Nikkie’s sense of urgency was climbing to epic heights. Though Doctor O’Connell didn’t say Matthew Steel was one of his patients, she could tell by the waver in his voice her mention of Steel’s name registered. Now, with Steel being out of the office “for a few days,” Nikkie was convinced Steel was a patient of Doctor Timothy O’Connell.
“Listen to me and listen real, real close: You need to either give me Mr. Steel’s number or call him right freaking now and tell him to call me. I’m not selling time-shares or asking for his opinion on the upcoming election. This is, quite literally, a matter of life and death.”
“I’ll be sure Mr. Steel gets your message, Miss Armani.”
Nikkie scoured every Internet resource she had, her desperation growing exponentially by the minute. Despite her best attempts, Matthew Steel’s contact information was too evasive. Just about when she was about to give up, to turn her attention to getting ready to meet Sam Gracers’ lawyer, her cell phone rang.
It was Matthew Steel.
“Listen, I don’t know anything for certain and do not want to give you false hope, but I would strongly suggest you see another doctor, someone not recommended by Doctor Timothy O’Connell or Doctor Mark Ruggerio.”
“You’re telling me this Reagan saw O’Connell and Ruggerio, had the same diagnosis and was working with Hilton?”
“That’s what he told me this morning. Again, I don’t want to give you any false hope or…”
“Forget the false hope crap, would ya?” Steel paused a few moments. Nikkie could hear him breathing heavily. “It didn’t feel right. None of it. About five months ago, I go in to see O’Connell for a physical. I walk out of O’Connell’s with a clean bill of health. Two days later, I get a call from this Hilton guy. No idea who the hell he is or why he’s asking if I’m interested in selling my business. I go about my life, forgetting Hilton ever called. Then, he calls me last week, makes another offer. I turn it down and tell him I’m not interested and to stop calling me. Then, I get a call from O’Connell, telling me he needs to see me.”
“And he told you that you had a cancer usually caused by stress?” Nikkie asked.
“Damn straight. That was yesterday. I called Hilton today, let him know I’ve reconsidered and am ready to sell. Son of a bitch had papers sent to my home within two hours of me calling him.”
“It’s none of my business, but did you sign the papers?”
In a low voice, cutting with anger, Steel said, “Yes.”
“Talk with your lawyer, see what you can do.” Nikkie paused for a second. “Actually, I don’t care if you talk with your lawyer or not. What I do care about is you getting to see another doctor as soon as possible. And, please, let me know what that doctor tells you. It’s really critical.”
“If what you’re suggesting is the truth, I’m going to…”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to kill, injure or otherwise maim Doctor O’Connell. I’ve heard that once today already and don’t want to hear it again.”
“Nah,” Matt Steel said. “I’m not going to kill him. Just going to make sure he never sees another patient as long as he lives.”
“Mr. Steel,” Nikkie continued in her best professional voice, “we really don’t know anything yet. God forbid, Doctor O’Connell told you the truth and is an excellent doctor. Please, just go see another doctor and, please, let me know what happens.”
“You have my word on it. Thanks. If things turn out for me, I’ll owe you more than I can ever repay.”
“You won’t owe me anything.”
Strange thoughts go through everyone’s mind from time to time. Thoughts that seem to originate out of nothing. No logical reason for them showing up. They don’t exist one second, then, poof, there they are. Before Nikkie ended the call with Matt Steel, one of those strange thoughts clouded her mind. She trusted strange thoughts and always tried, whenever possible, to act on them.
“Mr. Steel, can I ask you one last question?”
“You can ask me anything you want.”
“Your lawyer, the one you use for your personal and business dealings, who would that be?”
“A law firm up here in Nashville called “Jefferson, Pearl and Malloni. Does that matter?”
“No,” Nikkie said, feeling the strange thought was only intended to give her another rabbit to chase. “I was just wondering if it may be a different lawyer you sent those signed papers to for the sale of your business.”
