The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(35)

“Your secretary told Mr Russell that you wanted to talk with any employee of this plant who may have worked at the Tuscaloosa plant on the day in question and loaded Newton’s truck.”

“That’s right,” Rick said. “And she was told that Mr Carmichael had been one of the loaders that day.”

“Correct. Well then...” A knock at the door interrupted Witt, and the lawyer looked irritated for half a second. Then, as if remembering something, his face broke into a grin. “Oh, I almost forgot. Come in!”

Rick squinted at Witt, then turned his head, not sure what to expect. When the door swung open, Rick’s stomach tightened into a knot.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.



“Julian, my boy!” boomed the unmistakable voice of Jameson Tyler. For a moment, Tyler stood at the door as if to let everyone in the room, especially Rick, get a good look at “the Big Cat”. Then he strode into the room, ignoring Rick and extending his meaty hand across the table, where Witt shook it eagerly.

“Jameson, I’m so sorry to have started without you.”

“No worries, Jules.” Tyler grabbed the pot of coffee that lay in the middle of the table and made a show of pouring himself a cup. He still had not looked Rick’s way, and Rick could feel the heat on his face. Rick glanced at Dawn, who raised her eyebrows as if to ask, Who the hell is that?

Jameson f*cking Tyler, Rick thought, trying to stay cool.

As Tyler sat down at the head of the table – of course, that’s where he’d sit – Julian Witt, whose obvious man crush on Tyler made Rick nauseous, turned his flushed face back to Rick. “Sorry, Rick, but we thought it only fair to invite Willistone’s lawyer to this little soirée.”

Willistone’s lawyer? Rick thought, feeling his stomach jump. This had to be a joke.

“You are Willistone’s lawyer?” Rick asked what he was thinking, unable to contain the contempt in his voice as he glared at the man who withdrew Jones & Butler’s offer of employment to Rick nine months before.

Tyler’s mouth curved into a thousand-megawatt smile. “I am indeed. And you represent Ms Wilcox.” Tyler chuckled, chewing on the tip of his pen. “I can’t believe the Professor referred you this case. If I didn’t believe he’d lost his mind before, I definitely do now.”

Rick felt heat from the top of his forehead to the bottom of his feet as he glared a hole into Tyler, whose arrogant grin only widened. How could he possibly know about the Professor?

“Now, don’t get mad, Rick. None of us here want another YouTube incident. Deep breaths, now, boy. Deep breaths.” Tyler’s eyes moved to Dawn, and he cocked his head to the side. “Well, well, well...” he said, extending his hand. “Jameson Tyler.”

“Dawn Murphy,” Dawn said, giving Tyler’s hand a quick shake, but Tyler didn’t let go.

“You look familiar, Ms Murphy. Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so,” Dawn said, her voice firm, wriggling her hand out of his grasp. “If we did, you must not have made much of an impression.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Tyler said, pausing, still looking at Dawn. “We have. I just can’t place it. What’s your–”

“Can we got on with this?” Rick interrupted, glancing at Hank Russell, Ultron’s silver-haired president, who did not seem to be enjoying himself any more than Rick did, before glaring at Julian Witt.

“Go for it,” Witt said, winking at Tyler, who had crossed his legs, his eyes containing that amused “I know something you don’t” look Rick had remembered from his days clerking for the bastard.

“Mr Carmichael, did you know Harold ‘Dewey’ Newton?” Rick began, trying to keep his voice calm.

Carmichael pulled on his strawberry-blond mustache and looked at the table. “I knew Dewey. Not well or nothin,’ but I knew who he wuz.”

Rick nodded, forcing himself to look only at Willard. “Do you remember loading his truck the morning of September 2, 2009?”

Again, Willard pulled on his mustache. “Can’t say that I remember the date or nuthin.’ It was around Labor Day, I ’spect. I just remember later that day hearing that Dewey done been in a bad wreck.”

Rick leaned forward. “What do you remember about loading his truck that morning?”

Carmichael hesitated for a couple of seconds, looking around the table. Great, Rick thought, wondering how many times the poor SOB had already been through this with Julian Witt.

“Honestly, sir, I don’t remember nothin’ much at all about loading the truck that morning. Everything seemed normal to me.”

“Did Mr Newton seem in a rush?”

“I think he’s answered the question, Rick,” Tyler interjected, but Rick didn’t even look at the bastard.

“Did Mr Newton seem in a rush?” Rick repeated, unable to control his irritation.

“Hey, boy,” Tyler said, banging the table with his fist. “You deaf or something? He said he doesn’t remember what happened that morning.”

Again, Rick didn’t look at Tyler. Instead, he glared at Julian Witt. “I came here, because Mr Russell said I could ask Mr Carmichael some questions. If you want to cut the meeting off, Julian, just say the word. Otherwise, I’d like to keep going.”