Statue of Limitations

by Kate Collins

  “I thought we were going to limit our questions to your novel only. Why did you go on the attack?”

  “You did a fairly good job of that yourself.”

  “I’d had it with Kirkland’s evasive answers. He’s protecting the Talbots and I wanted to know why.”

  “I’m not criticizing you. In fact, I’m proud of you. Give me a high five, Goddess Athena. You were on fire!”

  I had been on fire! I slapped his palm, proud of myself for taking a strong stance. “I knew by his last answer that Sonny Talbot made that call on the autopsy. At least now Kirkland has been warned he’s going to have to answer for it.”

  “On the other hand, now that he’s on notice, we may never get the truth from him.”

  I tapped my chin. “Was it Shakespeare who said, ‘The truth will out’?”

  “Yep. And the truth is, Athena, Goddess of War, you’ve got more Greek in you than you want to admit. Remind me never to cross swords with you.”

  I couldn’t help smiling just a bit. If it came down to a fight over the statue ownership, Case also knew now whom he’d be dealing with.

  I spotted the Italian pizza truck parked at the curb just across the plaza and my stomach growled in response. “I’m going to grab a bite of lunch before I head back to Spencer’s, so I’ll see you at the boat later when I bring your cell phone.”

  “Thanks for the invitation,” he said, falling into step beside me.

  “What invitation?”

  “I have to eat, too. And we need to discuss our strategy for the press conference.”

  “I told you, Case,” I said quietly, “it’s too risky for you to attend the conference, and you probably shouldn’t be seen with me. You never know who’s going to be there.”

  “And I told you it would be risky for Case to attend but not for Dimitri. So here’s what I was thinking.”

  I came to a stop. “We are not going to discuss this out here in front of the whole town.”

  Case glanced surreptitiously over both shoulders, then whispered, “I don’t think the whole town is here, but if it’d make you feel better, we could buy a pizza to split, take it back to the boat, and discuss it there.”

  “You’re not going to walk around here with those shoes on! People will see them.”

  “Oh, no! People will see your shoes, too! Maybe we should go barefoot.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Starting toward the food truck he pointed to a man standing nearby. “Look, he has navy athletic shoes on.” He pointed to another man eating a slice of pizza at a picnic table near the truck. “And so does he. And that guy over there has navy leather shoes. See? He even has a cell phone, lucky bastard.”

  “I said I’ll get you your phone today,” I ground out.

  “Good. Then we’re going to have a nice calm lunch and talk about our strategy.”

  We stopped in front of the menu board on the side of the truck and I pointed to one of their selections. “The wild mushroom pizza with feta and spinach looks good.”

  “Maybe to a goat,” Case said as we got in line. “Give me a good old pepperoni loaded with mozzarella and onions any time.”

  “Add a double helping of antacid to that and we’ve got a meal.”

  “Here’s an idea. How about we each get our own pizza?”

  “That works for me,” I said.

  “Athena?”

  I glanced around and spotted Kevin coming through the crowd. He was hard to miss in his blue plaid blazer, matching blue shirt, blue-and-coral–striped tie, navy pants, and, as karma would have it, navy shoes.

  I immediately moved away from Case, pasting on a smile as I walked forward. “Kevin! What are you doing here?”

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing. I texted you twice about meeting me for lunch and never got a response.”

  Damn! Once again, I’d forgotten to turn the ringer back on. What was it with me and phones? “I’m sorry, Kevin. I keep putting my phone on mute and forgetting about it.”

  Kevin pointed to someone behind me. “Who’s he? You had your heads together like you were old friends.”

  I didn’t need to glance around to know who he was talking about, but I did anyway and saw Case standing at the order window. My mind instantly went into hyper drive, turning over several possible answers before deciding to stick to the story we’d invented. “He’s a writer, new in town. In fact, I gave him directions on how to get to the harbor yesterday and we just happened to run into each other down here. And as it turns out, we have distant relatives in common.”

  “Distant, huh? And now you’re having lunch with him?”

