The Secret Keeping (36 page)

She put her face in a newspaper for awhile, squinting in the dim light, kicking at the briefcase with her toe as she read. Nothing but bad news everywhere.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. And same with this Jane Doe Beaumont. And what a time for all of this. You could stand in the middle of town and feel the goddamned ground shaking. And now Rios and his cabal, making the whole firm look like a bunch of cowboys. Renegades running amok in the temple of Soloman-Schmitt. Ten securities violations. Felonies. Fraud. She had enough ass to kick without assisting a grand jury to kick his. They could indict him on the papers alone. The whole bunch of insiders and their Fortune Five Hundred members only clubs. Served them right! The good old boys stepping over the line, lining their pockets with the investors funds. Shit. She didn’t want any on her.

Treadwell paused and listened to the private party going on in the bedroom. She was pretty sure that was Beaumont calling the cows home. Atta girl! Plain old fucking. Why couldn’t people be content with that? No, a good roll in the sack’s too old fashioned. Fucking till you can’t walk, that’s old. Till you’re in love with the whole world, old. Smiling at it like you just dropped acid or something. No, just not thrilling enough today.

Gotta steal, gotta cheat, gotta lie. Got to fuck people over, because just plain fucking ain’t good enough. And look at this asshole Sharon Chambers. What in the hell are you smiling about, you fucking menace? I’ll bet you don’t even like sex, you big phony. Trying to mess with my top girl. My right-hand woman. My goddamned top executive. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit!

She threw her glasses into her purse, rolled the newspaper into a ball and punted it. This was serious. She didn’t have all night to sit there. She stood up glanced at her watch and went back to the bedroom, cracking the bedroom door to check on the progress there. A blond on top. Fine, we’ll give that one a beeper, Treadwell said to herself, and terminate the rest. Look at all that hair. A regular living doll.

“There…yes…there,” she heard Lydia coax between breaths.

Paula couldn’t make out the blond’s response.

“Yes…yes…yes…yes…” Lydia moaned.

Goodness, Paula muttered, with no fear she would be overheard. She closed the door again. Plays as hard as she works–who the hell would have guessed it? She left the doorway and went back to the chair, waiting with growing irritation for another fifteen minutes before approaching the bedroom one last time.

“Okay honey,” she finally said, unceremoniously slapping the blond’s behind as she spoke, “you’re doing Soloman-Schmitt proud, let me tell you. Now go, wash up and make us some martinis.”

“Paula!” Lydia gasped. “Paula,” she gulped incredulously.

The blond buried her face in Lydia’s neck. Paula heard her whisper, “Are you all right?”

Lydia pulled the sheets over the woman and tried to sit up, but failed. “Paula! What are you doing–?”

“Beaumont! Go on, blondie, she’s fine. Something’s up, Beaumont. Get dressed.” She threw a towel and a bathrobe at them and the ladies climbed out of the bed without another word, the blond heading for the bathroom, concealing herself in the robe, her face hidden by her hair.

Lydia threw the towel to the floor and marched naked into the living room, VP Treadwell in pursuit.

“Paula, for Chrissake! You interrupted my–what is it? Why are you here?”

“Wow, look at those abs. You’re fit as a fiddle, Beaumont.”

Lydia swore under her breath. “You’re standing on my clothes, Treadwell. Those are my things you’re on.

Here…pass me that sweater, please. Thanks. And those, too. No, no, just the pants. Sit, please. Sit. Thank you.” She cast a look toward the bedroom and then back to Paula. “Now what’s wrong,” she muttered as she dressed. “I thought you weren’t coming until the end of the week?”

“Yeah, I see you thought that. And I thought you didn’t care for bimbos?”

“Paula’s, she’s not–”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Look at this. A subpoena. Oh, here’s Goldilocks now,” she said, addressing the woman without looking at her. “Honey, you know how to make a martini?”

“Paula,” Lydia started to protest.

“Indeed I do. How would you like them? Dry? Or wet?”

Lydia looked askance and took the papers from Paula.

“Dry, if you can manage it. I got that this afternoon, Beaumont! In front of the grand jury no less. Are we ready for this? A fucking subpoena. CRAP.”

“I…I’ll make those,” Lydia called over her shoulder. “Don’t do that. Please.”

Paula reached out and fanned the documents with her hand. “You hear that? That’s the sound shit makes hitting a fan! This is what it looks like in black and white. You got the numbers yet on those accounts, the one your boyfriend fudged?”

