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By Kel (dragonbane4@aol.com)
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As soon as Jim hung up, Stephen rolled the rest of the way out of bed. //Jesus, Dad, I can't believe you're being such a prick about this!// He grabbed the phone again as he headed into the bathroom. After a quick shower it was seven, and Stephen knew that his cop friend would just be getting up. He dialed, and sure enough, got a sleepy Frank Osbert. "Frank."
"Stephen? That you?"
"Yeah, Frank, it's me. Still got that PI thing going on the side?"
"Sometimes, yeah."
Stephen thought for a minute how to phrase this. "I got a job for you, Frank... but this job might require some serious... dumpster diving to get to the bottom of it. You up for that?"
There was a long, significantly long pause. "I'll dive for you, Stephen, but I'm not taking the trash out for you."
//Meaning you'll find it for me but it's up to me to use it. That's fine, that's all I need.// "That's great to hear, Frank. Still got the same rates?"
"For you? Of course."
"Perfect. I owe you one, Frank. Get dressed, go to breakfast. I got an early meeting at Rainier. Call me when you're ready to get together. I'll have a thousand cash with me; that'll cover your first day's fees plus expenses; anything else you need, you come to me, I get it for you. But, this is fast turnaround. I need something as soon as you can get it for me. This afternoon would be great, but I don't know how fast you can work."
"Tell me where you want me to start."
"My father's house. You're looking for anything that links him with the Dean of Rainier University, Martin Wilkerson."
There was another pause, and an exhalation of breath. "Address?" Stephen gave it to him. "I'll be in touch."
"Frank--the dumpsters are around back. They're almost always open."
"Understood. I'll get it done as quick as possible."
"Thanks, Frank. I owe you one."
Frank hung up and Stephen finished getting dressed. In the car, he called his lawyer. "Terry, shut up and listen," Stephen said as he drove. "I don't have time for the legal bullshit. I want you to meet me at Rainier University with the letter of accountability that proves I've been using Jim's money and donating it to the school with his permission." He listened to the lawyer's babbling. "I pay you well, Terry Murdoch, and I pay you to be at my disposal. If you're not at the University in half an hour with what I asked for, the big fat retainer that you get every month for sitting on your ass is going to go to another lawyer, one who will be happy to accede to my requests. Now, will I see you there, or shall I go to another lawyer? Wonderful, Terry, wonderful. When you arrive, come into the main building and look for the Dean's office. I'll be there with hopefully the Dean and a young man named Blair Sandburg." He hung up, ignoring the lawyer's last protest, and drove through the nearest drive through, getting two large coffees and then turning the Jaguar towards the University. He saw Blair waiting for him outside of the main building, and waved.
Blair could see Steven's black Jaguar pulling up outside the main administrative building, and waved at Jim's brother. He still couldn't believe that Jim had pulled out all the stops for him--gotten not only his brother but all of his friends at the stationhouse to go along with him and help him out. He wrapped his arms around himself, and for a brief moment imagined it was Jim there holding him. He felt warmth, and tightened his arms around himself, and then dropped his arms as Stephen approached him. "Hey, Stephen."
"Blair! How are you doing this morning?" He held the steaming cups aloft in his hands. "I brought coffee, hope you like it."
"Coffee? Are you kidding, that's great!" Blair cupped his cold hands around one of the hot cups. "And that feels good."
Stephen sipped at his. Blair's discomfort with the situation was entirely evident. "I'm glad. I didn't know if you drank coffee or not. I can't live without it."
"Neither can I," Blair said with a laugh. "Stephen--"
Stephen held up his hand. "Call me Stevie, please. Jim does."
Blair flushed warmly. "Thank you. Stevie, I'm honored that you're helping Jim with this."
Stephen frowned. "Jimmy's right, Blair, Dad's got no reason to get into his life like this. If he's afraid it'll reflect badly on him, then that's his problem. But I like you, Blair, and more importantly, I can see you make Jimmy happy. What problems I may or may not have with it are my own--frankly I believe that if it floats your boat go for it, just don't expect me to--and finally, I believe that Jimmy's entitled to some happiness. And if you make him happy, Blair, then I welcome you to the family."