  “What would make you think that?” Why was my voice coming out all tight and squeaky? And why, oh why, was Case coming toward us?

  “I ordered our pizzas,” Case said.

  I stared at him wide-eyed until he got the message.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Case held out his hand and flashed his dimpled smile. “Hi, I’m Dimitri Costas. You must be Kevin. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Kevin shook his hand, giving him a hesitant smile. “Thanks.”

  “I told Dimitri,” I said to Kevin, my wheels still searching for a reasonable explanation, “that you might be able to give him some legal advice for the mystery novel he’s writing.” To Case I said, “Kevin’s quite a fount of knowledge.”

  Kevin used his hand to describe an imaginary headline of a newspaper. “Local boy makes it big as a high-powered Manhattan attorney.”

  Case nodded as though impressed. “Good for you.”

  Kevin lifted his chin proudly. “I had one of the heaviest caseloads in the firm. Got my photo in the Times, too. Any time you need to tap my legal expertise, give me a call.”

  Case said, “Thanks. I will. What was your area of specialty?”

  “Bankruptcy law.”

  “Ah. Do you have a business card?”

  Kevin checked his pockets. “I don’t have any on me at the moment. Give me your cell phone and I’ll type in my personal phone number.”

  Case patted his own pockets. “I seem to have left my phone at home.” He shot me a pointed look.

  “I have one of your business cards, Kev.” I pulled my wallet out of my purse, took out one of Kevin’s cards, and handed it to Case.

  He read it with a frown, as though puzzled. “This says you’re a legal aide.”

  Kevin scratched behind his ear. “That’s just temporary. I’m looking into a position with a new law office.”

  “You are?” I asked in surprise.

  “It’s hush-hush right now,” Kevin said. “I don’t want to talk about it and jinx myself.”

  This from the man who said I should discuss my personal problems with him.

  “Athena,” someone called from the truck, “your order is ready for pickup.”

  “Be right there,” I called back.

  “Hey, honey,” Kevin said, “I’m not going to be able to meet you for dinner tonight, so do you want to split the pizza with me? I’ve got about fifteen minutes and then I have to get back to the firm.”

  Did I want to? No. Did I have to? “Sure.”

  Kevin pulled out his wallet. “I’ll get the pizza. You get us a table. By the way, I won’t be able to make the press conference today after all. I have to help my legal team prepare for a trial. Nice to meet you, Dimitri. Feel free to call me anytime.”

  “Will do. Thanks.”

  As Kevin headed toward the pickup counter, Case imitated him by using his hand to describe a headline. “Local boy makes it big as a high-powered Manhattan attorney, then returns home to work as a legal aide.”

  I whispered angrily, “He hasn’t been able to find a position yet, that’s all. But you heard him. Something is in the offing. And you should have kept your distance when you saw us together. I don’t want him to know we’re collaborating.”

  “Why not? He’ll find out sooner or later.”

  “It’ll be
my decision when to tell him, not yours.”

  “What do you see in that preening peacock anyway?”

  “For one thing, he isn’t a wanted man.”

  “Touché. And for another?”

  I rubbed my ear, muttering, “It keeps my mother happy.”

  Case could hardly suppress a grin. “Great reason.”

  “Dimitri,” came the call from the truck, “your pizza is ready for pickup.”

  Kevin turned around and gave a nod to Case. “I’ve got it. My treat.”

  “There’s another thing,” I said. “He’s generous.” Knowing Kevin was watching, I said, “Well, it was nice to see you again, Dimitri. Good luck with your book.”

  “Thank you, Athena.” Then he added quietly, “I’ll see you later.”

  “Don’t you dare come to that press conference,” I whispered.

  Case merely smiled.

  “I mean it, Case.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Try to remember to buy me a phone, okay? Oh, and one more thing. Tell your boyfriend I approve of his shoe color.”

  I gave him a scowl and walked away to claim a table.

