seem like she has a stick up her ass to me.”

MAC CROSSED THE STREET from the courthouse to the sheriff’s office and pushed through the double glass doors. He nodded at the deputy on duty and did his best not to make eye contact as he walked toward his office in the back corner, but Wilma caught up with him in less than two seconds.

“You have messages,” the gray-haired dispatcher said as she thrust several pink pieces of paper into his hands. “You can ignore the ones on the bottom, but the top three are important. How’d it go in court?”

“Good.”

He’d managed to keep one bad guy behind bars for a couple of years. That had to count. He glanced down at the notes as he kept walking.

“The mayor called?” he asked, knowing that couldn’t be good.

“Uh-huh.”

Wilma had to take two steps for every one of his. She barely came past his elbow and, according to legend, had been around since before the earth’s crust cooled. She was a tough old bird and one of the first of his staff he’d known was a keeper.

“Mayor’s calling on behalf of the pier centennial committee. They want a temporary alcohol permit to serve beer at the car wash.”

Mac stopped in the middle of the room and glared at her. “What? Serve beer? High-school kids are going to be doing the work.”

“The mayor said the beer was for the patrons.”

He felt his blood pressure climbing. “He wants to serve beer to people who are going to get back in their cars and drive around town? Of all the stupid, ill-conceived, ridiculous, backward—”

“I said you wouldn’t like it,” Wilma told him. “But he didn’t listen.”

Mac had already had a few encounters with the mayor and he hadn’t enjoyed a single one. “Does he ever?”

“No.”

He swore. “Fine. I’ll call him back and tell him there’s no way he’s getting the permit.”

“He won’t be happy.”

“I don’t care.”

She grinned. “That’s one of the things I like about you.” She poked at the messages in his hand. “You also have a call from someone named Hollis Bass. The boy sounded like nothing but useless trouble. He’s not a relative, is he?”

Mac flipped through the notes until he found the one with Hollis’s number. “No. Not a relative. A social worker.” Just what he needed—one more thing. “What else?”

“Slick Sam is getting released on bond today and someone needs to go tell the judge’s daughter not to get messed up with the likes of him.” Wilma wrinkled her nose. “Slick Sam is proof our criminal law system is in serious need of an overhaul. Want me to give her a call for you?”

Mac glanced at the big clock on the wall. It was barely twelve. He’d promised Emily he’d be back for her by one. There was still time to drop by Jill’s office and warn her about Slick Sam.

“I’ll do it in person,” he said. “Then I’ll call the mayor and the social worker from home. Everything else can wait.”

Wilma’s hazel eyes widened slightly. “I figured you had to know Jill.”

“We go way back.”

“Her father may have retired to Florida, but he still stays informed.”

Mac grinned. “I’m going to warn her about a potentially difficult client, not seduce her.”

“It always starts with conversation. You be careful.”

With Jill? He doubted it was necessary. She might be gorgeous, sexy as hell and recently single, but she was also the daughter of the one man who’d practically been a father to him. No way he would betray that relationship by getting involved with Jill.

“You can stop worrying about me, Wilma. I have everything under control.”

“That’s what those lemmings always say right before they jump off the cliff.”

“I HEARD ABOUT what happened with Lyle,” Rudy Casaccio said in his low, smooth voice. “I can arrange to have him taken care of for you.”

Jill winced, then switched the phone to her other ear. “I know you didn’t mean that the way it sounded and if you did, I don’t want to know.”

“You’ve provided excellent service to our organization, Jill. We believe in rewarding that.”

“You send a fruit basket at Christmas. That’s more than enough. As for Lyle, I’m going to handle him myself.”

“How?”

“I haven’t exactly worked that out yet, but I’ll come up with a plan.” She glanced at the résumés spitting out of her printer. “Maybe I’ll go with that old standard of living well as being the best revenge.”

“Are you staying in Los Lobos?”

“No. I’ll let you know as soon as I land with another firm.”

“Good. In the meantime, we want you to continue to handle our business.”

Real corporate law, she thought wistfully. Wouldn’t that be fun? “You need to stay where you are right now,” she said regretfully. “I don’t have the resources to handle your concerns.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, but it was sweet of you to offer.”

Rudy chuckled. “Not many people call me sweet.”

She could imagine. Rudy was one tough businessman, but he’d always been good to her.

“Are you sure about Lyle?” he asked. “I never liked him.”

“I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have, either. Thanks, but don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“If you change your mind…”

“I won’t. I’ll call when I’m with a new firm.”

“You do that, Jill.”

Rudy said goodbye and hung up. Jill did the same. She allowed herself exactly two minutes of pouting over what Lyle had cost her, then went over to check the printer.

Her résumés looked great, and the content was even more impressive. Rudy was a man of his word, so she knew she could bring him over to whatever law firm hired her. The senior partners would appreciate the extra three million a year in billings.

A knock on her closed door made her turn. It couldn’t be Tina—for one thing, the woman never knocked. For another, she’d disappeared shortly before noon.

“Come in,” she called, then caught her breath when Mac strolled into her taxidermy aquarium.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Great.”

The single word was all she could manage. Man oh man did he clean up good, she thought as she took in the dark tan uniform that emphasized broad shoulders and narrow hips. She had the sudden urge to throw herself on her desk and pretend to be a music video slut.

“Nice,” he said as he glanced around the office. “I don’t think I’ve been in here before.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s hardly the sort of place you’d forget. Welcome to fish central. If you see one you like, let me know. I’m thinking of having a yard sale.”

Not that she would, really. The fish belonged to Mrs. Dixon and, until Jill talked the widow into reclaiming her property, she was stuck.

Mac turned in a slow circle, then slowly shook his head. “Generous offer, but no thanks.”

“Figures. I bet I couldn’t even give them away. Are you here officially? Should I ask you to sit down?”

“Do I only get to sit under certain circumstances?”

She laughed. “Of course not.” She circled around her desk and waved at the leather visitor chair. “Be careful not to get caught in the net there.”

“Thanks.”

He sat and looked at her. Jill felt his gaze settle on her face with a connection so intense it was nearly physical. She wanted to ask him if he saw anything he liked. She wanted to lean closer so he could replace his gaze with his fingers. She wanted to know if he thought she was beautiful and sexy and irresistible. She settled on checking to make sure her hair was in place.

“It’s straight,” he said, motioning to her head.

“Thanks to the miracles of modern hair-care products, yes.”

“It looks nice, but I like it curly better.”

A piece of information she would file away for later. “I’m going to guess that’s not why you’re here.”

“Nope, I’m here to give a friendly warning. Slick Sam was arrested for passing bad checks. He got out earlier today and may come looking for representation. You probably want to tell him no.”

Her back stiffened. “Why is that? Do you think I couldn’t handle a criminal case? I assure you I’m more than capable of defending my clients against any number of charges. Furthermore, I don’t appreciate you judging me. You don’t know one thing about my legal experience. For all you know I could have—”

One eyebrow rose as he leaned back in his chair.

“What?” she demanded.

“Go on. You’re doing all the talking.”

“I…” She pressed her lips together. Okay, maybe she’d overreacted. She cleared her throat and straightened the papers on her desk.

“So why did you want to warn me about Slick Sam?”

Mac grinned. “I thought you’d never ask. The last lawyer he hired, also a woman and also very attractive, ended up letting him move in with her, where he made the moves on her teenage daughter, trashed her house, then took off with her cash, her credit cards and her car.”

Mac thought she was attractive? How attractive? Could she ask?

Not in this life, she told herself, then laughed. “I appreciate the advice and I’ll be sure to be out when he calls. But I have to tell you, I’m tempted by a client willing to steal my car.”