by Gail Bowen
“I am pleased,” I said. “Patsy’s terrific. It’ll be great getting to know her better.”
Angus heaved a mock sigh of relief. “Good. For a moment there, I thought there might be a problem.”
“No problem at all,” I said. “We’re going to the lake for Taylor’s birthday dinner. Why don’t you ask Patsy to join us?”
Angus gave me a quick hug. “This has been the best night,” he said. “And it’s not over.”
I inhaled deeply. “No,” I said. “It’s not over.”
—
Kevin and Blake arrived at the condo around the same time we did, so we went up in the elevator together. When we exited at the fourth floor, we all followed Margot into her condo. After a brief whispered conversation, Brock said goodnight and headed upstairs to the children’s rooms and we took off our coats and filed into the dining room.
Margot sat at the head of the oval mahogany table and the rest of us filled the places closest to her. “I’ll tell Brock what he needs to know later,” she said. “He deserves to have an accurate picture of the firm he’s being asked to manage.”
Delia was clearly still shaken, but her spirit was fiery. Even her wiry salt-and-pepper hair seemed to have regained its electrical charge. She was herself again, and she waded right in.
“I thought about this in the car coming over. I’m sure Emmett’s weapon is the Patsy Choi case. A few weeks ago, Lorne told me that Keating had been going through old files. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Lots of us go through old files searching for precedents, but if Emmett was looking closely at the movement of capital, which we know he would do, a few educated guesses could have led him to surmise that something was off.”
For the first time, Delia looked directly at Margot. “To understand this, you’ll need context,” she said. “So I’ll start at the beginning.
“People always said Chris was the conscience of Falconer Shreve, and he was. But life is filled with moral ambiguities – times when it’s necessary to do wrong in order to do right. Patsy Choi’s case was one of those times. I assume you’re familiar with the facts of Patsy’s story, Margot.”
When Margot nodded, Dee continued. “Then you know that Patsy’s uncle crushed her fingers when Patsy asserted her independence. In retrospect, it’s easy to apportion blame. A grown man attacks a young woman with a weapon that causes her grievous bodily harm and changes her life forever. But Patty Choi was the plaintiff. The onus was on her to prove her damages, and her uncle had deep pockets. He was able to hire some very skilled lawyers, and they put together a compelling case.”
Zack shifted his weight in his chair, an unconscious gesture to protect his skin against pressure ulcers. “I can take it from here, Dee,” he said. “It was Chris’s case, but he and I talked about it every day. Chris knew the defence was sandbagging him. They painted Patsy as an ungrateful child who had been given everything and threw her benefactor’s largesse in his face. Chris and I agreed that if he was going to win his case, the firm had to hire a shitload of plaintiff-friendly professional experts.
“We hired the best, and they did their jobs. They proved that the physical and psychological damage Patsy’s uncle had inflicted on her was irreparable. They painted a new picture for the jury: one in which a seventeen-year-old girl had a moment of adolescent rebellion and her uncle responded by ruining her life. I was sitting in court when Chris did his summation. It was brilliant. The uncle was sobbing, but if his remorse was genuine it was too late. He was found guilty of ‘wrongful touching’ and Patsy got a large settlement. Justice was done,” Zack said. “But as we all know, the wheels of justice grind exceeding slow.”
I had been watching Margot’s face to gauge if she was buying Zack’s explanation. Until that moment, her face had been a mask, but as she sensed that Zack had reached the point that was the fulcrum of his argument, the mask dropped, and I saw how fervently she wanted to believe that whatever her old friend said next would make everything right again. Zack looked at me and shook his head. The gesture was almost imperceptible, but it conveyed as clearly as words that he knew what he had to offer was not enough to change anything.