  * * *

  The rest of the afternoon seemed to fly by because we had an unusual number of tourists and I was needed on the sales floor. I took a coffee break at four o’clock to prepare my notes for the press conference and then got so busy I ended up dashing out the door ten minutes before the conference was due to start, crossing my fingers that I didn’t get stuck in traffic on my way.

  But naturally I hit a major snarl and pulled through Talbot Enterprises’ main gates at five minutes after five o’clock. The parking lot in front of the sprawling, two-story, Tudor-style building was completely full, so I had to park in the employee lot behind the building. I shut off the engine, grabbed my purse, and hurried around to the front lawn where a crowd of people were milling around, waiting for Sonny’s appearance.

  A podium loaded with microphones had been set up on a cement terrace several yards from the central revolving door while a TV news crew and a reporter accompanied by his cameraman jockeyed for a good position. Thankfully, I didn’t see Case anywhere, which meant that he’d either taken my advice or been frightened off when he caught sight of the cameras.

  I spotted GMA members Barb and Nancy and went to stand with them. “Sorry I’m late. I had to park in the employee lot.”

  “So did I,” Barb said, “and I got here fifteen minutes early.”

  I looked up at the podium. “Any word on when Talbot’s going to appear?”

  “Nothing,” Nancy said. “Watch him cancel.”

  “Want to hear something fishy, girls?” Barb asked.

  “We’re all ears,” Nancy said.

  Barb glanced over her shoulder, then whispered, “Don’t look now but Don Fatsis is at the back of the crowd.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “As I was parking around back,” Barb said, “I saw him walk out of Talbot’s building through the employee entrance carrying a briefcase and grinning like a fool.”

  “Did he see you?” I asked.

  “No. I ducked down. Now what would Fatsis be doing inside the Talbot building before the press conference?”

  “The bigger question is why was he leaving through the employee door?” Nancy asked.

  “What do you say we go ask him?” I asked.

  “Not me,” Nancy said. “I can’t stand the man.”

  “I’m with you, Nan,” Barb said. “Forget about it, Athena. He wouldn’t tell you the truth anyway.”

  But as the two women chatted about other things, I kept thinking back to what my father had said about Fatsis buddying up to the elder Talbot. Was that what he was doing with Sonny now?

  I glanced back at him and saw him grinning like he had a secret. And then I had an inspiration. “Hold my spot, girls. I’ll be right back.”

  I walked around the edge of the crowd and pretended to be just coming up from the back of the building. Putting my hand to my chest I said breathlessly, “Whew. I thought I’d be late. Any word on why the press conference hasn’t started?”

  “Not that I’ve heard,” Fatsis said in his usual grumpy voice, his gaze fixed on the podium and his grin gone. “And I’ve got better things to do than stand around waiting for that jerk to get it together.”

  Standing on tiptoe to see above the heads I said, “I was hoping to get a closer spot. I sure wasn’t expecting this big of a crowd.” I dropped back down on my feet. “Looks like you got here late, too.”

  He grunted yes.

  “That was some traffic accident on the bridge, wasn’t it? Did you see that mangled motor scooter in the center lane?”

  Another affirmative grunt. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk to me.

  “Did you see what caused the accident?”

  “A tourist,” he said, his upper lip curling in distaste, “as usual.”

  I rose up on my toes again, then gave up with a sigh. “I’m going to try to get closer. Let’s hope we can rattle Talbot’s cage—if he shows up.”

  Fatsis merely grunted again.

  “One more thing,” I said. “How is the funding site going?”

  “It’s in development,” he growled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”

  Why didn’t I believe him? “Let me know when it goes live so I can help spread the word.”

  I slipped through the crowd and came up behind Barb and Nancy. “Okay, here’s the scoop. Fatsis arrived here late because he got caught in the same traffic accident tie-up on the bridge that I did.”

  “He didn’t get here late,” Barb said.

  I smiled. “And there wasn’t an accident on the bridge, either.”

  “I knew he was up to something,” Barb said.

