A Pittsburgh Caper

A Pittsburgh Caper

By T.L. Peters

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 T.L. Peters

License Notes

This e book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

To read more about the author and his other books, including A Pittsburgh Affair, go to http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/tlpeters.

T.L. Peters way of writing is wonderful. Kyanara

I found [A Pittsburgh Affair] to be thrilling and full of suspense. Tanya

Chapter 1

In point two miles, turn right.

Trish at least was working out just fine. Trish was what I called my used GPS Navigator I'd bought over the Internet for seventy bucks as a twenty-eighth birthday present to myself, since nobody else seemed in the mood for celebrating. I'd only had Trish for three days, and already I was falling in love with her. Even though she lacked a physical identity beyond the thin sliver of microchips supporting the two inch square screen I'd affixed to my windshield, she was consistently pleasant and competent, which was a lot more than I could say for the other women I'd met lately. Of course, they hadn't seem all that thrilled with me either. But I didn't see what I could do to change their minds, since I had my own ideas about how my life should go.

Arriving at destination.

I mostly parked in the cheap dirt lots across the Allegheny River from downtown Pittsburgh where I worked. I didn't mind hoofing it over the bridge, about the only exercise I got back then, but on that muggy July morning I had a meeting in the office and didn't feel like showing up drenched with sweat. After grumbling a little I paid the twenty five dollar all day rate to park next door to the sixty story building in which my law firm was the largest and most famous tenant.

Barney Plev, the top litigator at my firm, had called his team together for a catered breakfast in conference room 31A. And because I was still hungry, I thought the least I could do was show up on time. I escaped from the parking garage without getting mugged or even threatened, not that downtown garages were especially dangerous. Other than for an occasional shooting, they boasted a sterling safety record. It's just that as a notable coward I didn't like walking around in lonely buildings where I could hear the echo of my heel clicking against concrete. And since the younger secretaries, the prettier ones anyway, generally rode the bus to work, there really wasn't much to look at except guys like me. After three years of law school and three more slaving away at Beasley and Bile, I'd already seen enough guys like me.

Just as I reached the revolving doors a woman with dyed blond hair bustled out and headed down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. She had a huge chest, which she made to look even bigger and curvier with her fuzzy red cotton sweater. She also had a tight little waist and average legs, sort of round and thick. She wasn't all that tall, and in really high heels she stood only about five seven or eight. She had her hair raked up into a tight ball on top, although the sides were combed smooth and fell down hard on her rather wide and well-defined shoulders. I still had twenty minutes before Barney's meeting and decided to follow her. I wanted to get a better look at her face so I could tell how old she was. But she mostly kept her head down, staring at the pavement in front of her as though she were brooding or scheming or maybe just daydreaming. Because I had plenty of experience with brooding and scheming myself, and of course daydreaming was one of my favorite pastimes, I decided that I could close the distance between us without much risk of her spotting me. I didn't want to make a formal acquaintance without learning a tad more about her. I was just about to pull even with her back leg, which on closer viewing looked a lot more muscular that I'd first thought, when she suddenly swerved into an alley.

From what I could see in that brief moment, she had a long sharp nose, high cheekbones, almost skeletal really, a leathery, tanning-salon kind of forehead, and no fatty roll at all underneath her squarish chin. The skin was pushed around on her cheeks enough that I guessed she must have had a surgery or two, and I judged her age to be late forties or early fifties. She was a little old for me, but her chest was so formidable and her waist so lean that I decided she was worth more scrutiny. The alley was between two hulking office buildings with old fashioned fire escapes clinging to the filthy brown walls on either side. There were some tacky green garbage bins scattered about that I could hide behind if she happened to turn around. I let her get about a thirty foot lead and then headed in after her. I had closed the gap to just a few yards when she disappeared around a little bend up ahead.

I was beginning to peek around the corner when my face collided with a small bony fist that sent me sailing straight down onto my backside. It was a haymaker, perfectly executed, and I wondered how a tiny woman like her could hit so hard. As I shifted my mouth from one side to the other, I gathered that no bones were broken, and I didn't see any blood dripping off my face. A quick pass of my forefinger over my gums told me that I hadn't lost any teeth. The blow, as jarring as it first seemed, had barely nudged my glasses to the side of my nose. Once I'd shifted them back into position and gotten over the shock of being knocked on my fanny by a woman, I gazed up at her face.

She looked like a girl who had done some hard living. She had some crow's feet around the eyes, and in spite of the plastic surgery some ruts were beginning to slice through her forehead and cheeks. I was surprised she wasn't wearing big sunglasses to cover up some of the wrinkles, or why she hadn't at least slapped on a little more makeup. But it was early, and maybe she'd been in a rush to get out of the house. Maybe too she didn't want to cover up those wide blue eyes that seemed to pin me down on the concrete as surely as if she had just planted her sharp heel on my solar plexus.

Her fists were still balled tight and red, and her massive black handbag also seemed ready for quick service. I tensed up a little preparing for the onslaught. I thought about saying a few words in my defense, but she didn't look like the kind of woman who was impressed much by talk. Being a lawyer, I figured I'd try anyway.

