Turning the Page

by Andrew Grey

  Chapter 9

  “HOW WAS your day?” Hans asked when Malcolm stepped into his house the following evening after work. He sat on the sofa with a blanket over his legs.

  “I never had a spare second. Gary has been making trouble, so I’ve been contacting clients in between nearly back-to-back meetings all day.” Malcolm had a pile of work to get done, and it wasn’t going to do itself, but he could barely keep his eyes open. Before stopping at Hans’s, he’d gone by his house to check on it. Nothing had seemed amiss, and there were no additional footprints outside. He figured maybe someone had had the wrong house or something. “How are you feeling? I see you’re sitting up.”

  “I’m tired of lying down and doing nothing. I know I have to rest, but it’s driving me crazy.”

  Malcolm took off his coat and hung it up, then approached Hans and gingerly kissed him. “I brought some things for dinner. It’s not what I originally intended to make. I wasn’t expecting to be this late.” Though he should have known—after being off for a day, things had really piled up.

  “It’s all right. I haven’t been really hungry up until now.”

  Malcolm helped Hans lie down and then went into the kitchen to start the pasta. He wanted something that wouldn’t be too heavy. It wasn’t too long before he had the pasta cooking and the meat for the sauce browning. He made some garlic bread as well, and almost by accident, everything was ready at the same time. He checked the living room and found Hans asleep on the sofa. He’d been about to ask if Hans wanted to come into the kitchen, but he brought the food in to him and set it on the table.

  Hans’s incredible eyes fluttered open, and he slowly sat back up. Malcolm brought him some water to drink and then joined him, sitting next to him.

  Malcolm couldn’t believe how happy he was. Now that he’d finally figured out how to just let go and stop worrying about every little thing, he was truly happy. “I was thinking that in a few months, we could go on vacation if you like. I’m already sick of winter, and maybe somewhere warm with water would be a lot of fun.”

  “You could learn to dive if you like,” Hans said. “If we choose a resort, some of them offer diving lessons. You won’t believe how amazing it is under the water.”

  Malcolm leaned closer. “I’ll try just about anything as long as I’m with you.” He was a little nervous about being underwater like that, but he was also excited about learning something new.

  “Let’s plan something for early May, if that works for you. My manuscript has to be in by then, so a trip would be a reward for getting that done. Lord knows you deserve a vacation. Will that give you enough time to prepare?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Awesome. Then when I get a chance I’ll come up with some possibilities and we can pick one you like. I’m thinking maybe a week on a small resort on Bonaire. They have some of the world’s best diving. But we can look at other places too.” Hans took a few bites of his dinner and then talked about reefs and corals, turtles, and everything else they might see.

  In the end he ate about half of his food before he began to tire. Malcolm finished his own dinner and took care of the dishes. By the time he was done, Hans was asleep again. He sat with him, reading some papers from work, and then helped Hans into bed. He was about to leave, but Hans took his hand, and Malcolm took off his shoes and climbed into bed next to him, carefully holding Hans through the night.

  “HOW IS it going contacting our clients?” Malcolm asked the following morning at a brief partners’ meeting.

  “Mine were pleased about the communication,” Howard said, “and even the clients I took over from Gary want to stay with the firm. They feel they’ll get better representation with us than with Gary.” He seemed inordinately pleased.

  “I found the same thing,” Lyndon added. “No one wants to go with Gary. I had one client tell me that the only reason they worked with Gary was because they knew he’d have the support of the rest of the firm.”

  “I also think we need to change the name of the firm,” Howard suggested. “We need to remove Hanlan from the letterhead. I know we kept it because of Gary’s father, but I think it needs to go after this.”

  Malcolm nodded. “Okay. Let’s table the name change until next week and make sure we follow up with our associates and finish this out. I want to put this to bed and get on with business. We have the potential for a lot more business coming our way, and we have a new associate starting next week with some experience in literary and entertainment contracts, so we can start promoting that growing portion of our business as well. Are there any other issues or concerns?” Malcolm asked and received head shakes in return. “Just a note that our newest partner will be buying in next month, so we’ll have a new face at this table very soon.” He stood and left the conference room to get back to work.

