“Sure!” He waved it off. “You know, me and the guys, you remember the guys, from the poker group in the dorm?”
“Sure. Played poker.” Anne had no idea what he was rambling about. She unfastened the little brass brad and reached inside the envelope.
“We all were so hot for you. I had this picture of you, the one from the pig book. I always thought you were the most stunning woman I ever saw in my life.”
Anne fished around in the envelope but there was no paper inside, only something thin and sharp.
“I knew you didn’t go for my type. Computer geek. B.A. in engineering. I was smart, but you were way out of my league. Well, you’re not anymore. I’m fairly successful, no?” Gil waved a raised fist. “Geeks rule!”
But Anne was only half listening, because there was nothing in the envelope except a CD. She pulled it out and held it up. Its silvery surface caught the overhead light in wiggly rainbow stripes. She flipped it over, looking for a label. Was it music, or some type of stored data?
“I’d really like it if you’d come work for me, Anne. I’m offering you a big job, a big, big job as general counsel at Chipster. Pay is three hundred grand to start, plus stock options. When we go IPO, you’ll be worth millions.”
Anne held up the CD. “What is this?”
Gil grinned crookedly. “You answer me first. When do you want to start? Me and you can take Chipster onward and upward!”
“You’ve been drinking.”
“Guilty as charged!” Gil held up a hand. “So you wanna be my GC? ’cause I wanna be your boyfriend.”
Anne’s stomach turned over. “Gil, focus a minute.” She sent the CD spinning across the table like a flying saucer. “I’m trying to win a case for you, despite your best efforts to screw it up. First, you lie to me about your affair with Beth Dietz, then you bring me a CD when I ask you for evidence. What gives?”
“You don’t need to win the case for me, Anne. I already won it for myself. The CD is the evidence, my love.”
Anne ignored the “my love” part. Gil was only embarrassing himself, and it was the Glenlivet talking. “How is a CD evidence of an affair?”
“It’s not, but it’s evidence, all right. It’s proof.”
“Of what?”
“Of wrongdoing. Of theft. Of corporate espionage.” Gil picked up the CD with difficulty and looked through the hole in the center, peeking out with one blue-green eye. “Boo!”
“Gil, what are you doing?”
“You underestimated me, Anne.” He set the CD down, suddenly serious. “You thought that I had screwed up—as you say, interesting choice of words—but I never really do that. I cover my tracks. Plan all my moves. You have to, to be successful in e-business, you know. The competition is killer. On the bleeding edge, you can’t be the one who bleeds.”
“So what’s on the CD?”
“Okay, well. Let me take you back a minute, to our corporate annals. I started Chipster with a few good men—sorry, good-lookin’—and one of them was Bill Dietz.”
Anne remembered, from rereading the dep the other day.
“Dietz came a little later, from another web company called Environstar. Dietz was smart and he worked hard, put in the hours, and he had good ideas, for an asshole. Above all, he wrote good code.”
“Okay.”
“Chipster took off, and we developed our product, our web application, partly on the code he wrote. But a year down the line, Dietz told me he’d stolen the base code from Environstar.” Gil held up the CD. “This is the code he stole.”
“Did Environstar prosecute?”
“No, they had stolen code to start their own company. Everybody steals in software, mainly because it’s never finished, it just goes through about three hundred versions, from 1.0 to 37.9, and people change jobs, over time. But that’s not the point. This is about me, not Dietz. Be a smart girl and tell me what I did next.”
Anne thought a minute. Last week she would have had a different answer, but she was looking at Gil with new eyes. And learning to plan—in advance. “You did nothing. You used the base code, developed it, and made a fortune. You shut up about its origin and you grew your company.”
“Yes! God, and so smart, too! A whip!” Gil hunched over the desk. “I like women with brains. I’m not like the others.”
No, you’re worse. “Why didn’t you give Dietz any stock options?”
“Because he came later, and he wasn’t a founder, technically. And I didn’t have to keep him.”
Anne was catching on. “No, because you’d found out about the stolen code. So you had something on him. If he left you, you’d expose him.”
