William Bernhardt - Deadly Justice

Ben picked up a small framed photo on Shelly’s desk. The picture was of a cute, chubby-cheeked redheaded infant, perhaps three months old. Must be Shelly’s daughter, Angie. Ben could see the resemblance. Very cute. He scanned Shelly’s desktop calendar and saw the usual appointments and deadline ticklers. No references to a Kindergarten Club—not even a cryptic K . C . She did have an unusually high number of doctor’s appointments, but that could probably be explained by the fact that she had so recently given birth.

He checked the hallway. Still no sign of Shelly. He opened her desk drawer. Pencils, pens, rubber bands, paper clips—so what? He closed the desk and opened the top drawer of her credenza. It was cluttered with files going two different directions; organization was obviously not Shelly’s strong point. He found a half-empty box of Snickers bars tucked away in one corner and more baby pictures in another. Ben thumbed through the baby pictures, and to his surprise, found a wallet-size photo of Howard Hamel.

He held the Hamel photo next to one of Angie. Come to think of it, there was some resemblance there, too.

He returned both photos and began rifling through her files. Nothing caught his eye—until he spotted one labeled Nelson . He pulled it out. Sure enough—it was the same Nelson case Ben had just managed to win.

“Are you looking for something in particular?”

Ben jumped a foot into the air. He slammed the drawer shut.

Shelly was standing in the doorway.

“I…er…I was just looking for…”

“Yes?”

“I just happened to notice that you had a file pertaining to the Nelson case. I’ve been trying to close out the case but I noticed some of the pleadings were missing. When I saw this file, I thought maybe you had them.”

She relaxed a bit. “I was involved during the preliminary negotiations, before the lawsuit was filed. I don’t have any pleadings.”

“So I see. Sorry about that.” Ben stepped away from her desk. “How did you get strong-armed into that case?”

“I was just back from maternity leave. Crichton dumped the case in my lap the day I returned, then took it back the very next day. Apparently Chuck told him I didn’t have my head together yet.”

“I thought Rob worked on that case before I came.”

“Oh, Rob was only assigned to the case a day or two before you arrived. The case was originally assigned to Howard Hamel.”

“Hamel?”

“Yeah. Crichton added me when he saw how much work would be involved. Then Chuck got me kicked off the case, and when you were hired, Howard got kicked off me case. And you and Rob were put on.”

“Huh.” Ben pointed to the picture on her desk. “By the way, adorable baby.”

For the first time, Ben actually saw her smile. “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” She picked up the photo.

“Shelly! I thought I gave you something to do!”

Chuck was hovering just outside the door.

Shelly dropped the photo like a hot potato. “You did, Chuck. It was five minutes ago, remember?”

“Yes, and I expected you to get to work, not to screw around with baby pictures.”

“I was not—” She shifted from one foot to the other. “I was just helping Ben with his case.”

“That’s not how it looked to me. Damn it, I don’t know why Crichton hires women on the mommy track who pretend to want to be attorneys.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Maybe we should all just throw away our cases and hold a great big baby shower!”

“Chuck…” Ben said softly, “…I really think you should clam up.”

“Butt out, Kincaid. This is none of your business.”

“I disagree. I’m an attorney representing the Apollo Consortium, and I feel duty-bound to prevent you from engaging in any activities that could subject this corporation to liability.”

“Shove off.”

“You are engaging in classic Title VII sex discrimination and sexual harassment, federal offenses for which Apollo could be held liable for hundreds of thousands of dollars, especially if a pattern of discriminatory conduct is discovered. If that happens, you’ll be the biggest pariah in the company. Frankly, I think Shelly already has more than enough ammunition to file suit.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Oh, but I do. I know the Supreme Court held back in 1986 that sexual harassment claims fall under Title VII of the 1964 Civil Rights Act. I’m familiar with the EEOC guidelines on sexual harassment and sex discrimination, and I’ve seen you violate about ninety percent of them!”

Chuck fell silent.

“I think it’s fair to say the only thing that’s keeping you in your job is Shelly’s patience and restraint,” Ben continued. “Of course, that could disappear at any moment.”

Shelly and Chuck exchanged a pointed look.

“If I were you,” Ben added, “I’d start behaving civilly to Shelly. If you like your job, anyway.”

Chuck’s fists balled up. His face flushed red; he looked as if he might explode. He started to speak, then whirled around and stomped down the hallway.

“Thanks,” Shelly said softly.

“I’m not sure I did you much of a favor. Probably just infuriated him. I’d keep a close eye on him.”

“I will. Still, thanks.”

Ben left her office. He was glad he’d been able to help her out, however temporarily. And more importantly, he was glad he’d been able to get out without explaining what he was doing in her office.

37

BEN SPENT THE REST of the afternoon combing through offices. His encounter with Shelly inspired him to be more careful; he didn’t go in unless he knew the attorney was in a meeting that would ramble on for at least half an hour. By the end of the day, though, he’d managed to search every office.

He’d searched every attorney on his level or lower—Herb, Candice, Chuck, Doug. He’d even searched Rob’s office, though he knew Rob had been with him the entire day Hamel was killed. During his search, he’d learned that Doug was a fan of The Executioner novels, which was a surprise, and that Herb kept a pack of condoms in his desk, which wasn’t. But he didn’t find anything that brought him closer to understanding who killed Howard Hamel, or why, or what the connection to the murdered teenage girls could be.

Ben sat in his office, feet propped up on his desk, trying to solve the puzzle. Unfortunately, he couldn’t come up with anything. The solution seemed just as elusive as it had always been.

He looked up from his desk blotter and was startled to see Crichton standing not two feet away.

“Swamped, Kincaid?”

Ben straightened up and put his feet on the floor. “I was just thinking something over…”

“I can come back if you’re too busy.”

“No. To be honest, I don’t have a thing to do. Ever since the Nelson case concluded, my assignments have dried up.”

Crichton declined to comment. “Here’s a new case I want you to work on.” He tossed a file Ben’s way. It smacked heavily on his desk. “It’s extremely urgent. I want a thorough analysis and litigation strategy prepared in writing by tomorrow morning.”

Tomorrow morning? “Uhh…what time will you be in tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to know anything about it. You’ll report directly to Harry Carter.”

Carter? The hatchet man Christina warned him about? “May I ask why?”

“This is more his field of expertise than mine. And I’m too damn busy to get caught up in something like this.”

“Sir, excuse me for asking, but shouldn’t you be at home resting?”

Crichton released a short pfui sound. “That was much ado about nothing. Bunch of ball players acting like old women. Just a bump on the head. Nothing to get excited about.”