“Well, I didn’t send them to my lawyers,” Steel said. “I mean, I sent them copies, but the papers were drawn up by a lawyer outside of Tampa.”
Nikkie’s heart skipped several beats. Her stomach dropped to her knees.
“Was the lawyer’s name Maryanne Jenkins, by chance?”
“That’s her name, all right. Another problem?”
“A big one. But, fortunately, this problem is not yours.”
Chapter 24
The cell phone belonging to the older brother and co-owner of Southern Boys Moving Company rang at seven-fifteen in the evening. The calling number was private, but Jackson Kennedy knew who was calling. There was only one person who called him from a private number. That person had called him three times in just the past couple of days. Probably four or five times prior.
“More work means more money,” Jackson thought as he answered the call.
He listened for a minute, nodding his head, grunting his occasional understanding and agreement. Jotted down a name, address and time frame. When the caller paused, after asking if Jackson and his brother Bobby were interested in the job, Jackson scribbled down a number. Several numbers, actually, all followed by a dollar sign.
“Job like this, plenty of risk involved,” Jackson said.
“Increased risk means increased reward. Tell me, yes or no.”
“I have a number in mind. If we agree to it, then my answer is yes. If not, well, I’m sure you have other people willing and able to handle work like this for ya.”
“What’s your number?”
Jackson believed the person who didn’t reveal a price usually won negotiations. He could have tossed out his fee, it could have been accepted, and he could have left a whole basket full of money on the table.
“You tell me a number you’re comfortable with first. I’ll let you know if we’re close enough to haggle or if you should find yourself some less than professional folks for this type of job.”
“Fifty-thousand. Sixty if the job is done tonight.”
Jackson raced the pencil tip across the dollar amount he had scribbled down as his target.
“I think we can do business. Yes, I believe my brother and I have a clear calendar tonight and can get the job done for you. Sixty grand, payable by tomorrow morning. Are we in agreement?”
“You’ll get paid. You always do.”
“You want this doctor to suffer a bit first?”
“I don’t care what you do. Just make it clean and certain.”
Chapter 25
It was a twenty-five minute drive from their hotel to where Peter Maxim suggested they meet for dinner. Those twenty-five minutes went by much too fast for Derek and Nikkie.
“You have to be kidding me?” Derek said after hearing Nikkie’s recap of her call with Matt Steel. “Same doctors, same diagnosis and same Brian Hilton?”
“And you haven’t heard all of it yet.”
“I have a bad feeling we have more rabbits to chase.”
“Guess who the lawyer is Matt Steel said drew up the papers for the sale of his business?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me?”
“None other than Maryanne Jenkins.”
“And we were wondering why a millionaire like Jessica Gracers hired Jenkins! Turns out she’s the go to lawyer for the millionaires around here.”
“Derek,” Nikkie said, “what are we into?”
“I don’t know. Something damn bigger than what we thought at first. And, like I said, I have a bad feeling about this whole cas
e.”
“Hope you’re not planning on keeping me in the dark in order to protect me.”
“Thought has crossed my mind, but, no, I need you more than ever with this case.”
They arrived at The Bay Overlook Restaurant a few minutes before seven. Nikkie sat in silence while Derek scribbled furious notes into his Moleskine notebook. He was streaming his thoughts onto the pages, hoping some of them would connect. Would show him what the hell he needed to do next.
“Ready?” Nikkie asked when she saw Derek raise his hand away from his notebook.
“Not really,” he replied. “I’m actually nervous as shit this guy is going to tell us something that makes my head spin in confusion more than it already is.”
“If things go the way they have been with this case, he probably will.”
“I really shouldn’t be meeting with you, you know. Attorney-Client relationship. Sacred in the world of law.”
“Doesn’t stand when your client is dead,” Derek said.
