Chapter 6: What Gerald Fitch Did Not Expect
Gerald Fitch arrived at the mansion at twelve minutes past noon.
He came in his own car, without his assistant, which told Richard everything about how seriously Gerald was taking this.
He stood in the entrance hall in his gray suit, briefcase in hand, and looked at Elena the way powerful men look at problems they have not yet categorized.
"You must be the maid," he said.
"I must be," Elena said, and showed him into the sitting room.
Richard was already there.
Gerald sat across from him, set his briefcase on the low table, and said, without looking at Elena, "Could you give us some privacy?"
"No," Elena said, and sat down.
Gerald looked at Richard.
Richard said, "She stays."
Gerald opened his briefcase slowly.
He removed a single folder and placed it on the table.
"I've reviewed the situation," he said.
"What you have" — he addressed Elena directly now — "is a collection of documents that are, at best, circumstantially suggestive.
Transfer records from a dissolved entity.
A statement from a former employee with a documented grievance.
None of it rises to the level of—"
"Gerald," Richard said.
Gerald stopped.
"She knows about the phone calls," Richard said.
The folder stayed open.
Gerald's hand rested on the edge of it, very still.
"I don't know what calls you're referring to," Gerald said.
"Patricia Voss," Elena said.
"September and October, fifteen years ago.
Three calls over seven days.
The police report number is available if you'd like it."
Gerald closed the folder.
"I'd like to speak with my client alone."
"Your client has already decided he doesn't want to speak with you alone," Elena said.
"He told me so this morning."
Gerald looked at Richard again.
Richard met his eyes and said nothing.
That was answer enough.
"This is a shakedown," Gerald said, his voice dropping to something quieter and considerably harder.
"Whatever she's told you, Richard, she is not here out of sentiment.
She wants something.
Money.
A settlement.
And she has constructed a narrative designed to make you feel responsible enough to give it to her."
"I told him I don't want money," Elena said.
"Everyone wants money."
"You're the second person to say that to me today," Elena said.
"It was wrong the first time too."
Gerald stood up.
"I'm advising my client to end this conversation immediately.
Anything said in this room without proper legal counsel present—"
"Sit down, Gerald." Richard's voice was quiet.
Flat.
The voice of a man who had made a decision.
Gerald sat.
"She has Martin's statement," Richard said.
"She has eleven documents.
She has the police report.
And she has what I told her this morning." He paused.
"I'm not going to fight this."
Gerald stared at him.
"Richard.
Think very carefully about what you're saying."
"I've been thinking about it for fifteen years," Richard said.
"I'm done thinking."
Gerald's hand moved to his briefcase.
He began to close it.
"Before you do that," Elena said, "you should know that I have a recorder running."
Gerald's hand stopped.
"Not for court," she said.
"For me.
So I have a record of this conversation.
Including the part where you called this a shakedown and advised your client to end a discussion about your own conduct."
Gerald looked at her for a long moment.
The calculation behind his eyes was almost visible — every exit, every angle, every remaining option being measured and discarded.
"What is it you want?" he said.
His voice had changed.
The authority was still there, but something underneath it had shifted.
"I want you to write down what you did," Elena said.
"In your own words.
Signed.
Dated.
And I want Richard to countersign it as a witness."
"That would be a confession."
"Yes," Elena said.
"It would."
"I'll be disbarred."
"That seems likely," she agreed.
Gerald looked at Richard one more time.
Richard was looking at the window.
May you like
"You're really going to let her do this," Gerald said.
"I'm going to help her," Richard said.