  Malcolm had intended to take his lunch in his office but decided to go get something instead. He needed a few minutes out of the office, so he went down to the sandwich shop in the lobby.

  “What are you doing to me?” Gary called angrily as he strode across the lobby toward Malcolm. “My clients have been leaving me right and left, and I have nothing!”

  As he approached, Malcolm took a step back. Gary was disheveled, he hadn’t shaved, and Malcolm saw what Ellen had told him about the day before. His eyes were a little wild, and he was speaking way too loudly.

  “You went after our clients with a lie. You could have left well enough alone, but you didn’t. You always thought you were the heart of the firm, but you aren’t. And it turns out even your own clients aren’t happy with you. So there’s nothing I can do. We’ll protect our clients, and that includes from you. So I think it’s best you leave before I call security. You aren’t allowed in this building any longer.”

  “I’m looking at space here.”

  “Not when I explain to the landlords that it’s either us or you,” Malcolm answered calmly. “So I suggest you leave.” He glanced at the guards, who were taking an interest in their conversation, and stepped back. The guards came over. “Please escort Mr. Hanlan from the building.” He watched while they removed Gary.

  Malcolm decided he wasn’t particularly hungry and went back into the office elevators without bothering to get a sandwich. Instead he went right up to his office and closed the door. He wasn’t in the mood to be disturbed until his next appointment.

  “BEING SENIOR partner is turning into a major pain in the ass, and everyone looks to me to solve their problems for them. If they’d think, they could do it for themselves, but it’s like half the people have turned their brains off,” Malcolm groused as he sat down at Hans’s table. He’d brought Chinese because once again he’d been running late, and he didn’t want Hans cooking. He needed to rest. Of course, Hans was going even more stir-crazy and had been trying to work on his manuscript, which had only left him looking more tired and drawn.

  “I’m fine, Malcolm. You don’t need to look at me as though I’m about to keel over at any second.”

  “I’m just worried.” Malcolm stabbed a bite of his sweet and sour and popped it into his mouth. “After dinner I’ll go home.”

  “Don’t,” Hans said. “I want you to stay.”

  “I need some clothes to wear in the morning.”

  “Then we can ride over. I need to get out for a little, and you can bring some things back.” Hans took a bite of his Mongolian beef and smiled. “Maybe we could get frozen custard for dessert while we’re out. I saw online that Kopp’s has strawberry today, and I love that.”

  “Okay.” Malcolm knew when he was beaten, not that he really minded. Frozen custard wasn’t good for his waistline, but as a treat it was wonderful. “Let’s finish eating and we’ll go, but you have to promise to take it easy, and we’ll drive through to get the custard.”

  Hans growled but didn’t argue, and once they were done and Malcolm had taken care of all the trash and dishes, they got ready to go outside. Malcolm started the car to get it warm, and then Hans jo
ined him and they rode the few miles to Malcolm’s house.

  Everything looked the same. There didn’t seem to be any new tracks in the snow around the house, but it was hard to be sure since there hadn’t been fresh snow. They walked to the front door together, and Malcolm unlocked it, letting them both inside. “Go on and sit in the living room. I’ll get some clothes and change out of these. Then we can get you that custard.” He took off his overcoat, draped it over the nearest chair, and went upstairs.

  It didn’t take him long to pack a small bag and get a fresh suit for the morning. He’d used the change of clothes he kept at the office, so he grabbed an extra suit, adding it to the bag before coming downstairs.

  He reached the bottom of the stairs, peering into the living room. The handle of the bag in his right hand slipped from his grip, and the bag hit the floor. It took him all of three seconds to realize that Gary was standing in his living room, and that he had a gun and was pointing it at Hans.