He took a breath and carried on. “There were appeals,” he said. “And meanwhile there were bills to be paid. Experts don’t come cheap, and the firm’s larder was seriously depleted. We’d opened an office in Vancouver two years earlier. The decision to expand had been rushed, and the office was a disaster from the beginning. When we decided to cut our losses and close shop, we had to face another problem. We’d made some commercial real estate investments that we knew would ultimately turn out to be profitable, but it was 2008, the stock market had tanked, and we couldn’t unload the properties without losing a bundle. All of us had personally taken a hit with our investments. So we were up against the wall.”
Margot had been listening intently. Now she tensed. “You’re not going to tell me you dipped into clients’ trust funds.” Her eyes were fixed firmly on Zack. “I’d heard that Falconer Shreve had money problems a while back, but defalcation. You could have been disbarred. You should have been disbarred.” Her voice wavered. “Zack, I believed in you, and I looked up to you.”
Zack looked down and didn’t speak. For a painfully long time, no one did. Margot’s anguish had silenced us all.
After what seemed like an eternity, Delia said, “Zack wasn’t responsible, Margot. It was Chris. Zack didn’t find out about the defalcation until after Chris died. None of the partners knew.”
Margot balled her hands into fists. “How could they not know?”
When Blake spoke, it seemed the words were being pulled from him against his will. “Lily – my late wife – kept the firm’s ledgers. We had always trusted her judgment. We had no reason not to. We were all aware that the firm was going through a rough time financially, but we knew the real estate was a gold mine. Lily said it was just a question of keeping the cash flow steady and moving the money around until the market righted itself.”
“But Chris knew,” Margot said.
“Yes,” Blake said. “But not until it was over. When every account had been balanced to the penny, Lily told him. No client had been hurt. Patsy Choi had received a fair settlement. Justice had been done. As far as Lily was concerned, the matter was closed.”
“But now Emmett Keating has opened it again,” Margot said. “And he’s used what he knows to force you to reverse your decision about promoting him. But, Delia, there’s something I’m still not clear on. Why was your initial assessment of Keating so harsh? I went through his performance reviews – they were excellent. He’s brought many lucrative clients into the firm, and they’re loyal to him. I didn’t see anything in the reviews that would have made you suddenly decide that, in your words, Emmett Keating was ‘Not Falconer Shreve material.’ ”
The air in Margot’s condo was cool. When Delia shivered, Noah crossed the room, picked up a Dora the Explorer blanket that had been left on one of the chairs, and handed it to his wife. Dee pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders.
“The decision wasn’t sudden,” Delia said. “I voted against offering Emmett Keating an equity partnership for the same reason I voted against hiring him the first time he applied for a position with the firm.”
Zack’s eyes widened. “Keating applied to Falconer Shreve before?” he said. “Where was I?”
Delia’s lip curled. “Racking up wins in the courtroom; playing poker with the boys; romping with the ladies. You were living life large, Zack. The internal affairs of the firm were not a priority for you.”
“Okay,” Zack said. “Mea culpa. Let’s stay focused. Why didn’t you want to hire Keating?”
“Because Emmett Keating had articled with Darryl Colby, and stayed on at Colby’s firm for several years after that. Colby’s a snake. I didn’t think his ethics were something we wanted to bring into the firm. I was in Ottawa when Keating applied the second time; by the time I got back, he’d been hired.”
; Kevin was sitting across the table from Delia with his hands folded in front of him. He looked around the table. “And I approved the hire. None of you were available to consult, and Raema Silzer in HR recommended Keating highly, as she had every reason to. He had solid credentials in an area the firm needed to bolster. Raema did her job, but I didn’t do mine. I should have dug more deeply.” Kevin reached across the table to his partner. “I’m sorry, Dee.”
Delia’s smile was weary. “Kev, we all make mistakes. Firing him then would have meant firing him without cause.”
“And now Keating has proved he’s as slimy as Colby, and the firm’s reputation is on the line.” Margot said. She turned to Zack. “When you approached me about becoming a partner, you had a duty to make me aware of any potential problems areas,” she said. “A defalcation is certainly a potential problem. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
Zack’s misery was palpable. “Because it was in the past,” he said. “No one had been hurt. I honestly didn’t see the relevance.”
