The Interior (9 page)

Someone from the catering staff showed David and the agents through the living room and out onto the terrace. Heading down to the pool, David and the FBI agents were flanked by a series of terraces, each draped with flowers and vines. George and Eddie took up discreet positions at either end of the cabana, while David went straight for the bar. He ordered a beer and watched as the other guests came down the stairs. They were the predictable assortment of lawyers from different law firms and government entities, as well as a smattering of judges. David waved to Rob Butler from the U.S. Attorney’s Office and said hello to Kate Seigel from Taylor & Steinberg.

No one seemed particularly upset. In fact, as they picked up drinks and mingled at the bar, they looked more like guests at a garden party than at a funeral. But what did David expect? If Keith had died a week ago, would he have reacted differently? Certainly he would have felt bad about a friend and colleague’s death, but he would have compartmentalized it and, like most of these people, come more out of duty than friendship. How strange, David thought, the way people avoided grief, avoided any unpleasant emotions, as if that would protect them from tragedy or make them invisible to evil.

Phil Collingsworth, who’d been at the firm even longer than Miles Stout, clapped David on the back and said that the three of them should grab some time later to talk. David spoke with another partner, who, after Hulan left him years ago, had encouraged him to date, then marry Jean. The marriage had been a mistake, but when they’d divorced, Marjorie, like so many people and things, had gone into Jean’s half of the communal property. But now here was Marjorie, giving David a hug, saying how nice it was to see him after such a long time, and asking if he wouldn’t like to come over for dinner and see how big the kids had grown.

It felt good to be back among friends, but there was a shadow over most of his conversations. No one mentioned the accusations surrounding Keith or David’s presence at Keith’s death, but he felt these subjects intruding into all of his encounters. Soon enough small talk evaporated into awkward silence. The little grouping would disperse and another one would form.

At one point David found himself standing alone. He glanced around, caught a sympathetic nod from Agent Baldwin, and quickly looked away. His eyes came to rest on Keith’s sister, sitting with an older couple. The three of them looked exhausted and definitely out of place in the party atmosphere. David passed through the little eddies of people, reached Keith’s family, extended his hand, and introduced himself.

At the older woman’s quick intake of breath, the man at her side put a protective arm around her shoulder. With his other hand he reached out and firmly gripped David’s. “Matt Baxter. I’m—I was—Keith’s dad. This is Keith’s mother, Marie. And this is Anne.” But these introductions seemed about all he could manage. David watched as Matt squeezed his wife’s shoulder, this time to strengthen himself.

A moment passed before anyone spoke, then Anne, her eyes welling with tears, looked up at David. “You’re the person who was with Keith when…”

“That’s right,” David finished for her. “May I sit down?”

“Of course,” she said.

David dragged a lawn chair over to Anne and her folks. As soon as he sat down he smelled an overpowering and sickeningly sweet scent that reminded him of death.

“Can you tell us about Keith on that last night?” Anne asked.

David had been so wrapped up in his guilt that he hadn’t considered that Keith’s family would ask him this question if given the opportunity. What should he say? That Keith had drunk too much? That he’d been worried about work? These weren’t words that would bring solace. Instead David answered in half-truths.

“We had a bottle of wine. We ate fish. He was in a good humor. He teased me about coming back to the firm,” David said.

Keith’s folks nodded and smiled sadly.

“But did he
say
anything?” Anne pressed.

Was she asking about Pearl Jenner’s allegations in the
Times
? She couldn’t be.

“At the time nothing seemed that important,” he said, trying to keep the conversation light. “We were just friends catching up on what we’d been doing. He asked about some trials that I’d had. It was just lawyer talk…”

“I don’t know how you could say that,” Anne said, not bothering to disguise her sarcasm.

“Anne,” Matt implored his daughter, but she ignored him.

“I talked to him that day too, you know.” Her voice had shifted into something hard and edgy. Her eyes stayed steady on David as she waited for him to respond. How much did Anne know? Was she, like David, worried about her brother’s reputation? All he knew was that he didn’t want to talk about these things in front of Keith’s parents.

