Читать книгу The Betrayal - Terry Lynn Thomas - Страница 12

Richard spent a hapless weekend in his studio apartment trying to stay on top of his workload, but he soon discovered he couldn’t focus. He turned his attention to finding Sandy, but after going to her apartment three times on Saturday and twice on Sunday, he realized that she had gone. It wasn’t like her to not tell him where she was, but he didn’t worry.

Wendy called at eight o’clock Monday morning. “Beth Musselwhite doesn’t want to meet with you. Says there’s no need.”

Richard, who had poached himself an egg, nearly dropped his plate. “She’s firing us. Did you explain the situation, how the video was faked?”

“I did.”

“Did she not believe you?”

“She didn’t say one way or another. She said she’s sending a letter with instructions.”

“I’ll go to her,” Richard said.

“I don’t think you should—”

“She owes me a face-to-face. If she’s going to take her business elsewhere, I want to hear it from her. And who knows, with a little luck, I can talk her round.”

An hour later, Richard headed across the Golden Gate Bridge and north on 101, taking the Corte Madera exit. Countryside had its offices in a huge shopping center just off the freeway. A vast parking lot circled the entire property. Richard cruised around to the area closest to the Countryside office. There, in its reserved parking space, was Beth’s silver BMW. He parked in the reserved spot right next to Beth’s car and strolled nonchalantly towards the Countryside office.

The receptionist smiled when she saw Richard. Holding up her finger, she mouthed, “One second, okay?”

Richard nodded while she wrote down a phone number. “I’ll see that he gets the message. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and turned her attention to Richard. “Sorry about that, Mr. Sinclair. Does Beth know you’re coming?”

“She doesn’t. Do you mind if I just go on back?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he hurried past the receptionist, into the underbelly of Beth’s domain.

“Mr. Sinclair, wait.”

Walking past the rows of cubicles and offices, towards the corner of the building where Beth kept her office, Richard didn’t knock before he went in. In contrast to light and airy open space where the clerical staff spent their workday, Beth’s office was furnished like a Victorian drawing room, thick noise-absorbing carpet, heavy dark furniture, and subdued lighting lent the office an anachronistic air that Richard never liked. Beth sat at her desk, serene and in control, as though she were waiting for him.

“I figured you’d come storming in here. I suppose I should apologize for not wanting to meet with you, Richard. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Richard begged, “Please don’t take your business from my firm. That video isn’t real, Beth. I know it looks real, but it’s not. We’re investigating its origin. When I find out who is responsible, they will pay.”

Beth studied Richard as she leaned back in her chair. “It’s not so much the video, Richard. I understand how things like that can be manufactured.”

“Beth—”

“You don’t deny you were sleeping with Sandy, do you? Regardless of the video, you were unfaithful to Olivia.”

“That’s not the issue,” Richard said.

Beth held up her hand. “Please. Let me finish. I understand that some men cheat. They tell themselves they have needs and their wife can’t fill them. I’ve never understood the entitlement that allows men like you to break your vows, but that’s not important right now. So tell me the truth. Were you sleeping with your secretary? Ah. So the answer is yes. I’m glad you didn’t lie to me. And spare me the story of how the video of you two having sex is fake. It’s not. You know it’s not, and I know it’s not. You’re an investment to me, Richard. I always keep track of my investments.”

“Someone put a camera in my bedroom,” Richard said.

“I know. I believe that you didn’t know about that. Our generation is a little different, I think. The sex films are for the youngsters.” Beth took a brass paperclip out of the holder on her desk and set about unfolding it. “The issue, and what’s important now, is that I no longer respect you. And I’m glad you’re here so I can tell you in person that I will not be renewing our contract for representation next year. I will honor year-end bonuses, as promised. I expect you to turn over all of your cases to our new firm.”

She opened her calendar. “Let’s say you turn over the files by November 1. That will give you a couple of weeks to get things in order. And to make things easier for you and Andrew, I’ll issue your year-end bonuses when the files are handed over to our new counsel. Does that suit?” Beth didn’t wait for Richard’s answer. She scribbled something in her calendar. “Very well. That’s settled then.”

After thirty-plus years of trying hundreds of cases before juries, not only did Richard Sinclair know how to think on his feet, he also knew how to stuff down his emotions as though they didn’t exist. These skills deserted him now. Feeling as though he had been hit by a tsunami, Richard felt the room tilt. He shook his head, somehow managed to maintain his equilibrium. His brain scrambled for an appropriate response, something he could say to get Beth to change her mind. For the first time in his long and storied career as a litigator, the words wouldn’t come.

“We’ve had a very successful relationship for almost twenty-five years,” Beth said. “Your litigation skills are renowned. You’ll find other work, if you want it. But why don’t you retire? Take Olivia and go away for a while.”

