Chapter 81

Diana pulled out a chair and sat at the table with Jeff, Joyce and the legal people, a slight smirk on her face as she held Patton's eye.

"So why are you telling me this?" Patton asked. "If you had more of this meat, I would just say name your price. But since you don't..."

"Come late spring or early summer, Carla will probably have more, maybe even much more if my husband's idea works."

The flash went off for Fontaine. "The Thompsons' farm that we're closing on tomorrow," he said, leaning back in his chair and chuckling.

Patton looked at his friend, a frown beginning on his face. "Okay. So, you're in on this, too. Now how about sharing. You know damned well that I have enough curiosity for half a dozen people."

Jeff couldn't help but tease the attorney a little, too. "Well, if the rains haven't already made the ground too wet for the equipment to get in there and redirect that stream back to its old bed, Carla should be able to increase production by late spring. Otherwise, we'll have to wait until next summer to have a chance of increasing production of the special meat."

Patton felt his temper rising a little. He knew that they were teasing him, but he had enough control of his emotions to not let it show. Leaning back into the seat and tossing his napkin on the table, he waited, smiling. Just as he was sure Diana wasn't going to tell him more about the meat, she grinned and asked, "Ever hear of Vidalia onions?"

Patton blinked at the non sequitur. Fontaine chuckled.

"Okay. I'll bite," Patton said, but wishing she would get on with it. "Yes, I've heard of Vidalia onions, although I've never understood what all the praise was about. They just taste like onions to me."

"That's because they probably weren't true Vidalia onions," Diana said. "Trust me, any cook who has ever cut up a Vidalia onion has noticed the difference — no tears. And the true Vidalia onions are sweet, totally without the bitter, harsh taste of any other onion in the US."

Diana waited a moment to tease the lawyer a little more. "Know why Vidalia onions and this beef are similar?" she sweetly asked, motioning toward Patton's empty plate.

Patton grinned in spite of himself. There were worse things than being teased by this exotic beauty, he decided. Forcing his eyes to not stray to her breasts he answered, "I haven't the foggiest idea."

Diana moved in her chair causing her magnificent breasts to sway, then smiled as Patton lost the battle with his eyes for a moment.

"The reason they're similar is that each will only grow in a certain area. The Vidalia area in Georgia has a mild climate, sandy low-sulfur soil, and perhaps other things that make the onion sweet. To my knowledge, no one has ever been able to grow a comparable onion anywhere else. The beef is produced, with Carla's secret ingredients in the feed, on a small area on her ranch. Anywhere else and without the secret ingredient, and you have good beef, but not the beef you just ate.

"Carla and her husband first suspected that the taste was due to the water from the creek that borders three sides of her 'bottom land' pasture. But experimentation proved this was not true, or not entirely true. They finally decided that the taste change in the beef came from the cattle eating a particular type of grass on this one pasture in combination with the supplements that they were feeding the cattle. The same grass in other pastures did not produce the taste, however. The logical conclusion was that the grass grown near the creek, which mainly feeds from the adjacent mountains, in combination with the ingredients of the feed that her husband devised, is the reason for the great taste change in the meat.

"The sandy soil apparently allows the water to flow from the creek, or seep underneath, nourishing the grass that the cattle eat, and consequently changing the taste of the beef.

"So I can't buy a truckload of this, even when she has a new herd of cattle? But how much can I get? My wife loves caviar. I love a good steak. This makes a good steak taste like shoe leather compared to the meat I just ate. What must I do to get more?"

"Frank Wainwright's marketing people are going to handle Carla's marketing of this very special meat. He's already considering supplying only small amounts of this beef to really high-end restaurants. He knows several people that own this type of business and says that he can easily sell the meat for truly astronomical prices. But, well, Laura and I did a little research on you."

Noticing the frown around Patton's eyes, she continued, "Oh, does that bother you that we spent some time learning about the attorney that we were going to hire? I suspect that you have done this many times to people who you have represented, or otherwise have needed to know more detailed information about."

"Many times," Patton sighed, but nevertheless, a little aggravated that she had investigated him.

"And we noticed something that was of interest to us. To put it as tactfully as I can, you come from several generations of attorneys. Attorneys who have invested and increased the family fortune."

Patton forced himself to not frown, looking Diana straight in the eye. "And..."

"And ... I'll bet that you know and associate with like individuals. Individuals who will look for quality with little real consideration for price."

Patton nodded his head, almost imperceptibly.

"Individuals who would think nothing about paying what the average person would consider an appalling amount of money for one of those steaks."

Diana just waited.

Patton thought about having Chuck and Gail over and serving them the steaks. A slight smile crept onto his face.

"We ... Carla and Jessica, that is, have a niche product. A niche product that, under the right circumstances, can make them a lot of money. We ... my family and I, are determined to do all we can to help them. Frank is a very intelligent man, but so are you. And, you might know some people, some very wealthy people, that Frank does not know, and his marketing people might not contact. He's from Saint Louis, but you are local, and this would be a local product. We won't offer you part of the proceeds; this isn't about making money for us, nor for you. But..."

" ... But, we might work out a deal for a few steaks every now and then," Patton finished for her, the smile creeping across his face in earnest now, "if I manage to pick up a few customers for you. A few customers who might not be too concerned about the cost, so long as the quality is there."

"Exactly," Diana said, getting up and walking away without another word, remembering what Jeff used to say about shutting the hell up after you made the sale, before you talked yourself out of it.

Patton looked at Jeff. "That's quite a woman you have there," he understated.

Jeff just grinned at him, thinking, If only you knew. If only you really knew.

The small plates and the wine glasses were cleared from the table. Patton made several notations on Joyce's statement. Joyce put her laptop on the table, booted up and opened the file as Patton allowed his mind to drift, letting his assistant take over for the moment.

