Impasse (33 page)

“And how do you know all this fetish stuff anyway?”

“Internet porn.”

“Oh.”

Stu sprinkled a few forgotten seasonings that he'd discovered in the back of Audry's cupboard across the frying pan, and he flipped the pan's contents in the air a couple of times.

“Thanks for cooking dinner, by the way,” Audry said. “I'm starving.”

“I'm not surprised, judging from your fridge and cupboards.”

“I'm not much of a cook. My daughter, Molly, was queen of the kitchen by the time she was fifteen. I brought home a lot of weekday salad-'n'-pizza deals from Gino's, like a typical law student, only a decade older. But look at you. You're spoiling me.”

“I don't mind. I've always found it fun to cook for someone else.”

Audry cocked her head. “I'm curious, Stu. Why don't you have kids?”

“Where did that come from?”

“It just surprises me. You seem the type. Nice. Responsible. Ten times the dad material of most men. You seem like a waste of a perfectly good father figure.”

“We just decided we didn't want them.”

“Whose idea was that?”

“Ours. We discussed it.”

“Yeah, but one partner is always more anti-kid than the other.”

“She wasn't anti-kid. She just wasn't, I dunno, pro-kid.”

“So it was her, and you lost the debate.”

“Nobody lost. We compromised. We had a dog for a while.”

“But kids are everything. They're the reason we're all here and the only real path to immortality; part of you goes on. You don't get that with a dog.”

“You have a cat, I'd point out.”

“I'm in withdrawal. Sasha's a substitute kid, like methadone. When she goes, I'll move down to a fish. Or relapse.”

“You mean have another baby?”

“At thirtysomething? It could happen.”

“You'll need a man.”

“Nah. Just sperm. And you can get that just about anywhere.”

Stu wasn't sure exactly where to take the subject from there, so he changed it. “What else can you find out about Roff? That guy's a
real
criminal.”

Audry screwed up her eyebrows, thinking. “He's also a prospective client, although I'm guessing he's on board at this point and we should have a new file on him. So at the office I'll be in a position to ask all the business-related questions about him I like.”

“I can't ask you to feed me information about a client who didn't hire me. You could be disciplined by the bar.”

“I can't get disbarred for learning information myself. I'll only tell you things if they're matters of grave importance.”

“Funny,” Stu said. “I don't want Clay noticing you poking around, either.”

“He's gone for three days. Got a text this morning. And he's had me working a lot more lately. I go in after hours all the time.” Audry gave him a smile. “It's sweet of you to worry, but I'm a grown-up.”

“You're wearing penguin pajamas with slipper feet.”

“With a guest here I can't very well walk around in just a T-shirt and panties like I usually do, now can I?”

Stu's heart skipped a beat, and he returned his attention to the stir-fry. “I still don't believe Clay would try to kill me. He was a prosecutor. I've known him since law school.”

“You
didn't
know him in law school, remember? And he's the one who sent you to Alaska.”

“But he would have been there too if it hadn't been for the meeting Dugan called at the last minute.” Stu stopped stirring suddenly and turned to Audry. “Oh shit. It was Dugan's cabin I was supposed to go to.”

“And the pot pilot dropped you somewhere else?”

“Yep.”

“Did Dugan know the pilot?”

“Probably. My driver knew who Dugan was. We'll need to check into it.”

“If Dugan is our bad guy, that could mean Clay is just your pervy partner having weird sex with your wife.”

“Lovely.”

“That's a step up from a friend trying to kill you.”

“Actually, I might be able to live with weird sex at this point. They both think I'm dead, after all.”

“Okay, then, let's talk about Reginald Dugan.”

*   *   *

Audry threw a sweatshirt over her pajamas to drive them to the office. At nine thirty p.m. no one would be there, and she had a key card to get in. Stu wore pants and a shirt she'd bought him at a men's store with cash on the way to meet Sophia. He kept track of the money Audry spent so he could pay her back, adding it to the parking fee at Logan, gas to and from Boston, a box of Cheerios, and milk. The flat-front jeans, fitted button-down with rolled-up sleeves, and brown deck shoes she'd picked out for him were a far cry from the billowy work shirts and boxy slacks he'd worn the last time he'd walked into the Bluestone Building.

