Twenty-seven
It was four days before Shelley came over to Jane's house at lunchtime to tell her what Paul had found out. Jane had practically forgotten what Shelley was talking about. She'd been completely immersed in her novel all weekend and Monday, and hadn't even taken the time to shower or comb her hair on Tuesday morning.
"Here's the deal," Shelley said. "There may be more, but I wanted to share what Paul's attorney's assistant has already dragged up. Budley is first. He's had lots of lawsuits and small-claims-court records. But most of them, the assistant says, are just nutcases trying to get out of paying him."
"Oh?" Jane said, once she'd recognized what Shelley was all het up about.
"I don't smell coffee," Shelley said. "You're going to need it to pay attention."
Jane started a big pot of coffee, and Shelley graciously waited until Jane had knocked back half a cup.
"As an example" — Shelley took up her story— "Budley was doing a big job putting in a basement media room and had it almost done. There was a horrific storm that sent water gushing through where the basement windows had been sealed. He had to redo the base woodwork and carpets and didn't meet his deadline. Are you listening, Jane?"
"I am."
"Budley invoked the Acts of God clause and got his money. Apparently he'd had the sealed windows inspected by the city code guy who approved Dudley's work."
"Did the city code guy get in trouble in turn?"
"Nope, the clients tried to go after him but failed to get a judgment. The code guy had made extensive notes of his visit. He'd told the people they had to fill in around the foundation where water collected to get approval. They didn't do it.
"Another lawsuit the assistant cited was when some artsy-fartsy client had six old French doors he'd picked up at a garage sale that he wanted installed so his guests and family could look out over the patio and garden. As soon as it turned cold, the doors shrank and the glass in them shattered. Budley had apparently learned a lesson on keeping paperwork from the media room fiasco and was able to produce copies of letters that he'd by sent registered mail, telling the man the doors weren't the right size and wouldn't survive a cold Chicago winter. The man hadn't agreed to shave
them down to size because he said they'd be out of proportion. Budley kept that letter from the client as well."
"Clearly not his fault."
"Right. I remember the time Paul had two inches of mirror put in around the ceiling of our study to reflect the lights. When it got cold, the molding and walls shrank and the mirrors all cracked."
"You never told me about that. I guess you replaced them? I've always admired the way the light bounces around in the study."
"Now you know how to do that. Leave a bit of room."
Shelley returned to the subject she'd started first. "The assistant still had other suits to examine and we'll see what turns up. My own opinion, for what it's worth, is that Budley's probably competent but is so offensive and tactless that he annoys people into finding fault with his work."
"You'd feel that way, too. I've never seen you as mad as when he called us 'girls.' I was afraid you were having a stroke."
"No, I save strokes for dealing with the IRS," Shelley said with a laugh.
"Anything on Neville Burnside yet?"
"Do you have any more of those icky granola bars?"
"I bought two more boxes of them. Don't pretend you don't like them."
Shelley munched down two of them while Jane, who was sick of them, made two ham sandwiches.
Shelley looked at her watch. "It is way past time for lunch. Thanks. Anyway, the attorney's assistant hasn't even gotten to him yet," she said while slathering mustard on the sandwich. "She's still following up on Joe Budley."
"Is this costing Paul wads of money?"
Shelley laughed. "Considering the size of the annual retainer Paul pays this attorney and the fact that he admitted he didn't have anything for his legal assistant to do this week, he's glad to do it gratis. Or so he says. He told Paul all the material will go in a file and someday when someone else asks about Budley, he'll just dig out the file and impress the hell out of them with his quick work."
"Good thinking."
"Paul is often stunned by the speed of his research into property. Now we know how he does it. He keeps files on everybody he's ever checked out. Are you going to tell Mel we're doing this?"
"Hmm. I hadn't thought of that. I think it would be best if we waited until we have all the information."
"That's a good idea. Paul's attorney might already have a file on Neville Burnside and will knock our socks off again with his promptness."
"The one time we met him, I thought he was a very nasty man. Most of the people I know who
are divorced, no matter what kind of settlement is imposed on them, get over it and go on with their lives."
"Maybe it's too soon for him. I think he's so angry that he could have done all the vandalizing. But not in person. He'd be too obvious if anyone saw him lurking around. Maybe he hired one of Bitsy's discontented workers to do the sabotage."
"That's an interesting theory," Jane said. "But it would have cost him too much. I do think it's likely that others have inquired about him or brought suits against him. This attorney Paul uses sounds like more of a detective than a lawyer."
"That's why Paul pays the big bucks. The guy loves to get the dirt on people. I guess it's an instinct."
"One we also share," Jane said.
"Bite your tongue," Shelley said with a laugh. "Oh, I forgot to tell you something else. I finally met the plumber."
"I'd forgotten there has to be a plumber. Why haven't we come across him yet?"
"It's a she, Jane," Shelley said. "Introduced herself as Hank. I can't imagine what that's short for. For some reason she wasn't on the list of workers and phone numbers Bitsy gave me."
"She must have been one of the earliest to work once the walls were down in that section. Doesn't plumbing have to come first?"
"I have no idea. But if you think back, the first time we looked at the renovated part there were pipes stubbed out in the bathrooms and in the kitchen."
"Count on you to notice that. I didn't. So did you talk to Hank?"
"To my sorrow, I did. She said right out that Sandy Anderson was a cross between Eleanor Roosevelt and Mother Teresa."
"What an odd combination," Jane said. "I don't get the connection."
Shelley said, "I think I do. How much do you know about Eleanor Roosevelt?"
"Not as much as I'd like. Why?"
"Some recent scholars have suggested that after Eleanor found out about Lucy Mercer having an affair with Franklin, Eleanor and her longtime women friends became, let us say, much closer friends."
"You mean lesbians? Oh, now I get it.'7
"Hank went on haranguing about their feminist group and how it would never have gotten off the ground if it hadn't been for wonderful Sandy. She was both a hard and a tenderhearted person. Always so supportive of everyone in the group. She called Sandra a good example of 'tough love' and actually got a bit teary about her dying."
"No! I can't imagine that," Jane exclaimed.
"But she recovered quickly. She demanded that I go back to the Merchandise Mart and present my recommendations on the swirly hot tub thing
that they're putting in the master bath. Told me in no uncertain terms to be sure to consider only the ones that are left-handed."
"Left-handed? What does that mean?"
"I think it means they hook into the plumbing at the end she's stubbed out, instead of having to be installed with the back of it the wrong way around."
"What did you tell her?"
"That we weren't yet under contract and were still waiting for a better one. She went ballistic. How dare I argue about the contract? Sandra, or Sandy, as she insisted on calling her, could never be wrong about anything. She thought it was a wonderful contract."