A Good Kind of Trouble (A Trouble in Twin Rivers Novel Book 1) (32 page)

"No, not at all."
 

"That's good because Fiona is usually dragging one of her mutts in with her," Jude said. "You'll find that we aren't too formal around here."
 

Fiona walked in and greeted Ben, shooed the dog out of the chair and sat down, setting a baby monitor on the ground. She was wearing jeans and a light casual sweater. She curled her bare feet underneath her and gave Ben an expectant look. "When can you start working?"
 

"Uh, I —"
 

"Ben is convinced that we won't hire him because he got fired from Stanton & Lowe," Jude said.
 

"Ridiculous," Fiona said.
 

"And he thinks he needs legal advice."
 

She tilted her head. "Why is that?"
 

"Donald Lowe fired him after he reported wrongdoing by a partner, possibly criminal wrongdoing, probably ongoing conduct," Jude said.
 

Ben gave a bare explanation of what he found and his suspicions, but didn't mention names.
 

Fiona tilted her head and nodded. "Whistleblower protection usually only extends to those who report their employer to a regulator. Did you talk to the state bar? Or to the cops?"

"No. I don't think I could, not without revealing confidential information."

"See, he's stuck. Reporting to his boss was the correct thing to do, and he got fired. That's got to be worth something," Jude said.
 

"Does the firm have guidelines for this? An employee manual?"

"I'm sure it does, but I haven't read it since I was hired."
 

Fiona tapped her fingers on the arm of the overstuffed chair. "Maybe we can argue that you were attempting to handle the problem in-house because you had a duty of confidentiality."
 

"And a duty of loyalty," Jude added. "You can't act against your client's best interests."
 

"The crime-fraud exception doesn't waive the confidentiality agreement unless the client is planning to commit a crime in the future."

"What if it's ongoing?" Jude asked.

Ben's gaze bounced between the two attorneys as they batted around his legal situation with the familiarity of regular sparring partners. Fiona tilted her head and continued drumming a beat on the worn fabric.
 

"I don't think so," she said finally. "It sounds like the client's illegal acts are in the past. The attorney's criminal acts may be ongoing, but the client is the victim here."

"Should he have gone directly to the client?"
 

Fiona pursed her lips. "To what end?"
 

Jude leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. "To put it in his hands?"
 

"I still haven't confirmed that this is actually happening," Ben said. Perhaps they forgot he was there, they were so intent on their debate.
 

Jude and Fiona turned toward him.
 

"You might have a wrongful termination suit," Fiona said.
 

Ben shook his head. "I'm not looking to sue anyone. I'm concerned that I should be doing something with the information I learned."
 

Fiona's brow furrowed and she pursed her lips. "You mean, like call the cops?" she asked. "Maybe we should get Lawrence in here."
 

Jude picked up the phone on his desk and hit a button, then asked the person on the other end to come down to his office. A moment later, he heard footsteps on the stairs, and then a gray-haired man with wire-rimmed glasses walked in. He was whip-thin, wearing a Giants t-shirt and jeans that Ben would guess had been ironed.
 

"Lawrence Daly, this is Ben Gillespie, the attorney I was telling you about," Jude said, pulling another chair toward the desk for Lawrence.
 

Ben stood and shook Lawrence's hand. The other partner in the firm was in his mid-sixties with graying hair and a warm smile.
 

"Nice to meet you," he said. "And welcome aboard."
 

"He's still on the fence," Jude said.
 

"Well, I hope you decide to join us here," Lawrence said.
 

"He's in a bit of an ethical conundrum," Fiona said, then recapped their previous discussion. "The question is whether he can or should call in law enforcement."

Lawrence nodded thoughtfully. "Could you confirm that the partner is screwing the client?"

"I'd have to check the hours that the associate attorney logged against what was billed, but I was fired and don't have access now," Ben said. "Plus, technically, I never actually had access to the billing records."
 