At least the gaudy sign still has my name on it.

Audry led him into the lobby, where he turned circles, marveling at the polished marble and Katherine's framed prints on the walls.

“Wow.”

“Wait until you see the office.”

“How did Clay pay for the firm's share of this? I know damn well that cheapskate Sitzman didn't fund all this renovation.”

“Molson.”

“Molson couldn't cover this and a house on the water.”

“It covered a lot. It's three million in fees.”

Stu stopped in his tracks. “No, it's not.”

“Yes, it is.” She cocked an eyebrow, daring him to disagree.

He stood and thought for a time. A long time. Bad thoughts. “Maybe that explains some things. But I'm surprised that much money has come through so quickly.”

“It hasn't. They're borrowing against the anticipated settlement.”

“Banks don't loan on settlements.”

“I don't think they're using a traditional bank.”

“Can you get me into the financials?”

“No.”

“Sorry I asked. That's not fair.”

“I meant that I can only log you in to the system. I don't have access to the books. But you might. You're still a partner. You're not even legally dead yet. That can take seven years. If the passwords haven't been changed…”

Audry logged in. Stu tried to access the financial records. He was in luck; the passwords were the same.

Why change them for a dead man?
he thought.
Especially if you're lazy and sloppy.

He confirmed the Molson terms. One-third contingent fee. Three million, just as Audry had said. Then he spent two hours reading the financials for Dugan and Roff. He wasn't sure what he was seeing at first, but money was coming in and going out at an alarming rate in Dugan's account. Hours were being billed to case names, but there were no case files yet to match. A portion of that money was then being pumped back into Dugan's client trust account. Roff's was set up the same way, with an initial deposit of fifty grand as a retainer, but no corresponding legal work.

“Jeezus.”

“Good stuff?”

“Bad stuff. I'm just not sure what it all means yet.”

Stu took a break to dig through Clay's desk for additional records. Some lawyers still kept hard copies that left no electronic trace. Instead he found the nearly empty bottle of Booker's bourbon and a .357 Magnum.

“Hello.…”

Audry leaned over the desk, curious. “What?”

Stu held up the pistol for her to see. It was a short-barreled gun with a long curved hammer that jutted from the back like a thumb hitching a ride, and it was so heavy he couldn't tell if it was loaded without holding it at an awkward angle and peering into the cylinder.

“Holy crap!” Audry yelped.

“His new clients must make him nervous. Does he carry this when he meets with them?”

“I have no idea.” She stared at the pistol, eyes wide. “We're not taking that with us, are we?”

Stu inspected it, thinking. It was indeed fully loaded. “No,” he said finally.

“Whew! Well, that certainly got my blood pumping.” Audry let out a nervous chuckle. “We should head home and go to bed. We can play detective again in the morning.”

She was right, Stu decided. She was usually right, despite her odd reliance on feelings and karma or, perhaps, because of it. He needed a break from thinking in order to relax or vent or laugh, to simply let go somehow.

“Okay. You got a beer at your place, drinking buddy?”

*   *   *

The drive to Audry's place was short; she lived near the office. Stu changed into the
SASSY
purple sweatpants Audry had given him to sleep in and ducked into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“Your turn!” he called through Audry's closed bedroom door when he was finished.

Then Audry's door opened, and she walked out.

Stu stared. He didn't mean to, but couldn't help himself. The pajamas were gone. Her white T-shirt was snug, but it was also long and fell to the top of her thighs. Two completely bare thirtysomething legs stuck out from beneath it. She had delicate feet, Stu noticed. No bra. Obviously no bra. No glasses, either. And she was staring back at him.
Perhaps because she's having trouble seeing?
Stu told himself.

