I stared calmly at him and he stared fiercely back. He was a little man with a little mustache, but his eyes beneath his wire-frame glasses burned with intensity as bright as his tie. I remembered then that his wife was exceptionally large and the two of them made a comically proportioned couple, but no one ever dared laugh. I remembered then that he had been caught in some scandal involving a congressman and his aide a few years back and that the congressman’s aide was a tall, full-size blonde named Agatha.

“Mr. Skink,” he said finally, “is occasionally contracted by this firm to provide investigative services. He may have taken it upon himself to voice my concerns about the effects of a lengthy murder trial on my family.”

“He threatened me.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“I don’t like to be threatened.”

“Things happen to all of us that we don’t like. I’ll be blunt. I don’t want that bastard’s picture in the papers staring at me for the next six months. I don’t want the articles talking about my daughter. I don’t want her forced to testify. I don’t want my grandchildren used as pawns. I don’t want the tragedies of my family played out in the tabloids. I want it to be over. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Your familial concern is touching.”

“So you’re touched. Is that all? Because I have a client in my office.”

“Give him the newspaper. Tell him to do the Jumble while he waits. I have more questions.”

“I have no more answers. You can send any request for further information to my lawyer. Good day, Mr. Carl. We are through.” He started the long walk around the table.

“Do you want a subpoena, Mr. Peale? Because I have one in my briefcase with your name on it.”

“I’ll quash it.”

“I’ll quash back. I was a Division Two quash champion in college. And then, when you’re under oath, maybe I’ll start asking about the promises you made to support Troy Jefferson’s future political aspirations in exchange for a quick plea.”

He stopped. “There were no promises.”

“Call them what you will. The only way a political opportunist like Jefferson backs away from a high-profile murder trial is if the political payoff is higher than all those appearances on the six o’clock news. What does he want to be, DA? Attorney general? Lieutenant governor? What does he want to be, the big man himself?”

“Troy Jefferson is a young man with sterling qualities who would be an asset to the commonwealth in any public role.”

“Yes, and he had a nice jump shot, too, but that’s not what’s going on, is it? Why are you trying to end this case before it starts?”

“I told you. My family-”

“No. Try again.”

“My daughter-”

“Sorry, wrong answer.”

“My grandchildren-”

“I don’t think so. Not unless you have a grandchild named Juan Gonzalez.”

Peale pressed his thin lips together, his head jerked within his starched collar. He took hold of the closest seat and sat down. His voice, when it came, had lost its iron edge. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I understand why you wanted it kept secret. Red Book Insurance is your largest and oldest client. It bought this building for you, paneled your offices. It keeps you in feed, and not chicken feed at that. If you had told them what happened right at the start, you could have weathered it, maybe, but you kept it from them, kept it your little secret. For them to find out now would destroy the relationship irrevocably. They’d leave, for sure, and the scandal would convince others to leave, too. Who could ever trust your firm after this? It would be over for Dawson, Cricket and Peale, except at the unemployment line.”

“You’re barking off half-cocked.”

“I can tell I’m right, you’re mixing metaphors. What I don’t understand is how you expected it to stay a secret. It wasn’t hidden, really. All it took was a visit to the clerk’s office, a review of the case files, the discovery of a medical malpractice action entitled Juan Gonzalez v. Dr. Irwin Glass et al. The whole story is there right on the docket sheet. I found it all yesterday, after my little breakfast meeting with Skink. Representing the plaintiff: Hailey Prouix, Esquire. Representing the defendant doctor and insurance company: Guy Forrest, Esquire. Oh, not only Guy, your name was at the top of the list of lawyers, you were the billing partner, I suppose, but Guy did the work. It was on that case that he met Hailey, wasn’t it? It was during the length of the litigation that he dined her, romanced her, seduced her. And after the settlement, after the three million dollars were handed from the insurance company to the plaintiff, about the going rate for a man entering the hospital for routine prostate surgery and leaving in a coma, Guy ditched his wife, his children, your firm, to move in with Hailey. Living on her share of the award, her one-third, a cool mil.”

“It was a solid case,” said Peale. “The settlement was a fair one. I oversaw it all. For the three million dollars Red Book escaped exposure to a much larger amount, an amount that could have crippled its operations.”

“Maybe, but I think not. I think there was something there that would have won the case for Red Book, some hard piece of evidence that Guy hid until after the settlement was signed and the money paid and Guy and Hailey had a million dollars to start their lives together. Otherwise he would have dropped off the case once the relationship started. Otherwise Hailey Prouix would have insisted on it. Why allow even the tinge of impropriety to hazard the settlement somewhere down the line? Why put a million dollars at risk? Unless it was the only way to get the million dollars in the first place. I had wondered why Hailey’s big fee was placed in a joint account, and now I know, because they both earned it. And you knew, didn’t you? You knew and tried to keep it quiet. That’s why you wanted the plea accepted. That’s why you sent Skink to threaten me.”

I was guessing, this last part about the hidden evidence, but it was a guess that made sense, and Jonah Peale’s reaction, a sort of head swivel of frustration, told me that my guess was spot on.

“You have no proof,” he said.

“I don’t need proof right now, all I need is to know I’m right. It won’t be too hard to find what it was Guy hid, now that we know what to look for. And wouldn’t Red Book be interested as hell in seeing it for themselves?”

Jonah Peale’s face turned pale and then paler still. He lost so much color I thought he would collapse, right there before me, collapse and fall off that chair. Then, suddenly, he composed himself, as if a knob had been turned. He took off his spectacles, cleaned the lenses with the tip of his bright red tie. “It would destroy this firm’s reputation,” he said calmly, “destroy the firm I’ve put my life into. I can’t allow that to happen.”

“So it’s not the family you’re concerned about, is it?”

“We all have our priorities. Why are you here?”

And there it was, the negotiation had begun. It was a pretty impressive performance by Peale, he had taken the shot, recovered, and now was ready to take control of the situation. Good for him, good for me.

“We both have an interest in keeping this information quiet,” I said. “If it becomes public, it could be damaging to my client’s case. As long as I control the disclosure, and the spin, I think I could manage it. I could even turn it to Guy’s advantage, paint Hailey as a schemer out for the money, reduce the natural sympathy for the victim. But still, it complicates things as far as motive. And, of course, to you it would be devastating. So I believe it is in our interests to work together to keep it quiet.”

“Agreed. What do you want?”

“I want Skink off my back.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“I don’t want to see him again. I don’t want him talking to anyone about this case in any way, shape, or form. It would be best if he took a vacation until this whole thing is cleared up.”