“I love it when you talk dirty. Do you talk dirty, Anne? I have often wondered about that, late at night.” Gil leaned even farther over the table, but she stood up and walked around the back of her chair, really sorry that she was half-naked.
“Gil, what does the CD have to do with the Chipster case?”
“It will make it go away. I didn’t have it before, but I finally paid off the right programmer. Now I have the proof I need. Bye-bye Beth, hello IPO.” Gil licked his lips. “I called Dietz directly after we spoke today. I told him to tell his wife to call off the dogs or I’ll go public—with the CD.” He laughed, but Anne was struggling to get up to speed and avoid attempted rape.
“If you expose him, you’re liable too, maybe even criminally.”
“He won’t call my bluff, he’s too scared. I can afford the hottest lawyer in town. He can’t afford dick.”
Anne ignored it. “But how does that get rid of the lawsuit?”
“Beth doesn’t know he stole the code. They met after he came to Chipster.”
“How do you know she doesn’t know? Maybe he told her.”
“No, she never would have sued me if she’d known, it was too risky. And she would have mentioned it during our little affair, but she didn’t. Now he’ll tell her the whole truth and nothing but, and she’ll understand that suing me for revenge was not a good idea.”
Anne blinked. “Gil, you won’t win now. She’ll just drop the suit. Withdraw it.”
“No, no, no.” Gil wagged his finger, rising from his seat. “Not what I want. Not what I asked my old friend Dietz for. I want the suit to go forward and the plaintiff to have a sudden memory loss. Trial amnesia, when she takes the stand. Then I want you to kick her lousy ass, get me my jury verdict, and restore my good name, so I look good to my Board. Not just settle. Win.”
“You mean she’ll deep-six her own lawsuit? Like a fighter, who throws a fight?”
“Exactly. Well put. God, I’m so glad you’re not dead. Be my GC and wear that tiny little top. Also the shoes. The shoes are—”
“I won’t do it!”
“Okay, you win. No tiny top. Ha!”
“Stop, it, Gil. You’re not funny.” Anne shook her head. “No, I won’t try a sham case. I won’t play a role, or pretend. I won’t do it.”
“You have to. You can’t withdraw from the case this late.” Gil walked to one chair, then the next, closer to Anne. “We’re both riding this rocket, and it’s going up, up, up, baby.”
“How do you know Beth will do it?” Anne asked, suppressing a tingle of fear as Gil moved closer, around the table.
“I don’t for sure, but she will. The smart money’s on Bill. He’s the brains of that operation. She’s just the pussy.” Suddenly Gil lunged across the chairs, his hands reaching awkwardly for Anne’s stars.
“That’s it, get out!” she shouted, ducking away from his grasp, around the table and toward the door. “Get out!”
But Gil seemed not to have heard her. “And boy, did Dietz have some choice words to say about you! He said, ‘I’m thrilled that little whore is dead!’”
“I don’t want to hear it!” she shouted, but her thoughts were racing. It must have been what Dietz and Matt had fought about. Why Matt had gotten slugged. Her. Anne flung open the door to the conference room. “Get out now!”
&n
bsp; Gil tripped on a chair leg and caught the back of the chair, trying to right himself. “Dietz told his lawyer. They even got into a fight over it. Dietz said he would have shot you himself, for what you were doing to wifey. This is the man whose side you’re taking against me.”
“Get out! All I have to do is yell, and my friends will come running.”
“Don’t shoot!” Gil threw up his hands, and just then the conference doors flew open. Standing in the door was a furious Bennie, and Anne was hoping she was furious at Gil, not her.
“Get out of my law firm, Mr. Martin,” she ordered, her mouth tight.
After the women got Gil into the elevator, down the alley, and outside into a cab, they recovered in the reception area while Anne told them the whole story of the CD and what Gil had done. They listened, draped over the soft navy chairs and loveseat. Judy had changed into her denim overalls and Mary was still in her hooker outfit, but barefoot. Her platform shoes formed a vaguely pornographic mound on the Oriental rug.
“This is an interesting situation, very interesting,” Bennie said, when the account was finished. She crossed one muscular leg over the other, in her shorts. “By the way, you’re fired.”