Blair was speechless for a few moments. "Stevie... thank you! Nobody's ever wanted me as part of their family before, now you and Jim both do."
Stephen just smiled. "Don't sweat it, Blair, it's what friends do. And as long as you keep making Jimmy this happy, you got nothing to worry about." He consulted his watch. "The lawyer will be here soon."
"Lawyer?" Blair asked, swallowing hard.
"Yeah. We keep one on retainer; he's bringing along the certified letter that shows that I administer Jim's trust and donate to the University in his name," Stephen explained. "Murdoch's a crusty bastard, but he's damn good. He won't let Wilkerson weasel you out of anything." He looked around. "Speaking of, where is he?"
"Oh, um, not due for another few minutes."
Stephen shaded his eyes and looked at the incoming car. "There's Murdoch now. Don't worry Blair. We'll get this taken care of and by the end of the day, you'll be going home happily ever after with my big brother."
Blair shrank back from the nattily dressed lawyer as he came up the steps. The man did not look happy.
"Terry, you've got the letter, I assume," Stephen said dryly.
"Of course I've got the bloody thing," Murdoch replied darkly, shoving a paper in Stephen's face. "It is why you dragged me out of my office with such rude threats at such an ungodly time of the morning." His clipped British accent stood out in the cool morning air. "Where's this... person we're to be meeting?" he said, scanning over Blair and then dismissing him.
Stephen saw the casual dismissal and bristled on Blair's behalf. He motioned Blair forward. "This is Blair Sandburg. Blair, this is Terry Murdoch, my attorney."
"Pleasure to meet you," Blair said, offering his hand.
"Charmed." Murdoch's handshake was cold and limp, and he dropped Blair's hand quickly. "Can we please get on with it?"
"Wilkerson's not here yet," Stephen said. "I'm sorry, I didn't bring you coffee," he said, sipping from his own cup.
"Never mind the coffee, I shall have tea when I return to the office," he grumbled. "Would you care to fill me in on the situation?"
"Sure." Stephen took Murdoch over to the side and explained the situation.
"Your brother's a bloody shirtlifter and you expect me to come in here and wave a magic wand and get his shagging partner rehired?" he asked incredulously.
"No, what I expect is for you to earn your pay and stop Blair from being fired in the first place, and we do that by proving that it's Jim's money--which that letter you brought will do. As for my brother being a--shirtlifter--that's none of your damn business and if we lose this, I will be searching for a new firm with attorneys who are slightly more socially conscious and slightly more understanding of things do I make myself clear?" Stephen responded icily.
"Absolutely," Murdoch responded unhappily.
"Good. Now I want to hear no more about it, I want you to do your damn job."
"As you wish, Mr. Ellison."
"Thank you." Stephen's next comment to Blair was stopped as the Dean pulled in and headed towards his office. Stephen stepped up to stand beside Blair, the lawyer following suit and Stephen hailed him. "Dean Wilkerson! Could we have a bit of your time this morning?"
"Why, Mr. Ellison, Mr. Sandburg. A pleasure to see you as always but--"
"Come now, Mr. Wilkerson, I happen to know that your morning schedule is empty--your secretary informed me so when I called to see what time I could speak to you this morning. Surely you weren't going to begin our talks by lying to me, now were you?"
Blair watched open-mouthed. //Stevie is one slick operator!//
Wilkerson was clearly discomfited. "Of course not, Mr. Ellison, I was merely going to say that perhaps you would be more comfortable inside," he said, holding the door open for Stephen.
"Of course you were," Stephen said, sharing a smile with Blair. Blair and the lawyer followed Stephen, forcing the Dean to hold the door open for all of them. //If there's anything I learned from you, Pops, it's how to deal with people. And you always--always--establish dominance.// "Now, Mr. Wilkerson, I believe we have business to discuss," he said, taking the center seat in front of Wilkerson's desk, not even waiting for an invitation.
The pinched look on Wilkerson's face got more pronounced as he tugged at his collar and tie and sat down behind his desk. "Business?"
