"Here you go, Evy.
Stuart held the door as she got in.
Now that the sun has long ago freed itself from the horizon and the trees in the park are throwing shadows, Nathan’s thoughts return to work. He puts the coffee cup on the desk. Evy’s case is still there on the corner of the desk and he briefly wonders why Petra hasn’t picked it up. Recently, he had counted the number of cases he had, and he had realized how carefully he now chose them. Slowly, he had understood that he was afraid of losing in court, and this had been quite a shock to him. Throughout his career, he had won every single case, and this reputation meant that he could set his fee as he wants. He smiles, ”and my vanity dictates that I leave the legal profession as the lawyer who has won all his cases.” A small laugh escapes into the silence of the office, as he remembers some of the tricks he has used. ”Oh, I love the rush. Yes, some people have walked that shouldn’t have – the woman who killed her husband for money and then remarried, and, the last I heard, the new husband’s health isn’t too good either.”
He makes a face.
"These are dangerous times."
He rubs his forehead.
"Oh, but the headache is coming back. Petra!"
He hears her chair against the wooden floor, and soon after the doors open.
"Can you get me some aspirin, some water, and some more coffee?"
Petra nods and disappears from the door for a moment before returning with the things he asked for.
"Petra, I don’t think we’re all that busy today."
Nathan looks carefully at Petra. She stops in front of the desk.
"Nathan, I’m actually a little worried about that."
Nathan sends her his courtroom smile. He knows that the lines in his face are just right and that he is charming. He had spent hours in front of the mirror to get it just right, and once he found the right smile, he had repeated it over and over until it no longer looked fake.
"There’s nothing wrong. I just think that we’ve been very busy lately and we need to slow down."
Petra returns his smile, and Nathan feels victorious - once again his smile did the job.
"I think you should just leave at lunch. Go shopping or have a cup of coffee in the city. You need it. You’ve seemed troubled lately."
Petra can’t hide how surprised she is, and Nathan feels the satisfaction rush through him. Petra is puzzled, and just nods.
"Don’t lock up, in case someone comes. I’ll do that when I finish."
He smiles again and looks at his watch.
"Coffee. Will you make some fresh coffee before you leave? Hmm, and please put it in a thermos in case I want some later."
Petra’s face reveals her confusion. She knows how much he hates coffee that isn’t fresh. But she has no time to comment, as he quickly reaches the door to the private part of the house and enters.
"Oh, I would also like a fresh cup."
Petra looks surprised as he closes the door.
"Now I’ve seen it all."
He’s usually very particular about eating healthy and exercising. Actually, she admires him for his efforts. But today she has smelled cigar smoke, seen a half empty bottle of whisky, and he has eaten aspirin and drunk coffee as if he couldn’t care less about his health.
Petra didn’t hear him return to the office, but he is sitting at the table bent over a blank piece of paper when she comes back a moment later. She carefully puts down the thermos and the fresh cup in front of him and starts to pour the coffee when he holds up his hand.
"Well, the coffee is fresh. It can wait a while."
There’s a smile in her voice, and Nathan looks up at her, returning the smile. Petra sets down the thermos. He nods, and she picks up the used cup.
"Just leave it Petra. Go home, you deserve it."
Puzzled, she leaves the office. He can hear her packing up. Then he hears the door, and it’s quiet again. She moves in her usual pattern: Packing her bag, going to the toilet, switching off her computer, waiting for it to shut down.
Then he hears voices, and instinctively turns his wrist and looks at his watch.
"Much too soon."
"Nathan."
Petra is crossing the floor on her way to him. He looks at her and sees that she is holding a letter.
"This just came. It’s from Walter, Walter & Walter."
He looks at her with surprise.
"Well, well, I wonder what they want. I don’t think we have any cases where they’re represented."
Petra shakes her head. Nathan looks at the letter with curiosity.
"Maybe it’s a new case, Nathan. It could be great to have them on the other side."
"They’re good, Petra."
"So are we."
She laughs and holds out the letter as she walks the rest of the way. Nathan smiles and feels how instincts are stirring. He has always wanted to face them. They had been a thorn in his side for a long time. Stuart had used them too and that had always annoyed him. So if he had the chance, now that Stuart was no longer there to dampen things, he wouldn’t think twice. He didn’t owe Walter, Walter & Walter anything. It was a chance worth taking, even if he lost. But if he won, his name would be on everybody’s lips in lawyer circles.
"Mr. Jones is here."
Nathan is focused again, and he looks at her.
"How long has he been here?"
"Five or ten minutes. He wanted to wait because he’s early. He arrived together with the messenger delivering the letter.”
Nathan laughs.
"Just show him in."
The thought of taking on Walter, Walter & Walter suddenly makes him feel strong and full of life.
"Finally."
"But you only just got his number yesterday..."
Nathan is confused and looks at Petra. Then he shakes his head, dismissing her words.
"Walter, Walter & Walter, dear Petra."
They smile at each other.
"Show him in."
