by K. C. Crowne
Either way, that wasn’t important.
“Do you know if Peter was involved with anyone shady? Criminals, perhaps?”
“Besides sometimes defending them in court, though he wasn’t a defense attorney, he didn’t have a lot of clients that were criminals. Just a few involved in tax issues, mostly.”
“Do you know if any of them might have been involved in illegal ventures?” I asked. I knew that Peter was a corporate lawyer - mostly working with contracts, tax liability, the type of stuff that would seem boring to most people, and not very exciting. Not like he was defending mafia bosses or anything - that we knew of, of course. I thought back to Emmy’s experiences, and how no one would have assumed her father was involved with the mafia. He seemed like a well-to-do, self-made man who owned casinos and clubs. But there was more to him than met the eye, clearly.
“I--I don’t know. Maybe. Do you really think Peter could be involved with criminals?”
Maybe there was more to Peter, as well.
Charlotte seemed to give it some thought before shaking her head. “Not that I know of. I haven’t met most of them, and I don’t really keep up with his work often though. Most of them just seem like wealthy CEOs who talked about the stock market until they were blue in the face. Sometimes they seemed like assholes, but not like, violently so.”
Didn’t mean there weren’t ties there, but it made me feel somewhat better. Hopefully we weren’t dealing with big time criminals here. Of course, until I knew more, it would be hard to say for sure.
“You know him better than I do,” I said.
Charlotte stayed quiet for a few seconds, mulling something over before speaking. “I never thought he was the type to hit a woman. I knew he had anger issues, and he was controlling and abusive in other ways. But I never--- so honestly, I don’t know. Clearly I don’t know him as well as I thought.”
Anguish washed over her face, and I reached out and rubbed her arm.
“Listen, it’s not your fault. Men like Peter, they’re good at what they do. They make you think they’re someone they’re not. His entire life is based around an image he wants to present to the world, so of course you didn’t know.”
“I’ve been with him for almost ten years, Eli. I should have seen some warning signs, something.”
“This isn’t your fault, Charlotte. You were duped by Peter. This is his doing, not yours.”
She met my eyes, and I prayed to God that she believed me. The pain and guilt was too much for her, she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve any of this. And I meant what I’d said - none of it was her fault.
“Years of being in this field, I’ve seen a lot,” I added. “I’ve seen what men are capable of, how good they are at lying and covering up their actions. They’re professionals, and often, their performances would get them an Oscar if they were in Hollywood instead of it being real life. Many, many people - many of them women - fall victim to them, and it’s not because they’re naive or stupid, but because these men are just that good at lying. Even their own mothers likely wouldn’t recognize the side we see of them. This is not on you, Charlotte. Trust me.”
“I just don’t know what kind of danger we might be in. I just don’t know.”
Without even realizing, I took her hand in mine and gave it a firm squeeze.
“As long as you’re with me, you’re not in any danger. Because I’m going to protect you.”
“What if he’s involved with, like the mafia or something ridiculous like that?”
“My brothers and I have dealt with the mafia before. We’ve dealt with crime bosses that would make movie villains look like saints, and we always come out ahead. I’m not scared of Peter or anyone he may be associated with.”
I kept my face serious; my eyes never left Charlotte’s. I wanted her to know that she was safe with me and nothing would hurt her. I wouldn’t let it.
“Thank you. For everything,” she said.
“I’m going to get to work on tracking this image, as well as finding out everything I can on Peter. I’ll get my brothers over here to help.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to get them involved.”
“This is what we do, Charlotte. We help people. They will want to help, trust me. In the meantime, please stay in the house. This place is as secure as Fort Knox, and as long as you’re inside these walls, I know no one can get to you.”
Ooo000ooo
“It looks like the photo was taken by a local number, but the phone isn’t registered to anyone - it’s a pay-as-you-go phone and it looks like they bought the phone card with cash at a Wal-Mart in Sunville.” I hated not having the answers I was looking for, but at least it was a start.
“Sometimes it scares me what you can find out when you start digging,” Mason said, shaking his head.
“With technology, there’s almost always a trail if you know how to look.”
“And if you’re willing to break the law to do it?” Mason asked, a smirk on his face.
“Sometimes the ends justify the means,” I replied.
“Remind me never to piss you off.” Mason was joking, of course.
“So, what did you find on Peter?” I asked the others.
Sam said, “I can’t find any ties to any serious criminals. Every client he’s had since he started practicing law seems to mostly be petty, white collar crimes - if you’d even call some of them crimes. Mostly they seem like tax errors that were resolved or contractual disputes that were more misunderstandings than criminal. Their records are mostly clean as a whistle - minus the occasional DUI and one of them apparently streaked across campus in college and got caught, but I hardly count those as red flags that he turned into a mafia crime boss or anything.”
“No ties to anyone? Anywhere?”
“Not that I can find,” Sam said. “Though he does have a client here in Salt Lake City. The guy owns some fast-food franchises in Tennessee, I guess he has Peter on retainer. So maybe he’s the one that took the photo?”