“Okay, Paula. Okay. Please. Sit down. Listen to me. One, you’re embarrassing me right now and I’m more than a little overwhelmed by your being here. Two, as you know, he is not my boyfriend. Not anymore.”

“Here you go, ladies. Two dry martinis. Will that be all?”

Lydia stared at the rug and threw the papers onto the coffee table.

“Thanks, hon,” Paula cooed. “Now, if you don’t mind. We really need some privacy here. Ex-boyfriend, I meant, of course. What a rat!”

Lydia was silent.

“I’m going to have a breakdown without you, Beaumont. I’ve checked out your list. There’s no one like you and you know it.”

The blond retrieved her clothes from the floor and headed for the bedroom. Lydia followed her movements with her eyes.

“Pay attention, Beaumont.”

“Paula. You’re in rare form tonight. Don’t worry about your testimony. I’m three quarters done with the numbers.”

“Perfect martini. She’s a keeper. I need your final report.”

“Final?” Lydia looked anxiously toward the bedroom. “Oh, right, final. I was thinking of something else.”

“What, I wonder?”

“Paula…everything is going to come out fine. You need to go home now and get some rest. I understand where we’re at and I won’t let you down.”

Paula saw the blond emerging once again from the bedroom, this time fully dressed. She kept one eye on her as she spoke to Lydia. “I don’t mind prepared statements, but sworn testimony? There ought to be a law against it, the end.” There was something unusual about that woman. For one she looked a little too upright to be from any of the agencies the corporation depended on. Two, she looked vaguely familiar, though the light could be playing tricks on old eyes. Treadwell felt for her glasses but they were no longer strung around her neck. “You like that one, Beaumont? Don’t answer, I know you do. Hey, leave your card before you go, honey, so we can get in touch with you. You know what I mean. You’re the first one she’s had any interest in.”

“Paula–”

“Oh, good. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that, Ms. Treadwell. How’s your martini?”

Was that a mocking tone in her voice? “Perfect,” Treadwell replied as she peered with an impending sense of doom at the blond approaching her. Doom? What an inexplicable feeling, Paula thought, reaching out to take the card the blond was offering. Completely inexplicable. Where the hell were her glasses?

Lydia took a huge, uncomfortable breath and threw her head back on the sofa. (I am a barbarian, Paula is definitely the head barbarian, Soloman-Schmitt, a tribe of barbarians, high-paid, overpaid corporate barbarians on the loose. Anybody can plainly see that.)

She could see Helaine was pissed. To laugh? To cry? Lydia couldn’t decide. Adding to her misery, there was a congestion building in her womb, the product of what Del called “coitus interruptus.” That’s what she was experiencing big time. That and an anxiety attack about the possibility that Helaine might be leaving, which she couldn’t blame her for doing. She avoided eye contact with her, and instead searched the ceiling for an escape hatch.

“Beaumont, I don’t have my glasses. What’s the card say?”

“Oh, Paula,” Lydia replied woefully, her eyes glued to the ceiling, “I’m sure it says something like Dr. Helaine Kristenson, Psychother–”

“OH, SHIT.”

_____

“Beaumont, you gave me your word!”

“I promised to stay put. I’m put.”

“Oh, you stinker, you did, didn’t you? Dr. Kristenson, I wasn’t aware you made house calls.”

“I don’t.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?”

“I was trying to spend a quiet evening with my–”

“Quiet? You call that racket you were making quiet?”

Helaine smiled. “I was quiet.”

Lydia reddened.

“Tell me, do you charge extra for this kind of service?”

“Paula–” Lydia began.

“No, Ms. Treadwell. It’s on the house. Anything for Soloman-Schmitt.”

“Helaine!”

“Yeah? Well I’m glad to hear that. Soloman-Schmitt would like you to go now.”

Helaine glanced to Lydia. “Are you in further need of my services, Beaumont? Or am I dismissed?”

“Helaine, please–”

“Dr. Kristenson! Don’t you read the papers?”

“Sometimes.”

“Good, because sometimes you’re in them. You and that woman. And now my top girl, here.”

“You forgot to mention Soloman-Schmitt. Isn’t that my fault, too?”

“Are you leaving yet?”

“She is not leaving, Paula. Please don’t go, Helaine.”

Helaine sat.

“Beaumont…you’re in over your head. The end.”

Lydia nodded. “We all are, I think.”

“Did you tell her about the cable man? That was just between you and me.”

“Paula Treadwell, trust me. Your name wasn’t even mentioned.”

Paula downed her martini. “I find that difficult to believe.”

“You would,” Lydia replied.

