Irrefutable Evidence (2 page)

Not a chance.

Insurance coverage litigation. Sasha felt the bile rising in her throat. Of all the areas of the law that seemed to be designed solely to keep high-priced lawyers fully employed, there was none more soul-crushing than insurance coverage litigation. She knew lawyers at Prescott who were working on active cases that had started when she was still in college.

She sipped her home-brewed coffee, which was pretty darned good. But it wasn
’
t Steel City Roasters. Jake
’
s eyes were pinned on her, unwavering, slightly pleading. He
’
d tied his fortunes to the roasters
’
by going exclusive. His business was going to falter, too, especially if he kept serving the pitiful excuse for coffee she
’
d gotten that morning.

She sighed and handed him a card.
“
Tell them to give me a call.
”

CHAPTER THREE

FBI Agent Nino Carlucci pressed himself against the back wall of the corner drugstore and scanned the alley. Clear, except for a couple of teenaged kids, who should have been sitting in school somewhere but were slouching their way toward the deserted playground, the distinct smell of weed wafting in their wake.

He fumbled in his pocket to locate the burner cell phone, pulled it out, and hit the autodial.

On the third ring, a precise female voice answered the phone, all good manners and impeccable breeding.
“
Charlotte Cashion.
”

“
It
’
s me.
”

The Assistant U.S. Attorney
’
s voice changed, the placid tone replaced by adrenalized excitement.
“
Is something happening?
”

“
Maybe. There
’
s a meeting tonight. One of the bookies
—
old lady by the name of Margaret D
’
Alivette
—
she passed. They
’
re gonna carve up her territory. I
’
m driving Peaches.
”

“
A woman bookmaker?
”

“
Yeah. She ran numbers out of her house from the time her kids were little in the 60s. Used to sell Tupperware as cover. Pretty lucrative, from what I hear.
”

“
The original work from home mom, eh?
”

“
I guess. Anyway. The meet
’
s at Trixies
’
in the Rocks at eight-thirty.
”

“
Pardon?
”
The velvet voice was back.

He rolled his eyes. He was risking his life every time he dialed Cashion
’
s number. The least she could do was get with the program.
“
Trixies. It
’
s an organization-run strip club in McKees Rocks.
”

“
Oh.
”

“
Do you have time to get a wire in there?
”

It was her turned to get irritated.
“
You know that
’
s not how it works.
”

Before she could launch into some lengthy explanation of Fourth Amendment law, he said,
“
Whatever. Meeting
’
s at eight. I
’
ll be outside sitting in the car, so if you want to know what
’
s happening inside, you
’
ll have to figure out some other way.
”

He ended the call and jammed the phone back into his pocket. He took a minute to just stand there and let his heart rate return to normal. Then he strode past the pharmacy and ducked between the brick walls of the pizzeria that delivered both pies and street drugs if you called the right number and the private club where Peaches, the underboss he drove for, was enjoying an antipasti plate and a glass of
grappa
that could probably serviceably pass for paint thinner. He rapped twice on the windowless steel door and ducked inside when it opened.

CHAPTER FOUR

Laura Yim chewed the last bite of her six-inch veggie and cheese on wheat sub and balled up the Subway wrapper. She aimed it toward the trashcan over her left shoulder and made a perfect shot. She was one hundred and sixteen of one hundred and twenty for the year for shots made with the refuse of dinners at her desk, which said more about her claims load than her basketball prowess.

She reminded herself that if she cleared just eighteen more cases by the end of the month, she
’
d qualify for her performance bonus and be in the running for the top producers
’
trip to Arizona. Not that she had any strong affinity for the Southwest, but it
had
been thirty-one months, three weeks, and two days since her last vacation. But who was counting?

She finalized the decision letter on the Martin claim, hit print, and stood. She arched her back to stretch, tight from a long day of sitting and then hurried through the maze of cloth-backed cubicles to grab her printout from the printer. As she passed by Jim Moraine
’
s desk, he popped his head up over the half-wall.

“
Yo, Yim.
”

She turned, pasted on a smile, and waited for Jim
’s insult de jour.

“
You eat yet?
”

“
I did.
”

“
Too bad, I thought maybe we could get takeout from Canton City. You could teach me how to use them chopsticks.
”

Canton City Chinese food was perhaps the least palatable takeout option in the Garden City area. Not to mention, she had it on good information that they added MSG to their MSG.

“
Bummer. Maybe next time. I hear you can order off menu. If you want the special, make sure you say
‘
bahk guai
’
when you call in.
”

Jim nodded.
“
Bahk guai,
”
he repeated.

“
You got it.
”
Her Cantonese was pretty rusty, but she recalled enough to coach Jim on how to call himself a white devil. She suppressed a smile and turned to walk away.

“
Yim?
”

“
What?
”

“
If you want to clear claims faster and move up to the big leagues, I can give you some pointers.
”

“
I
’
m doing okay, Jim.
”

“
Young thing like you, you should be out clubbing with your girlfriends, not sitting in here night after night. Take it from me, I
’
ve been in the top producers
’
club for eight straight years.
”
He waved his hand over the row of cheap Lucite awards lined up on his lone shelf.

