CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dinner hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped, but that had more to do with his father having the audacity to ask Laurel if she was going to work for Smith when he finally opened the doors to his own hedge fund. She’d stumbled at first, but recovered well. It was more than apparent the question had unsettled her.
It was the sole reason he hadn’t brought it up to her himself when she’d asked him earlier what would happen to them as a couple should she move to New York. There was a time for such questions, and his father had no right just throwing it out on the table like a hunk of rotten flesh.
It most likely wouldn’t have gone over well had he turned on his father or said that she wasn’t going anywhere she didn’t want to go. Either way, he would lose the initiative. He had no choice but to ignore the question as if it were asked by a petulant child.
Laurel would work with him, but not because they were involved. He wanted her simply because she would make the team a success. She was every bit as good in her sector as he’d been in his.
Honestly, she was one of the best retail analysts in the business. Hard work, dedication, talent, and a small amount of luck had gotten her to where she was today, and it would take her further should she decide to make the transition and work with him.
He needed someone with her experience, talent, and dedication.
But it was a battle when one didn’t need to be fought. And it appeared—thanks to his father—that Smith would have to address it sooner rather than later. It was a conversation they would have in private, away from the judging eyes of his parents.
For now, they’d all retired to the living room where Nathanial Gallo was talking privately with Sebastian regarding the brawl he’d taken part in the other night. It had become a regular occurrence, but Smith was grateful that the attention was off his love life for a brief moment.
“Does Laurel drink coffee or tea?” his mother asked, gently resting a hand on his arm before he could join Laurel on the couch. She was having an in-depth conversation with his sister and brother-in-law. “I wasn’t certain, so I made both.”
“Ah, Mom, did I mention that you’re my favorite parent?” Smith put an arm around his mother’s shoulders, her attempt to make Laurel feel comfortable telling him that she approved. Alice Gallo didn’t go to extra lengths for just anyone. She wrapped her arm around his waist in return. “And she’s a coffee drinker.”
“You’ve been seeing her for a while.” Alice also wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “You knew she didn’t like peas at dinner. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re more like your father than you realize.”
Only his mother would have noticed that he hadn’t bothered to pass the vegetable to his left after he’d taken his own helping. Yes, he’d been with Laurel for three months, almost every evening with the exception of Sunday nights or when one of them needed to work late. They’d eaten quite a bit of takeout at his apartment, because she’d dug her heels in when he offered to cook for her one time. He would have to remedy that soon.
As for the reference to his father, well, his mother was right. Smith didn’t want to hear that he was like his father in any other way other than dedication to his work. The man hadn’t been much of a father, rarely having been involved in any of their childhoods beyond providing for them.
“Is Laurel the one?”
“Yes, she is.”
Smith didn’t hesitate to answer his mother’s question, because he would never have brought Laurel here to meet his family had he any doubts at all. There were numerous reasons why he was careful about who he brought home, and none topped the other on his priority list. His father was usually critical of the smallest of imperfections, his brothers had a habit of bringing up embarrassing memories, and his mother usually tried to make more out of something casual.
But not this time.
Granted, his and Laurel’s relationship began in a rather unique manner, but it didn’t lessen what they’d created. The quality time they’d managed to accumulate over the last three months was equivalent to what most couples partake in a year. They connected on an extremely intimate level that would only grow stronger now that they’d made a commitment to strengthen their bond.
“I like her,” Alice said with a smile, looking on as Laurel continued to talk to Samantha and Todd. As a matter of fact, her hands were starting to wave in the air as she described something, telling him she was becoming more and more comfortable as the evening wore on. “I’ll be back with that coffee in a moment.”
Smith felt rather than saw Solomon make his way from where the small bar was located, tucked discreetly on the far side of the room. His older brother had followed in their old man’s footsteps, though not without the head for money to forestall the lingering effects of his habit. Solomon spent far more than he made through his law firm or what he received from his trust fund.
“I heard about Brad Manon’s murder.” Solomon stood next to Smith with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He pointed it toward Laurel. “She was the one who found his body, right?”
“Solomon, you don’t want to steer this friendly conversation in that direction,” Smith warned, slipping his hands in his pockets so that he didn’t inadvertently do something that would upset their mother. “I’d like to keep this evening civil, if possible.”
Laurel chose that moment to look his way, flashing him a satisfied smile. It turned out that neither one of them had spilled wine or anything else that would have caused her embarrassment. He had no doubt had she done so, she would have inadvertently hit his elbow while he was lifting a fork to his mouth.
“I was just pointing out that she’s handling the situation well.” Solomon took a drink of his whiskey. He had the bad habit of feigning to gather the right words for what he wanted to convey. “Those quiet types are the ones you have to watch out for, though.”
And there it was.
The inevitable jab that had been brewing all evening just under the surface.
“Solomon, would you please be a dear and go back into the kitchen for some napkins?” Alice gave Smith a wink as she walked by with a tray full of a coffee carafe and several mugs. “Oh, and please take out the garbage that I left by the back door.”
Solomon muttered a few curse words under his breath, but he did so low enough so their mother couldn’t hear him. He drained the rest of his whiskey and handed Smith the glass before doing their mom’s bidding. She always had a way of getting her point across without having a violent confrontation. Had it escalated to an exchange of words, Solomon would be dragging his wounded ego around for a month.
Smith’s cell phone rang, so he stepped out of the living room to take the call in private. He had multiple irons in the fire regarding his new business venture, but he’d also asked Meg to keep him apprised of the investigation should she hear anything through the grapevine. A quick look at the display told him the call had something to do with the latter, but the caller wasn’t Meg.
