Lies of Men Page 4

  Victor was looking uncomfortable again. He shifted in his chair and scribbled something on his legal pad. Notes about what not to say next time?

  “When in the hell are men going to man up, grow up, stop pretending to be shocked when they’re shown to be assholes?” Elyse continued. “And when is society going to stop making excuses for them? I am so damn tired of this ‘boys-will-be-boys’ attitude or ‘he has a tough job, so he shouldn’t be expected to do anything other than bring home a paycheck.’ Don’t even get me started on the double standard of women who can think for themselves without getting permission from the hubby. Who the hell has time to treat men like babies? Certainly not women who are interesting.”

  Again I had the feeling she was posturing or perhaps trying to bait me into offering an opinion, as if we were just two girls frustrated by male weaknesses. That could be a week-long conversation, but I wasn’t going to get trapped in that rabbit hole.

  Off the bat I didn’t like her. There was something about her that came across as manipulative. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but nothing about the conversation was shaking that impression. Maybe it was that she seemed to assume there was a commonality between us, a connection. Or maybe it was that her entire life seemed to be about appearances?

  But I wasn’t here to make friends, nor was I here to make judgments. She was understandably resentful of the situation her ex-husband had put her in, but so what. She was far from the only woman wronged. That didn’t make it a story.

  I held back and let her talk, hoping that some tidbit would move this conversation beyond angry ex-wife. The more she downloaded, the more Victor was getting agitated. I didn’t blame him. If I’d been one of the tabloid hacks, my notebook would be full. The clock was ticking. Victor’s patience for a client going off the rails could only be wearing thin. Time to up the pressure before he shut the conversation down.

  “Elyse, is there anything the prosecution should have asked you but didn’t? You seemed frustrated while you were on the stand. Or was I reading into the exchange?”

  I was playing a hunch, remembering moments of what I perceived as impatience in her delivery when being questioned. She paused briefly and took a drink of her coffee, but I could see her eyes light up ever so slightly.

  “They should have asked if he’d ever done anything like this before.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I pulled myself upright and jotted down her exact quote. This wasn’t an answer I’d been prepared for. Nothing had come up at trial. Had he embezzled previous clients and simply not been caught?

  “All right, that’s enough,” Victor interjected, concerned by where this was going. “I’ve got to stop you right here. We’re getting into territory that is out of the scope of what we agreed to.”

  “It’s on the table, so at least let Elyse explain what she meant. Was there a prior investigation?” I asked, looking from Victor to Elyse. She sat quietly, calm satisfaction on her face.

  “No, this meeting is over. We’re not turning this into a sideshow.” He looked straight at Elyse and glared. “Elyse was not implying anything about Gavin’s history or any other misdeeds. Disregard her comment.”

  He stood. “Elyse, I’m sure you’re needed back at the office.”

  “Yes, I’m sure I am.” She gathered her purse and moved toward the door. “Lovely to meet you, Andrea.” She held out a hand with a sly smile, and I half expected her to wink. She’d accomplished what she set out to do. She’d sowed additional doubt on her husband’s reputation. But if she had knowledge of another crime, it sowed doubt on her reputation as well.

  With Elyse out of the room, Victor turned his attention back to me.

  “Don’t you dare print that.”

  “Come on, Victor, you know me better than to suggest I’d print something so flimsy. It was a vague accusation. I write nothing I can’t substantiate. But I’m all ears if you have something to say about Gavin’s history. Elyse was hinting at something. Has she spoken to you about it?”

  “I knew this was a bad idea,” he grumbled, looked at his watch, and moved toward the door. “It meant nothing. She’s been under considerable stress and misspoke.”

  “Okay, if that’s the explanation you want to go with, but I’m not going to promise I won’t look into it.”

  Conversation over. I followed him, assuming he had only stayed in the room with me long enough to make sure Elyse was out of the building. We walked out of the conference room and into the open area of office cubicles. As usual, the paralegals and administrative staff had their heads down, many drowning out distraction with headphones.

  “She seems a bit hot-headed,” I said as we walked. May as well throw in a few more stabs while I had him alone. “Was their relationship volatile? Her and Gavin’s? Off the record, of course.”

  “Don’t push our friendship,” he said, stopping to make sure we made eye contact.

  “Okay, I got the message. Just doing my job.”

  “And I’m doing mine.” He clasped my hand and shook his head before leaving me at the reception desk.

  I pulled out my phone to check messages as I stepped out of the reception area into the hallway. Two male voices bounced back at me as I walked toward the elevator, but I couldn’t see the bodies they were attached to.

  “It’s appalling. She’s depriving a man of a job that’s rightfully his. He has a family to support.”

  The comment made my chest tighten. Wanting the men to know I’d heard them, I continued making sure my feet were heavy. I saw them as soon as I rounded the corner. They stood inches from one another in front of the elevator doors, turning their heads toward me when I came into view. One of the men was familiar, a paralegal—if I remembered correctly—who worked for Victor’s firm. He at least looked startled, even a bit embarrassed, probably wondering how much I’d heard. He nodded at me, then quickly looked down at the floor. His friend, however, showed no discomfort.

