78
“Fine. Be that way,” Nadia said without rancor. “If you end up at a loose end, take pity on me.”
Tam sat for a moment, hand still on the phone. Right, just business to put a chance meeting with Kip ahead of a welcome diversion with a friend.
Quelling the sudden butterflies in her stomach, she called Hank back. She was so lucky in her colleagues. Hank was as devoted to the company as she was. The New York office was huge and growing every year, but the knack for managing and motivating people that she’d admired in him when they’d both worked for the FBI kept the chaos organized. He was far more subtle than most people expected. Like with Diane, it was a successful collaboration.
She must have sounded odd to him, because the first thing he said was, “Who already put salt in your milk? That’s my job today.”
She quickly explained about the gossip reporter.
“I know the Cantu woman—well, of her,” Hank said. “She was at the fundraiser we co-sponsored for the New York Public Library. We were introduced but I quickly knew I was not of consequence to her. You’ve been linked romantically?”
“Never met her.”
“I know. It’s just strange. And I doubt it’s a coincidence. Here the Journal isn’t jumping on rumors of client losses and staff leaving yet, but the scandal rags can’t wait to blog up you and a model.”
“I know it has to be connected. I just don’t know how. Anyway, why am I on your list this morning?”
“I’ve got a letter from our contact at Big Blue. The New York office is canceling our contract.”
“Big Blue?” Her fingertips went numb. “Some of the biggest corporate butt we’ve ever pulled out of the fire?”
“That Big Blue. I’ve worked with Avery Jessup for so long that I’ve talked him into dinner tonight. I want answers—this makes no sense to me. Nobody else will give me the time of day.
It’s like SFI suddenly has bad breath.”
79
“Diane says the other offices are having cancellations too.
We think there’s a rumor about us circulating.”
“What does Ted think?”
“Good question. I think if he’d heard something he would have said something, though. He’s got the flu. I’ll ask him, though.”
She could ask Nadia to relay the question, but that would mean Nadia knowing more than she should about company business.
“Well, I think it’s a rumor. A rumor bad enough for someone like Avery to pull the plug on us without talking first. He’s a pretty straight-and-narrow guy, conservative. I’m shocked he wouldn’t at least call me first, ask a few questions.”
She ought to tell him about the embezzlement—just like she ought to have told Diane. But she would wait until she got the report from Kip tonight before doing so.
“I appreciate what you’re doing, Hank.”
“Hey, don’t thank me yet. Besides, your ass is my ass. Okay, plus fifty pounds.”
Tam didn’t know how she could laugh, but picturing Hank’s broad-shouldered ex-football physique compared to her too-tall, too-thin frame struck her funny bone. “We’re in this together, aren’t we?”
“Always have been, boss. I’ll call you later.”
Kip sat up with a gasp. A page of Buck’s reports was stuck to her cheek. She’d fallen asleep at the table. She could have sworn she heard her bones creak as she peeled the paper off her face.
The days of all-nighters and bouncing to a class to ace a test were behind her, obviously. She felt a hundred years old as she loaded the stacks of printouts into her satchel.
She had no idea what she was going to do about Tamara Sterling. About anything.
Not the least bit refreshed by a hot shower and a triple-shot mocha, she arrived at her desk to find a note from Emilio asking her to spend an hour with a colleague tracing a transaction 80
through a series of banks and accounting codes. The projected hour became three. By the time she felt as if she’d found her feet for the day it was pushing noon and her stomach wanted lunch.
She told it to shut up.
How was she going to make any kind of report to Tamara if she believed Tamara was a viable suspect? She had to deliver on promises to her client, but in doing so she could be telling key investigation points to a suspect. Or believed that Tamara had secrets of her own, and somehow Kip was part of keeping those secrets intact? She had never been in this position before. People higher up than her usually dealt with the rocks and hard places.
She threw herself into more exhibit checking and labeling.
Following the same procedures, over and over, might clear her mind. But no matter how many case files she looked at and numbers she printed, she couldn’t forget for more than a minute that Tamara Sterling was expecting to hear from her by the end of the day.
As the workday ticked toward its end, she knew she had to contact Tamara. If Tamara was guilty, she’d find her failure to get in touch suspicious. If she wasn’t, she’d find it incompetent.
At five minutes to five she called the private voice mail number written on Tamara’s business card. She hoped she sounded brisk, and not freaked out, as she left her cryptic message. “I would like to get together and share details. This evening, if you’re free.
You have my number.” She hoped any colleague nearby would presume it was a date of some kind.
There was no immediate return call, so at six thirty she packed up her things and headed for home. What she was going to do there she hadn’t a clue. Her empty stomach wanted a big, fat slice of pizza with two inches of gooey cheese and pounds of pepperoni, but her brain sent back queasy signals at the mere thought. She’d open a can of soup at home.
She had just unlocked her front door when her cell phone rang.
“I hope I’m not interrupting your dinner,” Tamara said in her ear.
“Not at all. I haven’t had a chance to start it,” she responded.
81
“It can wait, depending on your schedule. I think it would be better to meet in person.” It was the truth, even if she did experience a swooping feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was just nerves, she told herself.
“I have a thought, if you’ll take pity on me,” Tamara said.
“I haven’t had lunch or supper, and dinner last night was those dreadful hors d’oeuvres that would be dinner if you had fifty of them. If I don’t eat I won’t be able to listen to a word you say. If you’ll let me order us dinner—”
Kip cut her off, surprised to be laughing and horrified to be pleased. “Dinner I don’t have to make sounds too good to be true. Where should I meet you?”
“I have a sailboat docked at Gas Works Marina. Just give your name to the attendant who’ll tell you where to park.”
Kip was momentarily delighted...to be on a boat, even one docked, was a thrill. Her delight was short-lived. Down girl, she told herself. You are meeting a client. Your boss’s boss’s boss. A suspect. Someone who might not be who she says she is.
She sedately agreed to be there in a half hour. A handful of almonds quelled her stomach, though every time she thought of asking Tamara “So who are you really?” she felt nauseous.
The weather had remained clear and sunny throughout the day, but the temperature had plummeted as the sun had set.
She changed into long underwear under jeans, thick socks and deck shoes, and a tightly knit shepherd’s sweater. Traffic on the George Washington Bridge was light so she arrived on the north side of Lake Union a little early. She scooted into Il Pattiserie for a couple of slices of their Triple Sin cake. She hoped Tamara liked chocolate. If she didn’t, then that was another tick mark in the “bad guy” column for her.