''
We don't believe that Mr. Booker intended to take his own life,'' she explained. Nothing. ''I'd like to get some comments from you regarding his state of mind at work. I won't subpoena you unless it is absolutely necessary.'' He lowered his arms, no longer cradling his head, and tossed the pen on the desk. His scrutiny made her uneasy. ''Even then it's likely you won't have to appear in court. I'd make this as painless as possible for you.''
''
That's very kind of you.''
Now he smiled for real, a lovely quirky little half smile. The kind of smile you give a kid on your doorstep that memorized the sales pitch for Girl Scout cookies and says it all in one breath. But Kathleen was no girl scout and that was exactly what kept Mr. Crawford speechless. He'd been working at Tysco too long.
''
Not at all.'' Kathleen said quietly. He shifted in his seat, leaning over the desk his shoulder hunched slightly. Everything he did seemed comfortable and casual and made her feel uptight and prim. She bet his mind worked the same way, casual and sure. She would kill for a mind like that.
''
Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be giving you anything, or going anywhere, much less to court. I haven't got a whole lot to tell you that a judge would be interested in.''
''
Mr. Crawford, I promise you the information you share with me will be used verbatim. I don't want to do anything to hurt Mr. Booker's memory, but I also don't want to go into court with a losing proposition and waste my client's time and money. I just want to understand his state of mind so I can make a decision regarding this suit.''
Michael laughed, ''I don't care who you tell about our conversation. I'm one of those people who actually have nothing to hide. You can believe me when I tell you I doubt I know anything that's going to help you, really.''
''
He did work here, didn't he?'' Verbally she tapped her toe. He wasn't fazed.
''
He did.''
''
You are the supervisor of this department aren't you?''
''
I am. The problem is I've only been in this department about two months. Lionel Booker died a few weeks after I came on board.'' Now his smile was big. His teeth were white and straight, and smaller than she would have imagined. The overall affect was charming and there was no doubt he was having fun.
''
Oh,'' Kathleen slumped. ''Darn.'' She crossed her legs. It was the first time he took his eyes off her face. She didn't notice. She looked stage left with her chin planted on her upturned fist for a moment. Then she looked back at him, forgetting he was absolutely the most wonderfully put together man she'd ever seen. ''You know, I thought I was being so smart. I came all this way without calling because I wanted to kind of experience where Mr. Booker worked. I wanted to see if I could get a feeling for him.''
''
Would you like some coffee?'' Michael didn't move. A man of few wasted gestures he waited for her answer.
''
No, thanks.'' Kathleen shook her head.
''
Just as well. It's not bad in the morning, but by this time I wouldn't vouch for it.'' Michael picked up a pen then discarded it once again. ''I don't know if I can give you a feel for the guy. The best I can do is tell you that the man seemed to march to the beat of a different drummer. He was right out of the sixties: hair, dress, kind of a spiritual quality about him. I'd bet my bottom dollar he didn't do drugs, though. He knew his job. He did it well. He went home on time.'' He shrugged. The smile disappeared replaced with an expression of charming hope. ''Does that help?''
''
You didn't notice anything before he died? Nothing suspicious in his behavior?'' Kathleen dropped her fist and folded her hands.
Michael leaned forward.
''
This isn't the most personal place, Ms. Cotter.'' He didn't have to refer to her card. ''I suppose I should restate that. This isn't the most personal place unless the powers that be want to single you out and make it personal. Then it can get downright intimate. In fact, the company can live in your hip pocket. I didn't know Lionel really, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't the kind to draw an undue amount of attention to himself. When he died I went through the channels and asked some questions.''
''
That's sort of odd since you hardly knew him.''
''
He was in my division. It didn't seem anyone else was going to bother. There were a few things that seemed odd enough to me that I thought someone should at least ask a question or two.''
''
Like?''