“Give me his name,” I said.
Sam turned his laptop my way and not only was there his name, but also a photo of him from a newspaper article writing about the opening of the first Chucky's Chicken Shack in Nashville.
“They have good chicken,” Graham muttered from behind me.
“Can’t say I’ve tried it,” I said.
“You’re missing out,” Sam chimed in. “They make this Nashville Hot Chicken that’s--”
I interrupted my brother. “Can we please get back to the case?”
“Oh yes, of course,” Sam said. “The guy’s name is Franklin Herbert III. Sounds like a rich douche, if you ask me.”
“And there’s no criminal history there?”
“Nope. Nothing serious at least. He’s got a few parking tickets, all of them he fought and won. He sued a real estate developer over a contractual issue, big pay out there and Peter was on the case, of course. He seems to use a lawyer for every little problem in his life and is very sue happy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made his millions by suing people instead of actually running a restaurant.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Seems like he’s worked with Peter a lot. Enough that they’d likely be friends, at least?”
“I would say so. Peter has handled most of his cases, often suing the very construction companies or developers he’s working with.”
“I’m sure he’s one of Peter’s favorite clients. A big money maker for him,” I said.
“Exactly.”
“Do you have his number?”
“Yes, it came up in the search, but why?” Sam asked.
“Because I’m going to call him.”
“And ask what, exactly? We have no proof it was him who took the photo, he could just deny it.”
“He could, but we don’t know until we ask,” I said. “Besides, if we’re not dealing with big time criminals, I may be able to get him to talk.”
Sam and the rest of my brothers shared a look, but Sam pulled op
en the tab with Franklin’s contact info. I quickly jotted them down before heading to the other room to make the call.
Normally, I would have something planned out, a spiel or a story as to why I was calling. I had none of that prepared.
A voice answered the phone after several rings.
“Yes?”
“Is this Mr. Herbert? Franklin Herbert the III?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
I went with the truth. “My name is Elijah Harvey, and I live in Liberty, Utah. I’m calling on behalf of Charlotte Grey. Did you, by chance, come into Liberty and take a photo of Ms. Grey and send it to Peter Simmons?”
“What? Are you her lawyer?”
I hadn’t intended to go with that angle, but since it fell into my lap, why not? The man clearly had a respect for lawyers, maybe that’s what was needed to get him to open up.
“I am,” I lied. I knew Mason would likely scold me and tell me how illegal it was to impersonate a lawyer, but I was already all-in now.
The man on the other end sighed. “I told Peter I didn’t want to be involved in this, but he was worried about his fiancé. He just wanted me to go down there and see if she was okay, he wanted proof that she was alive since she wasn’t responding to his calls or texts. I owed him a favor, so I did it to help set his mind at ease, that’s all.”
Well, that was certainly easy. Clearly, we weren’t dealing with professionals here. Now that I had that answered, I could feel a little calmer about this man being a threat to Charlotte.
I already had my suspicions that Peter had tracked Charlotte via her phone, but to be sure, I decided to ask. “May I ask how he knew she was in Liberty to begin with?” I was trying to sound as formal and professional as he did, not wanting him to doubt that I was a lawyer.
“I have no idea. He didn’t tell me that, but he did know exactly where she was at and when, so perhaps he had her phone tracked by the phone company. That would be my guess.”
“Thank you, Mr. Herbert. That will be all. But I would caution you to stay away from my client from now on.”
I hung up the phone and cursed myself for not thinking about the damned phone earlier. I had tried to talk her into getting rid of it, to get a new number, but neither of us expected him to go to these lengths.
I stepped back into the room with my brothers, and Sam was staring at me like he had something to tell me.
“Out with it,” I said, taking the seat next to him.
“You’ll never guess who Peter Simmon’s latest client is.”
I eyed my brothers, who all seemed to know the answer, but apparently, I was missing something.
“Jennifer Hancock,” Sam said.
“You mean the girl accusing Charlotte of stealing her work?” I asked.
“Bingo. She hired Peter to represent her in the lawsuit against Charlotte,” Sam said. “She announced it on Twitter that she’s seeking legal recourse, so I dug into things a bit and found the paperwork she filed - Peter signed off on all of it.”
Dammit. Charlotte was right. Peter was behind this, he had to be. Jenny clearly wasn’t acting alone.
“What else has she posted? Any proof yet?”
Sam nodded and turned the laptop toward me again. I scrolled through the woman’s Twitter feed, where she had attached the so-called proof - they were sketches she claimed she drew and showed to Charlotte alongside Charlotte’s actual work. Had Eli believed, even for a second that these sketches were real and really hers, then yes, it was a clear-cut case of the designs being stolen because the work was often identical.
“Just having dated sketches means nothing. She could have easily backdated them,” I said.