  Nancy, always playing devil’s advocate, interjected, “But remember, he did say he would try to talk some sense into Talbot about the upcoming demolition. Maybe that’s what he was doing.”

  “Then why would he sneak out the back door?” I asked. “And why lie about the traffic accident? If he was here to meet with Talbot, you’d think he would’ve told me since we’re all supposed to be working for the same cause.”

  Nancy craned her neck to see over the crowd. “Look! Here comes Talbot now.”

  Flanked by four men in dark suits, two of whom I recognized as Talbot’s attorneys, both younger than him, and two uniformed security guards, Sonny crossed the plaza and walked up to the podium. Flashing an arrogant smile, he was dressed in a black cardigan sweater, blue button-down dress shirt, open at the neck, with black pants and shiny black leather shoes. Had I not known what lay beneath the surface, I would’ve considered him good-looking, with short-cropped brown hair that was slightly gray at the temples, a year-round tan, and a brilliant white smile.

  He tapped the main microphone. “Can everyone hear me okay?”

  “I’m going to get closer,” I said, and wove my way forward. I glanced around again for Case and was relieved that there was still no sign of him.

  “Thank you for coming,” Talbot began. “I’m Grayson Talbot, in case anyone here doesn’t know.”

  That got a light titter from the audience. I noted that he’d dropped the junior on his name. He was the man now.

  “I’ve called this press conference to announce that Talbot Enterprises is going ahead with its condominium complex starting ten days from now. It’s a move I promise will revitalize the downtown area, and I’ll be explaining just how that will happen in just a few minutes.”

  There was an audible gasp from the crowd. Ten days to stop Talbot.

  “You’re going to revitalize the downtown by razing our shops and driving away tourists?” a member of the GMA called.

  “No, by bringing more people downtown,” Talbot replied. “The entire main floor of the block-long building will be dedicated to upscale shops, a restaurant, a wine bar, and space for business offices, as well.”

  “We like our old shops,” another woman called. “They have characte
r.”

  “The upper floors,” Talbot continued, “will hold deluxe two- and three-bedroom condominiums with balconies overlooking the harbor.”

  “How many floors?” came a voice from the other side of the crowd.

  “Seven. Four units per floor.”

  “That’ll block people’s view of the harbor for everyone living behind it,” an angry voice called out, raising a lot of loud grumbles all around.

  “What happened to our regulation height of a maximum of three stories?” another voice called.

  One of Talbot’s attorneys leaned toward the microphones. “We’re working with the planning commission on changing that.”

  His comment was roundly booed. I was certain the planning commission had already given him a stamp of approval. He was, after all, a Talbot.

  A man from the local TV news station raised his hand. “What about parking for all these new people who’ll be living downtown? We all know parking is at a premium now.”

  “There will be ample parking under and behind the building.”

  “Mr. Talbot,” the reporter called, “does that mean you plan to demolish the shops you own on Oak Street as well?”

  Talbot and one of his assistants had a whispered conversation, then Talbot said, “Just the first building on Pine Avenue, where we’ll put in a multilevel parking lot.”

  “That’s where my shop is,” a woman called in a shrill voice. “You promised me that building wouldn’t be touched.”

  Talbot raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he looked in her direction. “Who’s speaking, please?”

  “You know who I am.”

  I looked around and spotted Marie Odem wearing her standard belted black dress, her hands on her skinny hips, glaring at Sonny. Then she caught sight of the TV news cameraman filming her and turned toward them with a practiced smile. “Marie Odem, O. D. E. M., owner of Wear For Art Thou resale shop, and for the record, both Talbots, father and son, promised that my shop would be saved.”

  “Forgive me, Mrs. Odem,” Sonny said into his mic, “but I don’t recall any such conversation with you.”

  “Liar!” she cried. “Either you tell these people what you told me at that last dinner meeting or I will.”

  “You must be mistaken,” Talbot answered smoothly. He gave a nod to one of the security men standing nearby and the man began moving toward Marie. “I’ve never had any such conversation with you.”