Beth stood. As if following by rote, Richard found himself standing too. Soon Beth had woven her arm through his and was ushering him towards the door. “I was very fond of you once, Richard. Now it’s time for us to let things go and move on. You will survive this mess, of that I’ve no doubt.” She patted his arm, a maternal gesture that should have infuriated him. “I’ll send over a formal letter memorializing our conversation this afternoon.” She pushed him out and shut the door behind him. Richard turned and stared at the closed door for a moment, a befuddled look on his face.

Sound and sights swirled around Richard as he walked out of Countryside, numb and unsure of his footing. He somehow wound up in his car, but didn’t remember walking there. He tilted the seat back, and sat for what seemed an eternity as his situation sank in. Eventually his ringing phone snapped him into the present. Wendy. He girded himself for what was to come. There was no getting around Andrew. He would have to face him.

“What happened? I’ve been worried,” Wendy asked.

“We lost Countryside,” Richard said.

“Oh, no,” Wendy said.

“Beth told me personally. Said she was going to send over a formal letter this afternoon.”

Wendy lowered her voice. “Are you sure Andrew doesn’t know? He’s been huffing and puffing in his office since he got here.”

Richard let out a defeated sigh. “He doesn’t know. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

The beautiful Marin day, sunny with low-hanging clouds over the bay, was lost on Richard as he maneuvered onto the Golden Gate Bridge. His mind started to function just as he turned onto Montgomery Street. As he sat at the stop lights – of course, he hit red lights the whole way – his mind kicked into gear. Anger at Beth Musselwhite threatened to make him lose his reason, but he needed to be logical now. Rincon Sinclair would either need to reinvent itself or close its doors.

Richard thought of life as a solo practitioner. Pulling his Mercedes into his parking space, Richard checked himself in the mirror before he headed off to face Andrew. With his clout, prestige, and connections, Richard was certain he’d land on his feet. Once Rincon Sinclair announced they were closing, the offers would come rolling in. If they didn’t, Richard would retire. He’d cash in and move to Hawaii or the south of France. Andrew, as far as Richard was concerned, could go screw himself.

Andrew was waiting for him in the lobby. He sat in one of the waiting room chairs, a surly look on his face.

“Where in the hell have you been?” Andrew’s eyes blazed; his cheeks were mottled with suppressed rage.

“Andrew, I’m not in the mood for one of your angry tirades. We need to talk.”

“Oh, that’s an understatement.”

“Conference room. Give me a minute.” Richard felt Andrew blustering behind him. He ignored him as he slipped into his office and took off his jacket and tie. Pressing his forehead against the cold window, Richard took a second, mentally searching, without success, for a single thread of control he could latch on to.

Wendy and Andrew waited for him in the conference room. Wendy was making a list on a legal pad with the Montblanc fountain pen the firm had given her when she graduated from law school. She looked up at Richard as he walked into the room, an apologetic look on her face. Although Andrew sat with his back towards Richard, the rage undulated from him. Richard girded himself for the inevitable confrontation as he walked into the room.

Andrew turned to face him. “You’ve gone and lost us our biggest client?” The disgust that dripped from Andrew and hung in the air between them only infuriated Richard further. It was his cases that were the big money earners. He litigated circles around Andrew Rincon and his talent and celebrity as a lawyer had only helped Andrew.

Playing it cool, Richard took one of the bottles of water on the table. He didn’t hurry, as he sat down and took a long drink. When he spoke his voice was measured and calm. “Beth Musselwhite feels that she can no longer trust me. Thus she is not giving us any more business. She wants files handed to new counsel by November 1, at which time she’ll issue our bonuses. Given my past three successes, Andrew—” Richard didn’t try to keep the venom out of his tone as he put the emphasis on my “—both of us will receive a nice chunk of change.”

“Who is new counsel? Who the hell did she hire?”

Before Andrew’s rage erupted, Richard said, “I don’t appreciate, nor will I tolerate, this insinuation that our debacle is my fault. I didn’t send that video. I’ve been the victim of a cut-throat hoax. Another firm wanted Countryside—”

“The hell it’s not your fault. If you could have kept your pants zipped for a change none of this would be happening.” Andrew stood. “Congratulations, Richard. You’ve ruined us. I’m this close to throttling you. Stay the hell out of my sight.”

He strode out of the room, slamming the door so hard that a framed picture of the Constitution fell off the wall, the glass splintering into shards.

Once Richard and Wendy were alone, Richard asked, “Did you contact Sandy’s mother?”

“Left a message. Haven’t heard back from her.” Wendy tiptoed over the broken glass and sat down next to Richard.

“You realize that she could be behind this video, right? I know you know think she’s a sweet girl, but she could be getting ready to blackmail you. I went to law school with a guy who does skip-tracing. Want me to try to find her?”

Richard nodded. “I’m taking my files to my studio. I can’t stay under the same roof as Andrew.”

“Good idea. I’ll report when I know something.”