“My brother was in anguish. His girlfriend had just died…” Anne began to cry.

His girlfriend? Keith hadn’t mentioned anything about that. Could David have misread the evening? No, not if what the
Times
said was true.

“We haven’t thanked you for calling that night,” Keith’s mother said. “It meant a lot to us that it was a friend and not the police. I don’t think I could have taken that.”

“If the situation had been reversed, I’m sure Keith would have done the same for me.”

“Do you think so?” Anne asked.

“Of course I do.”

“What I mean is, do you think the situation
could
have been reversed?”

“Anne,” Matt Baxter gently pleaded with his daughter.

Anne took an angry swipe at her tears, then turned impatiently to her father. “What is it, Dad? Do you want me to forget that my brother died because of this man? Well, I’m not going to forget that. I don’t think anyone here—except for maybe you and Mom—is going to forget that.”

Hearing those words, David felt his gut tighten. Was this how people would think of him from now on?

“Excuse me.”

They all looked up to see Special Agent Eddie Wiley, sounding extremely official. “Mr. Stark, I need for you to step this way.”

David rose. He kept eye contact with Anne but spoke to her parents. “Again, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.” He tipped his head, broke away from Anne’s hard gaze, and followed Eddie into the cabana.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No thanks required. You looked like you needed rescuing.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You’re going to have to learn how to deal with shit like that.” When David regarded him in puzzlement, Eddie explained, “With people asking questions that they really don’t want the answers to.”

“And?”

“Shine them on.”

David frowned. “Could I do that? Could you?”

“It’s part of the job.”

“Maybe yours…”

Eddie didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. They both knew how many deaths the Rising Phoenix had brought to David’s job. “Eddie, can you do something for me?”

“You know I can.”

“I want to meet alone with Keith’s sister.”

“What? In the fucking greenhouse or something? I don’t think so.”

“I have to explain to her about that night.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I want…” David took a step toward the cabana’s French doors, but Eddie moved to block his way.

“Haven’t you heard what I’ve been saying? You can’t let guilt run you, man.” Eddie lowered his voice. “Believe me, I know.”

For the second time in about as many minutes David was in a standoff. And, for the second time, he was rescued by a familiar voice.

“Ah, David, there you are,” Miles called out from the French doors. “I’ve been looking for you. Phil and I want you to take a walk with us.” He cocked his head to Eddie. “Is that all right with you? We’ll stay on the property. I’ll tell you what. We’ll even stay down here on the lower terrace. Just give me a few minutes of privacy with my former colleague.”

Eddie stood his ground a moment longer, then stepped aside. David and Miles threaded their way through the crowd and walked out along the terrace.

“It’s been a rough few days,” Miles said. “How are you holding up?”

David stared down into the canyon below him, where sumac and other scrub brush served as a counterpoint to the luxury and refinement of the Stout grounds.

Since David didn’t seem willing to answer, Miles said, “It was a bad break. You need to know that none of us blames you.”

David snorted. “I think Keith’s sister does.”

“What does she know? She wasn’t there.” Miles closed his eyes and tilted his face up to the sun. “Why did you and Keith get together anyway?”

“It was nothing really, just dinner.” Here again was another half-truth, but he just didn’t want to cover this material again.

“Did he talk about work, the firm?”

“I suppose.” David shrugged. “We talked a little about Tartan and Knight.”

“He was working with me on the acquisition. We’ve been working on the deal for a year. The firm’s been consumed with it.”

Miles loved to discuss business. David, relieved by the change in focus, accommodated him. “From what I’ve read, I’m surprised Knight would sell.”

“It came as a surprise to me too when I got the call from Henry saying he wanted to sell and did I think Tartan would be interested. Of course, Randall Craig was interested and made an offer right away. That was a year ago.”

“You must be slipping,” David needled good-naturedly.

“It wasn’t me. It was that damn Henry Knight. He’s one strange bird. He doesn’t like to use attorneys, and he only hires accountants on an as-needed basis.”

“Is he covering up something?”

“No, he’s just eccentric. But look, eccentric or not, he built his company himself. He was already rich. Soon he’ll be filthy rich.”

