by Jayne Blue
“It’s just,” Vince flapped his hand near his eye, “I’d prepared myself for you to say something entirely different.”
“Oh?” I sipped my water.
“I thought you were going to tell me you were closing up shop completely. I had no idea you wanted to take on a partner.”
“You’ve earned it,” I said, enjoying the genuine emotion Vince showed. He made a gesture that would have been the equivalent of running a hand through his bright red hair except his was cropped short in a military-length buzz cut. He regarded me with his cool blue eyes and his face finally broke into a smile. “I’m going to manage my ten original clients, Mrs. Vallin, the Grubman account, you know the ones I mean. New business as well as those you’ve been more or less managing in the last year are all yours if that sounds fair to you.”
“More than fair,” Vince said. “I’m not kidding, I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you for leaving me.”
“I’m not leaving,” I said. “I just have some things brewing in the Chicago area that are going to make it necessary to be there for extended periods of time.”
“Yeah,” Vince said, levelling his eyes at me again. “Why don’t you clue me in to what that is rather than let my imagination run rampant? It’s personal, I assume.”
I nodded. I couldn’t tell Vince everything, as much as I wanted to. I’d reconnected with R.J. over the last few weeks, but Vince was really the closest thing I had to a best friend for about the last ten years.
“Come on, Jack,” he said. “And you haven’t made arrangements for an escort for weeks and weeks. That’s not like you. So, it’s one of two things. Either you’re planning on joining the priesthood or you’ve met someone. I’d like to think we’re friends as much as anything else. Give me details.”
I smiled and sat back in my chair. I threw my napkin on my plate; it had been about twenty minutes since we’d finished eating. The lunch crowd was already long gone. Our waitress came back to refill our water glasses and I waved her off when she asked to bring me another draft beer. When she was out of earshot, I gave Vince something of an answer.
“I’ve met someone, yes,” I said, wanting to be as truthful as I could. I couldn’t tell Vince about Tora specifically. Her marriage to Seth was already public knowledge. Just like Tora, my objective wasn’t to get Seth elected to the senate, but I also didn’t want to cause a scandal for her by sparking gossip. Friend or no friend, Vince Baldwin was a notorious big mouth.
He rested his elbows on the table and plopped his chin on top of his clasped hands. He asked for details with the narrowing of his eyes.
“It’s still really early, Vince,” I said. “I’m not to a point where I want to go into much detail. She’s important to me, yes. But she’s not the only reason I want to be in Chicago. Like I said, Seth’s giving me a run around about my dad’s software patents. I’m hoping I don’t end up in probate court again over it, but I have to prepare for the possibility.”
“What an ass,” Vince said and I couldn’t fault his observation. “I wish I’d known your father when his mind was still good. But I just refuse to believe he really meant for that weasel to have what was left of his legacy. I hope you win, Jack. I hope whatever it is you’re planning is good and devious.”
I almost choked on the last sip of water I’d taken.
“Enough about that though,” he said, tossing his own napkin on the table. “Tell me about the girl.”
“I just said, too early for details yet.”
“Are you in love with her, at least?” he asked.
It was a tough question to answer. Tora invaded my thoughts almost every waking hour and most of my dreams. It had started with sex, but it was something else now. I wanted to fight her battles for her, protect her and give her everything she ever wanted. Was that love? It was certainly more than lust.
“You have to quit being scared of it, you know,” Vince said and it took me off guard. That must have shown in my face because he pursed his lips and set his jaw in a knowing expression.
“Why would I be scared of it?”
“Jack Manning.” Vince leaned back hard in his seat. “I don’t need a psychology degree to figure out what makes you tick.”
“Oh, this I’ve got to hear.”
“That’s right, you do. You’ve been letting Petra Vallin micro manage your dating life for years. Relax, I don’t think you have a fetish or anything weird going on. And for the love of God don’t tell me if you do. But you’ve been afraid to get close to anything real. Up until now you’ve liked your women in neat little packages without strings.”
I blew a breath out. Vince was getting into an area he knew I didn’t really like to discuss.
“It’s okay, Jackson,” he said. Reaching across the table, he patted my hand. “The two most important women in your life died. Your mother and your sister. I know it wasn’t their fault, but they still left you. Of course that’s gonna make you afraid of commitment. Is she worth it, this girl? Can you at least tell me that?”
“I can’t say as I ever really thought this through as much as you have,” I said. The urge to say something cruel or flippant to deflect the observation hovered just below the surface. I started to regret waving off another beer.
“You didn’t answer me,” Vince said. “This girl. Is she worth the trouble?”
The answer slammed into my brain with the force of a train. Vince wouldn’t relent.
“Would it tear your guts apart if you never saw her again?”
I made my face neutral and looked Vince straight in the eye. My heart thundered in my chest. “Yes,” I finally answered. “To both of your questions.”
A slow smile lifted the corners of Vince’s mouth. He leaned forward and whispered his next words.
“Well, Jack Manning . . . it’s about damn time.”
***
Vince’s words resonated deep even after I got back to my hotel suite at the Arlington Hyatt. Maybe there was more truth to what he’d said than even he realized. He was right. For years my love life had consisted of women I paid to be with me. It was so much easier that way. I could take what I wanted and never had to worry about what happened the next day. Even with them, there had been times I felt close to wanting more, but something always stopped me short.
