Bad Business

3

I took Rita Fiore to dinner at the Federalist. Rita was the chief criminal litigator at Cone, Oakes. But I had known her since she was an ADA in Norfolk County, and, in a healthy platonic fashion, we liked each other.

"How's your love life," I said after we'd each gotten a martini.

"Busy," she said. "But, same old question-why are there so many more horses' asses than there are horses?"

"Still looking for Mr. Right?"

"Always. I thought I had him last year. Chief of police on the North Shore."

"But?"

"But he had an ex-wife."

"And?"

"And he wouldn't let go."

"Oh well," I said.

"Yeah. That may become the Fiore family motto."

"And the previous Mr. Right?" I said. "Number, what was it, five?"

"Divorce is final." She grinned at me. "I cleaned his clock too."

"I'd have expected no less," I said. "What do you know about Trent Rowley?"

"He's the CFO at Kinergy. Whom we represent."

"Tell me about him?"

"Discussing a client is considered unethical."

I nodded. The waiter brought menus. We read them and ordered.

"May I bring you another cocktail?" he said. Rita smiled up at him.

"Oh, please," she said.

"You, sir?"

"He'll have one too," Rita said.

"Very good."

The waiter picked up the menus and smiled at Rita and left. "Our waiter is hot for you," I said.

"Wow," Rita said. "A straight waiter."

"Maybe he's Mr. Right," I said.

"Can't be. For one thing a waiter can't swathe me in luxury. And secondly, if they're hot for me that proves they're Mr. Wrong."

"Maybe you should stop getting married and just sleep with people."

"I'm doing that too," Rita said. "Except you."

"My loss," I said. "What about Trent Rowlcy?"

"What about client confidentiality?"

"What about several martinis and dinner?" I said.

The waiter came with our second martinis. Rita sipped hers happily.

"You think you can bribe me," she said, "with a few martinis and some Chilean sea bass?"

"I do," I said.

O ur salads arrived. Rita picked up a scrap of Boston lettuce in her fingers and nibbled on it. Susan was the only other person I knew who could eat with her fingers and look elegant.

"Why do you want to know about him?" Rita said. "Why not just catch him in the act? Tell the little woman, collect your fee, and stand by to testify at the divorce proceedings."

"Excuse to have dinner with you, Toots."

"Like you need an excuse."

"I like to have an idea of what I'm dealing with. It was time for us to have dinner again. It seemed a nice synergy."

"You are a bear for knowing things," Rita said.

"Knowledge is power," I said.

Rita drank some more of her martini. Her big greenish eyes softened a little. They always did when she drank. She had thick red hair and great legs, and was smarter than Bill Gates.

"We have a whole department servicing Kinergy," Rita said. "I talked to the lead guy, Tom Clark. He says that there isn't anything to know about Rowley outside of business hours. Rowley starts early, works late, and, as far as Tom knows, has no other life."

"Doesn't sound like Mr. Right to me," I said.

"Apparently Mrs. Rowley doesn't think so either."

I shrugged.

"Maybe she wants out," I said. "But she wants to take half of everything with her."

"Can't blame a girl for trying," Ritu said. "In my last divorce, I didn't, of course, settle for half."

"Marlene may be less experienced," I said.

"Marlene?"

"Someone named Rita is making fun of a name like Marlene?"

"I don't get the chance that often," Rita said.

The salad plates disappeared. The entrees came. The waiter took a bottle of sauvignon blanc from the ice bucket and poured a little for Rita to sample. She said it was drinkable and he poured some out for each of us.

"So he's a big success," I said.

"Oh, you bet. Kinergy is a huge profit machine."

"Just from brokering energy?"

"Sure," Rita said. "You are running short of electrical power in your grid, they can acquire some from another source, reroute it to you, and charge you a fortune. Like the power shortfall in California, couple years ago."

"Is it that simple?"

"At bottom a lot of businesses are simple. You know. American Airlines picks you up in Boston and flies you to LA. That's the service. The complicated part comes in how to do it profitably."

"Can they manipulate the market?"

"Probably."

"Do they?"

"Probably. Tom sees very little evil in a client," Rita said, "and speaks less."

"Does he gossip?"

"Not to me," Rita said. "Not about clients. He swears there is nothing to gossip about with Rowley."

"You believe him?"

"Tom's a company guy. And he wants to be managing partner. The firm says jump and he says `how high?' "

"Which means if Rowley says jump . . ."

"`How high,' " Rita said. "Can we talk about sex again?"

"We'd be fools not to," I said.