  “It’s Marcus, isn’t it?” I said. “I think we spoke a few times during my divorce proceedings.”

  “Yes, ah, I think so. Good to see you.”

  He was a huge man, in girth—wide but not particularly tall, with a soft round body built for couch surfing. His cheeks splotched pink as he looked at his friend. I wondered if the buzz cut he wore was a holdover from Catholic grade school or the army.

  I turned to his companion, who seemed even more unhappy with the interruption. “Andrea Kellner.” I held out a hand. “Are you with Kirkland and McCullough as well?”

  “Leon Rutkowski. I’m a forensic account, independent. I get called in from time to time.” He said the words but ignored my outstretched hand.

  Whatever.

  “Nice to meet you. Enjoy your day, gentlemen.” They hustled out of my sight, this time silently.

  As I waited for the elevator, I wondered if Victor knew of his employees’ misogynistic leanings. It wasn’t exactly a confidence builder for new clients. Elyse Wright’s diatribe on sexism also floated back into my mind. But I shoved it aside. No need to torture myself further by dwelling on the obvious.

  I was, however, interested in her comment suggesting that Gavin may have a history of embezzlement. If he did, that would change the story’s trajectory. And possibly mine.

  7

  Was embezzlement a pattern of behavior for Gavin Wright or a one-off opportunistic crime? And if Elyse had known something, wouldn’t that have come up at trial? It was far easier to convict if you could show a history. Perhaps Elyse was exaggerating? Looking to cast suspicion and hoping that I’d help deliver the final blow?

  There were two things I knew to be true: whatever her motives, I doubted they had anything to do with being altruistic, and Victor had heard these allegations before.

  I waved at Brynn as I returned to the office, immediately feeling guilty that I didn’t have answers for her. Being a junior member of the team, she hadn’t been included in today’s meeting that dropped the consultant bombshell, and I’d
been too busy to bring her under the tent. I tipped my head toward the door, inviting her in, then picked up the phone to see if I could get a minute with Borkowski. Voicemail. I left a quick message saying I needed to talk and was just finishing up as Brynn walked into my office. I could tell by the look on her face that the rumor mill was already running rampant.

  “I’m guessing you’ve heard the news,” I said, as she plopped into the chair and set her large mug of coffee on the edge of my desk. She nodded, but her face told me I’d screwed up. “How bad is it?”

  “It’s everything from the company is being bought out to you are being shown the door. Is it true?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you first. I figured it would be better if we weren’t at the office, but I had a meeting with Elyse Wright and I forgot to call you. I apologize. You should’ve heard about the consultant from me.” The hard line of her jaw softened slightly, and she took a drink of her coffee, but I could tell she was pissed.

  “It’s not as bad as everyone’s making it out to be,” I said. “At least I don’t think it is. Borkowski is bringing in someone, a consultant named Ryan Molina, to help us be more efficient. What I’ve been told is that this will largely be a deep dive into process.”

  “What you’ve been told? You weren’t in on this decision? How can he do that?” She jumped in her chair, nearly spilling her drink.

  I hesitated, tucking my hair behind my ears as I gathered my thoughts. This was one of those moments where the line between my role and Borkowski’s was confusing to everyone. The professional in me needed to back up Borkowski’s right to make decisions about day-to-day operations as he saw fit, but I also felt an obligation to Brynn. She and I were more than coworkers—we were friends, and because of that, I owed her honesty, up to a point. We all had our secrets, and I, for instance, saw no reason to tell her or anyone else how great Ryan looked naked.

  “You know I’ve always been straight with you, Brynn. No, I didn’t believe this was a process or expense we needed, but it’s his decision. I made him managing editor, and I can’t micromanage how he does his job.”

  “Even if that means cutting heads?” Panic tinged her voice.

  “Let’s not jump the gun. All businesses need to be continually looking at how they operate. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

  “It isn’t necessarily a good thing either.”

  “Let’s let it play out. See where the conversations go. Nothing is going to change in a dramatic way without me weighing in. Look, you’re doing a great job here. I know your personal situation is a little concerning right now, and I promise I’ll do everything I can to keep you here with me for a very long time. Okay?”

  She looked at me over the top of her coffee mug. The furrows in her brow had softened, but she didn’t seem fully convinced. “Okay, but I don’t have a lot of time for this to work out itself out on its own.”

  “Fair enough. I have a call in to Borkowski. In the meantime, I have a possible lead I want to work through. Care to give me a hand?”

  “Any time. What do you need?”

  “Gavin Wright. His wife, well, ex-wife, said something today I need to dig into. She insinuated that this embezzlement situation is not the first.”

  “Details?”

  “No. Her divorce attorney was present and shut that down the minute she opened her mouth. But she was clear. She wants me to dig. What I don’t know is whether something happened or if she just wants to create the appearance that it did.”

  “The classic, ‘a woman scorned’?”

  “Maybe. I get the sense this woman is a master at spin; she’s in advertising, after all. But she also is not going down with his ship. She’s fighting back.”

  “Got it. I assume if there’d been a prior conviction, that would’ve come up in the trial, but I’ll run his history. Maybe it was in another state.”

