The Mentor

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The Mentor Page 7

by Rebecca Forster


  Flabbergasted, Lauren was speechless for a moment

  “What are you? An FBI agent or a kiddy show host? No, I don’t want some M&M’s, and, no, I don’t want to talk Caufeld. This case is going to be tried on its merits. This isn’t a football game; we’re not interested in Caufeld’s weakness. He isn’t the enemy, much as you people would like to think judges are.”

  “I don’t think he’s the enemy. As a matter of fact, I think Wilson Caufeld is probably one of the all-time good guys. I just came to find out if you thought he was.”

  “Of course. Yes, of course. I think he’s sterling.” Lauren drummed her fingers. He imagined she was taking a deep breath through her nose to disguise her confusion. She wasn’t quite so snippy when she spoke again. “You’re not here about the Stewart case?”

  Eli shook his head. He pocketed the candy.

  “Sorry.” Lauren’s bottom lip disappeared under her top one. He imagined her biting her tongue. “It’s kind of been a tough morning.”

  “Hey, Kingsley!” Lauren looked up. Eli looked over his shoulder. A gangly middle-aged man was grinning at her, giving Eli only a slight nod. He stage-whispered, “You kicked butt this morning. I want lessons. Edie Williams second seat to you is stunning!”

  She waved him away, embarrassed that he would think she had engineered the assignment. “Give me a break, Carl.”

  “I think you’ve already got it. Kick butt, Kingsley,” he said again gleefully.

  “Yours if you don’t cut it out,” Lauren called as the man disappeared. Eli looked back at her and she looked back at him and she saw it in his eyes: he knew who she was. He knew her relationship to Caufeld. He knew what was going down. By quitting time, every agent in the FBI’s Westwood office would know about the shake-up if this man was true to locker room form. They’d think she pulled strings, or Wilson had. That’s not the way he’d want it, nor did she. “Look, Mr...” she referred to his card. “Warner. What is it I can do for you? I’m really busy today.”

  “I can see that.” He smiled with his lips and no teeth. He seemed kind of pleased with himself, but he said to her, “Congratulations.”

  “You know, that would be nice if I thought you meant it.”

  “What makes you think I don’t?” He seemed genuinely taken aback. Lauren hadn’t expected that, nor did she quite know how to answer it.

  “Forget it. Just forget it.”

  “Okay.”

  Eli took a notebook from the pocket of his jacket and flipped it open and that threw her off completely. There wasn’t an agent or assistant or defense attorney in the whole of Los Angeles County that didn’t care what was going on with the Stewarts. When he looked back, pen poised, Lauren realized she’d been staring, waiting for him to admit he was curious like everyone else. But when he smiled at her and those hazel eyes of his narrowed almost to a half moon there was nothing to see in them at all. They were beautiful and clear and happy. They were the eyes of a content man. Lauren relaxed and clasped her hands in her lap. She didn’t believe it for a minute.

  “As I said, I’m Eli Warner.” He sounded like a doctor introducing himself to a skittish patient. “I’m with the FBI, and I’m here to ask you some questions about Wilson Caufeld to complete his background check. This investigation is being conducted in anticipation of his hearings in Washington for confirmation to the Supreme Court of the United States. I’d like you to answer some questions as best you can, feel free to tell me if you’d rather not answer. It will not reflect badly on you or on Judge Caufeld. I’m simply interested in your personal impressions and knowledge of his activities as they might affect his performance should he be confirmed.”

  Eli finished in the same manner he’d begun, pleasantly businesslike. But no smile, no kind manner, could fool Lauren. His job was to dig for dirt, and she imagined he did it rather well. Most background agents seemed worn, on their last professional legs. This one actually seemed delighted with the business at hand and that would definitely be an advantage with most people.

  “I see. I’m sorry. Fine. I just assumed you were here on the other business. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

  “I would have let you know if you were.”

  “I’m sure you would have.”

  “So, can you do this now or shall we do it another time? I can fit my schedule to yours. Morning, noon or night. Coffee, tea or anything else.” Eli grinned. Lauren almost smiled back. He was very good—and excellence deserved credit.

