Chapter 13 #2
He nodded at us. “Ms. Norwood, Ms. Moore. Good morning.” We shook hands. The doorbell jingled again. “Ah. And here comes the other party.”
Delilah stalked in first, walking with her head held high, as if she owned the place.
Tall, slim, and haughty-looking, with high cheekbones, wide blue eyes and icy-white hair pulled back into a perfect French roll, it was easy to look at Delilah and suspect something otherworldly about her.
Although today she was wearing a camel-colored trench coat and dark glasses.
Gordon strode in next, also whipping off dark glasses, his fine white hair combed back from his face.
He was wearing a similar outfit to his wife—a long tan coat over beige slacks with a navy polo shirt.
Both of them looked furious. But then again, the whole time I’d known them, their emotional range seemed to only extend from mildly pissed to an icy, barely contained rage.
Rufus Stonnington, their lawyer, ambled in behind them, wearing blue trousers and a white shirt under a matching sports jacket.
He looked even older than when I last saw him—his eyes were droopy and red-rimmed, and his jowls were a little slacker and wobblier than before.
I was surprised they stuck with him—Rufus was a hotshot lawyer back in his day, but he was well past his prime and should have retired ages ago.
According to Martina, Delilah and Gordon were his only clients.
They both ignored the bartender and walked over to our table. I smiled but didn’t stand up. “Gordon, Delilah. How lovely to see you.”
They glared down at us and scraped back the seats opposite us. Delilah’s eyes dropped beneath the table. Spotting Cecil’s furry butt sitting right by my legs, she gave a visible shudder. “She brought a dog with her. I’m not?—”
“It’s a service animal,” Martina said in a bored tone. “He has to be close to me.” We’d already decided to pretend Cecil belonged to her. The Andresanos would find it suspicious that I suddenly needed a medical alert assistant.
Jared, the mediator, raised his voice. “Service animals are very well trained, Mrs. Andresano, and legally they are permitted in all public settings. I’m sure you will not even notice him.”
Delilah shot Gordon a look. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” She draped herself into her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared sullenly at me.
I stared back at her.
Jared the mediator took his seat and held up his hands.
“Mr. Stonnington, Ms. Norwood. I understand you are both well versed in the intricacies of this case, so I’ll let you go ahead and hash things out.
I will sit in and listen, and if things get tense, I’ll attempt to steer the discussion onto a more productive path.
Other than that, I’ll keep quiet. Does that sound good? ”
“Certainly,” Martina said, opening her laptop.
Rufus nodded and rummaged around in a briefcase, bringing out a fistful of manila folders. He cleared his throat loudly. “I’ll start, shall I? First, an offer. You drop your suit, and my clients will drop theirs. We both walk out of here.”
“No deal,” Martina said. “My client’s suit relates to harm directly inflicted on her by your clients which predates the settlement suit. Their suit is just a money grab that will be voided when our case goes to trial.”
“Our case will go to trial first,” Rufus harrumphed.
“That makes no difference.”
“It does if the judge finds that your client hid her assets to avoid a fair divorce settlement. She’ll be forced to sell that building, and all her money will disappear. You won’t have the means to pursue this ridiculous suit.”
“Do I have to remind you that our accusations are also being investigated by federal agencies? If they find we have sufficient evidence to suggest perjury, bribery, witness tampering?—”
“They won’t find anything. Your client will be forced to give up that flashy building, and all this will be for nothing.” He glared at her with his rheumy eyes. “Give it up, Martina. Walk away.”
She had the good grace not to laugh. “No, Rufus. That’s not happening.”
They argued for a few more minutes, with Stonnington making absurd demands and Martina deflecting them with breezy competence.
The bartender stomped over with three baskets of chicken wings in his hands, placing one in front of Martina, one in front of Jared, and one in front of the Andresanos.
Delilah looked down at the basket in disgust, as if someone had taken a dump on the table, and shoved the basket across the table.
It almost hit me in the chest; I stopped it with my hand just in time.
I arched my brow. “Assault, Delilah? Have you sunk that far?”
Her eyes flashed. “You little bit?—”
Rufus cleared his throat loudly, drowning her words. “Just so you’re aware, I’ll be filing several motions.” He opened a folder and began an incomprehensible stream of legalese.