  “Or maybe charges were never filed. It doesn’t make sense that a prior history wouldn’t have been used if they had caught him in the past, so we’ll probably have to do some digging. I’ll work some of my contacts in the legal community and see if there are any rumors while you do what you do best. Let’s touch base later.”

  I flipped open my laptop and quickly refreshed my knowledge of Gavin Wright’s background. He’d graduated from the University of Wisconsin law school, then bounced around between a few of the smaller firms, trying to find his niche, before ending up at Goodin and Wagstaffe. He and Cai must have overlapped for less than a year. I thought back to her tone last night when Wright’s name came up. She obviously disliked the man, which meant there was a reason, but it wasn’t like her to hold back. I made a note to myself to call her later and ask what that was all about. After leaving Goodin and Wagstaffe, Wright had gone off on his own, becoming a solo practitioner. I pulled up my notes on the case, then logged in to Lexis-Nexis to see what else I could find.

  Twenty-five minutes in, my phone pinged with a number I didn’t recognize.

  “Andrea, this is Elyse Wright. I’m sorry our conversation got cut short today. Can we meet?”

  I stifled a laugh, beginning to understand why the woman was successful in advertising. But what did she really want? I paused for a moment, listening to my gut before responding.

  “I’m happy to meet, but if this is about vague accusations and scoring points in your divorce, I’m not interested. I don’t write a society column, and he-said-she-said isn’t interesting to me. But, if you have information to flesh out what you hinted at, then of course we can talk. However, before we go any further, I have to say I’m confused why—if what you alluded to is true—there’ve been no allegations of previous embezzlement in this trial? I find it hard to believe it wouldn’t have been covered extensively already.”

  “He never got caught,” she said, her tone impatient. “But look, there’s more to it. He’s…he’s not what he seems. I’ll give you the information, and you’ll check it out yourself. But there’s something else. Something damaging. He threatened me last night.”

  “What do you mean? He threatened you? How?”

  “My life! He threatened my life. He’s been sending me emails. I can show you.”

  What in the hell kind of game was she playing now? My instinct again was that she was manipulating me, seeking attention, branding herself even further as the victim. It wasn’t a role that suited her. Maybe that was why I was having trouble finding her credible?

  “Elyse, if your life has been threatened, you need to call CPD. And Victor. Does he know?”

  “Of course. I told him all about it, but he said the threats are too vague. That Gavin is just trying to rattle me. That it’s just his frustration. That I should just save the emails and if it gets out of hand, he’ll have a restraining order issued. Blah, blah, blah. What’s a restraining order going to do? The man is out on bail!”

  “And why are you telling me?”

  “Because someone else has to know. I don’t feel safe. Please, can we get together tonight? I’ll tell you everything I know about his history. And I’ll show you the emails he sent me. You can decide for yourself if they constitute a threat. And whether it changes anything about your story.”

  “I’m having a hard time here. First you say he’s embezzled before, and now you say he’s threatened your life. I’m struggling to see why any of this would have been left out of a trial if there was evidence.”

  “He’s a master con man. He’s lied to them all, me most of all. And now I think the jury believes him. That they’re going to let him off. But if they know his past and how he’s been communicating with me, they can’t let him go. Please, Andrea, I need to show this to someone. All I’m asking is that you take a look. Can you meet tonight? At my house in Lincoln Park?”

  I heard desperation in her voice and agreed to meet her at seven. But every fiber of my body said I was being manipulated.

  8

  Damn! A second text from Borkowski pushing me on a time frame for the Wright story a
nd a phone message from Ryan asking to clear my schedule tomorrow for our first meeting. Why had I bothered to look at my phone?

  I was in a cab on my way to speak with Nathan Sikora. After his outburst in court yesterday, I figured the pump was primed for some good dirt on Wright. Or at the very least, some colorful quotes that his attorney had cautioned against.

  I tossed my phone back in my bag in disgust. The full day? Ryan had to be kidding. Was this what life under the thumb of a consultant would be like? Drop everything and jump? The Wright trial was slated to reconvene at 9:00 a.m., assuming the judge had worked through his stomach issues. Ryan would just have to find someone else to hassle. Or Borkowski and I would need to have a tough conversation on priorities.

  But the more I rebelled against our involvement with Ryan’s firm, the more likely it was that our history would come out. Ryan had played it cool yesterday, but I knew I couldn’t count on that. Nor did I want to spend my work day worried about whether I was sending him the wrong message and appearing to reignite a personal relationship. This situation was annoying any way I looked at it.

  “The blue awning ahead on the left,” I said to the driver.

  I paid, jumped out of the car, then sent a response to Ryan, politely telling him I would be in court in the morning and asking for another time slot.

  Isaac Sikora had lived in a vintage co-op on Lincoln Park West, which meant lake views and old money. His son, Nathan, had suggested we meet at the apartment while he cleaned out the home before listing it for sale. Nothing like watching family members cry their eyes out while they packed up grandpa’s china. But Nathan was biting mad and had been all too happy to take a break from the business of death.

  I could relate. I still hadn’t put Erik’s condo on the market. The human desire to avoid pain was alive and well in my world, too.