I threw my keys on the desktop by the window. It was getting dark. Housekeeping had already turned down my bed and drawn the drapes. As always, they left two mints for me on my pillows. Even this part of my life was transient. I told myself that hotel life was easier too. No neighbors, no shopping for groceries, I could come and go when I pleased and forever I’d liked it that way. Was I ready to change all of that? How would I change all of that?
Is she worth the trouble?
It might have been Vince’s voice I heard in my head but these were the questions I hadn’t realized I’d been asking myself for a long time now. She was though. I knew it. The one woman I thought I needed was the one I wasn’t supposed to have. I came into this for immature reasons. For revenge. So I could take something away from Seth and make him pay for taking something from me. He hadn’t though. Not really. Even if I never got those software licenses back, it was Reed who hit the truth of it. My father’s legacy wasn’t in a patent or other piece of paper. It was in me; I’d just forgotten. He’d taught me to take care of myself. To work hard and love well. It was the last part I’d needed to work harder on.
I kept my mother’s jewelry box inside the desk. I opened the drawer and took it out, running my fingers across the worn teakwood. The edges gleamed yellow where the finish had rubbed off. I opened the box and looked at my mother’s simple jewelry. We weren’t poor before my father started his company. Far from it. But she hadn’t had money for ostentatious jewelry and never wore it when we did. She cared about my father and she cared about her children and she’d told me time and again it was all she ever needed.
I took out her small cubic zirconium engagement ring and put it on the tip of my pink
ie finger. A slow smile crept over my face as I did it.
“She would have liked you,” I said to the air and I knew it was true. “No, she would have loved you, Tora.” She would have loved her fire and passion, her determination to seek the truth no matter what it cost. My mother would have done no less if she thought her family was at risk and she would have admired Tora doing the same.
My phone flashed and vibrated and the chirping ring tone pulled me out of my head. I put my mother’s tiny ring back in her box and went to answer it.
The caller ID read Reed Burnett. I swiped my finger across the touch screen and brought the phone to my ear.
“Hi, Reed,” I said.
“Good morning!” he bellowed. It was his standard phone greeting no matter what time of day it actually was and I smiled at the familiarity of it.
“R.J. said you’re planning on coming back to Chicago for a while?” He put a lilt on the last word, phrasing it as question.
“I am,” I answered. “Day after tomorrow most likely. I’m just tying up a few loose ends here.”
“Good,” Reed said. “On both counts. Good that you’re coming back and good that you’re still in Arlington for a few days. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” I sat down on the bed. Reed’s tone had grown serious.
“Remember you asked me to look into that case Miranda defended? The one involving that biker hood or whatever he is?”
“Right,” I said. “Declan McLain.”
“That’s the one,” Reed said. “Well, I don’t exactly have anything for you myself but I found someone who might be willing to talk to you about it.”
“Good,” I answered. “What’s the deal?”
“Frank Furlong,” Reed said, using a tone that made it sound like I should know who that was. “He worked in the U.S. Attorney’s office when that case went to trial. It wasn’t his, but he was an assistant to the guy who tried it.”
“That sounds promising. And you talked to this Furlong?”
“A little,” Reed said. “He’s with the Solicitor General’s office now. I told him you had some interest in discussing the matter and he said he’d be okay with talking to you.”
“Where is he?” I said. I’d crossed the room and rummaged through the desk drawer to find a pen and something to write on.
“He’s in D.C. Can I text you his contact info?”
“You, text?” I said.
“Shut up,” Reed said and I swear I could feel him flipping me off through the phone. My face split into a smile. “I got this iPhone and Margie’s been showing me how to use it. Damnedest thing.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled at the picture of Reed’s wife getting him to be patient long enough to listen to her.
“Are you ever going to tell me why you’re so interested in this case, Jackie? It seems like trouble.”
I sighed.
“It probably is,” I admitted. “But it’s something I promised a friend and there doesn’t really seem any harm in asking a few questions, I don’t think.”
“Maybe not,” Reed said. “But anyway, I’m glad to hear you’re going to be around more often. You need family around you, kid. You’ve been alone too long.”
“I know,” I answered and I imagined Reed was probably a little shocked that I agreed with him so readily. Just a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have. “And thank you. You and Margie and R.J. have always been like family and I know I’m pretty short on it these days.”
“So ya didn’t take the opportunity to bond with Seth out at The Maples?” Sarcasm dripped from Reed’s tone.
“Ah, no,” I answered. “I was too busy trying to keep him from putting his own damn foot in his mouth.”
“Yep,” Reed said. “I’ve had to do a little of that back here too. Kid thinks his senate seat is preordained. He’s gonna make some big mistake he can’t walk back, I’m afraid. It’s not even May. Six months is an eternity in politics. He’s got competition. It’s sounding like they’re going to hold a primary in July or August. I don’t know, Jackie, I don’t think he’s gonna make it through that no matter who runs against him.”
“You’re probably right,” I said. “And I know it’s bad of me to say it, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t really care.”