I deserved that, I said as amiably as I could.

Why are you following me? she said in a husky, gravelly voice that for some reason turned me on even more.

You're beautiful, I said, which was the first time I could remember saying that to a woman for at least a month, maybe two.

She narrowed her clear, sparkling eyes at me. Then she must have realized what a wimp I was, because she smiled and in the process knocked about ten years off her face. I was about to ask her name when she whirled around and resumed her stroll down the alley, much more leisurely now, though her backside was wriggling just as furiously.

I took quick stock of my situation. There was still no blood on me that I could see. My palms were a little raw from having skidded over the pavement when I fell, and of course my jaw was sore, though not to the point where I couldn't talk as glibly as usual at Barney's big meeting. My pants weren't ripped, durability being one of the advantages of polyster, and I hadn't landed in any smelly garbage. Other than for the sweat oozing into my cotton-polyester blend shirt, I was still surprisingly presentable. When I looked up again, she was gone.

I struggled to my feet, checked my pants once more for holes or tears, and was about to hustle back to the office when I spotted a business card lying a few feet away. I bent down and scraped it off the pavement with my fingernails. The card was new and clean, and I guessed that it had fallen out of her purse during the scuffle, if you could call such a one-sided thrashing a scuffle. Jennifer Jenkins, Vice President in charge of Human Resources, Shaws Super Center Stores. Shaws was one of my firm's biggest clients, the subject of Barney's meeting in fact, and I stuck the card in my pocket. Then I tried to recall if she'd been wearing a wedding ring, but I couldn't remember. She had hit me with her right hand, after all.

Chapter 2

I saw Ed Ames in the lobby and rode up the escalator with him to the second floor where the elevator banks were. Ed usually went to work in tailored black three piece suits, like the one he was wearing today, though sometimes he wore gray pin stripes. He also owned an abundance of white silk shirts, silk ties, this one light blue, silver and gold cuff links and shiny black lace up shoes. I didn't know what he wore away from the office since I seldom socialized with him, or anybody else at the firm for that matter. It wasn't because I didn't like Ed. It was just the principle of the thing.

Ed was thin and like me had almost no muscle in his arms and legs. Like me he was also single and quite pale in the face, and apparently proud of it too, because he boasted that his drab complexion showed how many hours he put in for the firm. My paleness seemed more the result of a tepid disposition than overwork, and I hadn't decided if I was proud of it or not. Ed had hair though, thick black shocks of it which he combed straight up over his forehead about an inch and then back in long shiny waves. My gray speckled brownish mane was increasingly thin and brittle, though there was still enough left to cover my scalp, except for two large widow's peaks that I'd first noticed when I was in junior high.

Ed had just made partner, and for as stiff as he looked on the outside, he was one of only two people at the firm that at the time I believed I could talk almost candidly to. I guess because Ed was a griper like me, I felt more at ease with him. My other friend was Jessica, who was anything but a griper, and I still hadn't figured out quite why I liked her.

So what's this meeting about? I asked, trying to generate some small talk to kickstart my brain.

The other thing I liked about Ed was that he always seemed to know what was going on at the firm, whether the subject was a big case or the far more important and interesting topic of gossip. Sticking the knife in some rival's back is the favorite pasttime at any law firm, and I always thought it was a good idea to keep up with the news.

The CEO at Shaws is in hot water, Ed said in his crisp, business like voice. I had tried to imitate Ed's professional tone any number of times, but I couldn't seem to get the pitch just right. I talked fast though and strung my sentences together reasonably well, which I believed was more than enough to give senior partners like Barney reasonable cause to think that I was smarter than most. Something about securities fraud and looting Shaws for a few hundred million or so. Pretty much the standard corporate swindle these days. The Feds are doing their best to put the old fellow in jail. Dilbert Bleat is the CEO's name, and apparently he's quite the brazen cutthroat. I hear Barney has gotten Jade and Jessica to work on the case too. Jade is fairly unbearable, but at least Jessica is nice, don't you think?

Jessica's nice, I agreed and then glanced at Ed's absurdly unblemished face. By the way, do you happen to know a short blond woman in her late forties who works in human resourses at Shaws? Jennifer Jenkins is her name. She was just leaving the building a few minutes ago. I thought she might have had something to do with our case.

Sorry, Harry, Ed said and smiled, but not coyly, since we were friends and understood each other fairly well, or at least I thought so. I don't get over to human resources much. It's probably just some labor matter that brought her here. Are you thinking about making a move on her? But that would foul up your plans, wouldn't it?

I wasn't really thinking much of anything yet, I said.

That's good, Ed continued with surprising passion, since Ed liked to give the impression of being cool in all situations. Because if you get married you'll never be able to afford to retire early, even if you do make partner. I still think it's a crazy scheme though. You'll have to keep living like a monk for years to pull it off. And I wouldn't let Barney get any inkling about your plans either. He might think you're not dedicated enough to the job, whatever that's supposed to mean.