“Then you were lying to yourself,” Margot said. “A first-year law student would have known that a reputable firm can’t sweep something as serious as defalcation under the carpet and pretend it never happened. Lily and Chris are both dead. So there won’t be legal repercussions, but when Emmett Keating makes this little nugget public, Falconer Shreve’s status will take a hit and that affects me.”
“You can resign,” Zack said quietly.
Margot’s voice was cutting. “I’m seriously considering that possibility. You’ll have my decision by noon tomorrow.” She stood. “We’re finished here.” She walked to the front door of her condo, held the door open, and watched as we shrugged into our coats. Her partners all attempted to reach out to her, but she shook them off. When I passed her, she said, “Did you know about this?”
I nodded.
Margot’s laugh was short and bitter. “So you drank the Kool-Aid too,” she said and shut the door hard behind me.
CHAPTER
9
It had been close to one-thirty in the morning when Zack and I settled into bed, but the misery of the evening hung like a pall over us, and neither of us slept well. When I awakened, the sun was up and, eager for our morning walk, Pantera and Esme were pacing restlessly. Zack’s side of the bed was empty, so I checked my phone and saw a text suggesting the day ahead might contain some rays of sunshine. Having breakfast with Warren – possible solution to the Keating problem. Will try to make peace with Margot. Love you, Z.
I texted back wishing him luck, poured myself a glass of juice, and pulled on my running clothes. The forecast was for blue skies and unseasonably balmy temperatures. We were in for a fast melt. Since the first hard frost I’d been keeping pots of marigolds in the mudroom, hoping for a break in the weather. That morning it seemed the break had come, and after I brought the dogs their post-run water, I began carrying the marigolds outside. The pots were heavy and I was struggling with the last one when Lorne Callow walked up our front path. “May I help you with that?” he said.
I groaned. “My back will thank you,” I said.
Lorne picked up the pot and followed as I led him to the spot where I wanted the marigolds placed. Before he put down the pot, he lifted the flowers to his nose and breathed deeply. “I’ve always loved the scent of marigolds,” he said.
“So have I,” I said. “It brings back memories of my daughter Mieka’s first day of school. She made a bouquet for her teacher – no stems, just flowers. She carried them off in a yogurt container.”
When Lorne grinned, he had the roguish charm of the actor Michael J. Fox. “Marigolds always remind me of the two old mansions on College Avenue where Falconer Shreve had their offices before they moved into the glass tower,” he said.
“I remember those marigolds,” I said. “They were in big brass pots at the entrances.”
“When the stress level at the office was reaching a danger point, I’d step outside and smell the marigolds,” Lorne said. “It always did the trick.” He bent and moved the pot so it was closer to the others. “Too bad we don’t have marigolds in the glass tower. These days we could use them.”
“As last night proved,” I said. “Zack had an early meeting, but he’s planning to call and thank you for extricating Emmett Keating from what was a painful situation for everyone.”
“No need for him to call,” Lorne said. “Your husband’s a busy man.”
“I’m glad you were there,” I said. “Lorne, how did Emmett seem on the drive home?”
“Angry,” he said. “Emmett didn’t say a word. I was in your neighbourhood this morning, and I thought I’d see if I could catch Zack. I’d like to get his advice. Our regular HR person is on medical leave, and until she returns, I’m in charge. Emmett needs help, but, Joanne, I’ll be frank. I have no idea what to do because I don’t understand what has happened. There have been no indications that Emmett was unhappy with Falconer Shreve, but last night he caused a scene that may cost him his job.”
The concern in Lorne’s eyes almost compelled me to set discretion aside and tell him what I knew, but if the partners hadn’t informed their acting head of HR about their plans or the debacle of the list, it wasn’t up to me. I shook my head and told him the only version of the truth I could. “I don’t understand what happened either,” I said. “But, Lorne, there is something I wondered about. I noticed that Emmett and Darryl Colby had a very intense conversation during dinner. Darryl makes no secret of his antipathy to Falconer Shreve. I’ve been wondering if he told Emmett something that disturbed him.”