“How’d the girl do?” Reed asked. “I’ve heard a few things from the grapevine.”
“Like?”
“Like maybe Seth knew what he was doing in marrying her. Word is she was charming and made him look good.”
“She did,” I said, trying to make my tone as neutral as I could. If we were face to face, Reed would have seen me bristle.
“Well,” Reed said. “Then I hope things work out for Seth, maybe for her sake, at least. I can’t imagine what kind of misery he’s gonna be if he loses. He’s picked up some habits that aren’t going to do him any good.”
“I’m worried about that too,” I said.
“I’m surprised Miranda didn’t nip that in the bud. He’s drinking but Margie and I think he’s maybe popping pills on top of it. She saw him take something at the wedding when he didn’t think anyone was looking. You know anything about that?”
“About the same as you,” I said. The memory of Seth putting his fist through the wall near Tora’s head still bothered me deeply. The sooner I could help get her away from him, the better for everyone.
“So you’ll text me that number?” I changed the subject. “Maybe I can set something up tomorrow even before I head back.”
“Oh, right. Yeah. I’ll send it as soon as we hang up. Furlong’s a good guy. I knew his dad too. He should be expecting your call.”
“Thanks again, Reed,” I said.
“Anything. You know all you have to do is ask. Have you figured out where you’re going to stay when you get back to Chicago? Margie and I were talking and it’s not good for you to spend so much time in hotels. She’s got a real estate girl she can hook you up with.”
“I’ll just bet she does,” I laughed. Margie probably figured if she couldn’t play matchmaker, she’d at least micro manage my living arrangements. “Tell her thanks. I’ll take her out to lunch as soon as I get back. Tell her to keep Friday afternoon free for me.”
“Ugh,” I heard a muffled sound that I was pretty sure was Reed smacking his face. “Maybe we shouldn’t encourage her, on second thought.”
“Goodbye, Reed,” I said. “It’s past your bedtime.”
He mumbled something else but we clicked off. I waited a few seconds and his text came through with Frank Furlong’s phone number.
“Hot damn, Margie,” I muttered. “You actually got his old ass to pay attention to you for five seconds.”
***
I called Assistant Solicitor General, Frank Furlong’s number first thing in the morning. Reed was as good as his word. Furlong expected my call and was free to meet me for a quick lunch. I was to meet him at noon at the Willard in downtown D.C. I cleared my morning schedule with Vince and headed in early. At the tail end of Cherry Blossom season, the tourists would still be thick around Lafayette Square.
The Willard was one of the most well-known restaurants downtown. Most of the major tour busses and trolleys had their main morning pickup right in front of the terrace cafe overlooking the White House on Pennsylvania Avenue. We said we’d meet at noon and I was a few minutes early. I enjoyed the bright, clear blue sky as I turned the corner and headed for the terrace. Perfect day for people watching if I was into that. The hostess walked me out to a wrought iron table under the shade of a tree and I ordered an iced tea. I wanted a crystal-clear head this afternoon.
Furlong ran a little late and it gave me a chance to think about what I would say. I wasn’t sure what to expect or what he could even tell me about Declan McLain’s case. I believed Tora. If she said her father was innocent, then he was. But I had never personally met the man and she said herself, he was no choir boy. If there was even a chance there was something more to this case than Tora thou
ght, I needed to know. She needed eyes in the back of her head and this was one way I could try to provide them.
About twenty minutes after twelve, Frank Furlong arrived. He was out of breath and walked briskly toward the table, smoothing a flapping red tie down across his chest. He was tall, well built, maybe fifty, with thinning red hair and deep laugh lines framing the corners of his mouth. He greeted me with a firm handshake, smoothed his tie down one last time and took a seat across from me.
“Sorry, I’m tardy,” he said, with a Bostonian accent that swallowed the “r.”
I waved him off. “Not a problem; I’ve got a light schedule today and I’m just glad you could take some time out of your day to talk to me.”
“Yeah,” Furlong said, nodding to the waitress as she approached our table. “You order yet?”
“No,” I said. “Go ahead.”
“Just give me another one of those iced teas, unsweetened. I’m on a little bit of a time crunch so how about something simple like a B.L.T. Is that okay, dear?”
She smiled, nodded and looked at me. “That’s good for me too,” I said.
When she left, Furlong looked back to me. “Reed said you had some questions about a case I worked on?”
“Right,” I answered. I appreciated the fact that Furlong was direct. The less I had to dance around my reasoning for wanting information, the better.
“A RICO drug case from back in the early 2000s. A Declan McLain went down for it. Do you remember that one?”
The waitress came back. She set down Furlong’s iced tea as well as a pitcher for refills. We thanked her and she disappeared again.
“Right.” Furlong took a long, slow sip of his drink. Beads of sweat formed around his brow. I attributed it more to the weather rather than a byproduct of my question, but I noted it just the same.
“I was with the Chicago field office back then. I wasn’t the lead prosecutor on that one. That was Andy Talbot. It was a big catch for him. It started his career to some extent. Your mother defended the bad guy, didn’t she? Hey, I’m forgetting my manners. I’m really sorry about what happened to her. Any idea what happened there?