Upon A Pale Horse

SIXTEEN Getting Settled

Jeffrey hustled from the lobby of the Washington, D.C. Renaissance Hotel to where the valet waited by his new polar white BMW 550i sedan, courtesy of the firm. He’d been in Washington for seven days, and he’d been so busy with his new job he’d barely had time to think about his living situation. The hotel was covered for another week, but he had a sense of time running out, and he knew he needed to face finding a permanent place now that his meager furnishings were sitting at the moving company depot, awaiting delivery instructions.

He handed the waiting valet a five-dollar bill and slipped behind the wheel, already dialing the office, his phone synched for hands-free operation so he could focus on driving. When his secretary answered he told her he was on his way and to have his group waiting in the conference room when he arrived in ten minutes. He’d alerted her that he would be running late already, having gotten tied up on an early conference call with a client, and he didn’t want to waste a breath once he was in the office.

He’d jumped right in on Monday, and after a brief orientation had been assigned a plum corporate client looking to minimize its taxes from several of its U.S. subsidiaries — exactly the sort of thing Jeffrey specialized in. He’d met with its in-house counsel and listened patiently as the three attorneys representing its interests took him through their thinking, and then gently proposed that there might be some better strategies than the outmoded ones they were considering. That had launched a flurry of activity on both their ends, which was only now coming to a head, and there was another meeting with his new firm’s lawyers that afternoon to look at the alternatives he intended to propose.

Jeffrey twisted the wheel at the next light and made a left, gunning the powerful engine with satisfaction as he wound down his call. His right hand moved unconsciously to his neck and rubbed it where Monica had nipped him a little aggressively the prior night. She’d spent five of the seven nights he’d been in Washington with him, and they were growing inseparable. He’d won the romance lottery, and his horizons were now limitless — his only regret that he didn’t have more time to share. Still, he would take what he could get, which was more than ample, even given his appetite for her, which was ravenous.

A uniformed attendant met him at the underground parking area of the firm’s building and Jeffrey hopped out of the car, leaving it for him to park, as was the custom in the crowded area. He moved purposefully to the bank of elevators and straightened his tie as he waited for the door to open. Appearances were important to his new employer, especially when clients were expected, and he’d selected a conservative gray pinstripe suit, pastel blue shirt, and yellow paisley tie for the day, a look he hoped inspired trust and denoted aggressive thinking.

“Good morning, Sarah. Is everyone in there?” he asked once at the firm’s floor, breezing by his secretary’s desk.

“Yes. They’re waiting for you. Can I get you some coffee?”

“Absolutely. Thank you,” he called from his office, where he hung up his jacket and quickly checked his computer before heading down the hall to the conference room.

Four men and a woman, all about Jeffrey’s age, sat at an oval meeting table, thick piles of contracts in front of each, and Jeffrey cut right to the chase as he took a seat.

“Good morning. Sorry, I got hung up. As you know, the client will be here at two. Where are we with the licensing deal?”

The morning ground on, the minutiae of international tax treaties the topic, and when his stomach growled, signaling lunch time, he was satisfied that they were ready for the presentation. He was in his element: five extremely smart attorneys at his beck and call, hundreds of millions of dollars on the line, with his job to create a defendable strategy so convoluted the revenue agents would never know what they were looking at — not that the conglomerate for whom he was structuring the proposal would be audited anytime soon. When you had a phalanx of lawyers and a top accounting firm working for you, the Service tended to believe that you’d done everything right.

The meeting broke up and he retreated to his office — easily three times the size of his old one. He slid open his desk drawer and extracted a breakfast bar and then grabbed his jacket on the way back out. He had an appointment with a real estate agent to look at his brother’s condo, and he’d timed it for the lunch hour, trying to fit it in between his staff meeting and his client’s arrival.

It took him fifteen minutes to navigate to the building, where the agent, a middle-aged woman named Jodie, stood by the front entrance, talking at a rapid-fire clip on her cell phone. She held up a finger, tendered a wan smile, and turned away from Jeffrey, walking a few paces down the block, lowering her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard. Jeffrey played along, studying his messages on his phone while he waited, and then she finished the call and returned, a no-nonsense expression on her paunchy face.

“Jeffrey Rutherford. A pleasure, I’m sure. We talked on the phone. I’m Jodie,” she said in a voice that had been abraded by countless cigarettes and a fair amount of hard liquor, judging by the network of ruptured veins on her nose.

“Yes. Thanks for coming. Let’s go up and take a look. I only have a few minutes, and I know your time’s valuable…” Jeffrey said.

“Time is money. Lead the way.”