“That does sound odd,” Lorne said. “I’m planning on speaking to Emmett, and when I do I’ll ask him about his talk with Colby,” Lorne said. “If I get any answers, I’ll give you a call.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I said. “What you’re doing goes beyond the duties listed in your job description. Not many people would spend their Saturday following up on a troubled colleague.”
“I don’t know how this situation can be salvaged, but I owe it to Delia to do what I can to keep it from getting worse.” He paused and then gave me an endearingly boyish smile. “And you know, there are times when we really are our brother’s keeper,” he said. “I guess this is one of them.”
—
When I came back inside, Taylor was standing over the kitchen sink, still in the T-shirt and sports shorts she slept in, enjoying her favourite Saturday breakfast – crumpets dripping with butter.
“Everything okay here?” I said.
Taylor gave me a buttery grin. “Perfect. I slept in till nine and this is my third crumpet. There are two crumpets left. Come join me.” My daughter and I were still standing over the sink in the midst of our goof and gossip session, laughing, when Zack came through the door.
He reached for his phone. “I need a picture of this.”
“No way,” Taylor said. “My hair’s weird, and I’m covered in butter.”
“And I’m sweaty,” I said. “You’ll have to hold this moment in your heart.”
Zack wheeled towards us and opened his arms. “Consider the moment held,” he said.
Taylor kissed her father on the head. “I’m going to shower and then go out to my studio to work,” she said. “Don’t leave for the airport without saying goodbye.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Zack said.
Taylor floated off, and I turned to Zack.
“So how did you make out with Margot and Warren?”
“Margot’s still a question mark,” he said. “I sent her a peace offering, but I haven’t heard back.”
“Give her time,” I said. “She feels betrayed, and she has every right to. I’m going to drive over to her place after I drop you at the airport.” The shadows under Zack’s eyes were dark. I took his hand. “It’ll be all right, Zack. We love Margot, and she loves us.”
“I hope to God you’re right,” he said. “On a brighter note, Warren’s offered Emmett a job as house counsel in his Halifax o
ffice, and Emmett is thinking it over.”
“And the offer is conditional on Emmett forgetting his threat to Delia and moving away.”
Zack shrugged. “It’s a quid pro quo world, Jo.”
“I know, but what’s Warren getting out of this? Does he really want to hire a lawyer who tried to blackmail his previous employer?”
“Warren’s a businessman,” Zack said. “Last night, I got up and reviewed Emmett’s performance reports. Jo, he’s great at his job. Tax law is boring as hell, but he has a gift. There’ve been no problems like this before. Emmett’s eccentric, but he’s always been ethical. Warren is willing to overlook last night’s episode based on my recommendation and on what I told him about Emmett’s ability to bring in significant clients.”
“Zack, Emmett cornered me last night and talked to me about Falconer Shreve,” I said. “He knew everything about the firm. He seemed to believe that being part of the Falconer Shreve family would be like finding the Holy Grail.”
“A lifetime of happiness and eternal youth,” Zack said, and his tone was plaintive.
“I can’t believe the man I talked to last night is going to give up on his dream.”
“It’s his only option, Jo. Keating has no future at Falconer Shreve. Last night he was publicly humiliated in front of half the lawyers in Regina. Warren is offering him a graceful exit – a significant position in a beautiful city with unlimited opportunities and a chance to start over.”
“Did Emmett seem as if he was open to Warren’s proposal.”
Zack’s smile was self-mocking. “I wouldn’t know. Emmett insisted the meeting be held at his apartment. When Warren and I arrived, Emmett buzzed Warren in, but he said I wasn’t welcome.”
“So what did you do?”
“I went back to Warren’s car and spent half an hour arguing with Warren’s driver over whether Peyton Manning was a better quarterback than Tom Brady. When Warren came out, he said he’d given Keating twenty-four hours to decide about the job, but he seemed optimistic.”