Conduct in Question

Chapter 35

Tony had canceled a meeting to accommodate Katharine.

Seated on his deep leather couch, she struggled to maintain an assertive air. She knew her anger was evaporating. Every movement of the man was smooth and disarming; every word was soft and insidious. From his office window, she could see black clouds creeping over the city.

Tony smiled blandly as he handed her a scotch and sank beside her on the sofa. Casually, he gestured toward the window. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” He edged slightly closer to her. His left hand, the one with the tiny claw finger, rested on his knee. Katharine shifted forward on her cushion and concentrated on her drink. He caressed the razor-thin crease of his trouser leg with the little claw. She sipped her drink and then set it on the coffee table. She was drawn to him one moment, repulsed by him the next.

She endeavored to marshal her logic, her plan of attack. Although he was now lounging against the deep pillows, she knew it was only a pose. McKeown never relaxed. In the growing silence, it was difficult to collect her thoughts.

“What can I do for you, Katharine?” It was a simple question. Any lawyer might begin with it. But his voice caressed her name. In the dim light, she saw his eyes dance with amusement. The way he tapped that delicately deformed finger doubled her tension. He was waiting for her. In the light, she hoped he would not see the flush spreading up her throat. Her skin prickled and her clothing felt rough. It was her move.

“Surely it can’t be so terrible, Katharine, that we can’t talk.”

She was certain he was taunting her. He sat forward slowly and set his empty glass on the table.

“Is it about your aunt’s estate, or something else? After all, you and I should be able to talk about almost anything.” His questions hung in the air.

She found her voice. “Yes, it’s about Marjorie’s estate.” Katharine stood up and moved away toward the window where it was cooler. “Listen, Tony,” she began, “the family just had a meeting with Harold Jenkins this afternoon. There’s an offer from one of your clients on the house.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Well, yes, but how can you still represent me and Gerry? That’s certainly a conflict.” She hesitated, then raced on. “Isn’t it?” Immediately she hated the quizzical tone in her voice. It was just like Suzannah’s.

McKeown rose and joined her at the window. “Well, I won’t. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“But shouldn’t you have told us that at the outset?” she persisted.

“Well, I’ll certainly withdraw, if that’s what you want. But it is a good offer, isn’t it?”

Katharine was surprised at the question. “Yes, it’s a very good offer.”

McKeown stood back from her, laughing. “Now I understand why you’re here!” Touching her shoulder, he guided her back toward the couch. His hand grazed her hip. “You’re trying to jack me up, right?”

He sat down again. “Katharine, it’s an excellent price. In fact, it’s twenty-five percent over the market value. My client desperately wants the land and is ready to outbid, if necessary.”

She was disarmed by his frankness. “Then your client isn’t the church?” she asked. McKeown appeared to find this very amusing.

“No, certainly not.”

“Then how many different interests do you represent?”

“Listen, Katharine, I can’t answer all your questions.” McKeown lounged back again. Like an electric shock, she felt the jolt of his appraising eyes wandering up and down her legs. “Why don’t we have dinner together? Maybe I can answer some of them.”