Anne hoped she was kidding again. “Have we heard anything about Kevin? Have they arrested him yet?”
“Rafferty said they’re still staked out at the Daytimer. There’s nothing to do but wait. They’ll pick him up as soon as he gets back. Rafferty will call right away.”
Anne wasn’t liking this at all. Gil gone crazy and still no Kevin. “What about Beth Dietz? Did the cops tell her?”
“Rafferty said he would and we’ll know for sure as soon as he calls back.”
Anne sighed, flopping into a chair across the glistening glass coffee table. “What do I do now? How do I defend Chipster? Do I defend Chipster at all? The man is a pig!”
“A slimebucket,” Judy said.
“A liar,” Mary added.
“A client,” Bennie said firmly, and Anne looked over.
“I’m having a déjà vu, Bennie. We had this conversation once already.”
“I guess we’ll keep having it until you understand it, Murphy. Your obligation as a lawyer is to represent your client fully and to the best of your ability. To say nothing false and to elicit nothing false. You have to be his advocate.”
“But he grabbed my stars!”
Bennie seemed unfazed. “I’ll try Chipster if you can’t fulfill your ethical obligation to your client. Gil Martin is still and ultimately a client of my law firm.”
“It was the earrings that drove him wild,” Judy added.
Bennie waved everybody into silence. “Murphy, you gonna defend him or do I take over?”
Anne hated the sound of it. It was no-win. “I’ll keep the bastard.”
“Then do it and do it well. Fact is, we really don’t know if Beth Dietz will go along with this scam or not. She may not.”
Anne nodded. “If they have a lousy marriage, she may not care if her husband gets ratted out. This lawsuit is her chance to get Gil back for breaking up with her, and she may not give it up.”
“Unless Dietz makes her,” Judy said somberly. “He may threaten her. We know he can be violent.”
Mary looked grave. “I wouldn’t like to be responsible for someone getting a beating. Especially her. She’s got enough problems now, with Kevin after her.”
Bennie frowned. “You wouldn’t be responsible. He would, and so would she. Beth Dietz gets no sympathy from me for staying with an abusive man. She’s suing my client, and however much of a jerk he may be, I’m on his side. I’m sworn to it, and he’s paying me for it.”
Anne snorted. “Didn’t you just throw him out of the office?”
“I draw the line. He hit on one of my associates. That is not happening on my watch. Keep your eye on the prize—the trial.”
Anne considered it. “So we really don’t know which way she’ll go.”
“Right,” Bennie answered. “You have to be ready for whatever they throw at you. Just like any good trial lawyer, you’ll have to think on your feet. You can do it. You have been for the past two days, and very well. With only one minor slip in judgment.”
Anne said it before Bennie did: “Matt.”
Everyone’s gaze went instantly to Anne, three pairs of intelligent eyes in various stages of makeup. Mary’s were full of understanding; Judy’s slightly amused. But Bennie’s had a clear-blue frankness that set Anne squirming. “You’re not seeing him tonight, I hope,” she said.
Oh, no. Anne had to fish or cut bait. Matt had left two messages on her cell phone, asking her to stay with him. She had returned one, telling him to tell Beth about Kevin. Truly she wanted to crawl into his bed, wrap his long arms around her, and feel safe and protected. Could she admit to any of these feelings in front of everyone? Was it even their business? All of a sudden she had both girlfriends and a boyfriend. Mental note: Once you actually get a personal life, it’s hard to live it.
“I’m not seeing him tonight,” Anne said. It was the right thing to do. Or not to do. “I’m educable. Young, but educable.”
Bennie glowed. “An excellent decision, narrowly avoiding disbarment. You’re learning, girl.”
Anne took a bow. “But where can I spend the night? I mean, I can’t stay with you, Bennie. I have to get Mel out of there before your nose explodes. I guess I could find a hotel.”
“That wouldn’t be safe.” Mary got up from her chair with a new enthusiasm. “I know a great place to hide you. Our safe house!”
Bennie brightened, too. “An excellent idea! Why didn’t I think of it?”
Judy clapped, jumping to her feet. “Perfect!”
Anne was bewildered. “Where are we going? What safe house?”
