The Tolling of Mercedes Bell: A Novel (8 page)

T
HE IRON WAS OUT OF
water and was no longer steaming. Germaine’s freshly pressed uniforms hung on the doorknob. The house was still and the neighborhood was unusually quiet. It was time for sleep.

N
EXT MORNING SHE WAS IN
the kitchen at the office putting her lunch into the refrigerator when Stuart appeared with his empty coffee mug in hand. His face was flushed, his wet hair neatly parted and combed. His dark eyes softened with a smile as Mercedes leaned into the refrigerator.

She straightened and turned toward him. “Looks like you’ve already been to the gym.”

“I have a call with a witness in the Taylor case in five minutes. Why don’t you stop by later so we can catch each other up?”

“Sure.”

Mercedes headed for her desk past Jack’s office and noted, for the first time in weeks, that the lights were on; the big man had been
on a trip to Africa. In the paralegal room, Simone was already at work.

“You’ve had a visitor this morning,” she said casually.

Mercedes spied a beautiful, colorful, finely woven basket on her desk. “Hmm,” she replied, and put down her purse.

She picked it up to admire. It was about eight inches tall, with a circumference slightly larger than her palm and had a close-fitting lid. The fibers were woven in soft ridges of coral, brown, turquoise, ivory, and green. She lifted the lid, looked inside, and turned the basket over. On the center of the bottom was a tiny gold label: Made in Senegal. There was no note.

She felt herself blush. Simone had begun dictating on the other side of the cubicle half-wall. Mercedes brushed the surfaces of the basket with the palms of her hands, opened the deep bottom drawer of her desk, and placed the gift gently inside.

She left the paralegal room, walked the long way around the suite to avoid Jack’s office, and slipped into the women’s bathroom. She entered a stall for a few moments of solitude. When she emerged, Caroline was washing her hands at one of the sinks before the wide rectangular mirror.

“Are you okay?” Caroline could see she was flustered.

“I’m fine,” she replied, unconvincingly.

They left the room together just in time to run into Jack and his startling blue eyes.

“Good morning, ladies,” he said gallantly.

“Welcome back,” Caroline said. “You must have been in the sun a lot.”

He was deeply tanned; his teeth flashed white in a brilliant smile.

“Had a fantastic time, went on a safari in Kenya, and did a lot of touring. Got to run—client call in two minutes.” He dashed down
the hall. Caroline shook her head and looked down, keeping her thoughts to herself.

“I
’VE CALLED ALL THE FORMER
Franjipur employees on the list of names Rand gave us,” Mercedes told Stuart. “They’ve confirmed what he said about his termination. Some of them knew Rand and Anne-Charlotte socially. They told me about how badly she took the fallout from Rand’s termination. Here—I wrote a memo about each interview,” she said, handing Stuart a file. “There are some interesting people here.”

Stuart leafed through the file.

“Would they be willing to testify?” he asked.

“I think so, but we didn’t really discuss that. I told them we were investigating the possibility of filing a lawsuit and it was too early to tell what would happen.”

It was near noon. She sat back in the chair opposite Stuart and looked at the thick gray clouds gathering outside the window. She caught him sneaking a peek at her bodice.

“Others told me about how things changed after the new CFO was hired,” she continued, fidgeting with her pen. “He tightened the budget on employee compensation and benefits and took away a lot of incentives. Jobs were eliminated and departments rearranged. The corporate culture became much more finance-driven.”

“We should be able to corroborate that with documents from the corporation, once discovery gets going,” he observed. “Anyway,” he said, straightening his tie, “I’ve spoken with a few current employees, also on Rand’s list, although I haven’t written up all my notes yet. Guess I’ll have to do that to keep up with you,” he teased.

A slight grin broke her serious expression.

“But here’s a promising nugget,” Stuart continued. “One guy
mentioned rumors of a luxury suite at the New York facility that some of the senior executives used. Rand was initially hired to work as a concierge. Supposedly he knew what went on there.”

Mercedes sat up in her chair.

“Like what?”

“I have no idea. The guy wouldn’t tell me more than that. Perhaps a woman would have better luck getting it out of him.” He looked into her eyes. “We need to get to the bottom of this one. Neither Rand nor Jack mentioned anything about a suite—and they certainly should have if Rand knew about it.”

