The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(51)

“That’s pretty close,” Tyler continued, leaving his car door open and approaching Rick. “You know, even with Ms Batson’s testimony, which almost assures that we’ll win at trial, my client would still appreciate a settlement demand. No use trying a case if the parties can agree on something.”

Despite the bastard’s arrogant delivery, Rick felt goosebumps break out on his arm at the mention of settlement. “I’ll talk with Ms Wilcox and get back to you,” Rick said.

“You do that,” Tyler said. “You might also want to talk with the Professor. I would hope that he’d want you to cut your losses and get something for his friend.”

Rick snorted, feeling his blood pressure rise. “I think I can manage that decision on my own.”

“I bet you can,” Tyler said, laughing. Then he sighed. “You know, for the life of me, I can’t understand why the Professor referred this case to you. I mean, I guess he didn’t want to refer Jerry a dog, but still? One of Jerry’s minions could have probably settled this case pretty quick. So why you?” He paused. “You want to hear my theory?”

“Do I have a choice?” Rick asked.

“I think he wanted to get back at the student that did him in. I think he must not think much of Ms Wilcox either. Maybe she’s an old flame that ended bad or one of Julie’s friends that he didn’t care for. Anyway, I think he referred you this case because he knew you couldn’t handle it. The incident with you was part of the reason for his retirement, so he wanted to stick it to you by giving you a case that you would most certainly lose.” Tyler paused. “What a bastard,” he said, chuckling. “But that’s not even the worst of it. Hiring his whore to work for you. Now that just takes the cake.”

Rick felt a wave of heat roll down his body. “What did you just say?”

Tyler’s smile spread wide across his face. “His whore.” Tyler reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a manila folder. “Here, see for yourself.”

Rick took the folder. When he saw the first photograph, his heart constricted. What th–

“My favourite is the wet T-shirt shot,” Tyler continued, pointing as Rick flipped through the photographs. “No one can accuse Tom of having bad taste in his old age. Ms Murphy is a fine piece if I ever saw one. Well...” Tyler ripped the folder from Rick, who was too stunned to say anything.

“Let me know if your client wants to put this case out of its misery,” Tyler said, slapping Rick on the back and grabbing the open door of the Porsche. “We’ve just retained an accident reconstructionist, and it would be nice to avoid that expense.” Tyler smiled, showing all of his teeth. “Have you hired an expert yet, Rick?”

“Y-y-you’re wrong,” Rick stammered, ignoring the question. “About Dawn.”

Tyler shook his head. “Am I? Are you paying Ms Murphy?”

When Rick didn’t answer, Tyler laughed long and hard. “Dawn Murphy is in the top 20 per cent of her class, son. Lives with her mother and has a five year-old kid.” He paused. “That ain’t the type of girl who works pro bono.”

As Rick struggled to say something, anything, Tyler sat down in the Porsche. He put the car in gear and whipped it around, slinging gravel to the side. Then he pulled in front of Rick and rolled down the window.

“Wake up and smell the coffee, Rick. The Professor is playing you like a fiddle.”





36


Rick sped back to Tuscaloosa in a stunned fog. All he could see in his mind were the photographs that Tyler had showed him. Dawn hugging the Professor. Dawn, wearing a wet T-shirt, leaning into the Professor. The outline of Dawn’s nipples through the wet T-shirt. And the needy look on the Professor’s face.

Just below the fog of his confused thoughts, he knew he should be concerned about the case. As Rick had dreaded, Tyler had retained an accident reconstructionist. Rick, on the other hand, had been shot down by Ted Holt and couldn’t afford a second opinion.

But the anxiety over Tyler’s expert was drowned out by his anger at seeing the photographs. If it’s true... He squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Tyler’s just trying to get under my skin. It can’t be true. It can’t be...

But Rick knew that some of Tyler’s comments had the ring of truth to them. Why did Dawn work for him? She did have a young child and did live with her mother. How could she afford to work for free? Rick had always questioned Dawn’s motivation. So, if she’s lying, then who would want to pay her to work for me?

Rick could think of only one person, and again squeezed the wheel, seeing the photographs play through his mind like a power point presentation. Only one way to find out, he knew, as he reached downtown and turned onto Greensboro Avenue.

He parked the Saturn in front of the office and jumped out of the car, his heart beat racing. Just be cool, he told himself, as he took the steps two at a time, his anger increasing with each step. Just... be... cool...

Rick opened the door and didn’t bother to shut it. “Dawn!” he yelled, forgetting everything but the photographs. The Professor is playing you like a fiddle, Tyler had said, and Rick’s entire body tensed as he remembered the look on the SOB’s face. “Dawn!”

“Well, hello to you too,” Frankie said, and Rick wheeled to face his secretary. He hadn’t even noticed her when he barrelled in.