"Yes, business." Stephen snapped his fingers, and Murdoch's letter appeared in his hand. "Now, I believe yesterday that my brother James was here and spoke to you concerning his donations to the University? If you will read this letter, you will find it states that the money does indeed belong to James Joseph Ellison, and the more than generous donations to the University come from his trust, administered by myself. While it is my signature on the check, Mr. Wilkerson, the money and the patronage belong solely to my brother, James. I--except for the fact that my dear friend Mr. Sandburg is employed here--could care less if this facility burned to the ground." Wilkerson snatched the letter from Stephen's hand, and examined it closely, and blanched as he realized that Stephen was speaking the truth. "Now, as you can see, my brother *was* indeed speaking the truth when he told you that he was the Ellison that donated the most money. Your own records will reflect that, and so will mine." He snapped his fingers again, and the appropriate documents appeared in Stephen's hand from Murdoch's briefcase. "As you can see."
By the time Wilkinson had finished examining the legal papers that Stephen had brought, his face had gone from pale to chalky to ashen and then to bright red again. "What do you want from me, Mr. Ellison?"
"I want this entire business against Mr. Sandburg dropped immediately," Stephen replied. "We all know that this situation is--and allow me to speak freely here--a load of bullshit concocted by my father to put Blair in a bad light for the purpose of interfering in his and James' private life. This institution has nothing to do with that, and if you do not drop this situation immediately, you will lose the substantial financial support of James' donations due to the fact that Mr. Sandburg is no longer employed here."
Wilkinson's face got several shades of red brighter. "There have been certain allegations made, Mr. Ellison, that this institution cannot disregard."
"I see." Stephen's next comment was interrupted by the telephone.
"Dean Wilkerson."
//Hello, Martin.//
"Mr. Ellison."
Blair's eyebrows raised as he turned to look at Stephen, who motioned to Murdoch. Murdoch retrieved a tape recorder, and Stephen placed it on the corner of Wilkerson's desk.
//I am moving our appointment up. Be here in half an hour.//
"But, Mr. Ellison, that is not convenient."
//I don't care who you're meeting with. Dump them and be here in half an hour, or you don't get this week's payment. Don't forget who you're dealing with, Martin.//
During this conversation, Stephen realized that it wasn't Jim, but his father that Wilkerson was talking to. //Damned interesting!// Wilkerson's eyes cut over to look at Stephen and Blair. "Oh, please, Dean Wilkerson, go and meet my father. I've cleared my schedule today, we can resume our... talks when you return."
//Was that Stephen?//
"Yes, sir, it was."
//There to take that little fag's part?//
"Yes, sir."
//But you know better, don't you?//
"Of course, Sir."
//Very good. I will be seeing you shortly.//
"Shortly then, sir." Martin Wilkerson hung the phone up with shaking hands, and then looked at Stephen. "If you will excuse me, sir, I have a meeting with your father I must tend to."
"Of course, Mr. Wilkerson. When you return then." Wilkerson fled, and Stephen turned to Blair. Before he could say anything, his cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"Stephen, it's Frank."
"Find something, did you?"
"Several things," Frank said. "I know what the connection is; but first you should know they're about to have one of their meetings."
"Yes, I know, my father called while we were in the Dean's office. What's the connection?"
"I can't say over the phone. Let's just say it's a damned interesting connection."
"Got proof for me?"
"Some but not enough to buy you anything. I'm going to get film now; when the roll's done, I'll drop it off for one hour processing under your name--you pick it up."
"Can you get vid?"
A studied pause. "You're damn lucky I happen to have my spy-cam in the trunk," he said, after looking. "It'll be on VHS. But Stephen--I don't think it's a video you'll want to watch."
"I'm sure it won't be, Frank, but will it buy me what I want?"
"Oh yeah. It'll buy you anything."
"Then I need it."
"You got it. The job'll be done in a couple hours. The thou is too much."
"Keep it, Frank. You've done a hell of a job. I wasn't expecting results this quick."
"Talk to you later."
Stephen looked at Blair. "Go on to class, Blair. Mr. Murdoch and I will wait here for the Dean to return. Don't worry. You're gonna be just fine."
"Stephen--what's the connection with Dean Wilkerson and your dad?"
Stephen shrugged. "I don't know. But from what Frank said... it's not going to be pretty. He's getting me film and vid. He's a pro, Blair. Don't worry."
The young professor was persistent. "What do you think it is?"
Stephen sighed. "With my father? God only knows."
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