“I think-I hope the damage is already done when it comes to those files. But I would like to know. So, yes, within limits.”
“The police aren’t moving on it?”
“They figure getting the Bronco back is all they can do,” Nina said. “The files have no tangible value and I couldn’t explain why I was so worried.” She told him some more about Officer Jean Scholl and their problematic relationship, but fended off Jack’s offer to get emphatic with the local police.
“You sure you have enough help? I mean Paul is good, no question, but Wish, he’s not a trained investigator-”
“He doesn’t work independently. Paul supervises. And Wish is a friend.”
“Loyal, honest, idealistic,” Jack said. “When will you grow up and get with the dead dust of this cynical, postapocalyptic world, girl?”
“The day I get cynical is the day I know I’m done. No offense.”
“None taken. I think it’s essential to be a cynical bastard in this profession, but that’s just me. No, actually, I want to say this. I’ve always been so impressed by you as an attorney, Nina.”
“But not as a human being?” she asked, unable to resist the provocation.
“Well,” he said, “now that you mention it, there was that kid plumber. That definitely colors my perception of you. You half-dressed on the couch, legs spread. Him on top.”
So he had materialized at last, the bugaboo plumber of Bernal Heights, the invisible man that stood motionless between them, undiscussed and misunderstood. “You know, Jack, we should have had this conversation a long time ago. I can’t believe you still hold that guy against me. We were kissing. My legs were not spread. We never even-”
“You only stopped because I showed up and scared him off. That stupid earring he wore. You ten years older than him.”
The disgust in his voice drove away all her pretense of composure. Her voice rose. “So? What about the fact that you were sleeping with another woman at the time? Huh? I mean, talk about lonely. I was in hell, and I never knew why. I couldn’t think what I’d done wrong, except maybe work too hard.”
“People ought to restrain themselves, under the circumstances. Maybe you could have talked to me. We were still new together, only two years into it. Maybe our marriage was salvageable at that point, if you hadn’t-”
“You cheated. You lied. You blamed me for everything that went wrong-”
“Nina,” he said softly, “did you ever love me? Did you ever really love me?”
The question brought her up short. She couldn’t think of an answer. She had married Jack for a million reasons: his sense of humor, his passion for his work, his devotion to her and Bob. They had such fun fantasizing a life together in San Francisco.
Bob needed a father.
She needed someone.
“Yes, I loved you. But you made me so lonely.”
“I was lonely, too,” he said. “What a shame neither one of us had the guts to deal with the problem without all that drama.”
Emotion swept over her. “Worse than that. It was melodrama.”
“We both screwed up,” he said.
Admitting her role in the breakup was hard. The time had come to make peace. Maybe she knew from the first time she set eyes on Jack again they would arrive at this moment, the chance to nail down the coffin lid on their marriage. “Yes,” she said finally, “we both screwed up.”
“I regretted it right away, you know. I married her, and I knew it was a mistake from day one. I wish you and I had tried harder.”
Did she regret the end of her two years of marriage to Jack? The answer came quickly. Not anymore. If she had stayed with Jack, she would never have married a man she had loved with all her heart. After his death, she would never have found her way back to Paul.
“While we were drinking margaritas at Big Sur,” Jack continued, “I had a fantasy that you and I might fall into each other’s arms again.”
“Then you saw me and thought again,” she teased, ready to lighten up.
“I saw you and I saw him. I saw the whole damn thing.”
“Jack, I’m sorry about the way it ended.”
“Me, too, Nina-Pinta. Me, too.”
Papers shuffled over the phone on his end as she closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
“So,” he said, in one of those rapid turnarounds that made him so successful in his work, “moving on.”
“Oh, sure. Of course. We have work to do.”
“What were we talking about?” he asked thoughtfully. “Oh, yes. Your abilities as an attorney. To go on, I’m sorry you’re running into the usual snags, and I know you won’t let it get you down. ’Cause you’re one of the good ones, Nina. Destined to debate. Well-intentioned. The old-fashioned, go-for-real-justice kind of person our profession needs. Unlike me.”
Not quite as fast to recover from their earlier exchange, she said shakily, “Oh, you’re not so bad.”
“I am. I am proud to be bad. Luck or talent, I don’t care what helps me win, as long as I do. And I’m not afraid to get dirty just for the sake of winning. It’s detestable, but it’s me.”
Suddenly the compliment looked less complimentary, as if Nina had a weak, feminine side that prevented her from dirtying her skirts.
“That’s why people are smart enough to hire me and I’m up to my neck in lucrative trouble,” Jack went on arrogantly. “P.S., did you know Paul considered law as a profession?”
“What? No.”
“Yes, indeed. We took the LSAT at the same time, but he blew it. Hates tests, our Paul. Won’t be judged by people he doesn’t admire, and those he admires are few and far between. So, keep that in mind when he begs you to join him in Carmel to live a life of leisure as his concubine. He flirted with the law and it slapped him down. Don’t let him sabotage you. You’re too good to fritter yourself away like that.”
“You are so out of line.”
“I love the guy. He’s my best friend. He has many fine qualities. His relationship with the world isn’t one of them. He’s brilliant sometimes at his job, but partly that’s because he never follows any rules but his own. He made a lousy cop because of it, and I don’t trust him as a P.I. because of it.”
“Shut up, Jack. I don’t want to hear this.”
“Be wary and be smart if you insist on hanging with him. That’s all.”
“Do me a favor. Stick with the legal advice. I don’t need you for personal advice.”
“Okay. All right. Live with him and be his love, but call me if things don’t work out, deal?”
“Enough!”
“Sure. Back to business. All right? Put all that aside for now?”
“Back to business.”
“Give the Vangs their money. Potential exposure is that Mr. Vang will be so pissed off that his wife got half that he’ll file a complaint with the bar that you withheld the money by a couple of days. He won’t look good and you will. I say you have no problem there.”
“I’ll send it on Monday.”
“Don’t wait. Do it right away,” he said. “As your attorney, I advise you to get this one out of your hair immediately.”
She opened her side drawer, looked at the checks, shut it, and opened it again. “Okay, Jack,” she said, angry. She should never have mentioned that she was waiting to courier the checks. That had been an unconscious slip, a desire to get his stamp of approval. Predictably, he had picked up on her delaying strategy. He knew her too well. He didn’t want to know why she wanted to put it off, he didn’t want justifications, he just wanted a clean slate. Was this what it meant, having an attorney? Taking unwelcome advice? Doing things that made you queasy?
Yes. She put the checks on her desk. She would get them on the road before she left today, like an intelligent client following the expert advice of her attorney over her own instincts.
“The sisters. Brandy and Angel,” Jack said. “There’s more exposure. This suspect, what’s his name, Stinson, assaulted the girls on the beach. An argument can be made that Cody heard from the possessor of the files that the girls saw things. But who knows why Cody got on ’em? Maybe some other camper told him something. I can’t see a complaint from them going anywhere.”