When Lines Get Tangled

"Sure. Let me know when it's done booting so I can log you in."

"You want me to create my own account?" I asked.

"Nah, all the profile stuff takes space, and the drive is almost full already."

I nodded to no one because her explanation was certainly reasonable. It didn't take it long to finish loading up to the login screen. She came out from the bedroom, entered her password, and returned to what she was doing after advising me to power it down when I was done.

Holy crap, did she look fantastic. The jeans she was wearing were beautifully snug, and her butt held a nice bite of the seam between its cheeks. I had no idea how her phone didn't break when it was in a back pocket.

While she finished getting ready, I picked our seats, paid the $28.50 charge, and a QR code's arrival chirped my phone a few seconds later. I clicked the Start button to bring up the power options, but something caught my eye. I noticed a PDF icon in the tile dock with a familiar filename.

I searched the application menu for Acrobat Reader, and the sense of unease hit me fast and hard seeing in the recently opened documents list a number of additional files which shouldn't have been there. I opened the one at the top.

"You ready to go?" Courtney asked a few moments later when she was placing her ID and a credit card into the pocket on the back of her cellphone case.

I closed the document and powered down her laptop. What began with the hope of a wonderful evening together ended far from it as several awkward hours elapsed.

"What's wrong, babe? Your mood's been totally wonky tonight."

I struggled for a plausible answer to her accurate observation and resulting question. Yeah, I'd been distracted and wasn't terribly conversational. Three hours earlier, I'd seen work-related files on my girlfriend's laptop. There was no reason why what amounted to privileged information should have been in her personal possession.

"I'm not sure. Just … I've got a lot on my mind, I guess," I answered truthfully.

"Well, let's see if I can help you clear it," she said with a sultry smile as we approached the main entrance to her apartment building at the end of our outing.

"Not tonight, Courtney. I don't think my head would be in it."

She laughed wryly. "It could definitely be in it. Then out. Then back in," she said, waggling her eyebrows.

I didn't react to the obvious entendre she'd made against my unintended pun.

"Hold on. You're being serious?"

"Yeah. I am. I'll see you at work," I said, turning toward my car.

"Not even a goodnight kiss?" she asked with obvious concern in her voice.

I stepped back toward her and kissed her chastely, then turned again.

"Peter? Are we okay?" she pressed, sounding even more alarmed.

"See you at work, Courtney."

Thank goodness she had other plans for the weekend which kept her completely occupied, but I decided to call in sick the following Monday because I didn't know how else to avoid an awkward encounter with her in the office. I similarly lied to her questions about my sudden "illness" when she texted me mid-morning.

I'll bring you lunch in a little while

I can't keep anything down and I don't want to expose you to whatever I have. Believe me. You don't want any of what's happening to me. I was awake all night and now I'm trying to sleep between runs to the bathroom.

Maybe food poisoning?

I don't know and I don't want to risk passing anything on.

OK. I understand. I hope you feel better soon. FaceTime me when you're up to it? 😘

I knew I had to get past the suspicion one way or the other, but it was something I couldn't bring myself to confront her with directly, so I made what had to be the most bizarre phone call in my recent memory.

"Hey, Mr. Waters. You have some papers for me to serve? Normally it's one of the admins or paralegals who call me," Donny McHugh said when he answered.

I chuckled. "Stop calling me Mr. Waters. And, no. I want to ask a favor. A personal favor."

"What can I do for you?"

"I need a few minutes with your wife, but I'm a little worried about the idea of making an appointment with her myself after what I put her through last year."

"She's not one to hold a grudge, Peter. You of all people should know that. If she did, there's no way I'd be working with you."

"I guess that's true. Did she go into her office this morning?"

"Yeah. She tries to avoid doing field work on Mondays, so she should be there now."

"Okay. Thanks, Donny."

We ended the call, and I grabbed my keys.

"If it isn't Peter Waters, Esquire, himself!" River McHugh nee Marquette spoke on seeing me enter her office suite's outer room.

"Uh … hello, Mrs. McHugh. Can I have a few minutes of your time?"