  “Now is fine. What can I tell you?” She pulled at her books and straightened the spines meticulously before looking at him again. His head was down, and the pen was on the paper.

  “How long have you known Wilson Caufeld?”

  “Does it count if I was a kid?”

  “Yeah, I think it counts.” He crossed his legs and jotted a note.

  “Okay, seventeen years.”

  Eli raised a brow but not his eyes until he’d written those two numbers. He wrote quickly. She would have liked to peek at his book to see if he wrote neatly.

  “In what capacity have you known him?”

  “Friend. Family. He’s my family now. Wilson Caufeld was my guardian after my mother died twelve years ago.” She paused, waiting for him to comment. As she waited, Lauren saw that his hair didn’t have that razor-sharp cut most agents favored. She had the impression that he’d combed it back just for the occasion, and that it would normally part naturally in the middle. When he made no mention of her mother’s death Lauren relaxed. “When I came of age, we continued our relationship.”

  Eli wrote in his notebook. “Did he support you?”

  “Not if you mean financially. My mother’s estate was sufficient to see me through law school and more. If you mean emotionally, professionally, yes. If you mean has he ever done anything that could be construed as improper, or favoritism, in any of those areas the answer is no.”

  Eli was writing but his pen hovered when he raised his eyes. This time there was amusement in them. “No, I didn’t mean anything like that. I just asked a question. Believe me if I want to know something more than what I’m asking I’ll rephrase.”

  “Fine.” Lauren colored. She could feel that blush climb right out of her cleavage, minimal though that cleavage was. The last time she’d blushed like that was when Wilson introduced her to Allan. She was fifteen. He was twenty-six, an attorney and gorgeous. Luckily by the time Lauren was sixteen she’d gotten over it.

  “Are you always this defensive?” Eli asked.

  “Is this part of the interview?” Lauren inquired archly.

  “No.”

  She sighed. Something was wrong with a man who conducted such serious business as if they were at a tea party.

  “Then let’s move on.”

  “I’ll bet the Stewarts keep you hopping.” Before she could comment he was on the next question and the next and the next.

  To your knowledge has Wilson Caufeld ever been a member of the Communist Party? Demonstrated against the United States of America? Burned the flag? Spoken out against mother and apple pie? Do his socks match?

  Three other people stuck their heads through her door during the interview. Two managed a comment about Edie, the third decided to let it go since she didn’t know if Eli was friend or foe. The secretary she shared with two other assistants brought her the subpoena list. It didn’t escape Lauren’s notice that Cheryl lingered a bit longer than necessary, her eyes trained on Lauren’s visitor. Eli Warner was oblivious. Allan would have managed to proposition the girl with a wink and wrap up the interview at the same time. But Eli seemed content to stay where he was. Content, in fact, to stay longer than was strictly necessary.

  “Well, I can’t think of anything else, off the top of my head, but then that doesn’t mean I won’t think of something else. It works like that sometimes. I’ll hear something one day, but it doesn’t raise a question until a week later. It’s fascinating how that works.”

  Lauren found herself staring. He wa
s handsome as could be, but he was such a choirboy.

  “You can come back, but I can’t promise I’ll be accessible. Leave a message with Cheryl, and I’ll get back to you if you need me.”

  “Cheryl?”

  “The woman who was just in here.” Lauren twirled a finger, her brow furrowed. The man must be brain dead if he missed Cheryl. “My secretary who was just in here? Redhead.”

  “Sure, but I’ll probably try to catch you first. I’ll be here a lot. I have over two hundred assistants to talk to not to mention the department heads.”

  “You’ve got to talk to all of them?”

  “Everyone who has practiced in front of Judge Caufeld. Not to mention his neighbors. If he had a dog I’d talk to the vet.”

  “You’d probably talk to the dog.”

  “Probably.” Eli got up. This time when he put out his hand Lauren took it firmly. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you seem older than twenty-seven.”

  “That’s a switch. Usually I hear that I look like a kid.”

