“The accident, yes, how tragic. To have lost both his children like that. It must have been a terrible blow.”
“Marcus went to pieces. I watched it happen.” She actually smiled. “The firm was going to let him go.”
Logan started to correct her, decided there was no point.
Randall said, “He resigned of his own volition, I believe.”
“Only after the firm carried him for almost a year. Marcus was dead weight.”
“And you say he still has not recovered?”
“You didn’t see him at the divorce hearings. He was pathetic.” Suzie was cheered by the recollection. “If Judge Nicols hadn’t stepped in I would have eviscerated the man.”
“Most interesting.” Randall Walker rose from his seat, walked around the table, and took Suzie’s hand in both of his. “Ms. Rikkers, I must thank you for a most enlightening little chat.”
“My pleasure.”
“Logan, perhaps you’d do me the kindness of walking me out.”
Randall left the room, still very much in charge. Once the two men were alone, he went on, “I can well imagine you must share a taste of your colleague’s venom for Mr. Glenwood.”
“Marcus and I weren’t friends.”
“Indeed not. I understand he was your principal adversary almost every step up the firm’s ladder.” A piercing blue glance shot his way. “And won more times than he lost, did he not?”
Logan halted midway down the empty corridor. “Who’s your client in this case Glenwood is taking up?”
“There is no case at this time, but I take your point. Some matters are not to be bandied about lightly.”
Logan remained silent, immobile.
“No, indeed not.” If anything, Randall appeared pleased by Logan’s reticence. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to answer one question: How would you like to act on my client’s behalf if this unfortunate matter does proceed?”
Logan could not help showing his surprise. “You want me to represent your client at trial?”
“If need be, sir. Only if need be.”
“State or federal court?”
“That has yet to be determined. But my guess would be federal.”
“And the plaintiff’s attorney is Marcus Glenwood?”
“So it would appear.”
“Does he have a case?”
“Weak at best.”
“To have the chance to shame Marcus Glenwood in federal court,” Logan did not need to think that one out. “I’d waive my fee.”
This time the smile was grand enough to show pearly capped teeth. “While the sentiment is most appreciated, the act will not be necessary. Of that I can assure you.”
FOUR
On Thursday Marcus waited until Netty had left for lunch, then placed the call to Washington. When the tensely cultured voice came on the line, he said, “Ms. Stanstead, this is Marcus Glenwood. We spoke on Monday, I’m an attorney in-”
“How did you get this number?”
“Alma Hall gave it to me.”
“You spoke with Alma?” The tension amped higher. “Are you taking the case?”
“That’s why I’m calling, Ms. Stanstead. I’m trying to determine whether there is actually a case here at all.” He waited, and when another explosion did not erupt, Marcus continued. “You said you’d be willing to help me work through this.”
“Yes. All right.” A breath pushed so hard Marcus could feel the unease in his own chest. “Tell me what you want.”
“I have undertaken a preliminary search for court records nationwide.” Marcus drew the two sheaves of paper to his desk’s center. “New Horizons has facilities in sixteen states. If my information is correct, there are cases either pending or on appeal that name New Horizons as defendant at fourteen of these sites.”
“I know that.”
“You …” Marcus stared at the wall. Netty had asked Deacon Wilbur to paint her entire office a buttery cream. The color seemed to swim. “May I ask how?”
“I told you.” Snappish. Wary. Coldly hostile. “New Horizons was the subject of Gloria’s thesis. I was helping her.”
Marcus flicked the summary sheets to the page marked with a paper clip. “Apparently the closest case to us here was at their former facility-”
“In Richmond. I know.”
Marcus let the pages fall. “You know.”
“They were sued five years ago for polluting the James River. The plaintiffs were a couple of local eco groups and the state water board. When New Horizons lost the case they launched an appeal and simultaneously shut the facility.” The words came faster now. Impatient. “It’s a standard New Horizons revenge tactic, whenever the local government comes out against them, no matter what the reason. You must know that.”
“No.” He turned to where the wall was dappled with afternoon light. “No, I was not aware of anything of the sort.”
“Their headquarters were moved to North Carolina after a similar incident up in Delaware. The suit was brought by the state’s employment board and a couple of unions. They were hit with about a dozen labor violations.” When the news was met by silence, she pushed on. “Gloria lived for her work, Mr. Glenwood. We were friends. I helped her where I could.”
“How long did you live with Gloria?”
“Almost four years.”
“My information is derived from an Internet search engine and is sketchy at best.” Nervously Marcus ruffled through the printouts. “The appeals against the Richmond ruling were apparently lodged with the appellate court there in Washington. I was wondering if you would search out the relevant documents.”
Kirsten Stanstead’s voice turned wary. “Are you accepting this case?”
A long breath, then, “If there is a case at all, yes. But I need a lot more information than I have right now to make that decision.”
“Then the answer is, I don’t need to do any searching. Gloria kept her case documentation very up-to-date.” The lofty impatience broke through once more. “I’ve been through all this with Mr. Grimes. Didn’t you discuss this with him?”
Marcus grabbed the folder that had arrived with the morning’s mail. “You spoke with Larry Grimes?”
“I told you I had the last time we talked, Mr. Glenwood. I do not like to repeat myself.”
“No. Of course not.” The folder from Grimes contained nothing but the initial agreement with Gloria’s parents, a page of patchy notes, and the letter informing the Halls that there was no case to be brought. “How much in the way of data did Gloria compile against New Horizons?”
“I don’t know.” Her wary hostility etched the air. “The attic is full of boxes. Gloria was a lot of things, but neat was not one of them.”
Marcus sifted through the three spare pages another time, shook the folder, discovered nothing more. “In the letter Gloria wrote her family, she mentioned something about how the timing of her trip to China had become critical. Did she say anything about this to you?”
“No. And I have to go, Mr. Glenwood. I’m already late for a meeting.”
Marcus shut the folder, spread his hand out flat over the slick surface. “Would you mind if I came to Washington and had a look at Gloria’s work?”
“I suppose not. When would you come?”
“Tomorrow midafternoon, say around four.” Closing his hand into a fist. “I’ll leave here at dawn.”
After lunch Marcus took a drive. His only vehicle these days was a six-year-old matte gray Blazer with a hundred thousand very hard miles-a far cry from his former Lexus. Marcus slowed as he passed the New Zion Church. The whitewashed building was rimmed on three sides by dogwoods and tulip poplars taller than the steeple. The air above the ancient structure still shimmered from remnants of the Sunday service. As he drove past the cemetery and entered the rise of woodlands, it seemed as though Marcus could still hear the call of voices and the constant clapping.
Early September had remained dry, hot, and cloudless. Sunlight bladed through the trees, then flattened across his windshield as he crested the hill. Marcus slowed and turned into the New Horizons drive, unable to read the brick entrance sign for the harsh afternoon light. He pulled to one side of the road and climbed from the car.