Deadly Justice Read Online Free PDF

it. Come up some night and see for yourself.”
    The elevator bell dinged, and they stepped off. They passed through an elegant private dining room staffed with waiters in formal attire, and a large health spa.
    “Is this open to the public?” Ben asked.
    “You must be kidding. We have over three thousand employees in this building. If the spa and restaurant were open to everyone, no one would be able to get a toe in edgewise. No, this whole floor is strictly for the top executives.”
    “Oh. Pity.”
    “Fret not, Ben. If you want in, we’ll get you in.”
    They approached two huge wooden doors with ornate burnished paneling. A secretary sat at a desk outside.
    “Janice, I have Mr. Kincaid.”
    She pointed toward the doors. “Mr. Crichton said you were to bring him in immediately.”
    “Right-o.” Hamel pushed the heavy doors open. Ben followed. The outer office was large and luxurious. No surprise. The glass and gold design of the front lobby was repeated, although one wall was white stucco. A painted mural stretched from one end to the other. It was an N. C. Wyeth mural, if Ben wasn’t mistaken. Could it possibly be an original?
    They stepped quietly into the inner office. A man in his mid-forties was seated behind a desk, while a much younger woman slumped down in the chair opposite him.
    “Look,” the man said, “I’m not saying you should put your job ahead of your baby, but—” Mid-sentence, he noticed his two visitors. “Hamel, what’s the meaning of this?”
    Hamel stiffened ever so slightly. “I’ve brought Ben Kincaid to see you, Mr. Crichton.”
    Crichton’s expression and manner changed the instant he heard the name. He rose to his feet. “Ben Kincaid. A pleasure.” Ben stepped forward, and they shook hands. After a moment, Crichton looked back, almost regretfully, at the woman in the chair. “Shelly…why don’t we continue this later?”
    The woman in the chair was small, with a thin face and dishwater blond hair. She seemed to be pressed back as far as possible in the chair. Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying or was likely to start at any moment. After Crichton dismissed her, she turned and rushed out without saying a word.
    “Thanks, Hamel,” Crichton said. “I’ll take it from here.”
    “Okay. Catch you later, Ben.” Hamel left the office.
    Ben took the chair the woman had vacated.
    “Sorry about that business with Shelly,” Crichton said. “Embarrassing to walk in on something like that, I know.” Crichton was an attractive man who wore his age well; the flecks of gray at his temples only accented his full black hair. He tossed himself into a chair and propped his feet up on the desk. “I hate it when a member of my staff isn’t performing up to snuff, but at the same time, I don’t believe in mollycoddling anybody. And it always seems to be the women.”
    “Excuse me?” Ben said.
    “Forget I spoke. I sometimes forget that I’m supposed to pretend that everyone is exactly the same these days. You don’t have a wife or kids, do you?”
    Ben shifted his weight uncomfortably. “No.”
    “Pity. I’m a big believer in families. My Emma is a saint; I don’t know how I’d get along without her. And my four kids are the most important parts of my life. Sure, I work hard and I’m not home a lot of the time, but everything I do, I do for them. They wouldn’t have it any other way.”
    Ben wondered if they had been consulted for their opinion on this issue.
    “Has Hamel taken you through the paperwork yet?”
    “No. He said we’d do that later.”
    “Take my advice, Ben. Let your secretary do it.”
    “I wouldn’t want to take her away from important work for other lawyers.”
    “Other lawyers? What kind of fleabag outfit do you think this is? You’ve got a secretary of your own.”
    “My own? All my own?”
    “Of course. Some of the worker bees at the bottom of the hive share secretaries—but a lawyer of your caliber? No way.”
    “You know…”