Engaged In Danger

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Driving back to my office, I wondered what was up with Grace. If it had anything to do with her parents or her brothers, she would've told me, so I assumed it was her love life. For such a smart person, Grace had terrible taste in men. I had truly despised her last boyfriend and hadn't kept my opinion to myself. I knew that if Kip were anything like Christopher Dietrich, a party boy with no ambition who mooched off his girlfriend, I would've wanted Grace to intervene. Unfortunately, she didn't see it that way. As far as I knew, she had dumped Christopher for the last time about six months ago. She had even gone on a date recently with a labor lawyer she met at a networking event. I guessed Grace would tell me what was going on, eventually. At least I hoped so.

I was halfway to Hollywood, just passing the Fort Lauderdale airport when my phone rang. I couldn't see who was calling, so I took a chance and picked up. A woman's voice asked me to please hold for Nick Dimitropoulos.

Why on earth would he be calling me?

"Quinn, is that you?"

"Of course it's me. Who else is it going to be? Hey, if you're looking for a campaign contribution, Nick, sorry, but I'm all tapped out." I laughed.

I wasn't surprised when he didn't laugh at my joke; he never laughed at my jokes. In fact, I'd never seen him laugh at anything. Nick Dimitropuolos, state attorney, son of a state senator, and current candidate for county commissioner was my 'frenemy', which is a big step up from arch-enemy, where he'd started. We first met when he'd tried to pin a murder on my autistic cousin. Our second encounter was when he'd tried to pin a murder on my client. When I helped him find the real murderers, Nick took the credit and the glory, which meant he owed me, and that was much better than me owing him.

"Of course I'm not soliciting a campaign contribution, that would be unethical. Time for a refresher course, Quinn?"

"You slay me, Nick. I've been a lawyer since you were deciding who to ask to the high school prom, so I know a few things."

"I know a few things, too, especially since I'm serving on the Grievance Committee of the Florida Bar."

"Resume-polishing is great for your career, Nick, but I hear it's who you know that matters."

He always brought out my snarky side and resistance was futile. It made perfect sense for Nick to be on the Grievance Committee because he saw everything in black and white. He prosecuted criminals for his day job and now he was prosecuting wayward attorneys for fun.

"Who you know is a big part of it, Quinn," Nick agreed. "And I'm wondering who you know--because I've had an inquiry about you."

My reaction was instant panic. The primitive lizard part of my brain went into fight-or-flight mode sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through my body. With my heart racing and my hands shaking, I had to pull off the road and park at a strip mall on the west side of U.S. 1. It's like when you see a cop with their lights flashing and you know you've done nothing wrong, but it gives you a jolt anyway. Only this was worse, this was my career and my reputation. Like most attorneys, I'd received a few Bar complaints over the years, but mine were from the disgruntled spouses of people I'd represented, never from my clients or from other attorneys, and the Florida Bar had quickly dispensed with them.

"Nick," I said, once I could breathe again. "What do you mean? Did someone file a grievance against me?"

I pictured him sitting at his desk with his chiseled jaw and perfectly trimmed nails, wearing his wing-tip shoes and Armani suit, looking like an ad in the fashion section of the Sunday New York Times--while I was a sweaty, jittery mess.

"No, Quinn, nobody filed a grievance against you, although it sounds like you have a guilty conscience."

"Look, Nick, I don't appreciate--"

"Relax, Jamie, I was kidding. Hard to tell, I know. I'm calling because someone was asking whether you'd ever had any grievances against you. I told them 'no'."

He paused, but I didn't say anything.

"You there, Quinn?"

"I'm here, just trying to catch my breath. I was walking up the stairs when you called."

Nick laughed heartily and, to my knowledge, for the first time ever. "You're a terrible liar, Quinn, you know that? Aren't you curious about who's trying to dig up dirt on you?"

Now that my pulse had slowed and the blood was flowing freely through my brain, I was indeed curious. Why me? I was as apolitical and innocuous as a person can be. I never made waves, never campaigned for or against anyone, had never even signed a petition. In fact, the most political thing about me was that I was acquainted with Nick Dimitropuolos, often referred to as "Slick Nick" by his enemies.

"Of course I'm curious," I said. "How long do you plan to drag this out for your own entertainment, Nick?"

I heard him chuckle. "While I am enjoying this, I called to warn you. There may not be any grievances against you now, but that could change. Someone powerful is gunning for you, Jamie, and you need to proceed with caution."

"I still have no idea who we're talking about."

Nick let out an exasperated huff. "Does the name Marvin Glasser ring any bells?"