Once upstairs, Jeffrey hesitated at Keith’s door, his hand betraying an almost imperceptible tremor, and then he inserted the key and pushed it open. He hadn’t been back since the single visit he’d made to clean out the files, and when he stepped inside, he was relieved to find that it was just a place, nothing more — no sense of invading his brother’s space or violating his memory as he and Jodie did a walkthrough.

“Well, it’s in nice shape. Why are you selling it?” she asked, noting the features with a practiced eye, tapping the details into her phone as she took photos of the view, the bathroom, and the kitchen.

“I… I’m not a hundred percent sure I’m going to. But I want to understand the market. If it’s the right number…” Jeffrey hadn’t told her the full story and wanted to keep his options open. He’d looked at a few places, but now that he was standing in the condo again, he realized that none of them had been as nice or as centrally located. He was surprised by the direction his thinking was headed, but he gave no indication, preferring to study the view.

“I’ll have to run some more comps, but my gut says six to six-fifty. This area’s white hot again. It’s almost completely recovered from the slump a few years back. The positives are that it’s a great building, nice neighborhood, good size, modern appliances, and it eyeballs nicely. Negatives are parking, no doorman, and only two bedrooms. A lot of buyers these days have families and are looking for three, so that narrows your pool some. If it had three bedrooms, I think it would be an easy low-sevens sale.” She peered at him suspiciously. “When are you going to make your decision? I might have several people who would be interested.”

“Soon, Jodie. In the next week or so. Listen, I really appreciate your stopping in and looking at the place. I promise that if I list it, it’ll be with you.”

“You’re starting to sound like a guy who isn’t going to sell his place, Jeffrey. Different from on the phone,” she said, calling him on what she was sensing.

“No, not at all. It’s just that I want to know where I stand. I’m really leaning towards selling it. I didn’t haul you out here to waste your time. I promise,” he said. To his ear the assurance seemed worth about as much as a gambler’s IOU.

She nodded, the exchange all part of the frog-kissing game. “I’ll keep the photos in my phone, then. A week, you say?”

“Yes. I just need to do some soul searching and confirm it’s really the right step. I inherited it, so it’s all kind of sudden.”

“I see. Did someone die in here?” she asked suspiciously.

“No. Nothing like that. No murders or suicides.”

“It would be disclosable, you know.”

“Sure. But nothing bad happened here. You have my word.”

“All right. Whatever you say. I hope you don’t think me rude, but if we’re not going to list this immediately, I’d just as soon get going…”

“Of course. I’ll be with you in a second,” he said, taking a final glance around the living room.

“No need. I can find my own way out. Call me when you reach a decision.”

The door closed behind her and Jeffrey was left to his thoughts. He wandered absently through the condo again, noting the elements he liked about it, probing like a tracking hound for any hint of his brother’s aura. Nothing. Just a collection of rooms with his brother’s stuff in it.

Back in the car, he cranked the engine over and pulled away from the curb, calculating what to do next. The reality was that the condo was fine — more than fine — and he could decide to sell it whenever he liked. If he took over the mortgage, his payment would be more than affordable, especially with his new prosperity, and the equity he would be inheriting would simply increase over time. From a logical standpoint, it solved a host of problems, and he didn’t need to make any permanent decisions — if things didn’t work out, he could move and be rid of it in no time.

Damn. He’d completely forgotten about Becky since getting caught up in his move. She still had some of Keith’s stuff, and he’d promised to call. So much for honoring his commitments.

He went through his phone book until he found her number, and listened as the phone rang and then went to voice mail. At the beep, he left a brief message.

“Becky. It’s Jeff. Jeffrey Rutherford. Listen, I’m in town, and I wanted to see if you could get together, or if I could stop by and pick up that box. Give me a call,” he said, and then left his cell number. He debated as he drove, and then placed another call. Monica answered, her voice a welcome sound.

“Hey. I just wanted to let you know I won’t be staying at the hotel much longer.”

“Congratulations! You found a place. Whereabouts is it?”

“It’s complicated, but the location is awesome.”

He told her the story as he drove, and by the time he arrived back at the office he’d made up his mind.

Jodie wouldn’t be getting the listing. At least, not yet.

The clients arrived and one of his subordinates showed them to the conference room while Jeffrey put the final touches on his proposal. He was just walking towards his office door when his cell rang, and he stopped in and scooped it up, then answered impatiently as he glanced at the time.

“Hello?” The woman’s voice was unfamiliar. Tentative.

“Yes, how may I help you?” he asked.

“You called and left a message on Becky’s phone.”

“Yeah. I’m a friend. Who is this?” he asked, hoping that she’d get to the point before the sun set.

“Her sister. She had an accident. I don’t know how well you knew her…”

Knew her?

“Not that well. What happened? Is it serious?” Jeffrey asked, his attention now fully devoted to the call.

“About as serious as it gets. She was run down by a hit-and-run driver last week. I’m afraid she’s dead.”