"But you checked them anyway?" Lawrence asked.

"Well, yes," Ben admitted.

"Ah," Lawrence said. "You exceeded your authorized use of the firm's computer system. That might be a violation of Title 18, section 1031. Though probably a misdemeanor in this case because you didn't cause any damage."

Ben’s whole body broke out in a sweat.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Lawrence," Jude said. "You're going to give Ben a heart attack. They're not going to press charges against you."

"That was a misdemeanor?" Ben's pulse skipped at the mention of a crime. A criminal conviction, even a misdemeanor, would risk his law license. Not to mention, it would be humiliating. And even if he didn't get disbarred or suspended, he'd never be hired as a lawyer with a criminal conviction on his record. He struggled to breathe as his chest tightened.
 

Lawrence shrugged. "Could be. There's some new law on it, so maybe not. The Ninth Circuit reeled in some pretty overzealous prosecutions recently. You might skate on that."
 

Lawrence thought about it some more and then nodded. "Yeah, you'd have a good defense. You were trying to figure out if a partner was screwing a client. No jury would convict you."
 

He grinned and stood, pulling a baseball cap from his back pocket and putting it on.
 

"Well, I'm off to the ballpark," he said. "Hope to see you soon, Ben. I look forward to working with you. As a coworker, not as your defense lawyer, of course."
 

He waved and left the office, closing the door behind him.
 

"Lawrence has a standing softball game on Thursday mornings. He's trying to retire—again," Jude said. "That's why I would like you to consider working here."
 

Ben was stunned. "I'm here because I need a lawyer. Because I might be getting sued. I just got canned from the third largest firm in the city."
 

"First, you're not going to get sued. If anything, you have a whistleblower retaliation case," Fiona said.
 

"Second," Jude chimed in, "you got fired by Donald Lowe, one of the laziest assholes to ever get a law degree. If it weren't for the fact that Gregory Stanton is a greedy bastard, that firm wouldn't even exist."
 

"Plus," Fiona added, "you won't have to do personal injury cases anymore. Unless you want."
 

"God, no," Ben said. "I'm just surprised you want me. I'm not exactly coming in with stellar credentials."

"Being fired by Stanton & Lowe is a pretty good credential," Jude said. "Plus, Dave says you're smart and hardworking and easy to get along with. All qualities we want here at Fields Law Group."
 

The baby monitor at Fiona's feet squawked and she jumped up. "Be right back," she said, heading for the stairs.
 

Jude leaned forward, resting his arms against the desk.
 

"Ben, listen. You're not getting arrested. You're not getting sued. You haven't violated any state bar ethics rules," he said. "If there's any further investigation—by anyone—and you are contacted, we'll help you navigate the rules so you can answer, or not answer."
 

Jude's assurances made him feel a little better about his situation.
 

"I'm not trying to talk you out of hiring me, but you realize that I have no experience in criminal law, right? Or as a plaintiff's attorney in the kind of cases that you guys handle," Ben said.
 

Jude smiled and nodded. "I understand," he said. "I opened my own firm when I couldn't get a permanent job after law school. I quickly realized that I had no idea what I was doing and I pestered Lawrence into mentoring me. He had just left the public defender's office and had the office next to mine. Eventually, we decided to merge practices and work together.

"About six years ago, we recruited Fiona. She could have worked anywhere. She'd clerked at the Ninth Circuit, then did civil litigation," he said. "She helps on the criminal cases and takes on a few, mostly in federal court, but she prefers the civil side. With the baby, it's a little easier to keep regular hours. She works from home when she can."
 

Jude sighed and leaned back in the chair. "But now Lawrence insists that he's going to retire. Of course, he's said that before."
 

A squeak from the ceiling drew Ben’s attention and he followed Fiona’s footsteps across the second floor.
 

“Professor Larkin’s death, it was a hit and run, wasn’t it?” Ben asked. “Did they ever find the guy who did it?"
 

