A Secret to Die For

Chapter Two

Chapter TwoMarch 30

6:30 p.m.

Scott Winslow emerged from his day long deposition in a s****l harassment case. He had been back in his office for about thirty seconds when Donna appeared at the door. “How did it go?”

Scott grinned. “Very well. He lied to me about at least five major issues.”

“Oh, good,” Donna replied.

“Yep, and we have the evidence to establish that each one of them was a lie. Two with emails that he wrote before he had a motive to lie.”

“That will make for great cross-examination at trial.” She added, “Lee Henry just got here to see you. He's in conference room number two.”

Lee and Scott had been working together for years. He was the guy Scott turned to when he needed a witness found or some evidence that was out there somewhere. Lee was a master of disguise and could hide in a crowd. He had often proven himself able to penetrate walls and emerge with evidence that seem unobtainable. “Got it, thanks,” he replied. He dropped his file on the credenza and made his way to the conference room where Lee waited. Closing the door behind him he extended a hand to Lee. “How are you doing, buddy?”

“Good. Really good,” he replied, grinning like the cat that just found the canary farm.

“What? What have you got?”

“I found your missing witness and served the trial subpoena.”

“How did you do you it?”

“Turns out he has a number of reasons to lay low. He borrowed money from the wrong people and didn't pay it back, so I wasn't the only one looking for him.”

“Great,” Scott replied with a grimace. “Who doesn't want a witness like that? Sounds like a great guy.”

“He's a dipshit, but he has a ten your old daughter he cares about. I followed her until he met her at his ex-wife's place this morning. Then I followed him to the rural trailer where he has been hiding. He wouldn't answer the door, so I just pretended to be one of the wrong people he's worried about.”

“How did you do that?”

“You really want to know?”

“I probably shouldn't, but I do.”

“While I was following his daughter for a few hours in order to find him, I took her picture. Then I wrote, 'Pretty little girl you have' on the back of a picture and slid it under the door. For some reason he perceived that as a threat, so he was really pissed. He opened the door and pointed a g*n at me.” Lee shrugged. “So, I took advantage of that opportunity to take the g*n from his hand and replace it with the subpoena. Then I told him to have a nice day.”

“Jesus, Lee.”

“I also took the picture back in case he was inclined to complain about the manner of service.” He was thoughtful a moment and then added, “You usually don't have dirt bag witnesses like this guy.”

“Sometimes you don't get to choose your witnesses. He is the only guy present for certain events.” Scott took a moment and then asked, “Do you think this guy will show up at trial?”

“He will,” Lee replied with a grin.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I reminded him that if he didn't show up the court would hold him in contempt. While he thought about that I told him that his bigger concern was that I would find him again if he didn't show.”

“I guess that should do it,” Scott said with a pained expression.

Lee smiled and said, “Guys like him aren't particularly courageous. With the right kind of encouragement, they will do what they are supposed to, you know?”

Scott shook his head. “Remind me not to ask how you get things done.” He paused and then asked, “How's Melissa?”

“She is still amazing.” He chuckled and added, “She says that I'm the bad boy her mom always warned her about.”

“Well, she's probably right about that.” Scott shook his head. “This has to be a record relationship for you right?”

“Almost two years together and I feel like we're just getting started.”

“You are hooked, my friend.”

“I admit it. She drives me crazy. I asked her to marry me.”

“What?” Lee Henry married?

“I know. I didn't think that would happen either. This is the first time I've ever been convinced that I could spend the rest of my life with someone and be happy.”

“That is great, buddy.”

“I assume she said yes?”

“Yep. Otherwise I wouldn't be grinning like an idiot.”

“You are definitely hooked.”

“Yeah, I know it. How are Lisa and the kids?”

“Lisa is great as always. Katie is still large and in charge. Eight years old and she thinks she knows all the answers. The other day we were talking about trials. I told her that I talk to juries because she saw one on television. She wanted to know if I had friends on juries that helped me win my cases. When I told her that I didn't know any of them before the trial, she had some serious questions about why I was purposely talking to strangers. She also suggested that if the jury was packed with friends and acquaintances, I would be most likely to win.”

Lee laughed. “Sounds like her. Should be some interesting teenage years ahead,” he offered with a grin.

“Not looking forward to that,” Scott replied.

“How about Joey?”

“Fully recovered from his injuries and a star athlete. Next year is first year of middle school and he's got his eye on playing quarterback.”

“You know, it almost makes a person want to have kids.”

“You and Melissa should do that. A whole bunch of little trench-coat wearing covert operatives getting the goods on all the other kids.”

“You make them sound like trouble.”

“No, it would always be for good purposes. Take down the school bully, something like that.”

“Now you're talking. Sounds like my kind of kid,” Lee said, smiling. He paused and asked, “Before I get on the road, Donna said you needed my help with something else?”