David had a father who sounded a lot like Henry Knight, so he knew that eccentricity could be charming and irritating at the same time. David also knew from his experiences at the U.S. Attorney’s Office that such men were not immune to the temptations of crime. Instead of committing a crime himself, had Keith found some problem in the Knight records? Was there a mistake in the deal? Is that what had so worried him? Or had he discovered some irregularities, something that might involve a federal investigation? If so, why not tell Miles? Or, if it was really bad, why not go straight to the U.S. Attorney’s Office, the FBI, or the SEC himself?

“What was Keith working on exactly?” David inquired.

“You know, doing the due diligence, gathering together the various representations and warranties for the SEC and FTC. It was just the usual antitrust and securities formalities.”

David lowered his voice even though they were alone. “What about those accusations in the
Times
this morning?”

“All lies.” Miles’s eyes flashed angrily. “That reporter made that stuff up and has been able to get away with it for months by throwing in the word
alleged
here and there.”

“For months? I didn’t know it was going on at all.”

“It wasn’t something the firm or Keith advertised. Fortunately Jenner’s stories were always buried deep in the business section.”

“And Keith never came to you with any concerns?”

“Oh, he was concerned, all right. Wouldn’t you be? What that woman wrote was totally unfounded.” Miles shook his head sadly. “When I think of how tortured Keith was…Certainly you must have noticed how upset he was.”

“I did, as a matter of fact. I wish he’d explained—”

“He didn’t like to talk about it. As unfounded as those articles were, they were deeply embarrassing to him.”

“The death of his girlfriend couldn’t have helped matters. Did you know her?”

“No, she didn’t live here. Her death was a tough break for Keith. Well, there’s no point dwelling on it now.” He paused, then said, “Ah, here’s Phil.”

“Have you asked him yet?” Phil inquired.

“No,” Miles answered. “I was waiting for you.”

“Good,” Phil said, smiling warmly at David, “because I want you to know that this proposal comes from all of us at the firm. Go ahead, Miles.”

David waited, listening.

“We’ve all watched your progress at the U.S. Attorney’s Office,” Miles began. “You’ve done some amazing work in China and certainly with the triads. We’re all proud of you for that.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m going to lay our cards on the table,” Miles continued. “We’d like you to come back to the firm and open an office in China.” He held up a hand to keep David from speaking. “We’ve got a lot of work over there even without the Tartan business. We’re subbing it out to lawyers in Beijing. Remember Nixon Chen, who came over from China to train with us all those years ago?”

“Not only do I remember him, but I had lunch with him about three months ago.”

“He does a lot of our China work, and he bills at rates almost as high as ours,” Phil said. “We’re giving him hundreds of thousands in legal fees each year. The firm’s thinking is, why should we give Nixon all that work? We’ve been wanting to open a branch office in Beijing for quite some time, but we needed the right person to get it up and running.”

“And you think I’m that person?”

Phil stared earnestly at David. “Look, you’re a litigator, but a lot of your cases have involved big companies with complex financials, so you’ve become quite a good corporate lawyer too.”

David hadn’t thought of his career this way before, but it made perfect sense.

“But you bring something more to the equation,” Miles picked up. “The Chinese care about
guanxi
—connections. Nixon’s a Red Prince, so his connections are impeccable. But you also have some pretty interesting connections—with the Ministry of Public Security…”

“If you’re thinking about Hulan, forget it. She’s happy where she is.”

“I didn’t mention her name. You did. We haven’t asked Hulan to open the office. We’re asking you.”

David shook his head. “Thanks, but I like what I do too.”

“We’re prepared to make a substantial offer,” Miles said. “Just name your price.”

“Money’s never mattered to me.”

“I know that, and if you want our offer to take that into consideration, I’m sure we can oblige.” Seeing the look on David’s face, Miles grinned triumphantly, as if he’d caught a witness in a lie. “I knew it,” he said. “We never would have gotten this far in the conversation if you weren’t just a little bit intrigued. So do us a favor. Think about it and come see us tomorrow.”