21

CONNOR WAS WORKING ON HIS SECOND CUP OF PEET’S WHEN HIS CELL phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, though he could tell from the 415 area code that it was in San Francisco. “Hello, Connor Norman.”

“Hi, it’s Allie.”

He smiled and swiveled his chair to face the spectacular view of the San Francisco Bay outside his office window. Sailboats meandered lazily across the sparkling blue surface like giant white gulls, keeping well clear of the occasional lumbering freighter. Real gulls flew in sinuous flocks across the water or rested on the numerous docks and wharves that jutted out into the water like fingers of the land grasping the Bay and holding her tight. The view always made Connor want to go for a walk along the waterfront, but he could rarely take the time off work.

“Hey, Allie. It’s good to hear from you. Where are you calling from?”

“I’m at a pay phone in the Ferry Building. Want to get together for a cup of coffee or something?”

Get together? In public? He was about to object when he realized what she was telling him by calling from a pay phone and calling his cell rather than his office number. Concern knotted his stomach—what kind of danger was she in? “Uh, sure. I’ll meet you in front of the Ferry Building in ten minutes. Bye.”

Ten minutes later, he walked across the Embarcadero and scanned the crowd in front of the Ferry Building. She emerged from the building and walked toward him. She wore jeans that complemented her slender legs and a hooded UC Davis sweatshirt. Her shoulder-length hair was black. He wondered whether that was supposed to make her harder to recognize or whether she had gotten tired of brown and blond. Either way, it looked good.

“Hi, Connor.” She gave him a just-friends hug. He was disappointed and relieved at the same time “Want to walk down the Embarcadero? There are enough people, but not too many.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s head north. More good coffee places that way.”

They turned up the wide sidewalk, bordered on the right by the busy Embarcadero, which carried automobiles, cable cars, and streetcars between its curbs. On their right were shops, restaurants, wharves, and occasional glimpses of the blue waters of the San Francisco Bay and the distant shoreline of Treasure Island.

After they had gone a couple hundred yards, the tourist crowd began to thin. Connor glanced around to make sure no one was too close. “So, is my phone bugged, your phone, or both?”

She rewarded him with a bright smile. “I love having a smart lawyer. Maybe both, maybe neither. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

“About what?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head slightly. “I’m not totally sure. The last place I worked—Deep Seven—was…” She shrugged. “There’s something off about them.”

“How so?”

She recounted the incidents she had described to Erik and concluded, “So basically they’re very security conscious, very suspicious.”

Half-formed fears woke in his stomach. “Suspicious of you?”

“Suspicious of everyone. But yeah, me in particular.” She paused and shoved her hands deep into her sweatshirt pockets. “You should also know that I, uh, I heard one of the secretaries from their legal department talking about having a quote unquote shred first and ask questions later policy. She was talking about how they’d done that to kill a lawsuit a couple of years ago. Raised the hairs on the back of my neck.”

“Not good. You’d better keep a low profile until I’ve had a chance to look into this. And don’t take any more jobs in the meantime. Oh, and send me a list of former employees for interviews—make sure to include some executives and security guys if you can.”

“Okay.” She smiled and winked at him. “Thanks for watching out for me.”

“Couldn’t let anything happen to my best client, could I?” He returned the smile. Get that protectiveness under control, buddy. Remember, she’s just a client. Back to business. “So, how did their books look? Are they hiding anything?”

She nodded and pulled an envelope out of her purse. “It looks like they’re padding each bill by about ten percent. I could only pull a couple because of all the Big Brother stuff, but I hope it’s enough to interest DOJ.”

She handed the envelope to Connor and he opened it. It held only ten sheets of paper: two invoices to the California Department of Water Resources for underwater repair work at a reservoir, two pages of itemized billings supporting each invoice, and an Excel spreadsheet showing lower amounts for most line items. Nice, simple documents—the kind that would be easy to explain to a jury.

“These are great docs, Allie. But there’s only about $20K of fraud here. With trebling, that’s sixty thousand. Add a penalty of ten thousand per invoice and we’re still only at eighty. That’s too small for Max, and it’s too small for my firm.”

She wrinkled her forehead and pressed her lips together. “Hmmm. Would it be big enough if I told you that they had over two hundred million dollars in government contracts? How about if I also told you that over half the invoices I saw had padding?”

Connor did some quick mental calculations and gave a low whistle. “Then I’d tell you that I’m very interested, and I’ll bet DOJ will be too.”

She grinned. “Thought you might. Hey, didn’t you say something about coffee?” She stopped and tilted her head toward an espresso cart bearing the name “Wilson’s Expresso Espresso.” A tall man with an earring and a goatee watched them hopefully.

“I did indeed.” Connor bought an Americano for himself and a complicated chai-based drink for Allie that took Wilson five minutes to make.

After they had their drinks, they turned around and headed back toward the Ferry Building. “So, what else is up?”

“My bank account for starters. Your accounting department just sent me the last installment from Hamilton.”

“That should pay for a few nice trips to Vail or Tahoe for you and Erik. Come to think of it, that should pay for one of those ski-in condos. And some bunny slope lessons for Erik.” Connor allowed himself a small grin as he pictured Allie’s oh-so-cool boyfriend wobbling on his first pair of skis.

Allie didn’t smile. “Uh, yeah. Anyway, what’s up with you?”

Connor winced inside. Should’ve kept the Erik thing to myself. “Um, you know that World War II fighter I’ve got? I took it down to LA for a movie shoot.” Allie’s face wore a distant, slightly glazed look and Connor instantly regretted bragging. “Other than that, just the same old boring grind at the office.”

“Uh-huh. Say, could you give me a referral for a detective?”

“Sure, but if this is for a case, we’ll hire one ourselves.”

A chill ocean breeze gusted between two buildings. Allie’s hair whipped around her face and she hugged herself. “No, it’s not for a case.”

Connor waited for her to go on, but she just tucked her hair behind her ears and watched the sidewalk as they walked.

He wanted to ask what was wrong, to tell her that he was her friend and he wanted to help. But he didn’t. I’ve done enough damage for one day. He stuck hands in pockets and looked away “Okay, I’ll send you a couple of names.”