“That's right. I was consulted by three national managers from Aligor Pharmaceuticals. They were talking hypothetically about what rights they would have if they were fired for complaining that the company was misrepresenting the test results of a new d**g. Apparently, the first two trials showed positive results in the range of sixty-five percent of the participants. A damned good result. Then they did the third trial with a bigger test group and the positive results were around twelve percent. Aligor is still hyping the sixty-five percent as trials results and these two guys want to introduce a little reality to what's being published.”

“Holy s**t,” Lee replied. “That could be a pretty big deal.”

“It really could. The guys who came to me are hoping to convince the CEO to put out accurate test results. If he does, they will be fine. If not, they are thinking about becoming whistleblowers to protect the public from a cancer d**g that isn't all it's supposed to be. They wanted to know their rights if they get fired for coming forward.”

“How can I help?” Lee asked.

“The three guys I met with were impressive and came across as straight shooters. Donna did an initial look on each of them online; nothing negative there. I want you to do a preliminary check on them and let me know if you find anything about them that should make me want to decline their representation. Criminal records, fraudulent conduct, big judgments against them; that kind of thing.”

“You got it, Scott. I'll let you know what I find within the next couple of days.”

“Perfect. Want a beer?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

* * *

March 30

7:50 p.m.

Marty parked his Tesla in the garage and walked into the kitchen. “I'm home,” he announced to the empty room.

A familiar voice called out from upstairs. “I just beat you home. I'm changing and will be right down. Why don't you pour us a glass of wine?”

“Damned good idea,” Marty replied. “I could use it.”

As he poured the wine, Abby walked into the room and gave him a kiss. Her shoulder-length black hair framed high cheek bones and big blue eyes. “That's why I love coming home,” he said with a grin. “You do that very well.”

“You're not too bad yourself.” He handed her a glass of pinot noir. “Thanks. So, how was the meeting with the lawyer?”

“It was good. He knows what he's talking about. He thinks we have a case if we are fired for raising complaints that the company is hiding negative information about the testing. He told us to communicate with Roland Cook in writing, referencing our previous conversations and letting him know that if he won't provide negative test results to the FDA, we will have no choice but to take our concerns to them.”

“Holy s**t. It sounds awfully scary when you say it that way.”

“It is. Art already told me and Justin that he is out. With five years until retirement he doesn't want a war with the company.”

“I can understand that. How about you?”

“Do I want a war with the company?”

“Yeah.”

“No, but things may be headed in that direction.” He looked at her with worry in his eyes. “That's what we need to talk about. I am really bothered about the company sitting on information that matters to people who are facing the worst moments of their lives.”

She gave him a smile. “It sounds like you're ready to take a stand.”

“Maybe, but it affects both of us because it puts my career at risk. I mean, if I'm fired landing a new job could be hard. Other employers may not want any part of my dispute with Aligor.” He shook his head and added, “Cook already made it known to Art that keeping quiet about this is a matter of loyalty to the company.”

Abby shrugged. “I'm proud of you for wanting to do the right thing. If you get fired, we will still be okay.” She grinned and added, “I have a good job and I can be your sugar mama.”

“Are you sure about this?” Marty asked. “It could mean exchanging a good career for an uncertain lawsuit.”

“I know. But if the alternative is that you keep quiet and let the company give false hope to people who have to make life and death decisions, then I say let's roll the bones.”

“No wonder I'm crazy about you.” He put his arms around her and kissed her softly, and then with passion. With her arms around his neck, she whispered, “I've only had these casual clothes on for five minutes and I am predicting they are about to come off again.”

“Good prediction,” he said, kissing her again, pulling her close against him, and entirely forgetting about the worries of the day.

* * *

March 31

7:00 a.m.

Roland Cook's estate in the Lake Sherwood area of Westlake Village featured lake views from most of the rooms within the nine thousand square foot Tuscan-style structure. Walls of windows opened to allow the expansive outdoor patios and fountains that were all part of the flow from the house down to the lakefront.

The doorbell rang and Cook opened the front door promptly. “Come in, Sean. Let's have coffee outside.”

The forty-six-year-old visitor with curly black hair was built like a linebacker; thick arms bulged from his short-sleeved shirt and wide shoulders filled the door. Sean Garner was a cop in a previous life who had left the force and gained success in corporate security by the time he was in his mid-thirties. A dozen years later he found himself at the top of the security pyramid for one of the fastest growing pharma companies in the world. He had an extensive security department and reported to the Vice President for Operations, except when there was a special project that Cook decided required Sean's personal attention.

“Give Mr. Garner a cup of coffee will you, Lydia?”

“Yes, sir,” a woman said. She stopped cleaning the counters and poured coffee for Garner.

“Thank you, ma'am,” Garner said, taking the mug.

“Let's go out back,” Cook said and walked towards the patio.

As they sat down on at one of the outdoor tables that overlooked the Olympic-sized pool, Garner looked out at the beautiful blue waters of the lake that touched the other end of the yard fifty feet away. There was a gentle lapping of water onto the land. The rear yard contained through gardens, trees, gazebos and distant seating areas and stretched for an acre until it reached the shore of the lake. “This is so gorgeous,” Garner offered.

