New Attitude

A new attitude boosted me out of bed the next day. Empowered, and wearing my black pencil skirt and red button-up shirt with a stiffly ironed collar, I arrived at work twenty minutes early. 

Mackenzie’s executive assistant called shortly after eight o’clock. “Hello, Ms. Robert. Mr. Mackenzie will meet with you today to discuss a contract. Be at Alinea at four o’clock sharp.” 

“Alinea?”

“Will you need a car to pick you up from work?”

“I’ll manage to get there on time. Thank you, Miss —?”

“Mrs. Hellenberg. I’ll tell Mr. Mackenzie that you’ll be there. Have a good day.” 

Now I had work to do. After Dad moved us to Normal, Illinois, he had kept in touch with Jeff Lohmann, our friend at CPD Violent Crimes Division. Jeff’s children were about the same ages as my brothers and me, so we’d gone on fishing trips and shared vacations together. They were my second family, but lately I felt closer to Jeff than my father. For one thing, he lived nearby.

A few years earlier, when Jeff’s daughter Paula got into trouble, I did my best to help her through it. She had been drawn into her boyfriend’s world of drugs and users. Her wakeup call had been getting pregnant. Paula couldn’t go to her mother, a devout Catholic who would have been devastated by her daughter’s choices, so Paula called me. I offered to let her stay with me and my roommate, Roman, until she could get her life back together. We helped her split from her loser boyfriend and went with her to an abortion clinic. She eventually signed up for classes at a local university. Now, three years later, Paula worked as the court reporter at the Cook County Criminal Courthouse. 

I needed a favor. I wanted to find out more information about Leung Yang’s murder. As a lead homicide investigator, and the department’s face on the news, Jeff wasn’t a corrupt detective like some in the CPD, so I wasn’t sure he’d be willing to help me. He might even reprimand me. But I had to try. 

Happy to hear from me, he answered cheerfully, “Hello, Wil! I saw your interview on the news the other night. Peterson was acquitted, huh?” Though simple, his question arose from his broad knowledge of criminals. I was sure he knew the man was guilty as hell. 

“Yep,” I responded.

His silence before continuing confirmed it. “That must not have been an easy case for you considering the social consequences. You’re the queen of the courtroom, aren’t you?”

“I know how to win,” I explained.

“Can I take you out for a beer or something?”

“I’d like that,” I answered. After a thoughtful beat of silence, I said, “Jeff, I need a favor.”

“Anything, Wil.” 

“On the news this morning, you made a statement about Leung Yang’s murder. I’m looking for information about her case.” 

“Thena.” The way he said my name reminded me of my dad. Like my father, Jeff addressed me by my full name whenever I was in trouble. 

“I’m working for Richard  Mackenzie. Has he been questioned?” 

“You’re his lawyer?”

“We’re signing a contract today. That’s why I called. I’m trying to get a heads-up and need to know if he’s been charged with anything. The guy is very rich and powerful. What could he possibly gain by doing this?”

“I don’t know. But murder isn’t always about . . . gain.”

“Is he a suspect?”

“Not yet, but he’s my primary person of interest.”

“Simply because she worked for him?”

Jeff was silent for a beat. “Her body was found in a dumpster near her apartment, Wil. She looked like she was dressed for a sexy date but bound with duct tape and discarded like garbage. Mackenzie told us that two weeks ago they had flown home from a business trip and gone their separate ways. It was the last time she was seen alive. I’m not so sure of that timeline. From the looks of it—and forensics will confirm—she was alive until the end.”

“Kidnapped.”

“We think so. We’re waiting for the autopsy report. It appears that drugs were involved. We think she overdosed.”

“Did anyone search her apartment?”

“Yes. There’s no evidence of a struggle. She made it home after the flight, her suitcase was still packed. Her brother Kanji has told us all about Mackenzie and his sister,” Jeff said. “I’m leaning toward Mackenzie as my primary.”

