9. Reed
Reed couldn’t take his eyes off Maya. She was perched on the edge of a dark wood and burgundy leather-bound chair in front of Al’s matching desk, right foot bouncing against the floor, eyes tracking with his down the page, and lips faintly mouthing the summary of findings they had put together. She looked about as nervous as he felt when he showed up on her doorstep Saturday night.
He still didn’t know what he was thinking. As soon as he had put the pieces together, he was in his truck on the highway headed back to Atlanta because he needed to tell her right then. She had every right to slam the door in his face, but he was glad she didn’t because they’d ended up getting some work done and even shared a few laughs which was a first. There was a new ease to their relationship thanks to this break in the case, and he had no intention of looking back.
He waved his hand over her knee to catch her attention. When she looked at him, he took an exaggerated breath, and let it out, then nodded at her to let her know it was her turn. She rolled her eyes, but took a breath, albeit a much shallower one. Her leg stilled and she appeared a little more at ease.
“I have to say I’m disappointed,” Al said finally.
It was short-lived, however. Maya tried to keep her expression in check. Now even he was feeling a little tense.
“In myself, that is,” he clarified. “I thought it would take you at least a few weeks to get to this point.”
Maya shared another quick look with Reed, this time the corners of her mouth turning upward slightly. “So we’re on the right track?” she asked.
“You’re there,” he said. “You’ve got your case.”
She relaxed into her chair, just as Reed leaned forward. “Can I ask how it came to your attention?”
“You know me,” Al said coyly as he leaned forward in return, resting his forearms on the desk.
Reed did know him quite well in that regard. Alvin King may be sitting in an office high above Atlanta now, but he grew up in small-town Georgia just like Reed. The man never lost touch with his roots, though, and still seemed to have a friend, and friends of friends, in every corner of the state.
“I got a call from the booking officer who was on duty the night Mr. Johnson was brought in. He just so happened to overhear an interesting conversation in a bar a few nights before that set off alarms, so he called to run it by me. I said we’d take on the client. Word travels fast in a small town. You know that, Reed.”
Reed caught Maya’s eyes bouncing between the two of them as he nodded knowingly.
“Does Johnson have any idea what’s going on?” she asked.
“That I don’t know.” Al stood from his chair and came around to the front of his desk. “You two now know more about the case than I do, but I’d say that’s probably your next step. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to run across town for a meeting,” he said with a smile as he began to walk out of his office. Just as he reached the door, though, he turned around as if he’d forgotten something. “Nice work you two. I told you I had a good feeling about this summer.”
Before either one could respond, he was off again, leaving them sitting in his office, quietly basking in the praise for a moment and catching their breath from the whirlwind seventy-two hours they’d just had. Reed glanced at his silver watch, then at Maya who was staring absently out the window, though he was sure her mind was working on something.
“It’s only nine-thirty,” he said.
She turned and looked at him with a gleam in her eyes.
“You up for another road trip to Corinth?” he asked.
“You read my mind, Stanton.”
* * *
“For Christ’s sake. It’s not Tuesday yet…is it?”
“No.” Reed braced his hand on the door before Mr. Johnson could shut it in their faces. “It’s Monday. I know we’re a day early, but we need to talk to you.”
“Do we have to?” Johnson groaned through the small crack he peered through. “I’ll plead guilty, pay a fine, whatever it takes to make you two go away.”
“You might not want to do that,” Maya suggested, meeting his agitation with calm. “May we come in?”
Johnson eyed them both with a pained look on his face. He must have known that they weren’t going to take no for an answer because he stepped aside and walked back over to his blue recliner, leaving the door cracked. Not exactly a warm welcome, but they’d take it.
Maya walked in and stopped in the middle of the living room, giving Johnson his space, while Reed headed for the kitchen table looking for the tool she had spotted on their last visit. He didn’t have to look long, however, since it was sitting in the exact same spot it had been before. He picked it up, turning the unrefined mass of mismatched metal, fasteners, and coils in his hand while examining it in person for the first time.
“You made this, huh?” Reed asked as he held the tool up for Johnson’s perusal.
Their client nodded and leaned forward in his chair, tensing up as he eyed Reed from across the room.
“Impressive.”
“You even know what that’s for?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Crimps pipes,” Reed answered easily. “How’d it come about?”
Reed’s knowledge must have disarmed him because the tension in his jaw eased. He put the tool back down on the table which made Johnson abandon his position on the edge of his seat and relax. Reed walked across the room to join Maya.
“Plumbing is hell on the body.” Johnson held his calloused, knotty hands up for them to see. “I got the hands and knees of a man twice my age, and all the fumes were givin’ me breathin’ trouble. My doc said I’d be on oxygen in the next few years if I kept it up, but it’s all I know how to do, so I made the tool so I could keep workin’.”