“It is that,” Cook replied. He looked at Garner and said, “Your message said that you learned something, is that right?”

“Yes, sir. The three of them went to see an employment lawyer. A guy named Scott Winslow.”

“Art Underwood participated?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'm disappointed to hear that. He shook his head. “We can't have that happening, Sean. We are within weeks of this important new d**g getting FDA approval to help people stricken with cancer. Now we must deal with three disloyal executives trying to stop us from helping those people in desperate need.” He reflected a moment and then said, “This d**g imperative to people in need, Sean.” He paused and then added, “Initially, it will also mean about a million dollars in stock value added to your personal portfolio. And that is just the beginning.”

“Yes, sir,” Garner replied, his expression thoughtful. “Do you plan to fire them?”

“Not just yet, although their disloyalty certainly warrants it.”

“What would you like me to do, sir?”

“I want you to convince them that this is not the way to proceed. They need to stay loyal to the company and its goals.”

“Yes, sir.” Garner looked towards the lake and adjacent hillsides populated with gorgeous homes like the one he was visiting. “It sure is beautiful here, sir.”

“It is, Sean. And one day, you will be a neighbor if you choose.”

“I would like that.”

“It's not far-fetched, Sean. Your stock value is going through the roof and there could be other significant incentives if you do well with what we are discussing today.” He gave Garner an insider's grin and then added, “Thank you for coming by this morning, Sean.”

“Yes, sir.” Garner rose and walked into the house to head for the front door.

“One more thing,” Cook called out.

Garner turned back and looked at him. “Yes, sir.”

“It is critical that nothing slows this project, Sean. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cook furrowed his brow and said, “If the convincing requires some expenditures, they are authorized. I leave it to your discretion. I want you to use outside resources for this and not security department employees. I don't want this coming back to the Company.”

Garner nodded, and added on more, “Yes, sir, I understand, and I will handle it.” As he walked to the front door of the magnificent property, Garner looked around. He really could live in a place like this if his stock value continued to soar. He was confident that he could take care of this problem, as he had taken care of so many others in the past. He was paid well to make sure that big problems disappeared one way or another.

He was already contemplating ways to convince the three members of the management team who had strayed that they needed to return to Company priorities before the situation became dire. Hopefully, it could be done with reason, along with the injection of a little fear about what choosing the wrong path would mean for the Company and for each of them.

* * *

March 31

7:30 a.m.

Justin walked into Francine's Café, a hole in the wall restaurant with a good name among the local workforce in downtown Los Angeles. He looked around until he saw Marty Cardenas and Art Underwood sitting at a table across the bustling room. He walked over and pulled out one of the two remaining chairs. “Good morning, guys. I trust everyone has been sleeping well?” he said with a sideways grin.

“Nope,” Art replied. Not well at all.”

“Likewise,” Marty said, shaking his head. “This really sucks.”

A woman in a red apron ran up to the table carrying a pot of coffee. “You want coffee?” she asked Justin, seeing that the cups in front of Marty and Art were still full.

“I do, thanks.”

She poured and then asked, “What do you want for breakfast, gents?”

“Wheat toast for me,” Art said.

“A bagel with everything you can find in the kitchen,” Justin asked.

“What about you, hon?” she asked Marty.

“I'll have your breakfast burrito.” She gave a nod and disappeared from the table.

“So, what are we doing?” Marty asked, keeping it vague.

“Like I said yesterday, I'm out,” Art replied. “In five years, I want to retire from this job.”

Justin nodded. “I'm in. How about you, Marty?”

“Yeah. Abby is going along with it, so I'm in as well.” He took a deep breath and said, “How about you and I meet tonight to compose the letter to Cook that Scott Winslow talked about. We'll keep Art away from it all.”

“That's fine.”

“My place at 8:00?” Marty offered.

“I'll be there.”

“Okay. I'll call Scott's office and tell him that you and I are in.”

The server in the red apron appeared with a tray and placed food in front of them. They thanked her and found themselves staring at the food, stomachs churning and not welcoming what awaited. They looked at each other, no one touching the food, and then Marty said, “I hope we can eat at some point while this case is pending. It could be a long year and a half.” Art and Justin nodded, but remained silent.

“Are we sure about this, Justin?” Marty asked as the weight of what lay ahead hit him.

Justin stared at his food without speaking and then said, “I think so.” The realization seemed to strike both of them simultaneously; they were on the way to being perceived as disloyal by many and a social pariah to the others who just couldn't risk being associated with them. This was not going to be a good experience.

Art looked at the expressions on their faces and offered, “Looking at you guys I feel like I just joined a funeral in progress. Cheer up, it's not too late to pull back from all of this. You haven't committed to go down this road yet.” No one responded. There was a heavy silence at the table as Art studied their somber expressions, and then added, “Or maybe you have.”