I jotted that down. “Her brother lives in Chicago, too?”

“He worked for Prevail Pharmaceutical Software.” Jeff took a pause before saying, “I don’t trust Mackenzie, Wil. Are you sure you have to take this case?”

I admitted, “I don’t want another case like—”

“Christ! That Peterson is a—” 

“Don’t say it, Jeff.” I didn’t need confirmation of what that coldhearted man was. “You didn’t tell Dad about it, did you?” 

I didn’t want my dad to know what was at stake in that courtroom. He strove for perfection. He couldn’t know how hard it had been for me. The verdict would kill him. His job had been to put criminals away, and I was setting them free. 

“He wouldn’t care. He loves you.” 

I looked at the ceiling to conceal the wave of emotion. I hadn’t talked to Dad since the Peterson trial began.

“I won’t say anything to your old man.”

“I appreciate that.”

“If it’s any consolation, I told him you’re doing well. I told him you miss him.”

Emotion tightened my throat. I was thankful when Jeff changed the subject. 

He lowered his voice to a whisper. “All I know is, the last three calls on Yang’s cell were made late at night to Mackenzie’s private number. I don’t know the scope of their relationship, but I believe they were more than friends.”

“So. That doesn’t make him a killer. What other angle are you taking?”

“Her whole life was devoted to PPS and to Mackenzie. I’m not sure there is another angle.” 

Through the phone I heard people talking in the background. 

Jeff said, “You said you haven’t signed a contract with him yet.” 

“This afternoon.”

“Don’t do it, Wil.”

I rolled my eyes. “Geez, you’re just like my dad. I’m a big girl now.”

“I know, but—” he said. “—I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

I thought about the first meeting with Mackenzie and remembered his intense blue eyes. His handshake. His touch. “I’ll be fine. I’m a black belt. If he tries anything, I’ll throw him to the ground so fast, his head sill spin.”

“I’m serious. Can’t someone else take the case?”

“I couldn’t turn it down if I wanted to.” 

And I couldn’t afford my condo if I didn’t take his case. 

“Besides,” I said, “Mackenzie wants me.”

“Of course he does. You’re the best. Look what you did for the Sen—” 

“So, about that beer. . . .” I said. 

“How about later this week?” 

“Yes. I’ll call you,” I said and hung up.

It was nice to know someone cared. Even if I couldn’t follow Jeff’s advice, I took it to heart. I respected his opinion, yet there was nothing I could do to refuse the case. Dorman had put the pressure on. 

And on some intuitive level, I realized, I wanted to represent Mackenzie. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing an Elements of Engagement contract. 

Never again would I be late to a meeting with Mr. Mackenzie. At three twenty-five, I threw on my khaki trench coat, then grabbed my briefcase. As I went down to the street to catch a cab, it had just begun to rain. In the time it took to flag down a taxi, the downpour had soaked my hair. 

Once inside the cab, I looked up Alinea on my cell phone. With a top-ten, Michelin three-star rating, it was also one of the priciest restaurants in the Chicago downtown area. Alinea was a strange place for meeting with your lawyer. 

I tried to smooth out my wet hair when I arrived at precisely at three fifty-three. 

“Ms. Robert?” The tall, slender host dressed better than most of the lawyers I worked with. 

“Yes.” 

“Mr. Mackenzie is waiting for you.” He took my wet coat to a nearby closet and hung it up while I brushed droplets of water off my briefcase. 

“This way, please,” he instructed. 

The restaurant’s pale walls were decorated with monochromatic modern artwork. Tables topped with black marble were elegantly set with square white plates. Not a soul sat at a table in the low-lit dining room. Modern music—something between meditative spa and computerized pop—played on the sound system. We turned the corner to a more private dining area where Mr. Mackenzie sat with his back to the wall. 

As we approached, the most desirable bachelor in Chicago stood to greet me. “Ms. Robert. Thank you for being on time. Please sit down.” He had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dark blue shirt. 

