“Sorry, again,” I said as I began to edge past Gloria.
“Hey, how do you know Maude anyway?” she asked. It sounded like something of an accusation. “I couldn’t believe when she called up from the lobby—once she realized you worked here, too. She told me she wasn’t a client. But I didn’t want to pry.”
“Oh, do you know her? She’s involved in a case I’m handling. But she’s not a client, no.” And that was all I was saying.
“Hmm.” Gloria narrowed her eyes. She could tell I was being evasive. “Maude’s so beautiful and so nice, isn’t she? I only met her once, at a party—I knew all of one person there, and she was kind enough to spend half the night talking to me.”
A party? Presumably not the ones Maude threw. “That’s nice,” I said. “Okay, well, sorry again. I really have to be—”
“It was my old boss’s holiday party,” she went on. “He was averysenior partner. I don’t know if you know that. I was his secretary, foryears. What a party that was, too. They threw one every year in Park Slope, but I was only able to go the one time, two years ago.Veryglamorous. But no more, thanks to him.” She ticked her head toward Paul’s office. “Your hypocritical friend over there had my boss fired. You know, those legal assistants who cried wolf were just looking to make money. Hashtag MeToo my ass. Everyone is looking for a handout these days.”
I didn’t know you worked here, too.Maude had said that to me, hadn’t she? I felt light-headed, my hands ice cold as I steppedtoward Gloria.
“Who was your old boss?”
“Kerry Tanner,” Gloria said with a nostalgic smile, shellacked with pride. Then her face darkened. “He was railroaded, pure and simple. I worked for him for eighteen years, and he never once did anything inappropriate. Ask Maude. She was absolutely flabbergasted when I told her he’d been fired. I thought she was going to pass out. And I didn’t even get the chance to tell herwhyhe was let go.”
In my office, it only took a second to pull up an image of Kerry Tanner: a lawyer headshot, the kind of photo that had probably been on Young & Crane’s own website before Kerry was fired.
Sure enough, I’d seen him before, at the bottom of Sarah’s steps, pizza box in hand, six-pack tucked under his arm. Kerry Tanner was married to Sarah Novak and friends with Maude. Surely he’d also known Amanda. And Kerry Tanner had somehow known exactly who I was—probably because he stood to gain the most from Zach staying in jail.
I headed back toward Paul’s office, the image of Kerry Tanner on my phone. When I looked in the open door, Paul was muttering angrily as he squinted through his reading glasses at his computer screen. I inhaled sharply.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I began, “but I need to ask you something.”
“If you can sort out why the hell I can’t get back to the other case I was just reading in this damn Westlaw program, then I might answer you,” Paul said without taking his eyes off his computer. “It was here a second ago, and now I’m in this other case I have no goddamn interest in.”
Paul didn’t even like communicating via email. If he was surfing cases online, it was because some associate had screwed something up. I came up behind him, and within a few, very obvious keystrokes had him back on the original case he’d been reading.
“Be careful not to click on any of the cited cases,” I said. “Or it will bring you to them.”
“I did not click on anything,” Paul said, quietly defensive as he glared at his computer. “If this asshole’s summary judgment brief wasn’t all fucked up, I wouldn’t even have to be on this damn system in the first place.”
“Can you tell me if you recognize this man?” I asked as neutrally as possible—I didn’t want to prime the pump. I held out my phone to him.
Paul furrowed his brow and leaned over to look. “Of course,” he said, disgusted. “That’s Kerry Tanner. The partner I told you about. Defiant narcissistic asshole.” He looked up at me with an annoyed expression. “Is this the best use of your time? If I recall, you owe me several—”
“He knew Zach Grayson’s wife,” I said. “They were friends in Park Slope.”
Paul looked up at me. He pulled his chin back. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“He did live in Brooklyn,” Paul said, considering. Then he was quiet for a moment. “You think he …”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But Amanda was being stalked by someone, and Kerry Tanner had stalked people in the past, right? Seems like one hell of a coincidence. There’s a couple things I still need to check out, to be sure.”
Paul nodded. “Well, with that guy … nothing would surprise me. I’ve got a whole investigatory file on him. He did follow those women around, showed up places. Sent harassing texts. ‘All you had to do was listen.’ Sick shit. Not to mention all the pictures he took, and the porn we found on his work computer.” He grimaced. “From what we could tell he’d been doing it for years. Five, maybe ten, who knows? I bet some of the other partners would still have let it go if it hadn’t been for the pictures. There was no ignoring those.”
I took another deep breath. There was more I needed to say, too. No more running. No more pretending. Millie was right. Noneof it was working for me.
“There is something else I need to tell you,” I said. “My financial disclosure form. There were some inaccuracies in it. Intentional ones.” Paul’s jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed a tiny bit, almost imperceptibly. But otherwise, his face was completely still. “My husband is an alcoholic. He got into a car accident, and we were sued. We settled the case and are in full compliance with our obligation. We will pay off the debt, but it’s a big one. I should have included it on the form.”
Paul frowned more deeply, his brow scrunched. Then he took off his reading glasses and stared at me in silence for what felt like an eternity. I stared right back. It was all I could do. Maude was right: there was no way through but with the truth.
“You should have included it,” Paul said finally. Then he put his reading glasses back on and turned to face his computer once more. “Call Human Resources and get it amended first thing Monday.”
The woman at Blooms on the Slope was locking up for the night when I knocked on the door. Her hair was piled high as before, and she had on a bright yellow blouse and the same sunny expression. She shook her head, smiled sympathetically, and pointed to the store hours written on the door. It didn’t seem like she recognized me.
