did what?”
“Spoke highly of you. He was reassured when I told him we were using you.”
“Was he?”
“Yes, he was. You were on a very short list of his.”
“A list?” Juliette said suspiciously, sliding her hand along the edge of the bar as she resumed pacing. In her experience, lists were unpredictable beasts.
“The list he gave us of possible referrals, dear. You are aware that Farrah is not a divorce lawyer by trade—she is a friend, an art lawyer—and when Johnny suggested we get a second opinion on Dan’s valuation, he felt it might be helpful to also make a few recommendations, which I thought very kind,” she went on in her perfumed voice.
“So, Johnny recommended the second opinion?” Juliette said, slowing to a stop. She faced the bar, put her elbows on it.
“He did, and then provided us with referrals. There are so many charlatans out there, and then, when you find a good one, they are often so busy. Our case is a small one, you know, although large enough to us, and a referral can help so much. Imagine my surprise when you were on Johnny’s list. I told him ‘what a coincidence.’ And it was. ‘What a coincidence,’ I said.”
“Is that what you said?” Juliette echoed, and bent down, let her elbows slide out and stared down the length of the dark bar. “How many people were on that list, Mrs. B?”
“Two, dear, just two. I admit, Farrah was leery of accepting any recommendations from Donald’s people of course, but the judge trusts Dan, and I trust Johnny, and he recommended you, which was most reassuring. I have found that when you find someone you trust, you stick with them.”
That seemed like a terrible operating principle to Juliette.
She pushed off the counter. “Well, Mrs. B, that’s sort of what I’m calling about. I was wondering, do you have copies of any other documentation from the LLC or the rentals? Anything at all?”
“I don’t think so, dear. I brought you everything I had.”
“Yes, I know, thank-you. I just…I wondered if maybe there was something the judge might have had, rather than you .”
Silence.
“If maybe there was some place he stored things, say, in his office or something. Somewhere…private?” she finished lamely. She was asking Mrs. Billings to consider the places her husband might have hid things from her. Hurtful at best, insulting at worst. Even in the midst of a divorce.
“Absolutely,” Mrs. B said without hesitation. “In his study. Behind that awful painting. There’s a safe.”
Juliette started getting excited, until Mrs. B got to ‘safe.’ “Oh,” she said, deflating. “Oh well, okay then.”
“What did you want me to look for?”
“Well, ma’am, the safe is going to be locked, so—”
“I cracked the combination years ago, dear. What was it you wanted, particularly?”
Juliette stared at the phone. “Rent rolls or lease agreements, ideally. But I’ll take anything related to the property.”
“Will do. Shall I scan them over to you?”
Juliette took the phone away from her ear and stared at it. “Do, do you know how to scan, ma’am?”
A beat of silence. “Who does not?”
She smiled. “Scanning would be perfect. And thank-you. We’re working as fast as we can.”
“Just do the best you can, my dear. That’s all we any of us can do.”
They hung up. Juliette stared down at her feet for a second, then looked up to find Johnny’s gaze on her. He was pacing the wall of windows like a tiger, his body flashing between light and dark shadow. Her belly gave a hot, swoopy sensation.
Ridiculous. What was her belly doing that for? Johnny would finish his call, come back over and say, “Got it,” or “Get over it,” either of which would be followed by, “I’m leaving now.”
Which was right and wise and smart and about time. Couldn’t wait. In fact, she would suggest it herself.
Then she’d make the
“Spoke highly of you. He was reassured when I told him we were using you.”
“Was he?”
“Yes, he was. You were on a very short list of his.”
“A list?” Juliette said suspiciously, sliding her hand along the edge of the bar as she resumed pacing. In her experience, lists were unpredictable beasts.
“The list he gave us of possible referrals, dear. You are aware that Farrah is not a divorce lawyer by trade—she is a friend, an art lawyer—and when Johnny suggested we get a second opinion on Dan’s valuation, he felt it might be helpful to also make a few recommendations, which I thought very kind,” she went on in her perfumed voice.
“So, Johnny recommended the second opinion?” Juliette said, slowing to a stop. She faced the bar, put her elbows on it.
“He did, and then provided us with referrals. There are so many charlatans out there, and then, when you find a good one, they are often so busy. Our case is a small one, you know, although large enough to us, and a referral can help so much. Imagine my surprise when you were on Johnny’s list. I told him ‘what a coincidence.’ And it was. ‘What a coincidence,’ I said.”
“Is that what you said?” Juliette echoed, and bent down, let her elbows slide out and stared down the length of the dark bar. “How many people were on that list, Mrs. B?”
“Two, dear, just two. I admit, Farrah was leery of accepting any recommendations from Donald’s people of course, but the judge trusts Dan, and I trust Johnny, and he recommended you, which was most reassuring. I have found that when you find someone you trust, you stick with them.”
That seemed like a terrible operating principle to Juliette.
She pushed off the counter. “Well, Mrs. B, that’s sort of what I’m calling about. I was wondering, do you have copies of any other documentation from the LLC or the rentals? Anything at all?”
“I don’t think so, dear. I brought you everything I had.”
“Yes, I know, thank-you. I just…I wondered if maybe there was something the judge might have had, rather than you .”
Silence.
“If maybe there was some place he stored things, say, in his office or something. Somewhere…private?” she finished lamely. She was asking Mrs. Billings to consider the places her husband might have hid things from her. Hurtful at best, insulting at worst. Even in the midst of a divorce.
“Absolutely,” Mrs. B said without hesitation. “In his study. Behind that awful painting. There’s a safe.”
Juliette started getting excited, until Mrs. B got to ‘safe.’ “Oh,” she said, deflating. “Oh well, okay then.”
“What did you want me to look for?”
“Well, ma’am, the safe is going to be locked, so—”
“I cracked the combination years ago, dear. What was it you wanted, particularly?”
Juliette stared at the phone. “Rent rolls or lease agreements, ideally. But I’ll take anything related to the property.”
“Will do. Shall I scan them over to you?”
Juliette took the phone away from her ear and stared at it. “Do, do you know how to scan, ma’am?”
A beat of silence. “Who does not?”
She smiled. “Scanning would be perfect. And thank-you. We’re working as fast as we can.”
“Just do the best you can, my dear. That’s all we any of us can do.”
They hung up. Juliette stared down at her feet for a second, then looked up to find Johnny’s gaze on her. He was pacing the wall of windows like a tiger, his body flashing between light and dark shadow. Her belly gave a hot, swoopy sensation.
Ridiculous. What was her belly doing that for? Johnny would finish his call, come back over and say, “Got it,” or “Get over it,” either of which would be followed by, “I’m leaving now.”
Which was right and wise and smart and about time. Couldn’t wait. In fact, she would suggest it herself.
Then she’d make the
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