  “You do. But you seem older. You gave me a lot on Judge Caufeld I didn’t expect. He’s pretty special to you, isn’t he?”

  “You could say that. But so is this trial. So, if you don’t mind?” Lauren held her hand toward the door. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “Me, too. I’m on my way. Nice to meet you, Ms. Kingsley.”

  When he was gone Lauren pulled up her chair with the broken wheel. She looked at him as he was passing through the doorway and called.

  “Mr. Warner, you seem young, too. I mean, too young to be doing background checks. Why did you ever decide to give up case work?”

  “I didn’t decide not to do case work,” he said with a devastating smile. “I decided to do background work.”

  With that and a wave he was gone, off to ask his questions of people who knew Wilson Caufeld less well than she, of people who held the FBI in higher esteem than she, of people who would probably find him more charming than she.

  Perhaps not more charming. Certainly, Lauren did find him nice and memorable and it wouldn’t truly disappoint her to see him somewhere else again. Then again, she was too busy to think about men. Then again, he was FBI and that, above all else was what really counted.

  Edie’s body was angular, honed by a lifetime of nerves standing at attention waiting for the next thing to happen that would call for her to make a decision. She was always having to decide whether an event was a good thing or a bad thing for her. In all her years, the answer was never obvious. Edie walked a tightrope, knowing that if she tried to sprint ahead of the pack she’d probably be stopped just before the finish line; if she stayed behind, she’d be lost and probably forgotten. This cycle had begun when her father one-upped her by dying in the audience as the principal was handing her a middle school diploma, forcing Edie to decide whether she should take the diploma or run to his side. Before she could make her decision, the principal dropped the diploma and he ran to the stricken man.

  She’d become pregnant the first time she had sex, and the father-to-be had vanished into thin air, leaving Edie alone to decide what to do about the situation.

  Her law school scholarship dried up when one of the trustees invested the school funds in a pyramid scheme. Her scholarship was buried in the rubble and the question was whether to continue and starve or drop out and get a job.

  She wasn’t the prettiest nor the wittiest, never the last to be chosen but certainly not the first, not the smartest but no dummy either. Edie Williams had rebounded from each disappointment and every setback because she figured it didn’t mean the end of anything. For every bad thing there was a good one. Not quite as good as the bad had been bad, but Edie truly believed that somewhere the brass ring was waiting for her. Someday she would get what she wanted because she deserved it. No one worked harder, or was more patient, than Edie Williams. So when she was turned down at the private firm she applied to after law school, and the door opened at the U.S. Attorney’s Office, she decided this was the good thing she’d been waiting for.

  From the moment she stepped into the courtroom and took her seat alone at the prosecution table Edie felt powerful. She was David to the Goliath of drug dealers’ multiple counsels, murderers’ arrogance, and kidnappers’ slyness. They had things they didn’t deserve—money, freedom, the power to terrorize—but Edie had determination. Fate had brought them together and, in this place, she could win. She fought tooth and nail. She was every criminal’s bit of bad luck. Edie never lost a case in fifteen years.

  Today, though, she lost to one of her own and that galled her. She’d been willing to share her knowledge with Lauren. She’d accepted her, treated her professionally, if not kindly, despite the fear that Lauren was everything she was not. Thinking about Abram’s betrayal, Edie left the office and walked. Still thinking about Lauren’s willingness to take what had been hers, Edie stepped off the curb. She’d been seeing red since she left Abram, so she didn’t notice that the light was against her.

  A horn blasted. The fender of a car grazed her leg. Edie reacted angrily though she had been in the wrong. She was angrier still when she saw the horrified look of the woman behind the wheel of the car. A terrified woman. A woman who could never have lived with herself if she hurt Edie. A stupid woman. She didn’t have a clue what real hurt was.

  “There are better ways to stop traffic.” A man had her arm, and, with one strong sweep, she was back on the sidewalk. She shook herself free as she watched the frightened woman drive on before turning to her Galahad.