“How does it help you?” Maya asked.
“The lever makes it so that I don’t have to use my hands as much, and the crimpin’ saves me from havin’ to weld the pipes. Turns out it’s faster than what we were doin’ before. I’m gettin’ older and slower, but I was finishin’ jobs two or three hours ahead of schedule.”
“Sounds like a tool everyone could use then,” Reed said. “You ever make any more of these?”
“That’s the only one,” Johnson confirmed as he nodded toward said tool. “I made it out back in my shed last winter. Took me a month to finish.”
“Anyone else ever use it? Or ask you to make more?” Maya asked, deftly steering the conversation toward the reason for their visit.
“Can we cut to the chase?” Johnson asked. “It’s pretty damn obvious the Prescotts had their eyes on it. They tried to keep it after they fired me. I got it back, and that’s all I care about because if I can find work again, I’m gonna need it.”
Maya and Reed exchanged a quick look, questioning who would break the news to him. She gave him a small nod to go ahead.
“Mr. Johnson, that’s not all there is to it. We believe they kept your tool because they had plans to manufacture it. They were shopping it around to plumbing companies across the state.”
Johnson sat still in his chair, taking a moment to let the news sink in. And once it had, he reached for an unopened beer on the side table beside him, gripping it tightly in his hand as his face contorted in anger. He cursed under his breath, then slammed the can back down on the table before going still in his chair again.
“We think you have a case here, Mr. Johnson,” Maya said quietly, his anger, again, eliciting a calming tone from her.
“I told you, I don’t have the money,” he yelled, letting them get the brunt of his frustrations. “And even if I did, those two are in cahoots with every cop, councilman, and business owner in this entire county and the next two over. I wouldn’t stand a chance,” he finished, the fire in his eyes giving way to resignation.
“This is bigger than small town alliances,” she urged, her voice steady and soft, but impassioned. Maya took a step closer to Johnson, bending her knees slightly to bring her to his eye level. “You may have your tool in your possession now, but they stole your work and ideas and stand to make a lot of money from it. Money that should go in your pocket.”
“Half of which would go to you.” He snorted.
“No,” she answered firmly. “We don’t want a penny of your money.”
“I don’t get it. Why go to all the trouble?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” she answered. Her lips then curled into a smile. “Also, now is probably a good time to tell you that we’re not actually lawyers, so we can’t charge anyway.”
Reed let out a small laugh. She was pretty damn good at this. It was a smart approach, if she hadn’t won him over with her emotional appeal, maybe honesty would work, as unflattering as it was for them. One of the many things he had come to admire about Maya was that she was not fake, in fact she was as real as they came, but her truths sometimes came out with a bite, sharp and sarcastic. When the truth was delivered with tenderness, however, it hit harder than any barb she could throw.
“For fuck’s sake, you two,” he muttered.
“But we’re working with one of the best lawyers in the country,” Reed assured him as he joined Maya, “and I promise we’ll do right by you. All you have to do is say the word.”
Johnson let out a sigh as he stared at them. Yes, they were young and inexperienced and annoying the hell out of him, but they were committed. And smart. Smarter than the young assholes he used to work with, at least. As it stood, Johnson had nothing. No job, no income, and no hope of getting work in the area anytime soon.
“Fine.”
“Thank you for trusting us with your case, Mr. Johnson,” Maya said, relief and excitement in her voice.
Johnson snorted in the face of her earnest response. Trust was a bit of an overstatement since the man had nothing to lose, but this was really a win for everyone. Johnson had a shot at getting his product and then some back, Maya got her intellectual property case, and Reed got to take on small town corruption. And he also had the pleasure of seeing more of the Maya he liked so much.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do on our end now, but we’ll be in touch with updates,” she said.
Johnson gestured to his grand surroundings. “I’ll be here.”
Maya gave him a smile then looked at Reed and nodded toward the door. He was sure she was eager to get back to the city and back to work, but he had other ideas. Reed stopped and turned. “Say, Mr. Johnson, where’s the closest bar?”
“Ain’t it a little early to be celebratin’?” he asked with his default dryness.
“Trust me, we’re not,” Reed said with a laugh. “We’re gonna get right to work, actually.”
“Whatever you say. Go back toward the main road, hang a left, and it’s about a mile down.”
“Thank you, sir.”
When he turned around, he came face to face with Maya’s incredulous stare. She hurried him out the door and once it was closed, she stopped and folded her arms across her chest.
“A bar?”
“Yeah, a bar, Hendricks. Every small town’s got one, and it’s just about quittin’ time, so it should be full of interesting people.” He kept walking towards the truck.
“Quittin’ time?” Her voice went up nearly a full octave with that one.
“Just trust me.”