Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(39)
He smiled as he envisioned himself appearing in front of the board. Let’s begin, Mr. Carter, with your telling us what you do for a living.
Dressed in his latest Paul Stuart suit, he would reply, I like to view myself as working in the service of the public. I make it possible for Americans to enjoy their favorite TV news anchor, when in reality he should be in prison.
Forcing himself to get serious, he recognized that it would be a challenge to come up with a satisfactory description of his occupation. But he had time to mull it over. Time, as it turned out, was something he had in abundance.
A potential new source of income had presented itself the previous day. One of his old army buddies had called his cell. Roy had been fired unfairly from his director of security job, and his employer was trying to stiff him out of eleven weeks of accrued vacation. Roy had said, “I know you’re not in private practice. Can you recommend a labor lawyer?”
Carter had made the decision immediately. “I’ve got just the guy for you, Roy, me!”
Why not? he had asked himself. There was nothing in his agreement with REL about not having outside clients. The extra money would be nice, and it would provide a condo board a better answer regarding how he supported himself. Sherman didn’t have to know, or if he did, it was none of his business.
He felt the anger burn inside him when he recalled the meeting with Sherman where he told the CEO about how he persuaded a reluctant Lauren Pomerantz to settle in one meeting. Instead of appreciation for a job very well done, he got the clear impression that the CEO felt he was overpaying him for an easy job. Carter was careful to not make that mistake a second time.
Pomerantz had admitted to Carter that Meg Williamson was the one who had advised her to be careful around Matthews. Williamson had been easy to find; her cell number had not changed after she left REL. She had resigned from the company before she had found another job. That always makes things more difficult. The potential new employer typically suspects you got fired or were forced to leave.
Carter had tried a different tack in persuading Williamson to meet with him. He had told her that REL had miscalculated on her withholding and the company owed her back pay. Holding the hand of a four-year-old, she had come to his office the next day.
The presence of the beautiful little girl who sat quietly on her mother’s lap during the early part of the meeting had worked to Carter’s advantage. Meg looked on approvingly as he made a fuss over her child, who answered his questions with a wide smile. Meg told him that any extra money headed her way would be a godsend. She had just finalized a divorce and her ex could not be counted on for anything.
“Meg, I apologize for misrepresenting the reason for today’s meeting, but I’m sure you’ll be interested in what I have to say,” he had begun. A protracted legal battle against Brad Matthews, he assured her, would be tremendously stressful for her and, he added, looking at her young daughter, for Jillian.
At Carter’s suggestion, Beatrice came in and took Jillian to her desk outside. Now he and Meg could talk candidly.
He had feigned interest as a tearful Meg unburdened herself describing Matthews’s advances and her current, difficult circumstances. Fifteen minutes later Beatrice was applying her notary seal to the signed settlement agreements. A more composed Meg had Jillian on her lap. Overcoming her initial reluctance, Meg had admitted that she was aware of two other victims. Carter did not let on that he knew about Pomerantz or that he was hearing the name Cathy Ryan for the first time.
Completing a settlement with Williamson had been just that easy, but that was not the story he told Sherman. At their most recent Greenwich train station meeting, he had added a few elements. “Puffery,” as his friend in the advertising business liked to call it, harmless, exaggerated claims about a product or service.
“It’s been a knock-down-drag-out with Meg Williamson. It took multiple calls to get her to agree to meet with me. She had just made an appointment to see a therapist about what happened with Matthews. It took a lot of persuading to get her to cancel. Similar to Pomerantz, she initially insisted on bringing a friend to the meeting for moral support. I had to talk her out of that. After she said she was staying with a friend in Hackensack, New Jersey, I schlepped out there to meet her, only to be stood up. Her kid was sick, and she couldn’t get hold of a sitter. I told her if she didn’t sign now, she risked having the settlement be considered community property. If her ex found out about it, in theory he would be entitled to half of it. I made another trip to lovely Hackensack and got her to sign.”
“Keep it up” had been Sherman’s grudging compliment.
42
Jacob Wilder and Junior had become acquainted on the squash courts at the New York Athletic Club. Both in their mid-forties and both high-level players, for several years they had competed together in doubles tournaments. When Junior needed an REL lawyer to perform a discreet inquiry, the decision was easy.
“Whenever a business entity incorporates,” Wilder began, “it has to register with the New York Department of State Division of Corporations, State Records, and Uniform Commercial Code.”
“I assume it has to include an address.”
“It does, but Carter & Associates used a PO box.”
“Does the post office keep the address of box holders confidential?”
“In theory, yes. For fifty bucks, no,” he said while handing a piece of paper across the desk.