"Of course, and River's fine. Donny called a little while ago to let me know you were stopping in, but he didn't say why."

"I need to employ your services."

"Oh?" she said, suddenly curious as she closed the inner door before sitting behind her desk. "What's going on?"

I needed half an hour to explain my concerns.

"How much do you charge?" I asked toward the end.

"Don't worry about it, Peter. Despite what you might believe, I sincerely appreciate the way you defused the situation between your sister and me. I sort of think I owe you at least this, and it doesn't seem to be overly complicated. I can probably have something back to you by the end of the week, depending on what I find."

"I have to pay you. And it must be in the form of a business check from my firm so as to be fully documented. Anything else could appear improper or be seen as payola given our recent personal history."

"Ah. I understand. In that case, my rate is one hundred ten dollars per hour. I charge seventy cents per mile used on my vehicle and a ten percent markup on any incidental expenses incurred in the investigation. You'll be provided with copies of all receipts and an odometer journal. Here's the agreement you'll need to sign," she said after considering my words.

I carefully read it before signing and dating at the bottom.

She scanned the agreement with her multi-function printer then printed another document.

"That's an email address dedicated to this investigation. I suggest you encrypt your emails. The QR code is my public key. Are you familiar with how to do that?"

"I'm an attorney in the digital age, so, sure. I'll send you my key now," I said, working on my phone.

The email I composed was sent immediately to the address she provided.

"Outstanding," she said, acknowledging its receipt. "Before I start tailing her, it's important you give me every location she will be asked to courier papers to or whatnot. That's the only way I'll know what's expected and what isn't."

"I understand. I'll get what I can scrape together to you tomorrow."

I noticed something pinned to a cork board. It was a bib from the Chicago Marathon.

"How'd you do?" I asked, pointing at it.

"Hah," she scoffed. "Took me almost five hours, but yeah, at least I finished. Did you or your sister participate?"

"No. She's able to run a 15K without stopping now, but it wipes her out and causes her a lot of aches and pains for a few days after. They're still making tweaks to her running prosthesis. She says it takes a while for a residual limb to fully settle to a stable shape.

"As for me, I passed on it for the second time. I didn't want Candy to feel left out, you know? It's sorta been a thing we've done together since our parents passed."

"I understand completely."

"She's hoping to run the half marathon next year, and I hope to be right beside her once again."

She smiled. "That's so good to hear. It really, really is."

"I have you to thank. Not only because you introduced Mari Jamil to her for their chat back at my offices, but … well, because Candy and Kelley have become absolutely inseparable since they met that evening."

"Aw, that's so awesome. It seemed like they had a bit of an interest in each other by the end of that meeting, especially when he invited her to dinner afterward. I'm so happy for her⁠—for both of them. Please, next time you talk to her, would you tell her that?"

"I absolutely will."

"I'll keep you posted on all of this."

Her handshake was a tad more personal than the professional sort, and I appreciated its significance. I'd honestly felt as nervous as a lapdog in a thunderstorm when I walked in but departed confident there wasn't a grudge held against me by the woman I'd sued on Candy's behalf the year before.

Late in the afternoon two days later, I received a call from Ms. McHugh.

"I've seen and documented enough to tell you that your concerns are more than plausible. Can I visit you at your office?"

"No. I think it'd be best if I meet you at yours," I suggested.

"Three o'clock work?"

"I'll make it work," I said, bristling, because the air of Ms. McHugh's voice, by itself, almost convinced me I was correct.

I saw Marvin's office lights were on as I headed toward the exit. An idea struck me, so walked to it and knocked against the door jamb.

"What's up? Gotta warn you, I don't have a lot of time. I'm on a bit of a deadline."

"Should be quick. Can you email me a copy of Courtney White's resumé? I don't have access to those kinds of files."

"Why don't you ask her for one yourself?"

"Because I can't. I'm … I'm checking into something."

Marvin Estes removed his reading glasses and stared at me.

"I'm not trying to get personal, Peter, but is there anything I need to know?"

"I don't know yet, and I'm hoping it's nothing."