Peter Maxim was nothing like Derek or Nikkie imagined. Instead of being a sharply dressed, uber-professional looking man, Maxim was dressed in a somewhat wrinkled button down shirt and dress slacks that had seen better days. He was bald, with only a few strands of hair hanging on for dear life around his temples. He was short of stature, maybe five foot five, five-six if he was wearing shoes.
“Not true,” Maxim replied. “Not when there’s a criminal investigation surrounding a client’s death.”
“So, why’d you agree to meet with us then?”
Maxim leaned in close to the table, a movement Derek thought unnecessary since there wasn’t another diner within twenty feet of their table.
“Because something is afoot. And I’m terrified my name and those of my partners will be dragged into this mess.”
“Self preservation,” Derek stated.
“Call it what you’d like, Mr. Cole. Self-preservation or due diligence or Daffy Duck, I simply do not care. I agreed to meet with you, and am happy to do it, to make sure my law firm’s name retains its pristine reputation.”
“Well then,” Nikkie said. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”
“Without ordering first?” Maxim commented. “Despite the underlying grounds for this dinner meeting, I would still believe dinner should be included in a ‘dinner-meeting.’ Wouldn’t you agree?”
The three ordered dinners, drinks and made small talk till their meals arrived.
“You got your dinner, now can we talk about Sam Gracers and what you know about his marriage and anything else you feel might be of importance?” Derek didn’t like Maxim. Didn’t like him at all. It wasn’t about him having issues with lawyers in general, just the issues he had with pretentious pricks. He figured he’d be picking up the tab for dinner, as well. Another thing he didn’t like about the guy.
“You ask, and I’ll tell you what I can. Okay?”
“Okay,” Derek said, “I’ll go first. Was Sam’s wife, Jessica, being treated for any mental illness?”
“Can’t tell you and wouldn’t even if I knew.”
“Did Sam ever speak to you his concerns about his wife possibly suffering from mental illness?”
“Can’t tell you and wouldn’t even if the law said I could.”
Derek thought the meeting and the conversation with Peter Maxim was nothing more than a game to Maxim: A chance for a free meal and, perhaps, to get back at any private investigators who had pissed him off in the past. It was a game Derek was quickly growing tired of.
“Did Sam ever share with you his thoughts or concerns about Brian Hilton, FJ DeNuzzio or anyone involved, presently or in the past, with the FJ DeNuzzio group of partners?”
Maxim started to say something but was shut down by Derek before the first syllable crossed his lips.
“And if you say you can’t tell me or wouldn't even if you could, I’m going to ram that T-bone steak right down your throat.”
Maxim, who was much smaller that Derek, puffed out his chest.
“I’d like to see you try it.”
“You should think about getting your eyes checked, Maxim.”
“And you should compare our business cards, if you even have one. You may have more muscle on your body, but I have the full might and strength of the law as my sidekick.” Maxim paused and shot Derek a smile dripping with contempt and arrogance. Wiping that smile off his face was now more attractive to Derek than was shoving Maxim’s dinner down his throat.
“Gentlemen, please,” Nikkie said. “You two can compare your penis sizes later. Right now, we need to find out how you can help us find your client’s murderer. You accepted this meeting for a reason and I don’t think that reason was to get a free meal and some drinks.”
Peter Maxim grinned at Derek, nodded to Nikkie, then went back to work at his steak.
“I’ll forget your little testosterone outburst ever happened, Mr. Cole. Now, please, continue. As I told you during our phone conversation, I will answer any questions I can but will not, under any circumstances, offer any information or direct the aim of your questions.”
Nikkie moved closer to the table, mimicking the move Maxim had made several minutes earlier.
“Did Sam Gracers file for a divorce?”
Maxim smiled, his open mouth revealing chunks of meat and traces of the mashed potatoes in various states of mastication.
“He did not file for a divorce.”
“In your opinion, was Sam Gracers preparing to file papers for a divorce?”
“Since they were never filed and therefore have zero legal standing, I can tell you definitively that my client, Samuel Gracers, was in the process of filing for a divorce from his wife, Jessica Gracers.”
