The Red Headed Waitress

After dinner, Karin called Nadine. Nadine couldn't stop thanking Karin for all her help; she and Peter were already home and making up.

"I can't get him to stop saying he's sorry."

Karin told Nadine what Peter and Karin had agreed to at the pub. 'Whatever Peter decided' was fine by Nadine; although a part of her wanted Greta Hesse to suffer at least for a while.

"But I know that will just prevent us from getting on with our lives. Peter has been putting off a Seattle company that's been trying to recruit him. He's going to take that job now and we'll move North."

"I think it's for the best, Nadine. But it's your decision. I'll call you and Peter after I meet with Ms. Hesse."

Nadine thanked her, wished her 'good luck', and went back to allowing Peter to make it up to her.

********

Karin took a cab from LAX to the Hippolyta headquarters. The elevator took her up to the executive floor where Karin was stopped by the receptionist. Karin handed an envelope marked 'Personal and Confidential' to the young lady and told her Ms. Hesse would be very interested to see the envelope's contents. The receptionist handed the envelope to Ms. Hesse's executive assistant, who picked up the phone. The office door next to Hesse's office opened and a large, dark, bald man took the envelope from the executive assistant before walking back to his office.

Karin sat at in a chair in the reception area. Ten minutes later Andre Hillman came out and asked Karin to follow him into Greta Hesse's office. Greta stood, but didn't offer Karin her hand. She asked Karin to sit and Andre sat next to her.

"How can I help you, Ms. Roland?"

"I'm here representing Mr. and Mrs. French. They would like to settle this matter privately, out of court; although they are ready to pursue the matter publicly, if you prefer."

"Is this blackmail?"

"No, I think you'll find the French's are willing to be more than reasonable, more reasonable than I would be under the same circumstances."

"What are they asking?"

"They are requesting you pay my fee, sixteen-thousand dollars. Plus, Peter French's attorney fees for the divorce paperwork, that's twelve-hundred dollars. Peter French is requesting you sever his employment with Hippolyta, give him the standard layoff package and a good reference. He's also asking for the nine hundred dollars he spent on the hotel room after he left his wife."

"What else?"

"That you personally apologize to both of them and that after that, you leave them alone. I'm requesting you not pursue either Jason Holland or Tori Brown for violating the terms of the non-disclosure agreement; I didn't give either of them a choice. It would be in everyone's best interest if the whole sad affair was put to rest. Any pursuit of these individuals would only increase the likelihood of Hippolyta's Board or investors getting wind of this."

"I don't understand. Why are they letting me off so easy?"

"They're getting on with their lives, together. Peter is 'pursuing other opportunities', as businesses like to say. And most of all, they feel sorry for you."

Those words struck Greta harder than a fastball to the chin. It took Greta a half minute to recover. Her voice barely recovered. "Andre, could you let me talk to Ms. Roland in private? Thank you."

Karin waited until the door closed behind Andre. "It was a rotten thing you did; trying to break up a happy couple."

"If I could break it, it wasn't as strong as they thought, was it?"

"I don't think that's fair; you pulled some awfully dirty tricks."

"Was it Shakespeare who wrote 'all's fair'? I can see the ring on your finger, Ms. Roland. You have someone to go home to, someone to share your bed at night and cuddle next to."

Karin didn't answer, so Greta continued. "I've had relations with three men in the last seven years. Two were rich, like me, 'Masters of the Universe' as Tom Wolfe put it; both treated our relationship as if it was a merger; the romance being less important than the 'bonding' of two entities. The third was a con-man gold digger who almost got me to the altar.

"Then I meet Peter French. A wonderful man - handsome, poised, smart -- all the qualities of the 'right' guy. Best of all, completely faithful to his vows, even when I flirted. I spent the last three months slowly working on Peter, trying to undermine his faith in Nadine's fidelity. I flew up to Portland last weekend after he told me about the photos and the divorce; tried to get him to come back to my hotel room; he said he was still married and would be until she was officially served. Can you believe that?

"I have a ten-thousand square foot house on the beach at Malibu; townhouses in Vail and Kauai; I'm the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company -- and I can't compete with a waitress from Portland."

Karin almost felt sorry for the woman -- almost. "It was still a shitty thing to do, breaking up a happy marriage."

"Yes, it was - but I don't care. You probably have a kid or two. I bet they're great kids. In a few years, my eggs will be too old. Sure, I could have children on my own; but damn it, I want a husband to be my children's father. I want to look out my back window and watch my children play catch with their Dad."

Karin didn't know how to respond to this; she had that -- a husband who loved her and their two children. So, she just let Greta talk. Instead, Greta changed the subject. "Tell me, please; I spent months setting this all up, analyzing and correcting every flaw in the plan; how did you figure it out in less than a week?"

Karin considered leaving the woman hanging; but thought, 'what the hell' and told her. "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote a short story back in the nineteenth century, 'The Red-headed League', a Sherlock Holmes mystery. When my husband saw the photograph of Mrs. French, it reminded him of the story in which a clerk sets up a phony business to get a shop owner out of the way while an accomplice digs a tunnel from under the shop to the bank vault next door."

Greta shook her head, "Sherlock Holmes" is all she said.

Greta opened her desk drawer and pulled out a check book.

"I agree to all the terms. Who do I make your check out to?" She wrote the check.

"And the attorney?" Greta wrote a second check made out to the name Karin gave her.

Greta wrote a third check. "You said I owe Peter nine-hundred for the hotel room?"

Karin nodded.

"Here, give them this. I'll fly up to Portland later this week and apologize personally. But in the meantime you can tell them I'm sorry." Greta had made out the check, payable to Peter and Nadine French, for nine-hundred thousand dollars.

Karin looked at the check, amazed. "Are you sure? There's three extra zeros here."

"I won't make light of it; I grew up poor so I know it's a lot. But I could write a hundred of those and still have enough to live a life of obscene luxury. You know, Peter only confirmed why he was the one. He has more integrity than any man I've ever known." Greta's eyes were moistening, it was time to leave. Karin turned toward Greta before exiting the office.

"A couple years ago I couldn't take it anymore, certain aspects of the job were driving me crazy. I quit to get my head squared away; it was the best thing I could have done. You're not asking me for advice, but I'll give it to you anyway. Take some time off and fix your personal life. Take a long sabbatical; you don't need the money and these were the actions of a desperate person. It's the nature of all double-A type personalities -- wanting it all."

Greta hated getting advice, she couldn't help but respond as if she'd been stung. "Easy for you to say, easy for anyone who has it all."

Karin laughed. "Well, I'd like my leg back." And walked out the door.

Greta stood at her desk, thinking, 'what an odd thing to say'. She sat down and Googled 'Karin Roland' and a few newspaper clippings came up. She read the July 3rd, 2007 story from the New York Times, detailing the police raid on a suspected terrorist cell. One of the officers, a detective named Karin Roland, was listed in critical condition after sustaining shotgun blasts to her legs. A subsequent article confirmed Detective Roland was recovering but had lost her right leg below the knee; surgeons were able to save her left leg, although it was severely damaged.

"I'll be damned." Greta said it out loud. She went to the door. "Leslie," she called to her admin, "could you schedule a Board meeting as soon as possible?"

The End