He hears Petra’s voice and gets up and stands with his back to the door, as if he’s looking at something in the garden. He breathes deeply a couple of times, then he hears her steps and he turns when he knows that she’s only a few feet away.
"Marc Jones."
Nathan nods.
"Now, get out of here. You’ve earned it."
She nods and smiles as she walks swiftly toward her office. He can see a figure in the door as Petra leaves. She has to slip herself around him as he is already entering the room.
"Oh, Marc Jones?"
Nathan’s voice is loud.
"Please, come in."
The agile figure moves across the floor with quick, firm steps, before taking Nathan’s outstretched hand.
"Should I call you Marc? I mean, is Jones a cover?"
Their eyes meet and they nod at each other.
"It’s not a cover."
Nathan is startled at his voice, which is surprisingly melodic.
"Oh, please sit down. Coffee?"
The man shakes his head.
"As far as I know, I’m not on a job right now. So just call me Marc."
With his hand, Nathan shows him to the chair in front of his desk. He sits down in the leather chair on the opposite side, and as he gets comfortable, he can still feel Marc’s hand shake. Nathan looks down at his palm, and there’s a little fresh blood showing in the cut from yesterday. He takes out his handkerchief and wipes the cut dry. Marc looks at him briefly before looking down at the desk. Nathan leans forward and lifts the paper knife.
"I had a small accident with this yesterday."
Nathan puts down the paper knife and looks at the fit, dark blonde man in front of him. Marc meets his eyes without hesitating.
Nathan feels some discomfort when he suddenly realizes that he doesn’t know who is watching who. He slowly folds up his handkerchief.
"Coffee?"
Marc shakes his head as his eyes scan the room before returning to Nathan.
"Nice."
"I was somewhat surprised by your text message.”
Marc nods, waiting for Nathan to continue.
"I understand that you have followed her before, and there’s no doubt that…"
Nathan puts his handkerchief in his breast pocket.
"…it’s the same Evy we’re talking about?”
Marc opens his tan suede jacket. Nathan twitches a little when he realizes that he’s alone in the office with him. Marc gives a crooked smile.
"Don’t worry. I’m not armed."
He gets more comfortable before opening the worn leather bag he had thrown on the floor next to the chair as he sat down.
"Let’s answer your question."
He puts a blue plastic folder on his knee and throws the bag back on the floor. Nathan admires the way he handles all the papers in the folder while trying to figure out how old he is.
"The case was open for many years."
He gathers the papers and gets up. He puts a picture in front of Nathan of a blonde girl in a floral dress standing in a playground.
"Is that her?"
He puts another picture in front of Nathan. This one shows two girls sitting in a very special swing with bars. Bright red and yellow colors are the first things that Nathan notices in the picture. Another picture. In this one, the two girls are sitting on the steps in front of a house that is painted yellow and has white window and doorframes. And finally, a picture of a woman with the two girls. Nathan stares at him. He is met by Marc’s calm eyes that don’t look away.
"Is that her?"
Nathan can’t speak.
"Oh, perhaps you recognize her better here."
Marc hands him a picture of Evy in her early teens.
"It’s probably easier to recognize her in this one if you have met her as an adult."
Nathan nods silently, examining every detail in the pictures in front of him.
"In these pictures they are probably around ten."
He points to the first pictures he put on the table.
"And in this one, hmm, if I remember correctly… I can look it up if you want. But I think she’s around 26 today, so in this picture I guess she’s around 20, maybe a little younger. But I can look in my notes for dates and ages if you want."
He stops.
"There she is."
Nathan interrupts him.
"Why do you have these? Who was your client?"
"Do you recognize the woman?"
Marc points to the woman between the two children. Nathan looks again, and then shakes his head. He picks up the pictures of the children and feels a stab to the heart. He lets out a deep sigh and falls back in the chair.
"But you recognize the kids?"
"The blonde one. And that’s her?"
He nods at the picture of an almost grown-up Evy. Marc turns around and brings his plastic file over to Nathan’s desk.
"Yes, that’s the Evy you asked me to investigate."
He puts away the file and Nathan can see more pictures sticking out. Marc pulls his chair closer to the desk, and then he sits down, watching Nathan. Another picture is placed in front of Nathan. It’s as if all air has been pushed from his lungs, and he holds the pictures close to his chest. Marc presses his lips together.
"Yes, I thought this might be unpleasant for you. Denize was a beautiful woman. You met her late in life, didn’t you? Did you ever do a background check on her?"
Nathan shakes his head.
"No, well, that shouldn’t have been necessary. In fact it wasn’t. But someone else did. Or rather paid me to."
"I see that you recognize yourself and Denize in the car in front of the house with the two girls sitting on the steps."
"We had agreed not to have any children."
Marc nods.
"She couldn’t have any more children. There were complications when she had Evy."
The sound and the intensity of Nathan’s gasp surprises Marc and he pulls away a little.
"Denize was alone with Evy."
Marc stares into space thoughtfully.
"I haven’t investigated who Evy’s father was."
Nathan stammers.
"Find out for me."
Marc nods.
