Exposed (Rosato & DiNunzio #5)(22)
“I worked here instead of the library. The air-conditioning’s better.” Anthony popped the cork, and Mary could smell the bouquet of the fruity Lambrusco.
“Ah, the perfect summer wine.”
“You say that every time. Even in winter.” Anthony smiled, pouring.
“So fill me in on what happened. That’s so sad, about Rachel.”
“I know.” Mary told him the whole story, bringing him up to speed about everything, including Rachel’s turn for the worse, her father at the hospital, and the fight over her representing Simon. They talked easily back and forth, as usual, and she finished by telling him about how she was waiting to hear whether Bennie would try to settle the lawsuit informally. “So I’m hopeful.”
“You should be. It’s common sense. Only lawyers see things adversarially all the time. It encourages conflict in a way. Peace is better than war. Communication can work wonders. Look at Yalta.”
“Right.” Mary got the gist, though half the time, she had no idea what he was talking about. And if she asked him to explain, they’d be up all night.
“It’s so terrible about Rachel. Simon must be scared out of his mind. First you lose your wife, then maybe your daughter? And your job? Sheesh.” Anthony pushed away his empty salad plate.
“I know, but he handles it all, somehow.”
“Does he?” Anthony paused, his expression darkening. “Or maybe it just looks like he handles it.”
Mary thought the way he said it made her wonder if he was talking about himself.
“I think I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow. Check in on him.”
“That would be nice,” Mary said, touched. She stroked his back. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“What about the dishes?”
“Leave the dishes.”
“Whoa, now we’re getting crazy.” Anthony grinned, but just then, Mary’s phone started ringing, a faint sound coming from her purse, which she’d left in the entrance hall.
“Hold on, it might be Bennie!” Mary jumped up and ran for the entrance hall, but she reached it as the rings stopped. She dug inside her purse, found her phone, and checked the screen. The call had been from Bennie, who was still in Mary’s contacts as Da Boss.
Mary pressed Redial, holding her breath.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next morning, Bennie parked in the visitors’ lot at OpenSpace, a boxy building of tan stone with an all-glass entrance on the left. To the right were the corporate offices, a tan fa?ade interrupted by two strips of black smoked glass, and tucked behind was a seven-thousand-square-foot manufacturing facility of tan corrugated tin, plus loading docks. The employee parking lots flanked the building, and they were full because the first shift started two hours ago, at six o’clock.
Last night, Bennie had told Mary on the phone that she was going to give her idea a try and see if she could settle the case, so here she was, against better judgment. She got out of the car with her purse and messenger bag, ignoring the humidity, walked the concrete path to the entrance, and entered the building. It was insanely air-conditioned, so she was glad she had on her khaki blazer, which had become her uniform. She didn’t like to worry about what she was going to wear every day, and it made getting ready easier. She strode to the reception area, shaped like a cubicle itself, with gray-paneled walls and functional gray seating around a glass-and-chrome table.
“Hello, may I help you?” asked the receptionist, a young brunette with short hair.
“Yes, thank you.” Bennie slid her driver’s license out of her wallet as she introduced herself. “I have a meeting with Todd Eddington and Jason Worrall.”
“And Ray Matewicz.”
“Pardon?”
“Mr. Matewicz will be joining you as well, I believe. They’re waiting for you. You can go right into the conference room. I’ll buzz the door.” The receptionist gestured to a door to the right.
“Thanks.” Bennie went through, finding herself in a hallway lined with glossy ads for the company: Office Cubicles, Modular Furniture, Call Center Stations, Treadmill Workstations! Only the Finest Building Materials, Sourced from the World Over! We Build to YOUR Specifications and Price! She went to the only open door, reaching the threshold of a no-frills conference room containing three men sitting at a round Formica table.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Bennie introduced herself, closing the door behind her and setting her belongings on the table. The three men stood up instantly, led by Jason Worrall, a tall African-American lawyer with bright brown eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses and a studious smile typical of younger lawyers, who thought every case was a final exam. When in fact, it was a war.
“Bennie, good to see you again.” Jason extended a hand. He had on a blue oxford shirt with no tie and a pair of dark slacks, the only man not dressed in a green polo with the white OpenSpace logo. He gestured to the others, one older and one younger. “Meet Todd Eddington. He runs Sales.”
“Great, hello.” Bennie knew from the complaint that Todd was the one who had terminated Simon Pensiera.
“Hey, Bennie, good to meet you.” Todd stepped forward, the younger man, with a strong handshake. He seemed about Bennie’s age, also tall, with sandy-brown hair cut in costly layers, sharp blue eyes, a thin nose, and the broad smile of a salesman, though his teeth looked oddly bonded together. His arms were tan, but his hands weren’t, so she guessed he was a golfer, which fit the profile.