He looked at me silently for several uncomfortable moments before he wiggled his mouse to wake up his PC's monitor. He wordlessly clicked and typed for a few minutes.

"It's sent."

"Thank you," I said and turned to leave.

"Peter, listen to me and make sure I am clear. I am the first one you talk to if there's something I should be aware of. Understood?"

"Perfectly, sir."

"Here's what I know," she said after closing the door. "I tailed her from Tuesday afternoon until two o'clock today. I compared every one of her stops against the locations and addresses you gave me."

She pivoted her monitor to a position where I could see it. It displayed a Google Map of the metro area showing a number of markers in assorted colors.

"The green ones are stops which match your list. The blue ones don't, but I don't think they're important because they were places such as Starbucks, gas stations, a dry cleaner, or other generic stuff," she said, pointing at examples with her mouse.

"What are the pink and red ones?" I asked.

"Some of the locations are multi-tenant buildings. I marked them pink if there's a law office in the building. The reds are definite because they're stand-alone. Whatever the color, it appears she was visiting practices your firm hadn't tasked.

"Peter, I need to make absolutely sure you understand I have no knowledge of what she was doing once at these places. You didn't ask for such depth."

"Can you show me their names?"

She brought up the list and I recognized almost every single one of them. They were all malpractice attorneys, several of which I'd litigated against in court. Given how some of the documents I'd seen on her laptop were my own case notes and strategies, it seemed very plain to me that, despite River's caution, Courtney had a side job as a mole of sorts, voluntarily violating the sacrosanct work product doctrine by giving opposing counsel my firm's privileged information.

"Damn it !" I barked under the weight of the soul-crushing blow.

My outburst caused Mrs. McHugh to visibly flinch in startle, but when she saw my visible regret, she waved it off.

"I get it. Don't worry about it. I'm used to it. I often have to give people news they weren't expecting."

"Thanks for understanding."

"I've done all I can. You'll want to see if you can link these other places to something meaningful to your firm. If you like, I can continue to collect more over the next few days."

"No. Give me a minute," I said, unlocking my phone to compose an email containing Cour⁠—Ms. White's resumé as well as a photograph I'd taken.

I encrypted it and sent it to the specific address Mrs. McHugh had given me.

"Check your inbox."

She pivoted her monitor back so only she could see it and sat silently until it arrived.

"Okay, what's this?" she asked.

"Her resumé. I want you to track down every single one of those references and verify her employment history. If any of the firms happen to be marked pink or red, leave them alone. Let me know where there's overlap. The picture I included should help."

"Why? To what end?"

"Courtney White passed her background check before she was employed at The Estes Group. I'm beginning to wonder if the woman I know by that name is actually her, because if she is, I can't understand why she'd have listed those references if she's feeding them intel. That would seem … unwise."

"What would you recommend I say if they don't want to cooperate?"

"Ask to speak to the senior or managing partner because their firm is suspected as a party to direct and statutory violations of attorney client privilege. Do not, under any circumstances , reveal who has hired you. Note everything that occurs during your interactions."

"Always. I'll record them."

"Whoa ! That's crossing a line! You can't record people without telling⁠—"

"Hang on there, cowboy," she said with a chuckle. "You're a medical malpractice attorney, while I'm a licensed private investigator familiar with a few other Illinois laws. Reconnaissance is an investigator's bread and butter, but since I know you legal eagles love to geek out on codified chapters and verses, I'll refer you to …" she worked and clicked her mouse a few times, "720 ILCS 5/14-2 and revision 12/14-1."

I shrugged before I noted the citations on a post-it I pulled from the pad on her desk.

"Eavesdropping on discussions between two other parties is still a definite no-no. But I'll be part of them, and those revised statutes effectively render such conversations single-party consent with me being the party consenting."

"Are you sure?"

"I've been challenged in cases where I was a witness before, and it held up, but you should consult … I can't believe I'm saying this to you of all people. You'd do best to consult your own attorney if you plan to use any such recordings in a courtroom."

She looked back to her computer's display.