She bit down on her lower lip to prevent herself from asking how he
’
d managed that feat. In contrast to the massive piles of papers, folders, and files that cluttered every square horizontal spot in her workspace, Jim
’
s cube was spare and nearly devoid of documents.

He seemed to sense the unasked question because he rested his elbows on the short wall and leaned forward.
“
You gotta be strategic, Yim. Fire, claim paid. Vehicle damage, ditto. Keep your powder dry to deny the expensive stuff
—
old ladies with cancer, mold claims, that kind of thing. Your closed claims percentage goes up, and even though you
’
re paying out more claims, they aren
’
t the high-dollar ones. Medical stuff, environmental crap, that gets pricy fast and can destroy your stats.
”

She stared at him unable to respond to his blatant admission
—
no, boast
—
of fraud against their employer and their insureds.

He nodded,
“
You don
’
t gotta thank me. You
’
re a hard worker, kid, you just need to work smarter.
”

Finally, she found her voice.
“
Got it. Don
’
t forget,
‘
bahk guai.
’
”

CHAPTER FIVE

Mid-December

Leo rolled over and threw his arm around
…
nothing. He opened one eye. Java purred in his ear. Sasha
’
s side of the bed was empty, the sheets cold. Ditto the bottom of the bed, where Mocha should have been snoring and chasing squirrels in his dreams. He blinked at the bedside clock and sat up.

6:10 a.m.

A nasty winter rain lashed against the windows promising a miserable day. He headed down the stairs to the kitchen, Java at his heels. A glance toward the foyer confirmed that Sasha
’
s running shoes and Mocha
’
s leash were gone. Poor dog. Nothing like a pre-dawn jog in the freezing rain.

He banged around the kitchen, cracking eggs, toasting bread and drinking coffee. By the time Sasha and Mocha came through the door, both dripping wet and shivering, he had fed the cat and plated breakfast for two. He toweled off the dog, who looked at him balefully.

“
I didn
’
t drag you out there in this mess,
”
he said. He tossed a treat toward Mocha, who snatched it out of the air and then shook the remaining water from his fur before heading off to his dog bed. After a morning run with his mistress, the dog would spend the better part of the day snoring loudly. Leave it to Sasha to be able to tire out a puppy.

“
It was invigorating.
”

“
I
’
ll bet. I
’
ve got breakfast ready. Why don
’
t you eat before it gets cold?
”

She ran up the stairs to their bedroom and returned bundled in an oversized robe
—
although any adult human-sized robe would look oversized on her
—
and her wet hair tucked up in a towel.

“
Ahhh,
”
she sighed as she wrapped her hands around her coffee mug.
“
Thanks for this.
”

He slid on to the stool next to her.
“
My pleasure. I figure it
’
s my best shot at getting some time with you before you race off to the office for another marathon day.
”

She winced.

“
I
’
m not complaining, babe. I know you
’
re crushed,
”
he hurried to assure her. He really
wasn
’
t
complaining. Long hours and canceled plans were part of the deal when you were married to a hotshot attorney. Frankly, he was just glad that no one had tried to kill them in nearly seven months. It was a personal record
—
for both of them.

She nuzzled his ear with her icy nose.
“
Thanks for understanding.
”

“
No thanks needed. Now eat.
”

She devoured her sunny-side up eggs and sopped up the remaining yolk with her toast. Then she drained her coffee and checked the time.

She hopped off the stool and kissed his cheek.
“
I have to get in the shower. I have a meeting with the Steel City Roaster people at eight.
”

“
Who has a business meeting at eight a.m.?
”

“
Me.
”

He chuckled then caught her hand and pulled her close.
“
Hey, before you run off, I need you to make an executive decision. Mountains or beaches?
”

Their first wedding anniversary was only weeks away, and she
’
d deferred the planning for their much-needed getaway to him. He was happy to take charge of the arrangements, but he needed to know if she envisioned herself sluicing down a ski hill or snorkeling in tropical waters.

She chewed her lower lip in thought then glanced out the large window to her right. The sky was slate gray and the December rain was coming harder now, almost sideways, and pelting the glass. She shivered.

“
Beaches. Hot, sunny beaches.
”

He smiled.
“
Your wish is my command.
”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sasha
rarely felt warmly toward her corporate clients. She might like them, even respect or admire them. She certainly wanted to help them. But she wasn
’
t
fond
of them. Tamsin and Pete Maravach had proved to be the exception. When Caroline Masters called from the reception desk to let her know they
’
d arrived, a genuine smile crossed her lips. She grabbed her files and headed down to the conference room to meet them.

She ran into Caroline at the door to the conference room.

“
Your coffee people are just the sweetest,
”
she remarked as she passed Sasha.

Sasha walked through the door, and Pete popped to his feet.

“
Sasha.
”

“
Hi, Tamsin, Pete. Please sit.
”

His seated wife smiled broadly, lighting her whole face.
“
Good morning, Sasha.
”

Sasha took the chair across from Tamsin.

