CHAPTER 7

Beverly knew when to be proactive and when to use a situation to her advantage. That morning, as Michelle recounted her good times with Oliver, she grabbed a fur coat and slipped into office shoes. Outside, she flagged down a cab and stopped at the Chicago state police station. At the entrance, she spoke to an officer. "Attorney Blaise. I'm here on an errand to speak with one Perry Thomas."

"ID please."

She dug her hand into the pocket of her fur coat and frowned. "I must've left it at the office…typical. Does that stop my assignment?"

"This way please."

The young officer leads her through a long corridor until they stopped in front of a door. "Go in," he said. At the entrance, another guard frisked her and led her to a large room that contained a row of small booths. It was Beverly's first time in a prison station, but she guessed the seats in the front would be occupied by visitors visiting inmates later in the day. A thick metal screen stood before another row of booths.

"Go to number 3." He pointed. Beverly walked to the booth and sat down. A few minutes later, Perry appeared in some loose grey shirt and trousers. He sat between his dividers on the other side of the screen. Beverly watched the inmate. He was about six feet tall with a weight of about two hundred. He kept no hair but a few days in the cell had left some black hair on his scalp. He was dark-skinned with round eyes and a round chin.

"I heard a lawyer's looking for me. I haven't seen you before. You're not my lawyer."

Beverly kept her calm. She took a quick glance at the guard standing at the entrance. "I'm not a lawyer. But I'm here for something important."

Perry scowled. "What could be more important than getting the hell out of this stinking hole? You tell me."

"Vengeance."

Perry leaned closer. "Vengeance? Bitch, what are you doing in fine clothes, telling me 'bout vengeance."

"This outfit is the guise that made me enter this freaking place, mister. Are you interested in what I have to say?"

"I'm curious."

"Five minutes!" the guard at the entrance announced.

"We've got a common enemy. As you've said it, I'm a fine woman. I cannot have blood stains on me."

"Who's this enemy?"

"Have you heard the name, Michelle Shane?"

Perry didn't know the name. "Who's he?"

"She. She's an attorney at Bernard, Cole, and Dylan."

"That's the fucking firm handling my tax records. What did she do?"

"I'll tell you the kind of person she is first. She's a snitch. She snitched on me and she did the same on you."

"She told the cops on me?"

"How could they have known?"

Perry slapped his fist. "No one messes with Perry Thomas and goes scot-free."

Beverly smiled. "I knew we could eliminate an enemy together." Beverly stood up. "I know you can find her."

***

Michelle parked her car and took quick breaths. She glanced at her image in the interior mirror and reapplied more powder. She added more gloss and stepped out of the car.

The firm was in its usual bustle as she stepped in and walked to her small office. With the absence of the Mark Grinner's mammoth files, Michelle concluded that it was going to be a less stressful day. All she had to do was wait for Robert and sit with Thomas Bernard for countless hours.

Michelle grabbed the book on the new Chicago tax system she had started reading. She had a review on it with Robert during the day.

Robert.

She was constantly worried about him. It was easy to feel concerned about him. Robert wasn't a troublemaker but Perry's case was painting him as that. She glanced at the time on her screen and wondered if he would be able to make it to work.

***

Robert stepped into the law premises a few minutes before 11 a.m. After an early morning's wake, his outing had been delayed by the presence of his father. Donald had been worried about the press the form was received but he was more worried about his son. Robert had always looked up to his father but the news of the firm's involvement with Perry was beginning to sever the relationship between father and son. Donald had visited to explain his stance on the situation.

As Robert drove to work, he thought about what his father told him. The two-hours talk left more questions in his heart than answers. Robert had always imagined his father as a man of integrity, but with the recent event, Robert knew there was a lot about his father that he didn't know about. When he stepped into the firm, the prevailing thoughts about his father vanished, and he focused on the firm. Agnes was her usual self, following and reciting his schedules for the day.

"Agnes, what time do the partners meet? 2p.m or 4p.m?"

Agnes stopped her recital and glanced at the sheet of paper she had never bothered to look at. "4 p.m. sir."

They stepped into the elevator, and for a moment Robert said nothing.

"I've told you countless times to stop giving me my schedules by heart."

"I'm sorry sir."

The whirring sound of the elevator stopped and Robert stepped into the second floor. Agnes dropped his briefcase and left his office quietly. Robert dropped on his chair with a deep sigh. He glanced at the door to Michelle's office and wondered if she was fine.

He stood at the entrance of her office a few minutes later. Michelle's head was buried in a book.

"Chicago tax systems?"

Michelle raised her head and he walked in.

"Good morning, sir."

"Michelle," he said. "How's it going?"

"Great. Tax law is all about studying."

"And a lot of researches." He sat down and studied her face. "How are you, Michelle?... sincerely."

Michelle offered a smile. "I'm fine."

"Yeah…I forgot." Robert exited the office and returned with Mark's files and a wrapped item. He dropped the files. "I had a busy night with this."

Michelle's face lit up with glee. "Thank you, Robert. I really appreciate this."

Robert wanted to use the opportunity to invite her to lunch. He never had the courage to be more than a boss to her. And now, she was his friend's wife.

He placed the large, wrapped item on her desk. "I got you this too." He unwrapped it and produced a wooden clock. "The grandfather clock your office needed."

Michelle's smile was always enough satisfaction and he was happy to make her smile.

"Thanks, Robert. You didn't have to."

"I didn't do anything, Mich. I only went to the basement and dusted the old piece…and also made sure it was in good working condition."

Michelle admired the clock and thought about a thousand things she could do to it. When she was done, she thought. Robert wouldn't recognize the clock he had abandoned in his basement.

"I'm thinking of the perfect wrap…the perfect stickers to add…"

Robert watched as the glint of sadness in her eyes disappeared. As she continued in her narration, he kept watching her until he was lost in the words she spoke and his eyes dwelt on her entirely. There were a few regrets in Robert's life and one of them was not having the courage to express his feelings to the lady before him. And it angered him that Oliver had the woman he wanted but couldn't make her happy.

What he would do if she was his…

When Michelle noticed that Robert was lost in his thoughts, she thought he was thinking about Perry's case. She knew it bothered Robert a lot but he was hiding it.

"I shouldn't have stressed you so much when you've got a lot on your plate."

Robert woke up from his thoughts. "Pardon?"

"Perry Thomas. You don't say it but I see how much it's affecting you."

Robert wanted to confide in her. Tell her his fears. He was more scared for his father than himself. He wanted to let her know that what kept him awake all night was the thought that his father was not the man he thought he was and he was scared that he would be spending his retirement age in jail.

"I'm fine, Michelle. I'll leave you with that book. We can discuss it when you're done."

He was standing when the office door threw open. Agnes walked in. "A Michael Trent is here to see you. He's wearing a uniform."

Robert nodded. "I'll be there now." He took one glance at Michelle, saw the worry in her eyes, and assured her he would be fine.

***

By midday, the prison's waiting room was filled with visitors and inmates shielded by the screen. Gray Thomas sat opposite his uncle, Perry.

"Michelle Shane," Perry said quietly. "I want you to do a check on her. Find out if she's the one who brought me to this horrible place."

Gray listened.

"She works at that tax firm…if she's the bitch who snitched, I want you to kill her."