Jude looked down at his hands and his mouth tightened. "They arrested him a few months ago. Fi was pregnant when Grant died. That's another reason I want to get another attorney in here. She's back to work, but not quite full time and I don't want to push her. It's not necessary."

The phone rang and Ben heard Tasha’s muted greeting. Jude stood and after closing the door to the lobby, he returned to his desk, leaning against its edge as he looked at Ben.
 

"We don't have billable requirements. You track your hours, but there's no requirement that you hit a minimum. Lawrence, Fiona and I are full partners, but we want to take on a shareholder, someone who has a stake in the firm and whose share grows, eventually becoming a full partner if everyone agrees it's working out."

Ben nodded. The curly-haired dog laying by his feet sighed and rolled over. He absently reached down and scratched her exposed belly. The fluffy tail wagged with pleasure. No billable requirement meant less pressure to work late, no marathon workdays at the end of the year when partners were determining bonuses based on the obscene number of hours logged that year.
 

"The only hard and fast rule is that you cannot piss off Tasha. She keeps everything running," Jude said. "So what do you think?"
 

Ben glanced around the office, taking in the scarred and mismatched furniture, the wiggly dog at his feet, and the stacks of books on the floor next to the packed bookcase behind Jude's desk. He could afford to take the job and still pay his student loans, though he'd be carrying them a little longer than he'd hoped to.
 

And there would be no conflict with Lindsey's job. With that realization, his body felt lighter than when he first walked in, his shoulders less tense. A grin spread across his face.
 

"I think I'd like to work here," he heard himself saying.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The empty stairwell was lit by only a dim overhead, fluorescent, flickering tube and Lindsey's footsteps echoed on the metal grated steps as she climbed to the sixth floor of the parking structure. The parking garage had been built to accommodate the train and bus passengers at the now abandoned rail yard. Though it was still open, Lindsey doubted that there were enough cars using the space to fill even the bottom floor. It was a good, though eerie, place to meet a secret and paranoid anonymous source. She wouldn't have minded meeting in a more public place. She pushed the door open, stepped out into the cavernous concrete parking lot and peered into the empty space. Seeing no one, she sighed.
 

Just her luck. Her week was going to hell and fast. First, she managed to get Ben fired, when he was only trying to help her. Then Sam caved to pressure from Lara Petrie and hadn't cleared her bonds story for publication. It was only Thursday, so there was still time. She was trying not to panic.

She had to get the bond story out, because it was important to the community, but also to save her own job. And her reputation. It would be nice to prove she wasn’t just the newsroom’s drama queen, that she could actually be a competent reporter. But every time she gained ground on her investigation, it hurt Ben. The dull ache in her stomach grew at the thought of Ben, but that hollowed-out feeling was a nearly constant companion.

She couldn’t shake the memory of the last time she’d seen him. The image of him in her rearview mirror, standing in the lane at Hunter Lake, watching her drive away. Even now, days later, her heart flipped at the thought of him, tall and straight in the moonlight on the empty road.
 

To distract herself from thoughts of Ben, Lindsey had thrown herself into work. She'd been working her tail off since then to prove that her reporting was solid. When Ms. Petrie sent the story back—again—with more questions, Lindsey had decided to return to the source of her information to make sure Lyle was being truthful, and that she hadn't misinterpreted what he'd told her.
 

She'd placed the missing dog ad in the paper and waited. And waited. And then waited another day. Then she placed the ad with Steve's picture. She got three calls from sketchy individuals claiming to have her dog and inquiring about a reward and was starting to despair that Lyle had forgotten their signal.

Then he called, his phone number blocked and his voice a hoarse whisper. "Meet me at the parking garage at—" static and garbled noise filled her ear. "—Sixth floor."

"What? I can barely hear you?"
 

She heard rustling and then his familiar reedy voice. "Can you hear me now?"

"Yes, much better."

"The garage at Fifth and H streets. You know which one?"