''
He was found dead four floors down in a transition area of this building for one thing. Our work in auditing doesn't take us traveling. It's all paper.'' He considered his desk: the calculator that pulsed, the pen, the three pencils. He took inspiration from the simplicity or at least he ordered his thoughts with it. ''There were other things. The man had never been late, never stayed late, was never disoriented. In the few weeks I had to observe him he didn't do anything that could be considered clandestine and the only personal phone calls he ever made were to his wife. I know that because he asked permission.'' Michael Crawford raised only his eyes to her. ''That's not the profile of a drug user.''
''
I thought you couldn't tell me much,'' Kathleen said.
''
Not intimately about the man. I can tell you what I observed. Even in a few weeks I would have seen some sign if he'd been a junkie. I'm a very observant person.''
Her heart didn't stop but the heat went up. He was looking her in the eye again. Gerry had been the last one to do that, but Michael Crawford was the first to make her blood boil.
''
Did you point all this out to the authorities?'' Kathleen's fingers went to her fringe and she combed through it briefly.
''
The Tysco authorities, yes.'' He fiddled with the calculator. He flipped it off and shoved it aside, looking displeased. This was the second time he had intimated Tysco wasn't the benevolent, if boring, big brother Kathleen assumed. ''I was never asked to talk to the police.''
''
You went to a lot of trouble.''
''
I don't think so. There are some things that are just right to do.'' Michael Crawford's head tilted to the side, he seemed boyish and animated.
''
That's it? You did all this because it was the right thing to do?'' It wasn't the answer she expected, but then this man wasn't who she expected to find in this place.
''
Yeah,'' he nodded and sat back again and bounced a little in his junior executive chair. ''What're you trying to do?''
''
I'm trying to prove that Lionel Booker didn't intend to kill himself.''
''
That's admirable.''
Kathleen blushed.
''
It's my job,'' Kathleen stepped over his comment and went on. ''I want to prove that Lionel didn't want to die. If he was an addict - which is getting hard to believe from the little I know about him - I want to prove that Lionel might have meant to get high, but he wanted to live.''
''
Sounds like his ex-wife must really have loved the guy to have hired you to prove that. Too bad the marriage didn't work out.''
''
She's the beneficiary on a life insurance. She can't collect if he actually committed suicide. I need to prove Lionel had a lot to live for.'' Kathleen said bluntly, needing to distance herself from Louise even in front of a stranger.
''
You're a funny lawyer.''
''
I don't mean to be,'' Kathleen said.
''
I meant unusual, funny. You're very honest.''
''
I try to be,'' Kathleen needed some fresh air and she needed it fast. ''Look, I'd just like a little history on Lionel Booker even if it's recent history. Was he despondent? If so, why? Was he given to emotional outbursts? That kind of thing. I honestly believe Lionel Booker's death was an accident. That's it. It's nothing more unusual than that.''
''
Think you can prove it?''
Kathleen's eyes widened. She blushed. ''Yes, I think I can. If it's true. So, could you just help me out a little? Please?''
Michael Crawford actually grinned. He gave his head a little shake and she heard a chuckle come from deep in his throat. He wasn't laughing at her, that she understood. In fact, Kathleen had the feeling he was laughing at himself.
''
It's been a long time since someone said please to me.''
''
That's too bad,'' Kathleen answered.
''
Yes, it is.'' The chuckle faded. He busied himself with a drawer on the side of the desk. ''I appreciate the courtesy.'' His glanced up long enough to let her know he really meant it.
The blue-bound book he put on the desk was official looking. The drawer shut with a metallic click. Michael Crawford flipped through the pages. They were blue, too, and made a restful flapping sound, spreading themselves neatly under his strong fingers. The motion stopped as quickly as it had begun.
''
Look, I'm sorry I can't make this easier on you, but at least I can try to point you in the right direction. You need to talk to Lionel's old supervisor. He worked with him for a good number of years. I was going to give you his extension, but why don't I try to set something up?'' He picked up a pencil, made a notation and closed the book before he stood. He looked at her card then at her. ''I'll call you and let you know what I find out.''
