“I can manage it,” he said quietly. He could have dinner with Bobby before he met her. He had a real life too. “That’s fine,” he confirmed.
“See you then… and thank you!” she said, and then hung up. Brigitte was just walking by when she ended the call.
“Who was that?” She was curious about everything these days, or maybe she always had been. But Tallie was more sensitive to it now.
“Greg Thomas. I promised my father I’d help him get some of his papers in order. You know how old people are.” Her father was old but sharp as a tack, and Brigitte didn’t question her excuse.
“How’s he feeling?”
“Not so great,” Tallie said sadly. That much was true. He seemed to be failing slowly, like a candle being slowly snuffed out. She did everything she could to keep him engaged and alive, but some days he was just too tired to care or get up.
Tallie and Brigitte went back to the office together to take care of some last-minute details before she left for New York. Tallie wondered if she’d ever see her again. Maybe at the trial, if there was one, unless she pleaded guilty before that.
“Do you need anything?” Brigitte asked her with a smile, as they got to their cars parked next to each other.
“No, I’m fine. I’ve got to see my father, and pack. I can’t wait to see Max.” She was excited too. And she had so much to tell her. She knew nothing about Hunt or Brigitte, or any of what had happened. They would have a lot to talk about during their week together.
“Do you want help packing?” Brigitte offered. The perfect assistant, who had stolen her blind, and slept with Hunt. She could forgive her none of it now, and wanted her gone as soon as possible. She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be arrested, and what her life would be like now. Jim said she would go to prison for sure because of the amount she had stolen, and there was probably more. “I can bring over dinner if you want.”
“I’m just going to pack and go to bed. I hate that early flight,” Tallie said, smiling back at her. And every time she did now, it felt false. She was used to getting up early to be on the set, so even that was a lie. Everything was now. Everything Tallie said to her felt wrong, and everything Brigitte had done had been worse.
Brigitte gave her a hug as they left each other, and Tallie hugged her back, feeling her insides cringe when she did. “Give Max my love.”
“Have fun in Mexico!” Tallie called out as she left. Brigitte had said she was going to Palmilla, but she hadn’t said with whom, and Tallie didn’t care. It made Tallie wonder, as she walked to her car, when and how she was going to fire her. She called Greg Thomas from the car. She wanted to discuss it with him, and she told him everything that had been happening, and that the FBI were going to make the arrest in the next week.
“I’ve been waiting to fire her until they told me I could. The special agent in charge of the case called me today and told me. He’s coming by tonight. So what do I do about her?”
“I’d like to notify her by letter and e-mail,” Greg said quietly. “I don’t want you doing it face-to-face. This could get nasty, or even dangerous for you. Do you think she could get violent?” He was worried about Tallie, especially since she was alone at the house now that Hunt was gone.
“I don’t think so. I hope not.” Tallie hadn’t really thought about it. They had been so busy getting evidence and building the case that she had forgotten what it might be like once she fired Brigitte, and she got arrested. “I think she’ll have bigger problems on her hands once they arrest her. What are you going to say to her in the letter?” It felt strange now thinking about it, as she drove toward her father’s house. She wanted to talk to him about it too. But she didn’t want him worrying about her. Every day was a struggle for him.
“I think it should be very businesslike and clear. Irregularities have come up in your books that have shaken your confidence in her ability to handle your affairs, and circumstances have come to light that no longer make it desirable for her to be your assistant. Best wishes, good luck, and get lost. How does that sound?” He laughed.
“Fine, except for the last line.” It was a strange feeling after seventeen years, which was most of their adult life. But it was all true. She had no idea what Brigitte’s reaction would be, if she would be angry or crushed. She would probably call Tallie in tears, and deny everything. All Brigitte ever did was lie, as it turned out.
“Don’t worry. I’ll clean it up. I’ll do it for my signature, not yours. I want you out of the front lines on this. You can always blame it on me. I want to discuss something else with you too. Once she’s arrested, we need to file a civil suit against her to try and get some of your money back, as much as we can. She has a house, possessions, jewelry, a car, probably some money in the bank. My guess is it’s all yours. I’ll start the ball rolling on that while you’re away.” Tallie realized then that Brigitte’s life was about to come down like a house of cards. She had done it to herself. “I’m going to call the bank for you in the morning. We’ve got to take her off all your accounts and change the codes. And I want the locks changed on your house too. I want all of that taken care of before she gets the termination letter. Do you have anyone who can meet a locksmith at your place tomorrow?” Tallie sighed as she thought about it. Brigitte had done everything for her, until now.
“No, I don’t and I’ll be in New York all week,” Tallie reminded him. “You can reach me there.”
“I hope I won’t have to. Enjoy your daughter. I’ll take care of everything here. I can send my secretary over to your house to meet the locksmith. And I’ll handle the bank for you. Leave all the details to me,” he reassured her. She had already given him a set of her keys.
“Thanks, Greg. Brigitte will be away too.”
“She’ll get the letter by e-mail. And I’ll send a hard copy to her home address.”
“I guess they’ll arrest her when she gets back.”
“Let the FBI worry about that. I’ll take care of the civil suit and everything else. Go have fun in New York.”
“Thank you, Greg.” She felt well taken care of, and less alone now without Hunt than she did at first. This had been hard.
She had lost a lot in a short time, and she hated the perception of herself as a victim, but she had been, both Hunt’s and Brigitte’s. They had both played her for a fool and double-crossed her, in so many ways. It was a terrible feeling, though she was less shocked than she’d been at first. She was beginning to feel like herself again. And she had a few weeks of shooting to do when she got back, and then they would go into post-production, and she’d be finished with the film. She wanted to take a break after that. She had earned it. This had turned into the most stressful year of her life, so far anyway, and she suspected it wouldn’t be over for a while, although according to what Jim Kingston had told her, it would take a long time to come to trial, maybe as long as a year, or nine months.
Tallie spent an hour with her father and told him what was going on. He was satisfied with how things were moving and what she could tell him, although he was still shocked about Brigitte. She had fooled them all. She was a total sociopath.
After she sat with her father for a while, Tallie went home. She turned all the downstairs lights on for Jim’s visit, dug in the fridge for something to eat while she waited, and came up with half a melon and a piece of cheese. She hadn’t eaten a decent meal in two months. She didn’t have time to cook, and she didn’t care, and she had lost weight as a result. Her torn jeans were hanging off her.
The doorbell rang just as she finished the melon, and she let Jim into the house and thanked him for coming. He had brought a copy of the report from the San Francisco bureau with him, and he handed it to her as they sat down in the kitchen.
“I can offer you soda water, half a lime, a Diet Coke, and a PowerBar, which might be stale. I just checked. What would you like?” she offered with a grin, and he laughed.
“Wow, that’s a tough choice. Do you want to share the Diet Coke?”
“I’m fine with water,” she said, as she got up to pour the Coke for him.
“You keep a well-stocked kitchen,” he complimented her. “Mine would look like that too, if it weren’t for my fifteen-year-old son. He eats a pepperoni pizza every two hours. I try to make something decent for him on the weekends.” She hadn’t before, but she couldn’t resist asking him a personal question then.
“You’re not married?”
“My wife died five years ago, of breast cancer. I live with my two boys, one of whom is in college in Michigan. The younger one is still at home.”
“I’m sorry about your wife,” she said kindly, and meant it.
“Me too. These things happen. I’m lucky I’ve got great boys. I’d have been lost without them for all these