Martina fired back with her own, picking up a chicken wing and tearing into it with her teeth. I didn’t understand any of it, so I tuned them out, poked Cecil with my toe, and handed him the basket of hot wings under the table.
Delilah sneered at me when she saw what I was doing but didn’t say anything.
Cecil tapped me back with his empty whiskey glass. Bless him, he’d already finished his mid-morning cocktail. We had about twenty minutes before he got itchy for another one.
My eyes drifted over to the mediator, Jared. He was looking even sleepier, in fact, he had his chin propped on his hand.
The lawyers went back and forth, back and forth, like they were playing a game of verbal tennis.
I followed it the best I could. From what I could understand, Rufus was attempting to confuse Martina by using outdated phrases and citing ancient cases that had no bearing on what we were discussing at all.
Martina, knowing he had nothing to offer, tore into her chicken wings and delivered snappy replies, insisting he keep to relevant matters.
After a long while of this, I shot a look at Jared. He was supposed to be keeping things on track, but he appeared to be asleep. His chin was still resting in his hands, but now, his eyes were closed.
A throb of disappointment pulsed through me. I knew this was going to be a waste of time, but I’d been hoping to get something out of Gordon and Delilah.
Anything. I’d even accept a snippy remark about how she always hated me because when we first met, we were wearing the same perfume.
It wasn’t my fault. Vincent had bought me the bottle. I should have recognized the giant red flag, but like all his other red flags, I blew them off. God, I’d been an idiot.
My mind wandered. Idly, I thought about calling over the bartender to get me a drink—or just one for Cecil, who was probably going to start complaining soon—but the bartender was nowhere in sight.
I nudged Cecil with my foot, just to check on him.
My toes sank into the soft fur of his belly, but he didn’t move.
In fact, he felt like he was asleep, too.
I patted him gently with the sole of my foot; his breathing was even.
Yep, asleep. Oh well. As long as he wasn’t complaining—or biting anyone—I wouldn’t wake him up.
“The feds are literally investigating your clients for multiple crimes,” Martina snapped. Her face had turned red; her patience was wearing thin.
“No charges have been filed,” Rufus replied snootily. “Our suit will go ahead; the judge will rule in our favor. Then, by the precedent of Wagner V Arnold, they…” I tuned him out again as he droned on and on.
Where was the bartender? Or the servers? Half an hour had passed, which meant the kitchen should be open now. Nobody else had come in, though. No other patrons. Maybe the bartender was sharing a cigarette with the new chef out back.
Martina rubbed her eyes. “Rufus,” she growled.
“You keep repeating the same point over and over, and we’re not getting anywhere.
Admit it; you’ve got nothing. Even if the feds don’t file charges, we’ve got enough evidence to go ahead with our civ—” a yawn escaped her.
“Excuse me. We can go ahead with our civil suit, and we will win.”
“You’re counting your chickens, young lady,” Rufus admonished. “It’s not wise.”
A pulse of anxiety thrummed through me. Something felt… off. Suddenly desperate to check in with Donovan, I pinched my phone out of my pocket and checked the screen. The FaceTime call was still running, he was still muted, but Donovan wasn’t watching the screen.
That meant he wasn’t watching this meeting, making sure I was safe.
He was doing something else, but I couldn’t make out what it was. The screen swung from side to side too quickly. All I could see was fragments of buildings, pavement, windows, and flashes of what looked like golden blonde hair…
“Are we keeping you from something, Susan?” Delilah cut in on Stonnington’s lecture, her voice icy.
My eyes flicked towards her. “Actually, yes.” My pulse quickened; my intuition screamed at me that Donovan was in trouble. “Can we wrap this up? We’re getting nowhere, anyway.” I gave Cecil a sharp jab with my toe. He didn’t move.
“No. We’re not done.” Gordon put his hands in his pockets.
I glanced at Jared, the mediator. Holy shit, he was asleep. His chin had slid from his palm, and he snored softly with his head on the table right next to his half-finished orange juice.
I took a deep breath and stood up. “I’m done.”
“We’re not.” Gordon pulled a Glock out of his pocket and pointed it at me. “Not yet.”
Delilah smiled.