Chapter Thirteen #2
Luna pulled out of the parking lot in her rental car and set out to see if Harper was free for lunch.
The building where Marcus Peterson’s law practice resided was home to several attorneys.
Many of which Nate solicited in the weeks before he arrived in Seattle and followed up with after he’d started the Mercier case.
Finding clients was easier when you could drop a familiar name that you were currently working with.
Wearing a power suit, one that cost him close to two grand, Nate sat across from Ms. Elenore Prescott, having lunch a couple of blocks from her office. Elenore specialized in corporate mergers. Unlike Marcus, Elenore exclusively used external help when investigating the companies she worked with.
The perfect fit for the business Nate was building.
Several booths were filled with women and men in suits, with very few appearing like they’d wandered in off the street for a quick bite.
“I hope this is okay,” Elenore said as they took their seats. “It’s literally the only decent business lunch place within walking distance.”
“That’s surprising, there seemed to be several restaurants in the area.”
“Ones that are only open for dinner. So many shut down altogether with the pandemic and have yet to be replaced.”
“That sounds like a business opportunity to me,” Nate said.
Elenore paused and offered a coy smile. “I like the way you think. If you hear of any investment opportunities, please let me know.”
“I will.”
Elenore Prescott was the kind of woman who didn’t show her age.
From her portfolio, Nate knew she was one year shy of sixty, but to look at her, she didn’t look a day over forty-five.
Her face was absent of age lines either from Botox or simply good genes.
From the look of her, Nate assumed she coveted her time with her Pilates instructor, and occasionally her private trainer.
He envisioned the car that she drove as a 7 series BMW or something equivalent.
A large house in a gated community and maybe even a second home in Florida.
She’d been married twice but was now single with two adult children of her own.
She was as competent as she was beautiful.
She did everything she could to keep her clients from going to trial, but when they did, she kicked ass.
The “kicked ass” came from an article buried in the back of a newspaper Nate had found in a simple Google search.
The waiter arrived before Nate had a chance to pick up the menu.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Prescott.”
“Hello, Charles. How are you?”
“I’m well. Can I get you some sparkling water?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“And you, sir? Still or sparkling?” Charles asked Nate.
“Still is fine.”
Charles left them alone with the promise of returning soon.
“Clearly you come here often,” Nate said.
“My offices have been in the same place for fifteen years. My relationship with Charles has lasted longer than my last marriage.”
That made Nate laugh. “I hope that’s a good thing.”
“Have you ever been married?” she asked.
“No.”
“Don’t. Trust me, it’s overrated.” She didn’t sound bitter so much as resigned to her convictions.
Nate wanted to tell her that some people got it right. Although arguing that fact with a lawyer he wanted to hire him was probably a bad idea.
Elenore made small talk until they ordered and then leaned back and started the interview.
“I work with very high-profile clients. When they decide to merge or break up, I’m involved. There is nothing I loathe more than discovering a company’s dirty secrets once contracts are drawn up.”
“Do you investigate everyone you work with?” he asked.
“Not all,” she told him. “When you’ve worked in this field as long as I have, you develop a sixth sense. I can count on one hand how many investigations I’ve worked that didn’t find a skeleton or two. Being on top of what my clients are hiding is what keeps me out of court.”
“Why hide anything from your attorney?”
“Everyone lies. Most people think they’re good at it.
If they didn’t lie, I wouldn’t have a job, and neither would you.
I demand honesty with the people I work with, not for.
I have to trust you. If you work with me, I’d expect written updates on an agreed upon schedule, and phone calls if you find something that we don’t want found in discovery.
Attorney client privilege has its perks,” she said.
“I worked for the government, I’m familiar with discretion.”
“Yes. I’ve been told that. I called your superior in DC.”
Nate felt the muscles in his back tighten. “You spoke with Monique?”
“Yes. Ms. Fields spoke highly of you.”
“We worked together for several years.” And slept together for two.
“She asked how you’re doing. When I told her that I hadn’t interviewed you yet, she told me I’d be losing out if I didn’t hire you. That you were one of her top investigators and were sorely missed.”
“That’s kind of her.”
Elenore reached for her water. “I asked why you left. She told me personal reasons. But that if you ever chose to return, she’d hire you back.”
“I left on good terms, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Nate explained.
“I was looking for dirt.”
That didn’t surprise him. “Did you find any?”
“No,” she said slowly.
Nate smiled but didn’t reply.
“How are you enjoying working for yourself and not the government?” she asked.
“Freeing. Billing by the hour and not being glued to a time clock is more efficient and ultimately cost-effective,” he said.
“I couldn’t agree more. It’s one of the reasons I outsource my investigators. You cost me less in the end.”
“What are the other reasons?” he asked.
Elenore looked him dead in the eye. “I find that intra-office relationships not only interfere with work, they ultimately have me refilling positions left behind by good employees.”
To Nate’s credit, he didn’t so much as blink.
Was it something Monique said, or how she said it?
Telling Elenore she had nothing to fear would be right up there with a complete confession.
Instead, Nate kept her gaze until she broke it with a knowing smile.
“Is your hourly rate negotiable?” she asked him.
“Is yours?” he countered.
Respect swam in her eyes. “I think you and I will get along very well.”