"Peter, this picture isn't a typical resumé head shot."

"It's not. I took the photo myself last week."

"Don't tell me."

"Yeah. She's my⁠—or maybe was my girlfriend."

"Oh."

My dismissal of Courtney's advances over the following few days had driven her to confront me.

Peter, what in the actual hell is going on with you? You've been so distant! she texted.

The message appeared on my watch. I clicked the crown to close it because I knew leaving her on read could escalate. Closing it would leave it showing only as "Delivered."

Call me right now if you can. PLEASE. I texted my sister.

"What's wrong?" Candy yelped as soon as I answered.

"Look, sis. Something's happening between me and Courtney and I need to use you as an excuse for why I'm avoiding her."

"Seriously? I thought you were going to ask her about what⁠—"

"I didn't. She probably would have lied, because I was right. I need a full naval blockade for maybe a few days."

"God, Peter! What is happening?"

"I can't get into details with you, but it's serious. Will you help me?"

"What do you need?"

"Can I tell her you and Kelley are on the outs? Like you were with Kirk?" I suggested, referring to the man who'd ghosted her after her surgery.

"No! I won't throw him under your bus."

"It's fine with me if it gives him some cover," said a familiar voice in the background. I didn't realize until then that her end of the call was on speaker.

"You sure?" I heard her ask the unseen man.

"Of course, Candy," Kelley Jamil said, his words simultaneously making me cringe and smile.

I still felt angst that my kid sister was being courted but was happy at the same time for the same reason.

"Okay, Peter. I'll let you know if anything happens."

"Thanks, Candy. I owe you one."

"Yeah, you do, but you don't if it works out," she said before she disconnected.

I immediately began composing my answer to Courtney's text.

Candace is in the middle of a very dark situation. I need to keep an eye on her until I can be sure she's going to be OK. I need some time.

Oh. Please tell me if I can do anything? I seriously miss you. 😘

I almost gagged. I cried instead.

I'd talked to River earlier in the morning. Her latest information didn't seem to fit, but also didn't clear up anything, either. She confirmed every single reference listed on Courtney's resumé was legitimate. She noted how most of the people she checked with were confused when questions were being asked, and all spoke highly of her. Thankfully, she didn't have to threaten anyone with jeopardy and simply told them she was running a routine background check.

At the end of the day, Marvin Estes came to my open door and knocked.

"Peter, come with me."

Everyone knows the tone of voice. It's the one which makes blood chill when spoken by the person whose name is in the upper left corner of a payroll check.

I followed him to his office.

"Shut the door," he said before I took a seat.

"Tell me what's going on," he said, handing me something I instantly recognized. "What is this about?"

It was the firm's check made payable to R. Marquette Investigations in the amount of $1706.00 for the fees and expenses for at least the first part of her foray into Courtney White's escapades.

"I'm not yet ready to, sir."

"I'm not giving you an option, Mr. Waters," he said, addressing me formally instead of his usual familiar, casual tone. "Does this have something to do with you asking me for Courtney White's resumé?"

I sighed at the inevitable.

"It does. I suspect she has exfiltrated the firm's work product to opposing counsel on a number of cases, at least some of which are mine."

He leaned forward with his arms folded across his leather desk pad. "What's given you such a suspicion?"

"The Friday before I asked you to email me her resumé, I found some privileged documentation … case notes, strategy playbooks, and whatnot on her personal laptop. I hired Marquette Investigations to observe her movements for a few days and determined she was making stops at law firms she shouldn't have been stopping at because they weren't on her schedule or routing sheets."

"And this has led you to believe she's offering the opposing side documentation which would be advantageous to them and destructive to us?"

"Exactly."

His expression was totally unperturbed. It was the same one he'd wear in the courtroom when a judge would sustain a crushing objection levied by the other side. His was the perfect example of a poker face.

"How are things between the two of you?" he asked.

As the most experienced litigator I knew, I was well-aware he'd never ask such a question without knowing the likely answer.

"I admit there's some tension. I've been avoiding her since then."

He pressed a button on his desk phone. His administrative assistant answered.