“When were the papers supposed to be filed with the court?” Derek asked.
“Today, actually. I assured Sam I would have the articles drawn up by yesterday, sent to him for his review yesterday evening, and filed, pending his acceptance, by today. Two-thirty, to be exact. I am very prompt with my calendarized events.”
“Was his wife aware of your client’s intentions to file for divorce?”
“That, I do not know.”
“Grounds?” Derek asked.
“Pardon me?”
“Divorce filings have to have grounds. Usually irreconcilable differences or some bullshit reason like that. What were the grounds for divorce?”
“You’re learning quickly, Mr. Cole. Learning how to play this wonderful legal game we are engaged in.”
“Wonderful, but how about you answer my question and leave the compliments for another time?”
“You are ill tempered, aren’t you?”
“Some people have an effect on me.”
“Okay then, the grounds for the divorce were to be marital incompatibilities caused by an evolving status of mental decline. I guess just because Jessica was fantastic in bed wasn’t enough for Sam to want to stay married to her.”
“That would be tough to prove,” Nikkie suggested.
Maxim gave Nikkie a sideways glance. “Florida is a ‘no fault’ state, my dear. Just need a reason, not the evidence to back up the reason.”
“Evolving status of mental decline,” Derek said, not intending to ask a question but the upward lift of his voice suggested one. “Meaning Sam thought Jessica was going nuts, right?”
“Can’t answer what my client thought or may have thought about his wife.”
Nikkie leaned back from the table. Hit the back of her chair with an audible thud. What Maxim had told her and Derek was adding more to her confusion regarding their client. If Jessica was aware of Sam’s intentions to file for a divorce, any court in the land would see that knowledge as motive. But, without the papers for divorce being approved by Sam Gracers and never filed with the court, it would be nearly impossible to prove Jessica had prior knowledge. Motive was gone. Improvable.
In the silence that followed Maxim’s last answer, Nikkie’s mind went back to what Derek had told her about his c
onversation with Brian Hilton. “Maybe Hilton was being honest about his reasons for denying Jessica's alibi and for burning and replacing all the furniture in his lodge,” she thought. “Doesn’t make him any less of an asshole if he really scammed people into selling their businesses to him, though.”
Derek was also lost in thought. His thoughts were focused more on questions he wanted to ask but knew Maxim wouldn’t or couldn’t answer. He wracked his mind until he found a question he felt Maxim would answer.
“Gracers ever use an attorney by the name of Maryanne Jenkins?”
“The ambulance chaser? The fish out of water Jessica Gracers hired? Please.”
“Seem pretty confident about that.”
“I have reason to be.” Maxim placed his fork on his plate, steepled his fingers. “Mr. Cole, my firm provides the absolute best legal services to our clients. From simple matters to the most complex. There is absolutely nothing Maryanne Jenkins could possibly say, do or promise which would entice one of our clients away. Nothing.”
“Lower price for services?”
Maxim laughed a bit too loudly for the quiet atmosphere of the nearly empty restaurant.
“Lower fees are not something people like Sam Gracers shop for.”
“Maybe Gracers needed some legal assistance for a matter that fell outside your firm’s expertise. Like maybe a matter that fell outside the boundaries of the law.”
“Not Sam. He was straight as they come. All above board. Always had every contract I wrote for him double checked by another member of my firm.”
“One more question before we leave you.”
“I’m not finished with my meal yet,” Maxim protested as a piece of poorly chewed meat flew out of his mouth and landed an inch away from Derek’s hand. “Haven’t even considered the dessert menu yet.”
“You’re free to stay as long as you’d like,” Derek replied as he flipped the piece of meat with his knife back towards Maxim. “My last question is about your client’s estate. His money, more precisely.”
“I am not going to share my client’s personal financial records with you, if that’s where you are headed.”
Deathly Reminders: a Derek Cole Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thrillers Book 6) Page 16