"How old were you when you had the case?”
"Hmm, I think I was around 40. I used to be a carpenter, but it was boring. Too predictable. So I bought myself a suit and a camera and started. This was my first case."
"Denize gave Evy up for adoption when she met you. But judging by your reaction, you didn’t know that Evy was Denize’s daughter."
Nathan looks down at his hands.
"It’s so awful. I loved her so much and I wanted her to have everything she wanted. When we agreed not to have children, it was like a fact to me. I desperately wanted children, but she said that she didn’t want any. I wanted to give her everything, so I just reinforced that statement."
Nathan’s head touches his chest and his hands are shaking violently.
"It’s just so terrible. We just confirmed each other and we were both afraid to talk about our deepest desires, afraid of pushing the other one away..."
Marc leans back in his chair, creating a distance between himself and Nathan.
"Who’s the other girl?"
"She was the woman’s own child."
"Where is she now?"
"She died of an overdose around three years ago."
"And the woman?"
"Sad story. She died not long after. That’s when I closed the case. My client wouldn’t pay after that. He had the information he wanted. That picture is the last one."
He leans forward and points at the picture of Evy. Marc is quiet for a while, and his eyes wander from Nathan to the sunshine and the garden outside the large windows.
"The thing is, this case has always troubled me."
He touches his chin and his day-old stubble.
"One day when the girls were at the playground, my client suddenly showed up. I don’t know what happened, but suddenly Linda ran home and Evy stayed."
He moves around restlessly in his chair while he watches a bird resting on a branch in the garden outside.
"The short version is that he took Evy, hid behind a tree and did terrible things to her. I should have taken pictures. But he was my only client, the only thing that kept me in business."
Nathan frowns.
"And you kept on working for him?!"
"Yes."
Marc turns to look at Nathan.
"Yes, I did."
"I don’t understand."
Nathan’s voice is full of contempt.
"Yes, I know. Sick."
"Sick? Are you sure you’re..."
Nathan stops.
"He asked me to keep track of who her friends were. He even gave me a list of people to check up on. I was to supposed to check if she was invited to their parties. Then I quit."
"How old was she then?"
Marc looks at him.
"It’s a little over four years ago."
Nathan is surprised and swallows.
"So you have followed her all these years."
Marc tilts his head a little.
"I’ve pretty much made a living from following her."
"She never saw you?"
He shakes his head.
"Apparently not."
"Who was on that list?"
"I have checked the list more closely. All the families had some sort of connection to my client."
"Do you still have that list?"
Marc raises his eyebrows.
"I don’t normally throw things out..."
He looks through the papers in the blue plastic file, then he nods and takes out a piece of paper and hands it to Nathan.
Nathan is surprised when he sees the handwriting, but looks down over the names.
"Hmm, most of these people are rather famous."
Nathan frowns.
“Who was your client?”
Marc raises his chin and looks at Nathan, and with a slow voice, he carefully forms the words.
"He’s dead now."
Nathan holds the piece of paper with the list on it up against the light. Then he puts it down and looks Marc straight in the eye.
"Yes, he is, because your client was Stuart Pettersson."
Marc does nothing to break their eye contact.
"You were at his parties, and you’ve met Evy. He was your friend, wasn’t he?"
A bird starts to sing outside the window. Nathan stares at Marc, clearly picturing the two girls sitting on the steps in front of the yellow house.
"Denize met her own daughter at one of those parties, and Stuart offered her to me. I just hope she didn’t recognize her. She must have hated Stuart. No wonder she left every time he showed up."
"You never noticed?"
Nathan raises his head. Marc looks out at the bird. It has stopped singing and has started grooming its feathers.
"No."
Marc gets up and takes the list and the photos. Nathan reaches out and takes the photo of the two girls sitting on the steps.
"Can I keep this one?"
Marc looks at him for a long time, then he shrugs.
"Sure, I don’t think I’ll need it anymore."
She slowly lowers her hand and the shadows disappear from her face. She’s still holding up the paper to the sun. She studies the coarse structure of the paper before slowly lowering her hand. The money had fallen out of the envelope when she opened it. She had carefully kept them hidden from Nathan, but it was the same sum as in every monthly envelope from Stuart. ”Every month I can almost pay the rent, but not quite. Couldn’t he have given me the extra 600 just once? Then at least I could have paid the rent that month.” She looks down at the money in her lap. She suddenly feels sick and leans out over the edge of the bed, expecting to throw up. But nothing happens. In the first months after she had moved in, he had paid for everything. She sits up again, a painful expression on her face. ”When I was dependent on the life style, the acceptance from my friends, like I was one of them.” A mocking sound fills the room. ”They never asked me where the money came from.” She looks out the window. ”And then... then he cut down on the money so I couldn’t even pay the rent.” She looks at the mirror by the end of the bed. ”And then, one night, he brought James to the apartment.” She closes her eyes when she feels the tears coming. ”Everything very casual and random. But, Stuart, nothing was ever random in the life you showed me. Every little detail was part of a plan.”
Devil's Touch Page 6