The host pulled out a chair for me. 

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering you a glass of white wine,” Huen said, motioning to a waiter who stood patiently against a far wall. 

Do I look like I need a drink? If he’s really a killer I might need one afterward.

An empty bottle of Perrier sat beside his half-empty glass with a lime wedge floating in the clear, icy liquid. I wondered if happy hour had already begun for him. “Thank you, Mr. Mackenzie, but I don’t mix business and alcohol.” 

“You’ll like this wine, Ms. Robert,” he said with surety. He dipped his chin to look up at me.

The sommelier set a tall wine glass in front of me. Making a show of elegance, he presented a bottle to Mr. Mackenzie, who nodded approval. With a nice little pop and a flourish, the sommelier uncorked the bottle, then filled my glass with golden liquid. After his fancy presentation, I asked for a glass of water and slid my tablet out of my briefcase.

“On to business then,” Mackenzie said with the slightest glimmer in his eye.

“Before we start, I’d like to explain something about our lawyer-client relationship. I’m talking about boundaries, Mr. Mackenzie.”

“All right.” His eyes were the color of the ocean before a storm. 

I tried not to look directly at them. “The first thing you’ll need to know about me is that I don’t mix business and pleasure. In the past I’ve found it necessary to get that out in the open right away,” I said. 

“I can see why, Ms. Robert. Any man in his right mind would want to . . . date you.” 

“I hear the same is true about the most eligible bachelor, Mr. Mackenzie.” 

“Touché.” 

I turned on my tablet and said, “You told me the police questioned you. And you are a person of interest in the case, not a suspect.”

“Yes,” Mackenzie replied without emotion.

“At the time you were questioned, did you know you were a person of interest?”

“I wanted to help. Leung had been missing for more than a week. It’s important to me to take care of my employees. I went in to offer assistance.” 

With cold professionalism, I said, “The next time you speak to the police, make sure you have a lawyer with you.” 

“That’s why you’re here.” 

No wonder Jeff wanted me to stay away from this case. Fanatics—sociopathic killers—frequently insert themselves into the investigation. I couldn’t read his emotions, so hoped to provoke a reaction. “How did that go for you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I think we both know how that went, and that’s why you’re here.”

“She was your personal assistant, but I want more details. I want to know everything.” 

“I knew I could count on you, Ms. Robert.” 

“Okay, tell me about the cell phone calls.” 

“Phone calls?” 

“The CPD found her phone. Her calls to you were the last ones she ever made.”

“I can’t imagine why she called me,” he responded. “She left no messages. By the time I returned her calls the next day, she hadn’t come in for work.”

“I assume that you were more than friends.” I took notes as he spoke.

Unfazed by my implication, he said, “She was not my friend. She was my assistant. She worked for me.” 

“So, you didn’t have a relationship outside the office with her?” I asked.

“She wasn’t my type.”

“Did you see her on the night she went missing?”

He picked up his glass and jiggled the ice. “You know I did. Look, I’m not on trial here.” 

I explained, “I’m still determining if I want to be your lawyer, Mr. Mackenzie.”

He looked over the rim of the glass at me. “I need you, Ms. Robert. You will represent me.”

I ignored his egotism. “I expect you to be frank with me. If I’m going to work for you, I need to know the details.” 

Mackenzie leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. The intense look on his face was serious. Deadly. “I’m not a subtle man. I’ll give you anything you want.” 

I sat back and tilted my head to the right. “I again advise you not to speak to the police without your lawyer present.”

He nodded.

“If they call you in for questioning, contact me,” I said.

“Excellent. That’s exactly what I want. I knew you were the one.”

I shook off an uneasy feeling. “I’ve written up an Elements of Engagement contract, so we can get started.”

“I expected as much.”

“The Elements contract describes the scope of my representation and how we shall proceed. It describes the cost of my services and how the expenses shall be allocated.” I placed the tablet with the document in front of him. “Why don’t you begin reading?” 

