“Thanks, but no. I spent most of the lunch hour talking to my client, then I had an errand to run. I forgot to eat.”
“You should have said something. I’ll make us some sandwiches. Is ham okay?”
“Ham is perfect. I’m starving, and the prospect of going out to a restaurant does not appeal to me.”
“Can’t you cook?”
“Can’t even boil an egg.”
“Is that the truth or a ploy?”
“A ploy,” he said. “I’d do anything to get you to make me that sandwich.”
I brought back a tray with our sandwiches and a pitcher of milk. When we’d finished eating, Zack sighed with contentment. “You know, I might just live.”
“That’s good news.”
“You don’t look very happy about it.”
“This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I wish Clare’s friends weren’t coming out here tonight. I feel as if I’ve betrayed them.”
“Because you alerted me to the fact that they were asking questions? Joanne, if they want answers, you’ve helped them. You’ve expedited the process. Clare’s friends don’t have to jump out of the bushes and scare me. I’ll stay here and answer any questions they have.”
“I think your presence might just exacerbate matters.”
“My presence has been known to do that,” Zack said. “But I’m not sure why it would in this case.”
“Because if you’re waiting for them, it will appear that Falconer Shreve is trying to control events. Clare’s friends are trying to create a situation in which people can come to them.”
“Fair enough,” Zack said. “But at least let me tell you what I know – just to clear the air.”
“And I can pass this information along?”
“Every word. For the record, I believe Clare Mackey is working for a law firm in Vancouver.”
“But you’re not certain.”
“You were at the Canada Day party, Joanne. You saw the number of juniors Falconer Shreve has. Unless I’m working with one of them, I don’t keep track.”
“So you didn’t know that Anne Millar came to Falconer Shreve to find out why Clare had left so precipitously.”
“No. I knew that,” Zack said. “It came up at a partners’ meeting. We decided that, out of respect for the privacy of those involved, we wouldn’t disclose the circumstances under which Clare left. To be honest, two adults having a love affair that went wrong didn’t seem to be anybody’s business but theirs.”
“Are you saying the woman in Chris’s life was Clare Mackey?”
“You sound surprised,” Zack said.
“I thought that Clare might be the one,” I said. “But until this moment I wasn’t certain.”
“I guess each of us just knew half of the story,” Zack said. “I didn’t learn about the pregnancy and abortion until you told me that night at Magoo’s. Then of course I put two and two together.”
“But you didn’t say anything to me?”
“You and I were just getting to know one another; Chris had been my friend for over twenty years. He’d kept Clare’s pregnancy secret when he was alive. I didn’t see any point in bringing it up after he was dead and Clare had started a new life.” Zack moved his chair closer. “Does that make sense to you?”
“It makes sense,” I said.
“Then we can watch the sunset together?”
I reached over and touched his cheek. “You look so tired. Go home and get some sleep. Willie and I will stop by on our walk in the morning. Sunrises are just as nice as sunsets.”
He grinned. “And this time of year they come early. Lots of time to fool around before I have to go back to the city. Hey, I got you an electric toothbrush today at lunch. It’s in the car. I’ll plug it in as soon as I get home. Like me, the toothbrush will be ready when you are.”
The members of Clare Mackey’s Moot Team arrived on the dot of seven o’clock. Anne Millar had come with them, and it was clear from the outset that she had meshed easily with the other women. They were an appealing group. All were blond, all were fit, all were dressed smartly and informally – young professionals on casual Friday. Despite their smiles of greeting, they were sombre. When the introductions were over, I started to show them into the living room, but Linda Thauberger, who appeared to have been designated group leader, asked if we could use a room with a table. I led them into the kitchen. As generations of women had done before us, we took our places and began to talk, but our topic was not men, children, or the vagaries of our own flesh, it was Clare Mackey, and her story was murky and troubling.
“As far as we can tell,” Linda Thauberger said, opening her smart red briefcase and taking out a file, “this is where it all begins.” She placed the file at the centre of the table.
The name on the label made me blink. “Patsy Choi,” I said. “That case was three years ago. What does it have to do with Clare?”
“Stay tuned,” Linda said coolly. “I’ve had more than a few sleepless nights since we discovered the connection.”
“We all have,” Maggie Niewinski said. She still had the mop of blond curls she had in her law-school grad photo, but the shadows under her eyes were like bruises. It was clear she’d had her share of insomnia.
“And we know this is just the beginning,” Sandra Mikalonis, a graceful woman with a ponytail, added.
“You’re going to have to fill me in,” I said.
“Since I’m the one who dropped the ball on this, I’ll do it,” Linda said.
Maggie shook her curls vehemently. “No hair shirts,” she said. “We’ve agreed we all would have done exactly as you did.”
“Which was nothing,” Linda said quietly.
“Because no one asked you to do anything,” Maggie said.
“You’re still a terrier with a bone when you get an idea, aren’t you?” Linda said. “Maybe we should let the facts speak for themselves. Last year, just after the August long weekend, Clare called me. She’d stayed in Regina for the holiday. At that point, she’d been at Falconer Shreve about four months, and she thought the long weekend might be a good opportunity to stay at the office and do some homework.”
“Getting caught up on her files?” I asked.
Linda shook her head. “No. More just getting to understand the dynamics of the firm she was working for. Juniors are famously overworked. When you’re slaving away twelve hours a day, it’s hard to see where the snakes and ladders are, but if you’re going to get ahead you have to be able to tell an opportunity from a dead end. Anyway, most ambitious young lawyers, and Clare was… is… ambitious, would have used the time to read through the files of their principals’ more brilliant cases so they could drop a few fawning references to them later. But Clare’s background is in accounting, so she went straight to the trust ledgers. They, of course, have their own tale to tell.”
“Remind me about the trust ledgers,” I said.
“That’s where law firms keep records of their clients’ trust funds,” Anne Millar explained. “Monies paid in, monies taken out. Typically, monies taken out would be paid into general accounts to cover services from the firm. Any other withdrawal would require a written permission. In either case, there would be some sort of record in the file that the money had been transferred. At the end of every day, there’s a trust reconciliation – that’s just like balancing your chequebook. Everything has to be accounted for and justified.”
“You haven’t lost your skills as a seminar leader,” I said.
“A seminar leader!” Maggie gave Anne a mocking smile. “You didn’t tell us that on the drive out. I’ll bet you were a tough marker.”
A frown creased Linda’s brow. “Let’s keep our focus here,” she said. “Anyway, Clare was leafing through the trust ledgers and she came upon something that set off the alarm bells. She noticed that a number of trust funds were suddenly making substantial payments into general accounts, and they were making them repeatedly.”
“I’m guessing there were no permissions,” I said.
“Bingo,” Linda said. “No written record of any kind. A clear case of defalcation – messing with trust money. Anyway, the rest of the story is quickly told. All the payments were made during a six-week period. With Clare’s background in forensic accounting, she knew how to follow the money trail. She went to the files and discovered
