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Personal Services

... Mary answered with a nervous laugh. &#034Hello, dear.&#034 Walter mumbled a hello, his eyes refusing to meet hers. &#034Please, have a seat,&#034 Beck pulled her attention back. He guided her to the leather armchair beside the one Walter sat in before the great desk. &#034Would you like some coffee? Maybe tea or a soft-drink?&#034 &#034Coffee, please,&#034 Mary answered. Beck settled behind his desk, pushing a button on the phone. &#034Amber, coffee for Mrs. Conley,&#034 he barked. Mary could tell he was a man used to giving orders. A moment later, the sullen blonde from the desk out front entered. She moved to a bar at the side of the room and poured the coffee, then brought the cup and saucer to Mary. &#034Thank you,&#034 Mary smiled sweetly, eliciting an icy glare. &#034Will there be anything else, sir?&#034 Amber asked, turning toward the big man. Beck waved her away with a negligent gesture. Mary could barely contain a chuckle at the little bitch's treatment. When the door closed behind her, Beck turned his attention back to Mary. &#034Now, Mrs. Conley...&#034 &#034Mary. Please,&#034 she interrupted him, giving a bit of a flirtatious smile. &#034Mary,&#034 Beck amended. &#034As to why I asked you here.&#034 He shot a look at Walter. &#034I suppose Walt here has told you of his recent...predicament?&#034 &#034Predicament? No,&#034 Mary answered curiously, looking over at Walter, who was studiously examining the hairs on the back of his hand. She knew something had been ...

... bothering him for some time. He'd been drinking more and more, spending more time away from home. Any time she had inquired, he'd been elusive and vague, claiming pressures at work. Beck regarded Walter for a moment with a raised eyebrow, then growled, &#034Feinberg?&#034 The little lawyer cleared his throat to get Mary's attention, then read from a file he held. &#034Over a fifteen month period, beginning in April of last year and lasting until three weeks ago, Walter Conley embezzled $320,760 from Beck Industries Incorporated,&#034 he intoned in a reedy, nasal voice. Mary blinked at the little man, not comprehending. &#034Embezzled...&#034 she turned to her husband, who avoided her eyes, then to Mr. Beck, who watched her closely with his hawk-like gaze. &#034There must be some mistake,&#034 she said weakly. &#034No mistake,&#034 Feinberg interjected, holding up another piece of paper. &#034He's already signed his confession.&#034 He passed the confession to Mary, who held it in shaking fingers and tried to read. After a moment, she glanced at a still-despondent Walter, then passed it back. &#034What if he gave back the money?&#034 &#034No good,&#034 Feinberg assured her. &#034As it says here in the confession, Mr. Conley used the money to cover gambling debts.&#034 Gambling debts? Mary looked incredulously at her husband who hung his head in shame. She knew he played poker and bet on sports, but $320,000? Finally, she turned her helpless gaze back to Beck. Beck sat forward in ...