by Diane Castle
However, there was one last order of business to attend to before I disappeared.
I asked Cameron if I could borrow his cell phone.
“It’s not safe,” he said.
“Please,” I begged. “I promise I won’t do anything to give away the operation or location.”
Cameron still hesitated. “You owe me,” I said. “You let me go in that refinery to die, and now you’re about to hold me captive as a witness for God knows how long. One measly three minute phone call before I go is the least you could do for me.”
Cameron sighed, but forked over the phone.
I dialed Dorian’s number.
“Dorian Saks,” came his voice on the other end.
“Now would be a good time to thank me for getting you out of that refinery alive.”
Instantly, he recognized my voice. “Thank you! I am going to sue you! False imprisonment, assault with a deadly weapon, intent to kill, emotional distress. . .”
“Feel free,” I said, “if you can find me. In the meantime, let’s talk about the Miller case.”
Dorian sighed. “That again? Are you kidding?”
“My client is back in town, so I’m going to give you one last opportunity to settle this case equitably. If you don’t, it’s going to court, and let me tell you, thanks to Cameron Gilbert, I have some incredibly damning video of your client committing murder, which I will use against him. In light of recent events and all the media scrutiny surrounding your client, I doubt if it will end very well for you. I can promise you that I will do my very best to make sure it gets high profile coverage, and I’ll pull out every trick in the book. In addition to nailing Fitz for murder, I’ll prove that his history of flagrant safety violations and cost cutting measures also killed Derrick Miller. A jury will have absolutely no doubt believing it after the explosion that just devastated this town. But if you settle it right here, right now, it goes away, and you’ll never hear about it again.”
“I’m listening,” Dorian said grudgingly. I knew the last thing he wanted to do was settle with me right now, but he wasn’t a fool.
“My client refuses to settle for less than ten million dollars,” I said.
“Heavens to Betsy!” Gracie gasped.
“Petroplex makes that much in profit in only a few hours. It won’t be much of a loss compared to what you’ll get if you let me add fuel to an already raging PR fire. Take it or leave it,” I said. “Last chance.”
“Under the circumstances,” Dorian said quickly, “I think I can speak for my client in saying we agree to that.”
“Good,” I said. “I’ll draft the agreement. No pushback, or it’s a jury. Got it?”
“I understand,” Dorian said.
“I want the check in the mail in a week.”
“Okay, fine. Whatever.”
I thought I could hear him call me the c-word under his breath, but I figured that since I’d just beaten him at his own game, I’d let it go.
“So long, Dorian,” I said, and hung up.
Gracie’s face welled up with tears. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Thank you! Thank you so much! Lord a’mighty, I don’t need that much money. Seeing as how you risked your life for it and all, how about I give you half?”
“No, no, a standard fee would be fine. Actually, a less than standard fee would be fine,” I said, since the original fee agreement stated forty percent. “Send the check to Cameron when it comes in?”
Gracie looked at Cameron for confirmation.
“I’ll give you my address,” he said.
Perfect. My eyes drooped, and my thoughts turned to Judge Delmont. I guessed I wouldn’t be needing to hold those blackmail photos over his head anymore. That was too bad, really. But I supposed karma would catch up with him sooner or later.
That reminded me. Where had Miles gotten those photos in the first place? I decided to ask him, even though there were other people around.
“Hey Miles,” I said. “You know that piece of evidence we used to get Delmont to grant a continuance? Where did you get it?”
“Dick gave it to me,” he said.
“What evidence?” Nash wanted to know.
“Just something pertaining to the case. I won’t bore you with the details,” I said.
I could only imagine how Dick got his hands on the photos. Probably Delmont was stupid enough to set up a rendezvous with his mistress during a poker game and Dick caught it on tape. Then he figured he’d follow Delmont to the motel and snap some photos for leverage on down the line, just in case. He was crafty like that, always making deals and securing insurance.
I wondered for a moment why he would have given them away instead of just using them himself, but then the answer became obvious. He couldn’t have used them without destroying his relationship with Delmont and the poker crew, thus staunching the flow of his inside information. He knew I’d been up against the wall on the Miller case and must have been afraid of losing a hundred grand in expenses. Hence the exchange. That was my theory, anyway. It seemed to fit.
Lucy left her spot at the window and crawled into my lap, where she promptly fell asleep.
“Too tired to enjoy riding in the car, huh?” I asked. “Alert the media. I can’t believe it.”
“I believe it,” Nash said.
My head sank onto his shoulder as I contemplated slipping into my own land of dreams.
“What’s next?” Nash asked agent Roberts.
“After the hospital, a nice farm somewhere in Montana for a couple months. And then Congressional hearings, most likely,” Roberts replied.
In a perfect world, we’d be able to convince Congress to fully close the Enron Loophole, institute campaign finance and lobbyist reform, and add some more teeth to The Clean Air Act. One could only hope.
“After that,” Nash whispered into my ear, “We’ll go spend some of the fee you just earned in Tahiti.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Can we get one of those little huts that stick out over the water and have glass bottoms so you can see all the fish swimming around underneath?”
“Sounds good to me,” Nash said.
“And margaritas,” I said. “We have to have margaritas.”
“And margaritas,” Nash agreed. “With Patron and a sangria swirl.”
Nash and Patron margaritas and a beach. Heaven. Sheer Heaven. And then afterwards, I could take the money I made on Gracie’s case and start my own firm. Be my own boss. No more having to deal with jerks like Dick. No more blackmail. No more subterfuge. Everything on the up and up. Things were looking better for me, finally. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I was going to be okay. Better than okay.
Look out, world. Chloe Taylor’s on the loose. Here I come.
Thank You, from the Author
Wow, since you made it this far, I'd like to personally thank you for reading this book. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, will you please do me a favor and post a review on amazon.com? Please also feel free to drop by my blog at http://www.blackoilredblood.com and leave a comment or send me a message. I'd love to hear from you! While you're online, take a moment to connect with me on Facebook and Twitter, too!
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About the Author
Diane Castle is the pseudonym of a Texas attorney whose practice experience includes assisting plaintiffs with wrongful death and personal injury cases against Big Oil
giants such as ExxonMobil, ChevronTexaco, BP, and ConocoPhillips. Diane has published short fiction under a different name, and she has also written a stage play that was translated into German, produced in a castle near Munich, and sold out three seasons.
Prior to her career as an attorney, Diane was a staff writer for The Dallas Morning News. She also feels privileged to have been honored with two awards for humor and satire and one award for literary criticism. Diane lives in Dallas with her husband David and her three dogs: Lucy, Gracie, and Mouse.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
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About the Author