Hewston was of average height and weight with features that in another era would have been called patrician. He had a tanned and toned look that spelled expensive athletic clubs and time on the links.
His suit bore the quiet elegance of hand tailoring and his shoes appeared to be Italian. Sal didn’t care about fancy clothes or shoes, but he’d learned enough about them while working for S&J Security/Protection to recognize the real thing.
But it wasn’t Hewston’s bespoke clothes or Bruno Maglis that interested Sal. It was the man’s nervous energy that all but vibrated in the air, making Sal suspect the lawyer had something to hide.
The man studied Sal with frankly curious eyes. “So how do you know our Livvie?”
Sal raised a brow. He knew Olivia didn’t share the nickname with many people. That this man used it so casually told Sal that Hewston intentionally wanted to convey a closeness that Sal had determined wasn’t there, based on the coolness in Olivia’s voice when she’d made the introductions. “We’ve known each other a few years.”
“She’s a great gal. A little emotional sometimes. You know women.”
Sal didn’t react to the obvious dig. Hewston clearly had his own agenda. You learned more by listening than talking, and so Sal let his silence encourage the other man to continue.
“Don’t get me wrong. I like Livvie. I like her a lot. The whole office does.”
“That’s good to hear.” Sal waited a beat. “She seems very fond of the head of the firm.”
“Yeah. She and Chantry are tight. Nothing romantic, of course. Just good friends. He and her old man started the firm together back in the day.”
“So she said.” Sal nodded knowingly. “Must be nice to have a foot in the door, so to speak.” His tone invited the other man to share.
“Yeah. And let me tell you, she isn’t afraid of using her name to get what she wants. Take this case for instance.”
“What about it?”
“Olivia wanted it, so Olivia got it. That simple.” Bitterness twisted the man’s lips.
“You don’t think she earned it?”
“No way.” Apparently wondering if he’d gone too far, Hewston backpedaled. “I mean, she’s a good enough lawyer, but a case that big needs someone with more experience.”
“Someone like you?”
“Maybe.” Modesty didn’t sit well on the lawyer’s shoulders. “There’re other lawyers in the firm. Any one of us could have handled the case, but Olivia got it because her last name is Hammond.” Resentment splashed through his voice. He couldn’t hide his true feelings, Sal thought. Not for long.
“Does the rest of the firm feel the same way?” Sal asked.
Hewston darted a quick look around the office. “I couldn’t say.”
* * *
After a lot of thought, Olivia had come to the conclusion that Calvin’s kidnapping had to be connected with the case against the pharmaceutical company. Otherwise, why take him at this particular time?
While Sal talked with her coworkers, she went through the files again, looking for something, anything, that would point to what made this case so important. Sure, the company would lose market shares and a chunk of money if a judgment were filed against it, but such things happened all the time. Other companies had weathered worse setbacks and rebounded.
Two hours later, she sat back and tried without success to rub the kinks from her shoulders. All she’d gotten for her efforts were strained eyes and knotted muscles. What had she expected to find? A big sign saying, “This is what you’re looking for”?
Obviously she wasn’t any good at this investigation stuff, and she hoped Sal had done better. She went in search of him and found him charming the receptionist.
“Thanks for chatting with me,” he said, and the girl blushed prettily.
Olivia hooked her arm in his as they headed back to her office. “Did you learn anything?” she asked once they were inside with the door not only shut but locked as well. She normally didn’t lock her door, but she didn’t want anyone barging in on them while she and Sal were discussing the members of the firm.
“It seems that not everyone loves Chantry.” Sal checked his notes. “According to a couple of the secretaries and a law clerk, Hewston made no secret of the fact that he thought Chantry was too old and set in his ways to lead the company.”
Through the door’s window she saw Bryan talking with one of the other associates. “Bryan was passed over for a partnership last year. For the third time. Rumor had it that he was ready to quit, but he didn’t have anywhere to go. So he’s still here.”
“What do you think of him?”
“He’s competent enough. Good at the grip-and-greet thing with clients, but he lacks follow-through.”
Sal hiked a brow. “Not much of a recommendation.”
“Bryan knows his stuff, but he tends to be lazy when it comes to doing the pre-trial work like looking up precedents and putting motions before the court.”
“What about you? Do you mind that you’re not a partner?”
“I’m not ready,” she said easily. “Someday. When the time is right. In the meantime, I enjoy what I’m doing.”
“Your father helped found the firm. That should count for something.”
“It does. For him.” She felt the familiar defenses slide into place. “I don’t trade on my father’s name. That’s not who I am.”
“No,” Sal said. “It’s not.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“I wanted to hear you say it.”
They spent the next hour going over Sal’s impressions of the office personnel with Olivia filling in details where she could.
“What about Newman? She looks hungry. Like she wants whatever someone else has.”
“Hungry’s a good way to describe her. She’s poached other people’s clients when she could. But kidnapping?” Olivia stopped, thought about it. “Maybe. She hasn’t made a secret of the fact that she wants to be more than an associate.”
“You know these people. Know what makes them tick. Would any of them be willing to sell out Chantry for a big payday?”
“I don’t want to believe it. But maybe...” She thought of the designer bags that Vicky carried to work, the flashy car that Bryan drove. Neither of them could afford those on their salaries. “They might.”
Sal nodded. “I thought so. I spotted the Kate Spade bag.”
Olivia couldn’t contain her spurt of surprise. “You know Kate Spade handbags?”
“I have three sisters. They’ll live on ramen soup for six months if it means they can buy a genuine Kate Spade. Our brother, Nicco, calls them purse snobs.”
She heard the amusement in the words, but there was more. There was real love, causing her to recall her childhood wish for a sister. Or a brother. It hadn’t mattered.
“You’re fortunate to have your sisters and brother.”
“We Santonnis are a loud, bossy bunch. I’ll take you to meet them one day—” He stopped abruptly.
He was remembering the same thing she was, she thought, a pang of regret spearing through her. Two years ago, they’d planned a trip to meet his family.
It had