"Good. I'd hoped you would be reasonable about this." "Reasonable about what?"
"About the appointment of an interim managing partner. Someone to take over in your absence."
Gus smelled a political coup, with his own blood on the rug. He knew that under the partnership agreement it would take four votes to replace him. He needed his own vote and one other. He glanced at Martha. She looked away. After that "soul mate" fiasco yesterday morning it was clear he didn't have her vote.
Ullman said, "I nominate Martha Goldstein to serve as interim managing partner."
Gus did a double-take. Boy, did he not have her vote. "Second," said another.
"All in favor?" said Ullman.
It was unanimous. Gus stewed in silence.
Ullman said, "Try to be objective, Gus. Surely you can see the wisdom of putting a woman at the helm when the existing managing partner is getting bad press about wife-beating allegations."
He rose slowly and quietly. "This firm can have whoever it wants at the helm." He glared at each of his partners around the table, then finally at Martha. "And in this case, you deserve what you're getting."
He turned and left the room, slamming the door on the way out.
Chapter Sixteen.
Andie allowed herself a mid-morning refill. She needed the caffeine, but it was definitely a trade-off. Coffee never used to bother her stomach, but the one-two punch of a serial killer investigation on the heels of her own death at the altar had apparently changed her constitution.
The phone rang as she settled into her desk chair. She started, spilling a full hot cup across the papers on her desk. She was just about to phone Gus, and she had the strangest feeling it was him beating her to the punch. Not too jittery this morning, are we?
The phone kept ringing. She frantically soaked up the hot coffee with a too small napkin and grabbed the phone with the other hand. "Henning," she answered.
"Is this Agent Henning of the FBI?"
It was a woman's voice. Andie lifted a coffee-soaked memo by the corner, pitching it in the trash like a dead animal. "Yes, it is."
"You don't know me, but I'd like to talk to you about the disappearance of Beth Wheatley."
She snapped to attention. "I'm listening."
"I don't know how important this will be to your investigation, but it's important for me to get a few things out in the open."
"What kind of things?"
The line crackled with her sigh. "Let's not do this on the phone. If I'm going to put my trust in someone, I prefer to do it in person."
"That's fine. We can use my office. Or I can meet you somewhere."
"How about Waterfront Park? Say around twelve-thirty?"
"Sure." She made a note in her coffee-soaked appointment calendar. "You know, I assumed from your tone that you were calling anonymously, so I didn't ask who you were. But since we're meeting face to face, you want to give me your name?"
"Only if you'll agree not to tell anyone we talked." "Why is that of concern to you?"
"You'll understand when we meet."
"All right. I'll do my best to accommodate you." "What does that mean?"
"It means that if all goes well, I won't reveal your name unless a court orders me to."
"I guess that's good enough."
"So what is your name?"
She paused. "I'll tell you when we meet. Wouldn't want you doing any homework on me beforehand. It doesn't do anyone any good to come into a meeting like this with preconceived notions."
This was a strange one. "Okay. How will I recognize you?"
"Just wait by the entrance to Pier 57. I know what you look like."
It was a little creepy, the way she had said that. "Okay. See you at half-past."
"See ya."
Andie disconnected with her finger, then quickly dialed Isaac Underwood. She got his voice mail. "Isaac, it's Henning. Got a source on the Wheatley case that wants to meet around lunchtime. Just the two of us. I need backup to watch us." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the Jane Doe autopsy photo atop the files on her credenza.
"Just in case," she added.