“Maybe it’s just a rumor,” Mercedes said. “When employees are disgruntled, they make up stories. Rand is gone, so he’s an easy target. Or maybe it’s true and Rand knows more than he’s letting on. Maybe what he knows is the real reason he was fired.”

“Now you’re getting
way
ahead of things,” Stuart said. “But one way or another, and sooner rather than later, we need to know.” He handed her his pad of squiggly notes. “I think you should do the next round of calls. You’ve got a nose for this stuff, and I have to write a brief.”

A
T THE END OF THE
day Mercedes looked into Jack’s office as she passed. He was standing with his hands in his pockets looking out the window, but turned just in time to see her. He called out her name. No one else was in the hall, so she stopped and went back to the doorway.

“Thank you for the basket. It’s very beautiful,” she said. “I was going to write you a note.”

“There’s a story behind it, if you’re interested.” He knew he could count on her curiosity. He gestured for her to come in. His tie was slightly loosened, and his jacket hung on the back of a chair.

She hesitated.

“I won’t bite you, I promise.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Although it’s not a bad idea,” he quipped, with a smile.

She continued regarding him, now with a bemused expression.

“Oh, just a
little
bite.” He laughed his infectious laugh.

She entered his office and sat down in one of his cushy high-backed guest chairs.

“I was in a marketplace in Senegal in a village near Dakar. It was almost the end of the trip. We got there fairly early in the morning, when all the goods were on display—everything from vegetables, grains, and farm implements to fabrics and handmade wares. Villagers were at their stalls, which are just brightly colored cloths spread out on the ground. Part of the market area was covered to provide some shade. I was listening to the haggling in French and other languages, watching the old women, and dodging the children running around—and then an unusual thing happened.”

He looked away for an instant.

“I noticed the women—all these very graceful, dark-skinned, willowy women going about their business. Some were balancing great loads on their heads and carrying children in slings on their backs. They wear these long, brightly colored gowns with scarves wound around their heads and are most elegant, in spite of the poverty.

“I thought immediately of you—your carriage, your manner, your determination. Suddenly it was as though you were all around me in many different forms. I’ve never had an experience like that before, to be quite honest, and it surprised me.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

“There was a woman of the Wolof tribe, the predominant population in Senegal, selling baskets of all different colors and sizes that she and other women in her village had made. The fragile economy
forces men to leave the villages and work elsewhere so they can earn money to send home. But there’s often not enough for the basic necessities, so the women have created a basket-weaving industry to survive. The baskets are in every hue and size imaginable. I chose one that I thought would suit you. I hope it pleases you.”

Mercedes looked at Jack, trying to imagine him in an African market. He must have been a startling sight to the vendors.

“It’s remarkable. It’s just what I would have chosen, I’m sure. Thank you for thinking of me.”

She stood up slowly. There were six feet between them, of which each took measure.

“And now it’s time for me to go pick up my daughter. The basket is lovely. I’ll put it in a special place. Thank you again.”

He watched her slip out of the room in her straight skirt and skinny heels, with her head held high.

When most of the staff had gone home, she put on her coat, wrapped the basket in her cardigan so it would not be seen, and left the building. She unlocked the car door and carefully placed the precious bundle in the backseat, with no idea that her every move was being watched by a tall, dark-haired gentleman on the sixth floor.

O
n Valentine’s Day, Mercedes surprised Germaine with a small wristwatch on a pink leather band. She showed her how to set the time and wind it and strap it on. Germaine held her wrist to her ear and listened intently to the ticking, while her mother brushed her hair for school.

M
ERCEDES FOUND A SMALL ENVELOPE
on her chair when she arrived at work. She pulled out the note inside, written on heavy stationery with a blunt-tipped fountain pen.

Would you like to go with me to have lunch with my friends Kitty and Gabe Harrow in Belvedere this Sunday? It could be fun—

Jack

She studied Jack’s handwriting for a moment and put the note back inside the envelope.

Before she had time to get settled, Darrel dispatched her to the file room of the Alameda County Courthouse, a grand white Art Deco building on the other side of the lake from the office. The courthouse was humming with activity. Three elevator operators announced the incessant arrivals and departures of their cars. Footsteps clopped noisily on polished marble floors. Policemen, lawyers with their leather briefcases, clients, witnesses, law students, employees pushing carts of files, jurors, paralegals, and other people involved in the courts milled about everywhere. Mercedes loved the commotion.