_____

“Helaine, I don’t want to burst your bubble or anything, but I happen to have it from a reliable source that you spent the night at Soloman-Schmitt’s happy land of ill repute and other corporate pastimes. Care to share your secret strategy for winning this lawsuit? Because, being just a humble attorney, it isn’t at all obvious to me.”

“You’re following me?”

“It’s called following when the bad guys do it. It’s called keeping an eye on you when we do it. How’s she holding up?”

“I want her out of there. Can you talk to Stan about it?”

“I’m making tea,” Kay interrupted. “Any takers?”

“Tea, please. And what can he do, Helaine?”

“She needs to go home, Robert. They’re…they’re…absolute Huns. Including Paula Treadwell, their so called white knight.”

“You met her?”

“I did.”

“Did you joust with the woman?”

“You could say that.”

“Who won?”

“It’s a draw for now. Robert. She’s sending Lydia call-girls posing as room service. Dumb blonds!”

“Spare no luxury, huh? She must really be depending on Ms. Beaumont.”

Kay joined them at the table. “Corruptio optimi pessima. It’s the corporate culture, Helaine. Lydia’s used to it by now. I wouldn’t worry.”

“You call that culture?”

“No, they do,” Robert said. “Kay’s right, don’t worry. Everybody will go home when things are settled.

I’m sure Stan doesn’t mind that Treadwell’s providing his client with a secure location in the meantime. He’s counter claiming you know?”

“For what?” Helaine asked.

“Defamation, slander, the like.”

“What?” Helaine was shocked. Her eyes glistened. “Lydia’s claiming that she’s defamed because Sharon says she’s my lover?”

“Uh, no, that’s a bit literal,” Robert answered nervously.

“Really?” she asked. “Is it?”

Robert had been caught off his guard. He looked to Kay for some assistance.

“Kay? Is Robert right? Am I being too literal?”

“Helaine…it’s just to shake them off. It’s a standard pleading. Have your tea.”

“So she’s denying–”

“Legally speaking there’s nothing else to do right now,” Robert said, apologetically. “He has to get his client out. It’s just posturing, Helaine.”

Helaine grabbed her coat. “Is Lydia aware of this strategy? Because she didn’t mention it last night.”

Robert searched his repertoire of one-liners and, coming up empty-handed, turned to his wife once more.

Kay shook her head. “I don’t know, Helaine. It seems rather unlikely that she wouldn’t. Doesn’t it, Robert? I mean, you would know better than I.”

He sent her a beseeching look but Kay refused to speak. “She must,” he finally answered.

Helaine circled the table. “Has defendant Beaumont sent that answer, would you know?”

“It’s not due yet.”

“Has she sent it?”

“No.”

Helaine was leaving. Robert and Kay followed her with grim faces.

“What are you going to do, Helaine? I wouldn’t do anything drastic,” Robert implored. “Think like a lawyer for a moment and you’ll see you’re overreacting.”

Impossible. She waited for him to open the door.

“Helaine…think it through first.”

“You know…this is all starting to take a toll,” she replied, speaking in a hushed tone. “The reporters, the lawyers. All of it.” She hesitated at the elevator. “I’m very tired,” she added, stepping into it.

Robert stopped the doors from closing. “Hathaway wants a meeting. This is a good sign, Helaine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please schedule it soon then. I need to get this over with.”

_____

“I’m sorry, Ms. Beaumont, she’s on vacation.”

“Vaca–for how long? When did she leave?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. I’m sorry. She did leave you a message.”

“What is it?”

“She asked that you send word when you return home again. You can direct that to me, of course. I’m Jenny.”

“I don’t understand. Was this a planned vacation? She didn’t mention it the last time we talked.”

“She was feeling overly stressed. Harassed.”

“But I was hoping…when will she be back?”

“I think she’s probably waiting for things to quiet down again. It’s been difficult for her to get around lately, the press constantly following and all. Found her new address, too. I’m sure you can empathize, Ms. Beaumont. I’ll tell her you called, though. She’ll be happy to know that.”

“So she’s checking her messages?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Lydia felt punched. She had not heard from Helaine in a week and her earlier messages to Helaine’s home had not been returned. To make matters worse, Sharon Chambers had emerged from hiding, flaunting a glorious makeover and the front pages were once again being devoted to the nation’s most famous couple of the moment, complete with rumors of private settlement talks between the two women and rampant speculations that they were attempting a reconciliation. Lydia had pooh-poohed it all as nothing more than profit driven gossip, but the news of Helaine’s surreptitious departure was unexpected and alarming.