  “I don’t need any...” Edie, feeling idiotic, never finished her sentence. Of all people to be there to see her looking so foolish and out of control. Allan. Cool, calm, gorgeous and perfect Allan. He took her arm again and worked his magic. She almost let herself fall into his arms. Edie almost let herself cry. Instead she took a step. A second later they were headed back the way she had come.

  “You okay?” Allan asked after a bit. Edie lowered her lashes. It was nice to hear him ask so she slowed her manic pace just a little and walked beside him instead of racing with him.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. I mean I didn’t get hurt. Not by the car.”

  “Really? You look like death warmed over. I’d say you need a little TLC.”

  Allan put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze, his beautiful face was close to hers. Edie closed her eyes, knowing a thousand more eyes could see them. Gossip could run like wildfire if she wasn’t careful. Not that it would hurt Allan. He reveled in the attention. Conquest was a badge for any man, for Allan another jewel in the crown. But Edie was private. She was sure there were many who knew about her relationship with him, but public acknowledgment of the good things in her life had always led to disaster, so she was cautious with Allan. He was the best thing in her life, especially now that Abram had turned on her. She pulled away and gave him her most grateful smile and a hand on his arm.

  “You have some to spare?”

  “I don’t know. Depends on what the problem is. Lose your first case or is it PMS?”

  Edie pulled her lips tight knowing she should say something. She should stand up for herself, perhaps point out the wound he had just inflicted. Instead she walked. “Everyone in the world knows that you don’t say stuff like that anymore. You leave yourself open for lawsuits.”

  “That’s my Edie. It can’t be that bad if you’re still politically correct. Besides, that might be kind of fun. Who better to defend the bad me than the good me?” Allan laughed and caught up with her in a stride or two. How easy things were for him. Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her dress Edie wished she knew how to slow down, to just feel sorry for herself instead of banging her head against the wall. She wished she knew how to ask for his help.

  “I was coming to find you,” she said, and that was a start. “I thought you were over at the L.A. Times building.”

  “I was. That business is over, and I’ve got to pick up some stuff at the courthouse, but I’m a little e
arly. I’ll walk with you if you can slow down.”

  The minute they were side by side again she blurted it out. “Lauren’s going to handle the Stewart thing. Lead prosecutor.”

  “No kidding?” Edie cast him a sidelong glance. He was grinning from ear to ear “You really know how to play it, Edie. Smart move. Not that Wilson’s going to really be swayed by anything Lauren does, but why not throw the kitchen sink at the old boy. I didn’t think you had it in you. That was a brilliant decision.”

  Edie didn’t break stride, only her mind stumbled over his unfounded admiration. If she could get away with it, she would have taken credit. But Lauren was the apple of his eye, the object of his close-to-incestuous desire. The two of them talked often and Lauren talked constantly. Allan would know the truth soon enough, so Edie was truthful before Lauren could tell him.

  “It wasn’t my decision. Abram did it.”

  They’d reached the courthouse steps and tapped up them quickly. When they hit the top, Edie was half a step behind Allan. He threw open the door—brass, glass, heavier than hell—as if it were light as a feather. She went through first.

  “Ouch.” Allan finally commiserated. It wasn’t much but she’d take what she could get.

  “I don’t think it’s going to buy us that much.”

  “Probably not,” Allan agreed.

  “I think it’s a transparent play.”

  “You’re right.” He was getting bored.

  “When you thought I made the decision, you said the assignment was a stroke of genius,” Edie drawled.

  Allan grinned charmingly as they passed through the metal detectors and were pronounced unthreatening. They covered the hall in seconds.

  “Busted,” Allan quipped, unruffled that he’d been caught making appropriate noises. The elevators opened for him without touching a button. “Sometimes I lie.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Edie muttered as the doors closed on them. When they opened on the fifth floor she was talking. “I could have wrapped that case the way it was laid out. Lauren would have been high-profile enough even for Caufeld. If there’s any benefit to her it would have been used up in the motions. Abram’s wrong if he thinks the old man isn’t even going to be aware that he’s favoring the prosecution because of Kingsley. Christ, Allan, why didn’t you tell me this was where you were headed? I don’t want to see Caufeld.”

 

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