  “There you are,” Gary said, turning around slowly, his eyes red and wild beyond belief. “I was keeping your boyfriend company until you got back.” He took a step back, probably to where he could still see Hans, but the gun was now pointed at Malcolm.

  Malcolm knew exactly where it was pointed. He could feel the heat rising from that very spot in the center of his chest. “Why are you doing this?”

  “You took away everything,” Gary said. “I was senior partner, and now you are. I bet you orchestrated that whole thing.”

  “I supported you, remember?” Malcolm said, his leg shaking until he got it under control. “You don’t want to do this. Hurting me won’t change anything, and it’s going to make things worse for you. Just put the gun down and go. No one is going to follow you, and we can forget this ever happened.”

  “I can’t. There’s nothing left. My ex-wife found out about my job, and she’s trying to keep me from seeing my kids since I can’t pay the support any longer. I’m fucking broke, no job, and I’m the laughingstock of the legal community because of your little campaign to discredit me. No one will hire me, and I can’t even start my own practice because I have no clients.”

  “We can help you,” Malcolm said, trying to think of something to say to calm him down.

  “No, you can’t. Everything is ruined. I’m done, and I’m going to take you down with me.”

  The gun shook a little, and then Gary took a step forward. Malcolm thought he saw Hans move in his peripheral vision, but he kept his gaze square on Gary.

  “Just put the gun down. Nothing is so bad that you can’t figure out a solution.” Malcolm knew he had to keep Gary talking.

  “No one can figure this out. I was supposed to be senior partner just like my father. Fuck, that was all my dad ever pushed me toward. Law school, then into the practice. After he retired, he pushed me to work harder so I could be senior. That was the last thing the fucker said to me. Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I never wanted to go to law school. I wanted to be a painter or do something with my hands. The law is so fucking boring I can’t stand it, but my dad refused to pay for anything else, so here I fucking am. I hate my father, and I wish I’d told him to go fuck himself years ago.”

  Malcolm listened. “I’m sorry about that. Your father could be demanding.”

  He wanted to sound sympathetic and keep Gary’s attention on him and away from Hans. That was all he could think of. Malcolm took a step backward and then another, moving farther from Gary and hoping Gary would mimic him. He did, putting a little more space between him and Hans.

  “But this isn’t the answer. Your father is dead, and you can be your own man. There are a lot of things you can do if you don’t want to practice law. Go into business or work for a corporation. They always need good people. You have experience and a track record.”

  For a few seconds Gary’s hand wavered, and Malcolm thought he’d gotten through to him, but then Gary’s expression hardened and he thrust the gun forward.

  “I know what you’re doing, and it isn’t going to work. I have nothing to live for, and I’m going to take you with me.” Gary tensed.

  Malcolm thought quickly. “What about your children? How are they going to feel when you’re gone? You’re their daddy, and that’s more important than any job. They need you and will need you for a long time. You don’t want them to grow up without a father, do you?”

  “They deserve a better father than me,” Gary said, clearly flustered.

  “They only get one father, and they need you more than you realize.” Malcolm hoped like hell that he was onto something. He was out of ideas and strongly felt that Gary was going to shoot at any moment. He also knew that if Gary shot him, he’d do the same to Hans and then most likely take his own life. “Your children deserve to have a dad.”

  Gary inhaled deeply, clearly weighing his words. Malcolm took a step closer. “Just give me the gun and then go home and call your children.” He hoped Gary was seeing some sort of reason.

  “I can’t,” he said, near tears.

  Malcolm knew he was nearing the moment of final decision. “Yes, you can. Just give me the gun, and then you can go.” Malcolm did his best to keep calm even though he was seconds from wetting himself.

  “No, I can’t,” Gary said, his gaze becoming focused. “It’s time to end this. I’m worth more dead than alive, and my kids will be taken care of.”

  He raised the gun, and Malcolm closed his eyes. A bang rang through the house, followed by a thud. Malcolm checked himself over, expecting pain, but there was none. Maybe he was already dead. Slowly he opened his eyes and saw Hans standing over Gary.