“You’ll see,” Mary said. “But we can’t go dressed like this. We’ll be killed.”
That’s safe? Anne thought, but Mary came over and took her by the hand.
24
It was dark by the time Anne and Mary reached the squat rowhouse somewhere in the redbrick warren that was South Philadelphia. They opened the screen door with its scrollwork D in weathered metal, and Vita and Mariano “Matty” DiNunzio flocked to them, hugging and kissing them, clucking and cooing like a pair of old city pigeons. Anne barely had time to set down the Xerox-paper box containing Mel in front of a worn couch. On the front windowsill sat a yellowed plastic figurine of the Virgin Mary, watching over the street from between two tiny, crossed flags, one American and one Italian.
“Come in, girls! Come in!” Mary’s father was saying. He grabbed Mary, hugged her like a Papa Bear, and rocked her back and forth, all at the same time. “Oh, I love my baby girl!” He was a short, bald, seventysomething-year-old in a white T-shirt, dark Bermuda shorts, and a black belt that was superfluous except that it matched his slip-on slippers. He smiled with joy as he held Mary, and his brown eyes melted like Hershey’s chocolate behind steel-rimmed bifocals. “Our baby’s home! Our girl! Look, Vita, our baby, she’s home!”
But Mary’s tiny mother had wrapped herself around Anne and was caressing her cheek with a papery hand that smelled vaguely of onions. “You are Anna? Che bellissima! Such a beautiful girl! More beautiful than your picture!” Mrs. DiNunzio was about her husband’s age, but an Italian accent flavored her English, so the word “picture” came out “pitch.” “Madonna mia, she has the face of an angel, Matty! Look at this one! The face of an angel!”
“Wow. Jeez. Thanks.” Anne’s spirits lifted instantly, her energy surged, and she couldn’t stop smiling. She even loved her new name. It was great to have people throw a party just because you walked in the door. Anne hadn’t felt this good in a long time, maybe twenty-eight years. Mental note: I want to be Italian.
“She’s such a beauty, it’s a sin! God bless!” Dense trifocals magnified Mrs. DiNunzio’s small, brown eyes, and her thinning, white hair had been teased into an elaborate coiffure and stuffed into a pink hairnet. Cotton strings from the hair
net straggled down her nape, and she wore a flowered housedress and a full-length flowered apron. But Anne wasn’t playing fashion police. She was too busy being hugged and breathing in a pleasant, if peculiar, combination of Spray-Net and sweet basil. Mrs. DiNunzio stopped stroking Anne’s cheek and stepped back from her, marveling. “You look like inna movies! Like actress inna movies or TV. Look, Matty, she—”
“She’s a beauty, all right!” Mr. DiNunzio agreed, hugging Mary. The DiNunzios talked over each other and nobody seemed to mind. “A princess, she looks like! We’ll take care of her. We’ll take care of them both!”
“Nobody’s gonna hurt you in my house!” Mrs. DiNunzio said, staring up at Anne with suddenly wet eyes. Mary had told her parents about Anne’s situation, and Mrs. DiNunzio was practically crying for her. For a split second, something else flickered in the older woman’s magnified eyes, then it disappeared. “God bless! You stay with us, everyting gonna be all right!” She squeezed Anne tight, trembling with a sympathy that seemed ironically to strengthen her frail frame.
“Thank you,” Anne said again, which was stupid, but Mrs. DiNunzio appeared not to hear. Her eyes had darkened abruptly, and fierce little wrinkles deepened her brow under the pink hairnet.
“You work also for Benedetta Rosato! That witch, she’s a no good!” Mrs. DiNunzio wagged a finger knotted at the knuckle. On the way over, Mary had told Anne that her mother had arthritis, from years of sewing lampshades in the basement of this very house, her childhood home. Mary’s father had been a tile setter. And they both hated Bennie. “So much trouble she makes! Guns! Crazy men! Benedetta Rosato, is her fault! She no take care of my Maria! Or you! She no—”
“Ma, please don’t start.” Mary emerged from the clinch with her father and looped an arm around her mother. “Let’s not get onto Bennie, right? Like I said on the phone, Anne can stay in my room, in Angie’s bed—”