Seeley remembered asking Palmieri to review Steinhardt's notebooks.
Behind Steinhardt, a slender woman came into the office. Her suit and the way she wore the scarf knotted at her neck told Seeley that she was either European or had mastered the look. She had a small stack of euros in her hand and a slender envelope.
Steinhardt took the bills and envelope and placed them on the desk. The exchange was wordless, and she left.
“You need have no concerns, Mr. Seeley. I will return from Paris on Sunday, in ample time to testify. It is imperative that I be the one to explain my discovery to the court.” He started to unbutton the starched white jacket. “You do have me on your list as the lead witness?”
Pearsall had already told him he was. The man's insecurity was as staggering as his ego.
“He left you instructions to put me first, didn't he-the poor fellow who jumped in front of the train?”
“Rest assured,” Seeley said, “you will be the most important witness in the trial.”
THREE
The last week before the start of a major trial rises and falls on ocean swells of crisis-exhibits to be readied, last-minute motions to be filed, witnesses to be prepared-but the crises had become predictable over the years, their resolution as inevitable as their occurrence, and Seeley had left to Palmieri all but the most daunting of them: where to place Alan Steinhardt in the lineup of witnesses and how to rebut any last-minute claims by Lily Warren.
Still, Seeley knew that he could make better use of his time than chasing down Highway 280 after a gold BMW with Leonard, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the open window, deftly changing lanes three and four cars ahead of him. Leonard had promised that his house in Atherton was no more than twenty minutes from Vaxtek's offices and gave Seeley rapid-fire directions in the event they lost each other in traffic. “I want you to get to know Renata and me,” Leonard said. “You've changed. I want to get to know you.”