He ran the names and introduction of the family over in his near-photographic memory as his eyes casually swept the deck. Used to luxury, having been raised in it, the underlying cost of the deck with its glass wall and roof barely registered. The beauty of the women did. He glanced at Matthews' wife, Diana, (somehow the name fit her exotic, regal air) as she stood looking over Matthews' assistant's shoulder. Laura. Yes, that was her name.

Amusement touched the corner of his mind for a moment as he realized that she had a stack of fanfold computer paper in front of her making notations on it as she shuffled pages. Who uses fanfold paper any more? he thought, then realized it was a printout of a computer program. She has to be the most beautiful programmer ever. And Diana must be a second wife. She's far too young to be the girl's mother. Either that or she has one hell of a good cosmetic surgeon. Probably the latter, because the daughter has a striking resemblance to the mother.

Patton tried to concentrate on what the teenage girls were talking so animatedly about as they argued, he supposed, over something on the screens of their laptops. Looks like a "business" lunch for them as well, he mused to himself. Then he realized that the school that he was told that Doctor Boswell taught was apparently going on after lunch. They had motioned to a room as they had been shown in, saying it was their temporary classroom. I guess they decided to have a change of environment for a while.

Straining, he managed to overhear enough to realize that they were debating some very detailed instructions for Excel. Having used the program enough to be fairly competent with it, he continued to listen. Shortly, he realized that their conversation was well beyond what he could do with the spreadsheet.

As Patton continued to listen to snippets of conversation from the other table, he noted that Deputy Cramer had sent her file to the printer, making copies for everyone. He took his copy and quickly scanned it, finding one sentence with wording he still was not comfortable with. He underlined it for his assistant to correct, then a moment later heard Deputy Cramer object saying that was what had happened. Before he could say anything, his assistant explained the reasoning behind the change.

As Cramer retyped the sentence and sent the document to print again, Patton glanced up at Jeff, who grinned at him, obviously having deduced that Patton was listening to the conversation at the other table.

Again, the statement was in front of him. He read it carefully through twice. "This is acceptable, Deputy. If you agree with it, please sign it. I'll drop it by the Sheriff's Office on the way back to Denver. As I said, I would like to speak with the Sheriff for a moment, anyway."

Patton met Jeff's eye. Although Jeff had said little, he had frequently kept his eyes on Patton. Very aware of this, Patton thought, This is the guy who paid the mortgage off for the widow, and from Mrs. Matthews' comments about the meat, it's obvious that they are still helping her, and just as obviously not concerned about making any profit out of this for themselves.

Subtly glancing about him at the people on the deck, I can't remember ever being around this many people in a "family," as they call themselves, even including Deputy Cramer, who project a charisma the way they do — Matthews, particularly. But that wife of his isn't far behind him. Even the girls seem to as well. Somehow, I think these are people that I would like to know better.

Impulsively, "Mr. Matthews, Could I speak with you in private for a moment?" He had decided to halve his fee. He would rather have the goodwill of this man sitting across from him than to make a few thousand more dollars that he certainly didn't need. Besides, for what they were going to charge for the steaks, he might not be losing anything, after all. I'm hooked on those steaks. A little less money now might result in a lot more return next spring.

As they walked out into the hallway, Patton briefly put his hand on Jeff's shoulder as they came to a stop. "Mr. Matthews, I've had second thoughts about my fee."

Patton had opened his mouth to say that he was going to cut his fee in half and would talk to a couple of older families who enjoyed delicious food, but he startled himself with what came out of his mouth when he impulsively cut the fee even more.

"That isn't necessary Mr. Patton. I'm perfectly willing to accept your rates, as evidenced by the check in your pocket. I just want Joyce out of this — whatever it is."

Patton gazed into the piercing eyes of the tall man in front of him. "I think I had rather have you as a friend than make a few extra dollars," Patton found himself saying.

"I always pay my debts," Jeff said, and they both knew that he wasn't talking about money.

"Good enough," Patton answered, taking the check out of his pocket to give back to Jeff to exchange for one of far lesser value. But then Jeff amazed him again.

Patton stood with Joyce just before leaving. "Again, speak to no one about this without my being present. Let me know through Chuck (Chuck Fontaine) when they schedule Deputy Cramer's interview. Have Mr. Matthews call Chuck and tell him that he can be in Chuck's office about the land deal, without specifying which land deal, and give the date and time for the interview, instead. Chuck will call me with your coded message. I want my being there to be a total surprise for this guy. I don't have court this week, and anything else I'll rearrange if there is a conflict."

Patton stood looking at Joyce for a moment. "You are remarkably well for someone who has stopped a .44 bullet. I'm no authority, but I have shot a .44 Magnum enough to know that it is totally amazing that you aren't, at the very least, still in the hospital. When the interview occurs, I don't want you wearing any makeup. I wouldn't care if your hair weren't as neat as it is today. I suspect that your chest is still very sore. Don't try to act as if it isn't during the interview."

Joyce stood looking at him.

"Are you still under a physician's care?"

"Well, the cardiologist said to call his office to set up a follow-up appointment."

"Excellent. I suggest that you make the appointment for the end of the mandatory two-week suspension." When Joyce frowned, he continued, "Deputy, from what the Sheriff has told Mr. Matthews, and from Mr. Matthews' instructions, we're going to proceed with the assumption that the DA's assistant isn't going to be ethical about this. I do not want you to lie about anything. But neither are we going to give him anything. If you appear to be moving slowly, and appear to him to be not fully recovered — which I strongly suspect is the case — then it is just one more small thing in our favor. I'd be amazed if the professional investigators will put up with him badgering you when you are obviously still recovering. Their objections will carry more weight than you realize.