“What's up?” he said stupidly.

“This has been exciting, Stu. And dangerous, like you said.”

“You okay?”

“I'm a big girl.” She walked past him to a low cupboard and bent to rummage inside. Her shirt pulled up. Panties. Thong. Stu politely looked away.

She returned with a can of beer. Just one. She opened it and took a sip, then handed it to him. He drank. It was cheap, warm, and tasted fantastic. He handed it back.

“You know,” Audry said, “after people share a dangerous experience, they are much more inclined to want to fool around. There are studies on this, including one that showed a significantly increased likelihood of action between new couples after they'd crossed a rope bridge over a chasm together.”

Stu felt himself stirring in her loaner sweatpants, but there was no way to adjust them without drawing attention to it. She was close, maddeningly close, and he had to fight his own instincts. “I don't want to take advantage of your hospitality.”

“I told you, Stu, I'm a big girl. I invited you to my place, and now I'm standing here in my underwear. Who's taking advantage?”

She sipped from the can, then stepped to him and kissed him, letting the beer pour out through her lips and into his mouth. He drank in both, the kiss and the cheap beer. They swirled together and tasted like youth. Audry grabbed the tie on his sweatpants and led him down the darkened hall.

Audry's bedroom was her living room's evil alter ego. Laundry was stacked on the bed, bar review materials were piled haphazardly on a desk, and all of the boxes, exercise gear, and pairs of shoes that might have otherwise cluttered the common areas of the apartment were stacked in the open closet, which could not be shut because its contents were spilling out like a rockslide.

Audry swept the laundry from the bed, pulled off her shirt, and wriggled out of her panties, all with a beer in one hand. She drained it, tossed it toward a wicker garbage can, then fell back on the bed and pulled Stu down on top of her.

He wondered if he'd know what to do. He'd had the same routine for a decade. It had proved reliable, though, and so he kissed her on the mouth while he used his fingers down below. To his great relief, it worked. Audry arrived quickly. Very quickly. Shaking the bed. Then she exhaled heavily, like a balloon letting out all of its air.

“Whew! Sorry, I've been thinking about this since last night.” She didn't wait for a reply, but simply reached down to undress him.

He was definitely ready. Stu laid his cheek against hers and nuzzled her neck as he entered her and began to gently rock his hips back and forth. He finished as quickly as she had.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.

“You're done?”

“Sorry, I haven't touched a woman in six months,” he said sheepishly. “Longer than that, frankly.”

Audry rolled out from under him and propped herself up on her elbows, smiling, as comfortable nude as she had been in slipper pajamas.

“That's right! You've been fasting.” She cocked an eyebrow. “So did you take care of it yourself out there in the wilderness?”

“There wasn't really enough privacy for that.”

“Wow. You must be seriously pent up.”

“Given my abbreviated performance just now, apparently so.”

“And so very polite for a guy who has such an obvious and pressing issue.”

“What do you mean by pressing issue?”

She pointed. “You're already ready to go again.”

Stu glanced down at himself. He was. Audry was still talking. He was unaccustomed to chatter in bed. He'd always thought it would be distracting. It wasn't. It was interesting and, coming from Audry, oddly endearing.

“I think I know what you need after six months in the wild,” she said.

“Yeah? What do I need?”

“What every red-blooded male needs once in a while.”

She flicked on the bedside lamp and rose to her hands and knees. He couldn't politely avert his eyes this time; she put her bare hindquarters on display, and the sudden light illuminated everything.

Stu stared, mesmerized.
Definitely not routine.

She began to wave her hips back and forth. “Go ahead, it's natural, it's…”

Instinct
.

Audry looked back over her shoulder at him. “Come on, Stu, man up.”

 

CHAPTER 41

Stu awoke to find Audry inches away, already wide-eyed and smiling at him through her glasses. She mussed his hair playfully, and then crinkled her brow.

“Apologies for being so intimate so suddenly. I know you've only had one serious relationship, but I've dated quite a bit over the years.”