  “I hope that paperweight wasn’t important,” Hans said as shards of glass sparkled on the floor. “I threw it and hit him on the back of the head.” Hans pulled his phone out of his pocket and called 911, then explained what happened and told them to come right away.

  Malcolm watched Gary, but he didn’t seem to be moving. He did groan a few times, so Malcolm knew he was alive, but that was all. The gun had slid into the kitchen, and Malcolm kicked the door closed. “Are you okay?” he asked Hans, not wanting to move too much so he wouldn’t disturb anything or grind glass into his floors.

  “Yes. Are you?” Hans asked.

  “Yes. Just stay where you are. There’s glass everywhere, and if Gary tries to get up, I’ll take care of him.” He bent down as Gary began to shift his arms to get them under him. “Move and I’ll use your head for a soccer ball,” he growled at Gary, who stilled.

  Sirens blared, and the front door opened, police streaming in, guns in hand. They stopped when they saw Gary on the floor.

  Malcolm pointed toward the door. “His gun is in there. There’s glass everywhere, so be careful, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d take this sad pile of trash out of my house.” He had had more of Gary in the last few days than he wanted for the rest of his life.

  “Who called us?” the officer in charge asked with a steady gaze that brooked no bullshit.

  “I did,” Hans said. “He broke in and held me at gunpoint until Malcolm came downstairs. Then he threatened both of us. Malcolm was able to occupy his attention, and when Gary was about to shoot, I knocked him out with a glass paperweight. That’s where the glass came from.”

  “No one has touched the gun except him. Fingerprint analysis will confirm that. His name is Gary Hanlan. He was a partner in my law firm until he resigned.” Malcolm tossed Hans his phone. “Call Lyndon—he’s in there—and ask him to come right over.”

  “Who is Lyndon?” the officer asked.

  “My attorney,” Malcolm answered. He had no intention of letting anyone put either him or Hans through any bullshit.

  “And you are?”

  “Malcolm Webber, senior partner at Warren, Hanlan, and Webber.”

  That had the desired effect.

  “We have touched nothing, and I’ll allow you to gather whatever evidence you need.”

  “Well, thank you.” He didn’t sound remo
tely amused. “If you want, you can join him in the living room.”

  He motioned one of the other officers into the kitchen, presumably to get the gun, and Malcolm joined Hans, sitting on the arm of the chair and taking Hans’s hand. The officers handcuffed Gary and picked him up off the floor, removing him from the house.

  “All I could think of was keeping him away from you,” Malcolm told Hans.

  “And I was trying to figure out how to call the police without him knowing. Then, when he was about to shoot, I grabbed the only thing I could think of to throw at him. I got lucky and hit him on the back of the head, and he went down like a ton of bricks.”

  “Where did you learn to throw like that?”

  “When I was in Africa. I wanted to have one of the heroes in one of my early books subdue the killer with an old-fashioned sling. The idea was to do sort of a historical adventure. Part of my research was in basic weapons, and I learned how to throw with accuracy. I haven’t done it in a while, but I guess I remembered when it counted.” Hans held him closer. “How did you know to talk to him like that?”

  “I had to try to calm him and see if he’d surrender on his own.”

  The officer turned back to them. “Gentlemen, I’m Detective Rodriguez, and I’d like to ask you both a few questions.”

  “Our attorney is on the way,” Malcolm said.

  “We just need to know what happened,” he persisted.

  “Gary broke into my house and held us at gunpoint. I tried to talk him down, and Hans made one hell of a shot with a glass paperweight and took him out.”

  “Did he say why he was here?”

  “He was senior partner but was removed a few weeks ago. He also resigned from the firm, and things have been going very badly for him since. He was acting erratically at the office, and I think he intended to shoot us and then take his own life. He blamed me for his troubles.”

  “But you were the one who got him elected senior partner in the first place,” Hans said.