Kathleen stood too. He was even taller than she'd first imagined and only now was she able to look at him without those butterflies pounding away at her insides.
''
Shall I call you?'' she asked.
''
No. I won't forget.''
''
Okay.'' She checked him out, looking for the lie. It wasn't there. ''Okay, then, I'll wait. But I don't have forever.''
''
I understand.''
''
Okay, then. Well, I better let you get back to - '' She waved a hand over his desk. On the back swing he took it and shook it. It wasn't personal yet her body reacted like it was. She let her fingers slip through his. ''You don't know seem like the kind of man who would be working in a place like this.''
''
You don't seem like a Beverly Hills lawyer,'' he countered.
''
I'm not. Not really. Not yet,'' Kathleen admitted knowing it would be hard to explain that to a man like Michael Crawford.
''
I'm not really an auditor.''
Kathleen smiled. She said all the right words of good-bye, sure that she didn't sound too reluctant to go. She didn't look back until she was on the other side of the glass double doors. He as working, not looking after her and for some reason Kathleen wasn't disappointed. She knew she would hear from him again. She put her eyes forward unaware that he was now watching her go and appreciating every step she took.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The day was a good one.
Henrietta Poole had been wheeled into Kathleen's office by a male nurse. The woman, while in her eighties, was gorgeous, sharp and knew exactly how the carpet company she was suing had been negligent. She brought photos of the establishment, of herself lying on the floor (though how she managed to convince the carpet store owner to take that picture was beyond Kathleen) and x-rays of her hip. She brought doctor's records and a few stories of a very well traveled and colorful life. Her case was valid and she was a far cry from the proper old woman Gerry had led her to believe she was.
Kathleen would love to point this out, but Gerry was gone, as he always was these days, coming back late in the afternoon with reports of who he talked to, what kind of business they might expect and always bright with the belief the hoped for work would be forthcoming before the end of the millennium. Kathleen listened to the dreams. It was the best she could do since she didn't share them. Nor did she remind him constantly that at the conclusion of Louise's suit, she would, more than likely, try to find more mainstream employment.
Life had fallen into an oddly comfortable routine: just enough challenge, just enough work. Kathleen almost forgot what it was she had wanted from this leap out of Banning. So Kathleen listened to Henrietta Poole, filed the proper paperwork, directed Becky to have the subpoena's served and to follow up with the clerk for a court date once the case was assigned.
Michael Crawford called while Kathleen was with Mrs. Poole and Kathleen found herself holding the pink message slip close to her breast when she walked back to her office and closed the door. By the time Kathleen composed herself to call him, he had left his desk. She wondered if he'd managed to set up an appointment with Lionel's previous supervisor. She wondered if he had found out anything that might have an impact on her case. Then she wondered if, by some stretch of the imagination, he might just have wanted just to talk to her. Perhaps he would also hold a message slip a little longer, place it carefully on the side of his desk, and look at the name and number as long as she had.
Kathleen went to lunch an hour late, just in case he came back and called. She found a dollar on the sidewalk when she went to lunch and came back to find she had a new client -Becky's boyfriend. He wanted her to handle the articles of incorporation for his new business. Kathleen charged him Dorty & Breyer rates. In her heart of hearts she still wasn't sure she was worth the $170 an hour Gerry charged for her time, and she sure as heck knew Becky's boyfriend couldn't afford it if she were. Maybe when his business flourished, Gerry would thank her for the little lapse and reap the rewards.
At three she picked up her new dress from the tailor, a dress she insisted she didn't need and Gerry insisted she did.
By five her make-up was perfect: pale as porcelain skin, redder than red lips and eyes just smoky enough to make a statement. She slicked back her short blond hair and donned her new dress. She almost felt as beautiful as Gerry told her she looked; she felt more vital than she ever had in her life. Kathleen Cotter knew it wasn't the clothes but the destination that made her feel this way.