“True, she insists there’s digital proof, which is harder to fake, but she hasn’t posted any of that yet. Doesn’t seem to matter though - she’s gotten over 5,000 new followers since she started posting a few hours ago, she’s gone on a full-out social media campaign. She’s claiming to be the victim of a rich woman taking advantage of someone who didn’t have the same privileges she had. She had no formal education and couldn’t work in the field the way Charlotte could and says that Charlotte held that over her. And as you can imagine, keyboard warriors are eating this up as a case of the rich, wealthy elite taking advantage of a working-class stiff.”
“I mean, I get it. If it was true, I’d be raging too.”
“And for many of her new followers, they believe it’s true. So of course there’s a lot of hate coming Charlotte’s way now. Doesn’t matter what the courts decide, if this goes much further, it’s going to kill her reputation.”
I pushed myself up from my seat.
“Where are you going?” Graham asked.
“I need to talk to Charlotte. We have to figure out a way to put a stop to this now, before it goes much further.”
Chapter 11
Charlotte
“What’s this?” I asked as Eli tossed a phone on the bed beside where I was sitting.
“It’s your temporary phone. New number. No way to track you with it,” he said. “In case you need to make calls for work or reach out to your family or anything. Just to be safe, I think we’re going to give you a new laptop to use as well. At least until I can make sure there’s nothing on it that’s sending info back to Peter.”
“Do you really think he hacked my laptop?”
“I don’t know, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Eli said with a sigh. He ran a hand over his hair, and I could tell by the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes, he had something he didn’t want to tell me.
“What’s going on, Eli? What did you find? Am I in danger?”
“No, you’re not in any danger. In fact, all that I’ve found so far has led me to believe that we’re not dealing with big-time criminals here. The person who took the photo was just sending proof you were okay to Peter, or so he thought. He’s a franchise owner living in Salt Lake, nothing to worry about.”
“Then what is it?” I sat up straight and threw my feet over the side of the bed.
“It’s the accusations against you. Have you checked social media today?”
“I’ve tried not to actually,” I said. “Why?”
“Things are getting hairy. That Jenny, she’s posting fake proof, and turning this into a social media campaign against you. She’s also claiming to bring a lawsuit against you, and you’ll never guess who her lawyer is.”
“Peter, right?”
“Yep.” He walked over to the desk on the other side of the room, grabbed the chair and pulled it closer, sitting down across from me.
“I should have known there was something happening between them.” My fists were balled at my sides, like I was ready for a fight.
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“Because Peter was the one who introduced us,” I scoffed. “He told me that she was the daughter of a client of his, that she was interested in landscape architecture and design but that she couldn’t afford college. He asked me to do this one favor for her.”
Tears welled in my eyes, but I wiped them away. I had to be strong, I had to fight through this. I couldn’t let Peter win by continuing to hurt me.
“What am I going to do, Eli? How am I going to fix this?”
“Well, for one thing, we’re going to find proof she’s lying, and we’re going to clear your name.”
“How though? What can I do to prove that she’s lying?”
Eli’s brow furrowed and he clasped his hands together in his lap. He stared at me with a look that said he didn’t really have an answer to that.
Not that it was his problem to solve - it was mine.
“I don’t know, Charlotte. But we’ll figure out a way.” His voice was so soft, so sincere, that I wanted to believe him.
“I think I could use some time alone, if that’s okay.”
Eli studied me for a few moments before nodding and slowly standing up.
“We’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” he said. “We’re goin
g to try to dig up as much as we can on Jenny.” ‘
“Thanks, Eli.”
He closed the door as he left the room, and as soon as I was alone, I reached for the loaner phone he’d given me. I searched for Jenny’s Twitter account and read every single one of them. It was one tweet after another, claiming that I used my status and “fame” to take advantage of her.
And the drawings… They were clearly not mine, as the artwork was too clumsy. They felt like the work of a beginner, but she was right that they did resemble the final product. Except I remembered designing each and every one of those projects on my own, working with the cities and coming up with the ideas in meetings with the clients.
They were so easy to fake, to go back and draw them based on the finished projects, that I had a hard time understanding why folks were so quick to believe her. So many people re-tweeted her, sharing the news far and wide that I was this horrible person and yet they had no proof. No real proof. Nothing that would stand up in court.
But just having that doubt out there was enough to make clients weary of working with me. My name had been tarnished. The only way to salvage this was to get Jenny to come clean.
I remembered the sweet, shy girl that seemed so eager to learn from me. She was very quiet and would often just watch and listen. She hardly even asked questions, almost like she was afraid to bother me. She was a good enough worker, though I didn’t really need a personal assistant. I often felt like I’d spent more time finding her things to do than I spent working, but she was a nice girl. Always very friendly and eager to help in any way she could.
So what happened?
Well Peter happened, obviously. Clearly, he had influenced her somehow, and I had a pretty good idea how.
I dug through my luggage until I came across my old contact book. I flipped through the pages until I got to Jenny’s name.
And then I dialed her number.
“Hello?” a soft voice answered on the other end of the phone.