The elevator opened and we walked in. Ed peered up at the floor numbers while I glanced at Ed's shiny new watch.

Gucci, I said. Didn't you have on a Raymond Weil just the other day? And here you're always griping that you don't make enough money.

For a guy who claims to be indifferent to accumulating material possessions, you sure have a sharp eye for merchandise, he said and then looked at his watch. We better go straight to Barney's meeting or we'll be late. You're walking a little stiffly, Harry. Hope you're feeling well.

I decided to be candid. If I ran into Ms. Jenkins again, I wanted Ed to know about our little encounter in the alley so that he could cover for me with Barney if the matter ever came up.

That woman I was telling you about sort of gave me a little shove, I said and grinned, and I think I blushed a little too. "I guess I didn't introduce myself properly.

Ed chuckled pleasantly.

But I thought you said you liked ladies who are rough and tough, or were you just kidding around?

I couldn't quite remember where this latest fetish of mine had started or why. Maybe it had something to do with all the beautiful female action heroines in the movies and on TV these days. But I decided that it was best not to make too fine a point of it with Ed, now that he was a partner.

I'll try to be more discreet from now on, I assured him.

I wouldn't give very good odds on that happening anytime soon, Ed said and grinned again.

By then we were at the door to conference room 31A. It was one of the firm's larger meeting rooms, and Barney Plev was waiting for us at the great oval mahagony table in the center, his thick hairy fingers pounding heavily off the highly polished wood. At the tender age of thirty seven he was widely considered next in line to be managing partner when the firm's current boss left office in two years. If Barney could orchestrate a successful outcome in this Bleat case, I had no doubt that his stock would shoot up even higher.

Although Barney frowned at us both, at me especially, I decided to enter the room with my normal swagger, since Barney's frame of mind seldom bothered me. He was generally ticked off about something, controlled rage suiting his personality nicely. In that respect I had tried to emulate him, though more often than not I just seemed to come across as a smart aleck. But I figured that I had plenty of time to massage my image. Even though he was a partner now, Ed continued to take a far more submissive approach to kissing up to Barney, choosing to walk in behind me slightly crouched and looking very ardent and serious. I would have done the same if I could have kept a straight face.

Barney was wearing his standard hand tailored gray wool suit, white dress shirt, yellow silk tie with silk pocket square to match, and black wingtips, freshly shined and polished. He had lately begun adorning his broad masculine lapel with a fluffy white carnation. Barney must have wanted to stand out from his fellow partners, a rather drab group to say the least, and perhaps give us slaves something to gossip about. Barney was nothing if not sensitive to the emotional needs of his lowly associates, especially when he was at the center of all the fuss.

I sat down a few chairs away from Barney, since with all my exertions that morning I wasn't sure how badly I smelled. At least I'd stopped sweating. There was a platter of muffins in the middle of the table, and I stretched out my arm and grabbed one and then started looking around for the butter. Ed sat right across from Barney and tried to look his boss directly in the eyes, because Barney liked subordinates who asserted themselves in the proper way. I would have done the same, but character flaws apparently prevented it.

There's one witness who can kill us, Barney guzzled as he resumed slurping down a large forkful of eggs. Barney was a robust fellow with a reliably hearty appetite, probably because he lacked a conscience, which in the short term at least had always seemed to me a fairly sure pathway to good health, at least among lawyers. The Chief Financial Officer James Blase has the goods on our client Mr. Bleat. We've got to find some way to disparage and otherwise minimize Blase's testimony. As you know, the Feds are experts when it comes to eating their way up the corporate food chain, and we can assume that they'll cut him a pretty good deal in exchange for his testimony against our client.

Maybe we should just take Blase out to the woods and shoot him, I snorted as I fell back into the hard leather chair and laid the muffin on the table, the butter nowhere in sight. That's essentially what we're going to do to him anyway, I imagine.

The nerve endings in my fanny were just starting to revitalize, and I was feeling a tad more sore than my cocky demeanor might have suggested. I had given up on eating the muffin and was now eyeing the steaming silver bins lined up on the cherry wood credenza off to the side. I might have gone over and filled up a plate with eggs and bacon, but I would have felt awkward being the only one in the room standing, especially since I was still just a lowly associate. I was kidding of course about murdering Blase, but you could hardly tell it by the grimly disapproving frowns of my fellow grunts, all except Ed who was used to my cavalier style and kind of liked it.

Maybe we'll have to resort to murder at some point, Barney deadpanned. But for now at least, far more routine unethical behavior will have to do. And for that reason, Harry, I'm glad you could see fit to join us this morning.

As confirmed buttlickers to one degree or another, we all laughed at our boss's joke, some more than others. One of the more boisterous was Jade Hinken, who as usual sat fawningly to Barney's right. Jade was in her favorite drab gray bulky business suit that made her already hefty shoulders look even more masculine, probably to take the attention away from her pale and rather flat face, which was oddly scattered that morning with tiny brownish zits, especially on her forehead. I had long suspected that Jade got a