He took his time—seeming to pay close attention to details—with his focus on the tablet. He lacked the typical end-of-day stubble and had probably shaved before this meeting. Despite the fact that we were worlds apart, I liked him. In different circumstances, he could be a man I’d like to get to know better. 

While he read, I raised an unwritten issue. “How did you get my unlisted number?”

The question broke his concentration, and he looked up at me.

I said, “I don’t take business calls on my cell unless it’s urgent. I don’t want you to use that number—the one you called—again.” 

“I’ll file it along with your no-dating clause.” A thin grin graced his lips.

Unsure if he was joking, I said, “I’ll send a copy of the contract to your office. You have forty-eight hours to sign.”

“Elements of Engagement,” he said and reached out to shake my hand. “I look forward to doing business with you.” 

When we touched, I couldn’t help noticing how soft his strong hands were. I pulled my hand away and spoke quickly. “Is there anything you’d like to add to the contract or have removed? I’m open to any suggestions, though that doesn’t mean I’ll agree to them.” 

“What will you agree to?” He was hinting at something else. 

Something sexual? I peered at him through narrowed eyes.

He met my gaze with good humor and simultaneously, we grinned. 

He said, “Your fees are not a problem. I’ll have the retainer sent to your office first thing in the morning.” He pushed the tablet toward me, and when I reached for it, my fingers brushed his again. He allowed the touch to linger. Though heat rose to my cheeks, this time I didn’t want to pull away. 

He must have seen the rosy color on my face. “Relax. The business meeting is over.”

Closing my briefcase, I took the deepest breath of the day, as if he had just given me permission. Every fiber of my being loosened, and even the tension in my shoulders and neck muscles let go. I sipped the wine. “This is refreshing.”

“It’s a Chenin Blanc from South Africa.” 

“Do you know a lot about wine?” I wasn’t an oenophile. Box wines and ten-dollar brands were, at best, my specialty.

“I know enough.” Mackenzie sipped his Perrier.

When the waiter brought a square white plate to the table with something that looked more like an artistic rendering than food, I asked to be excused. As I crossed the room, I noticed the two large men who had been guarding the door at our first meeting. The blond one sat at the bar and eyed me as I walked quickly by. 

In the bathroom, I stared into the mirror. My hair, a wavy mess from the rain, made me look wild and uninhibited. It wasn’t the impression I wanted to give to my client. I fixed my hair the best I could without a brush and dabbed on lip gloss. Then I closed my eyes and let my shoulders fall.

Several minutes later, I sat back down at the table. He asked, “What do they call you, Ms. Robert? Thena is cumbersome. Is it Thena for short?”

Reluctant to tell him my nickname, I said, “No.” 

“What do they call you?” With his fingers, he took a piece of something that looked like sushi from the plate. A flower and some delicate herbs sat on top of the mouthful. He popped it neatly between his parted lips.

I stared at him. At those gray-blue eyes and soft lips. And I gave in and answered, “Wil. They call me Wil.” Then I took another swallow of wine. 

Mr. Mackenzie lifted the bottle from the tableside wine cooler and refilled my glass. “Why not Thena?”

“I don’t know.” I looked down at the table. “It’s always been Wil. I grew up in a house full of boys—” 

“I like Thena better.” Though he must have been joking, he wasn’t smiling. 

I sat back. “No one calls me that.”

Disregarding my statement, he said, “Thena Murray married Jonathan Harker and was seduced by the dark side.” He smiled ever so slightly.

“Seduced by Dracula, you mean.” I knew my vampire lore. 

“Yes.” He sipped his drink without taking his eyes off me, as if he were Jonathan and I were Thena, lovers who endured incredible horrors and stood the test of time. 

“Dracula was a killer.”

“Perhaps.”

“Are you?”

“I’ll let you decide, Thena.”