“Josh?” Smith addressed their top trader, though Steve would take offense at that title. Either way, Josh always came through for Smith when trading a low volume stock. It was rare that he reached out for anything other than business. “Is everything okay?”
“No, man. I need a sizable favor.” Josh always sounded as if he were on sedatives, but it was just his personality. He was laid back and didn’t let anything or anyone get under his skin. Something had to be majorly wrong for him to call and ask for a favor like lightning out of the clear blue sky. “I’m going to need a criminal lawyer, and I was hoping you’d cover the retainer until I can pay you back.”
Smith purposefully didn’t reply right away, giving himself time to think through the various scenarios on how this could play out.
“Man, all my money is tied up in the new house and my wife’s graduate degree. I can’t afford this kind of shit right now.” Josh was never one to care about privacy. The entire office was aware that he’d sunk a lot of cash into building a house out in Edina. The town was listed as one of the wealthiest towns in America, and he’d been running in those circles for a couple years now. “My ass is going to land in jail if you don’t help me out, Gallo. I promise I’m good on the backend. I’ll take it out of my 401k if I have to.”
“Josh, you know I could care less about the money. You can have whatever you need.” Smith wasn’t surprised when Laurel joined him in the formal dining room. “I want to know why you think you need a criminal lawyer, of all things.”
Who? Laurel mouthed the word, wanting to follow at least half the conversation.
Josh.
“I met with Brad that night in the office, but I swear I didn’t kill him. Smith, you’ve got to believe me. I thought I was in the clear when I’d heard about the surveillance videos being wiped clean, but they somehow got my vehicle coming and going from the garage a couple of hours before he died.”
Smith rubbed the back of his neck to get rid of some of the tension, but it was a useless endeavor.
“Josh, why didn’t you come clean with the police when you were questioned?”
“Because I didn’t do it, man. I wasn’t going to put myself at the top of the suspect pool just to clear my conscience. I didn’t want the complications.”
Josh wasn’t one to lose his shit during times of stress, which was what made him one of the best traders in the industry. His panic was practically dripping out of the phone.
“Are the police at your house now?”
“No, but it’s only a matter of time before they drag me in.”
“Your best bet is to get out in front of this. I’ll have my lawyer, Meg Preston, meet you at the station for the initial interview. I’ll let her know the overview, but you’re going to have to go into every detail with her. Tell her everything, Josh. And I mean everything. Don’t leave a single thing out that could come back to haunt you later.”
“I owe you.”
Smith didn’t bother to reply to that, because a desperate man was an unreliable man. The thing of it was, he believed Josh’s claim of innocence.
“The police suspect Josh killed Brad?” Laurel was already shaking her head in denial. “He couldn’t have…”
“I don’t think he did, either.” Smith located Meg’s contact information and initiated the call. He continued to speak while the other end rang. “Josh swears he’s innocent, but he was at the office the night Brad was killed.”
“Why?” Laurel inquired with astonishment, prompting Smith to wish he’d asked that very question. “Josh and Brad were like cats and dogs being shoved into the same room together. They never mingled outside business hours.”
It was well known that Paul had lured Josh over from the sell side. Brad hadn’t wanted a wild card on the trading desk, but Paul had insisted they have someone with wider finance connections. Manon Investments got that and more through Josh, who was also very proficient at trading options.
A year into Josh’s employment, Brad had a major turnaround in his position regarding the young trader. The two had even begun socializing in the off hours with their wives. Of course, everything had gone south when Meredith discovered Brad was cheating on her with a hostess at their favorite restaurant.
“I don’t know why the two met up that night, but I’m sure we’ll hear all about it tomorrow.” Smith turned his attention to Meg when she answered on the third ring. “Meg, I need a favor.”
Smith spent another few minutes explaining who Joshua Green was in relation to Manon Investments. She went into detail as to why it wasn’t in Smith’s best interest that she represent anyone outside the two of them in regard to the same investigation, promising to send one of her partners who had just as much experience as she did with cases like these. Apparently, she’d only done so for Laurel as a favor to him.
“I think we should call it a night.”
Smith slipped his cell phone back into his pocket, a sliver of unease taking root in his muscles. He was glad Laurel had decided to spend the night with him. He didn’t want her going home alone.
“Your mother made me coffee,” Laurel pointed out, though it was obvious he didn’t have to twist her arm too hard to get her to agree with him. She did catch him off guard with her next statement, though. “Oh, I forgot to give you this.”
Smith looked down and saw that she was holding one of those wipes for stains. He took it from her, but he wasn’t sure why he would need it.
“It’s for the edge of your sleeve.” Laurel pointed toward the cuff of his dress shirt that showed from underneath his sweater. Sure enough, there was a stain of spaghetti sauce. “I started small, just in case I made it through dinner without spilling the wine.”
Laurel flashed him a smile as she turned on her black flats, having refused to wear the heels he’d suggested. A flash of memory returned from when she’d laid her hand on his arm, having laughed at something he said that hadn’t been humorous in the least. She’d actually dipped his sleeve into his food without anyone the wiser.
“You’re a little minx, you know that?” Smith called out after her, confident that this family dinner had been an overall success.
Laurel tossed him a small wave over her shoulder as she continued into the living room. It was good to see her enjoy herself, but tomorrow was a new day. It wouldn’t be easy going back into the same office where she’d found the body of Brad Manon. His previous unease hadn’t dissipated, and he briefly considered asking her to take the day off. Everyone would understand if she did so, but he was already aware she wouldn’t go for it, even if it served her own best interest.
It was obvious that tomorrow wasn’t going to be the usual day at the office, but Smith had learned long ago to never assume the situation couldn’t get worse. Josh was the perfect example.
Who would be next up to bat in this World Series of calamities?