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“How much are you willing to offer?”
“The cost of the procedure, of course. Plus ten thousand. If she pushes back—which she might—I’ll go up to twenty-five, but that is the maximum. It needs to be made clear to her that if she doesn’t take the money and take care of the situation, that the cost to her will be far greater than she can afford. Lawyers and court costs. I need this agreement to be airtight, and nothing leaked to the press.”
“Of course,” Franklin said.
Grant ignored Franklin’s glance. He didn’t like this at all. He liked Clarence for the most part, but his situational ethics disturbed him. Clarence had four children and three grandchildren—all from his oldest son, a decorated military officer. CJ Burgess could do no wrong in the eyes of his father—but his two daughters and his youngest son were problems that Clarence was determined to protect from their bad decisions. How long would that go on? Hank was thirty-five! How long was Clarence going to pay for him to “get out of trouble”?
The kid was Hank’s, no doubt in Grant’s mind. Otherwise, Clarence wouldn’t want to spend up to twenty-five thousand to have the woman “take care of it.” Did that make it worse? Maybe, Grant thought. Maybe it did.
“Grant, do you have concerns?” Clarence asked.
“No.”
After all, he’d written up NDAs for exactly this type of situation multiple times. Why was it bothering him now? Because he had been thinking in the back of his mind that Hank Burgess had another type of problem last year at the time Chase had been murdered? Grant had a problem because Hank had been drunk driving and injured another party. Grant and the senator had argued about the NDA back then, but ultimately, Grant handled it because it was his job. He convinced the senator to tack on an additional ten thousand for pain and suffering—not that they called it that in the NDA—and Burgess relented.
Would Clarence Burgess want to kill Grant because he’d made some critical remarks about his son? It made no sense that Burgess—of all people—would have someone killed for something so little. Burgess was the type of man who would have Grant fired—after paying a handsome severance. To men like Senator Burgess, money was the answer toeveryproblem.
The more Grant considered this as a motive, the more he realized he was being foolish. Tom Granger may have been right—that an Archer Warwick client wanted Grant dead—but that client wasn’t Clarence Burgess.
Carefully, Grant said, “We need to know any mitigating circumstances. Whether the woman in question has gone to authorities, whether sex was consensual, whether drugs or alcohol were involved. The more we know, the better we can protect you.”
He didn’t sayprotect Hank. Grant didn’t care about Hank. He did, however, consider it his fiduciary responsibility to protect the senator. He was Grant’s client, not his irresponsible son.
“They had a consensual relationship, but the woman was also seeing other men in her capacity—well, there’s no way to sugarcoat. She’s a call girl. She should have taken the necessary precautions.”
Grant wanted to say that maybe Hank should have been wearing a condom if he was going to pay for sex, but he didn’t.
Franklin spoke up when Grant didn’t. “You’re absolutely right, Clarence. Grant will write up an airtight NDA and we’ll present it to her, with your terms. I would also suggest we bring in our investigatory team to follow up.”
“Yes.” Clarence sighed, finished his coffee. “I would love another grandchild. If Hank would find a good woman, settle down. Until he was thirty, I gave him leeway, didn’t expect him to follow in CJ’s footsteps. Who could? God doesn’t make many men like CJ. But now? Hank isthirty-five. He needs to knock it off. Thisisthe final straw.”
Grant doubted it. If paying off a kid he’d hit while drunk driving didn’t turn Hank Burgess around, why would knocking up a prostitute? He would continue to get away with his bad behavior because his father would never cut him off. And his father wouldn’t cut him off, because Hank’s crimes and moral failings would be very public if the senator didn’t pay to sweep them under the rug.
“Let us know how we can help,” Franklin said.
Archer Warwick also handled wills and trusts—that was another department, run by their third partner. They had prepared the Burgess family trust, had the wills for all the members.
Hank had never been cut out of the will. There were no conditions to his inheritance. And Grant knew that Clarence wouldn’t add any. He didn’t have it in him.
All talk.
Clarence excused himself, said he had another meeting, and left. Grant got up to leave, but Franklin waved him back down.
“You’re not on your A game. Is everything okay?”
What could he say to that? Just come out and ask Franklin if he’d hired a hit man to kill him? If he was responsible for killing his son? Achild?
“I’ve really had it up to here with Hank Burgess.”
Franklin shook his head as he said, “I know, I know. The kid will never grow up. But Clarence doesn’t pay us for parental advice or moral judgment.”
“Can I just be frustrated?”
“Of course. You can always talk to me, about anything.”
Grant wanted to. Because in no world would he have ever believed that Franklin Archer could have someone killed...especially him. Especially his son.
Not until three weeks ago when Tom Granger came to him.