“
I
’
m sort of afraid to offer you coffee for fear it won
’
t be up to snuff, but can I get you something to drink?
”

“
Caroline took care of us,
”
Tasmin assured her, gesturing to the tumblers of ice water in front them.

“
Have you heard anything from our carrier about the motion to compel?
”
Pete asked as he took his seat, unable to hide his worry long enough to suffer through the small talk.

“
I
’
m afraid I have.
”
She frowned.
“
Mid-Atlantic
’
s outside counsel has just ignored this case and instructed me to talk to the in-house lawyers.
They
kept referring me to the business people. I finally caught your claims adjuster on the phone and told her we were concerned that she may have relied on faulty and/or incomplete information in issuing the denial.
”

“
And, no dice?
”
Pete fretted.

His wife patted his hand.

Sasha shook her head.
“
First she refused to talk to me on grounds that we hadn
’
t submitted a Power of Attorney on the Mid-Atlantic Fire & Casualty approved form. Ms. Yim didn
’
t yield to the logic that, as your attorney in fact, I had your consent to speak to her about your claim. So Tamsin kindly faxed her a copy of the appropriate form and followed up with a hard copy in the mail. Having cleared that hurdle, I called back and the inimitable Laura Yim informed me that she had nothing to say on the matter other than her assurance that the claim hadn
’
t been denied by mistake.
”

The Maravaches stared across the table at her. Their faces were twin masks of dismay. As Sasha expected she would, Tamsin recovered first.

She jutted out her jaw.
“
So what
’s our next step?
”
she asked in a soft, pleasant voice as if she were asking Sasha for a recipe.

Pete followed her lead.
“
Right. What do we do now?
”

Sasha opened the folder on the top of her pile of documents.
“
We tried to play nice, and Mid-Atlantic wasn
’
t interested. I know you were hoping to resolve this through mediation, but that ship has sailed. At a bare minimum we
’
ll need to see this through to a motion for summary judgment. And now these guys are stiffing us on discovery. So we
’
re going to get their attention.
”
She handed each of them a copy of the motion to compel she
’
d spent the weekend drafting.

Pete studied it intently. Tamsin flipped through the pages listlessly then pinned her green and gold flecked eyes on Sasha and shifted uneasily in the leather chair.

“
Sasha, I don’
t think
…
I don’
t want to accuse our insurance company of
bad faith
. That sounds so serious. Gosh, Benjie Dolman
’
s been our agent since we rented our very first apartment
—”

Pete interrupted her gently.
“
Even longer than that, Tams. He insured the first car I ever bought. Don
’
t tell me you forgot that VW bug I had our sophomore year?
”

She smiled at the memory but grew serious again almost immediately.
“
That
’
s all the more reason not to pick this fight, Pete. I know Benjie will help us work this out. Just tell him what documents you need, Sasha. He
’
ll get them for you.
”

Pete shifted his eyes from his worried wife to Sasha. She nodded to let him know she
’
d handle it.

She pushed back her chair and walked around to their side of the table then crouched beside Tamsin
’
s seat. It wasn
’
t a posture she
’
d ordinarily adopt with a client, but then the Maravaches weren
’
t her ordinary clients. She generally didn
’
t need to
convince
a client be aggressive
—
every once in a while, she might have to talk an irate general counsel out of carpet bombing his competitors with an arsenal of arguably frivolous complaints, but talk someone
into
a fight? Never.

“
Tamsin, listen. I know you wanted to take care of this without resorting to a bad faith claim, and I respect that. But you tried. I tried. Your broker has tried. Your insurer isn
’
t interested in working it out. They just aren
’
t. That
’
s not right or fair
—
especially seeing as how they
’
ve covered several other claims arising out of this same fire
—
but it
’
s the reality we
’
re facing.
”

She paused to make sure Tamsin was still with her and then softened her voice just a bit.
“
You and Pete built Steel City, slowly, carefully, to be a business you could be proud of. And now you
’
re in danger of losing it. Your employees are going to lose their jobs. Customers like Jake will suffer. And why? Because Mid-Atlantic cashed the premium checks you sent them faithfully, year after year, but when it came time for them to provide the coverage you paid for, they just
…
didn
’
t. Holding their feet to the fire to enforce the policy doesn
’
t mean you
’
re a bad person or greedy or litigious. It just means you
’
re a smart, responsible businessperson. It
’
s not personal.
”

She stared up at her client, willing her to understand. Pete cleared his throat.

“
Tams, it
’
s a last resort. But she
’
s right. We
’
re going to go under if they don
’t pay out
—
and soon.
”

Tamsin nodded slowly and pushed the motion away.
“
Okay.
”

Sasha handed it back.
“
You have to read it. I need you to be sure I
’
ve got all the details right.
”

Her client sighed and flipped it open.
“
Fine.
”

Pete cleared his throat.
“
Uh, we need to talk about your fees. You still haven
’
t billed us for the work you did on the complaint.
”