Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Chapter thirty-five
Reese
One month later…
I’ve just gotten back to my office from a court appearance and sat down at my desk when my cellphone rings. I dig it from my pocket and glance at the number to find Cat calling. “Hey, sweetheart,” I say, answering the line. “How’d your interview with Detective Newman go?”
“It was one of the better ones of the dozens I’ve had for this book,” she says. “He had some interesting information he said to pass along to you.”
“Really. What would that be?”
“He says that the only reason Nelson Ward has been questioned three times in the past month about his wife, is that Dan has it out for him and you. He’s still living the disgrace of that trial and even the decision to charge Nelson Ward. If he gets Nelson as an accessory, he saves face.”
“Of course Dan’s behind this. I’m at the point now where I’m going to file harassment charges against them and ask for damages. They’re hurting the man’s livelihood. He has a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate to run and he’s smeared all over the news again.”
“Dan needs to be pushed out of his job. He’s motivated by all the wrong things. Oh and a side note, a big jump in subject here: Your mother called. Your father proposed to his mistress and your mother is just fine with it because she’s now dating another professor at the college who she calls brilliant and sexy.”
“Hold on a minute. My father proposed to his mistress and my mother is dating again? Okay. I don’t know how you know this and I don’t.”
“Actually you do know because I told you.”
“You knew before I knew.”
“Your mother likes to talk.”
“Obviously and for the record I could do without any sentence that includes my mother calling a man ‘sexy.’”
She laughs. “Duly noted.”
“For clarification,” I say. “Are they divorced and I don’t know it?”
“Your father has been acting like he was divorced for years. Your mother just decided to join the party. And they will be soon, anyway.”
“Or they could just date other people.”
She laughs. “Right. Or that. I need to go though. I’m having a champagne brunch with Liz. She wants to celebrate the press release that went out this morning. For the book that I haven’t even finished writing.”
“Champagne and you. Should I send a car?”
She laughs. “I’m perfectly capable of calling my own Uber, even after champagne. I just might not find it. If that proves to be the situation, I have you on auto-dial. Though I might go to my brother’s office, while drinking of course, and demand that he give me back my mother’s letter.”
“Still won’t call you back, huh?”
“No. He’s such an Asshole.”
“Now I know just how much you hated me when you called me an asshole that first day. Did you tell your father he took the letter and you want it back?”
“The entire two times I called to check on that man and he actually took my call, no. The calls were short and he won’t care. He tolerates my check-in calls and when I bring the letter up to Gabe who gave it to him, Gabe just tells me he’ll tell him. But you don’t have time for this and I’m about to be drunk anyway.”
I laugh and we hang up, only to have Maria buzz my intercom. “Casey Allen is on the line.”
I grab the phone. “Casey,” I say. “I have news.”
“I hope it’s good because I thought this would be over by now.”
“It would have been if we could have strong-armed the investment firm into certifying your lack of knowledge of the transactions, but they won’t do it. But that’s going to change. Kent filed a lawsuit on your behalf today against everyone with any interest in the firm and all the cloaked investors, of which he says there were four.”
“And how does this help me with the Feds?”
“It shows that you aren’t one of them and it provides financial damage for your legal defense. I know this hasn’t gone as quickly as we’d hoped, but we’ll get you through this with money to ease the pain of the stress.”
“I just want this thing over with. It’s haunting me. I can’t sleep. I was going to propose to my girlfriend, but I can’t have her engaged to a felon.”
“You are not going to be a felon. I’ll end this and soon. They haven’t charged you. They’re stringing you along, planning to use you wherever they can use you. It’s a sad truth, but a real one. I’ve got your back. I’ll call you soon.”
We disconnect and Maria pops her head in the door, speaking in rapid Spanish as she walks toward me. “Why did you just have a Tiffany’s bag delivered and please tell me it’s for me.”
“No,” I say. “It is not for you but stop cursing me in Spanish and you might get something nice for Christmas.”