Juggling Act (2/3)
 
Author: Janet Dillon

Email: jdillon@mail.win.org 

Rating: PG (language)

Summary: This story picks up where "The Beginning" left off. It contains
spoilers for "The Beginning" and "Lawyers, Guns, and Money".

Author's Notes: Many thanks to Goldie and Meghan for their assistance
with this chapter.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are
borrowed from the TV show "The Guardian". No money is being made from
this story. Any resemblance of a character in this story to any real
person living or dead is purely coincidental. Likewise, any resemblance
between an organization depicted in this story and any such actual
organization is purely coincidental.

--+--


Outside, it was a beautiful Friday morning in late May. Inside, bright
sunlight streamed around the edges of the dark blue curtains hanging in
the bedroom window. The increasing daylight at last succeeded in awaking
the man who had been sleeping so soundly. Nick Fallin, chest bare, with
the sheet pulled up around his waist, opened his eyes, and looked around
himself, disoriented. This wasn't his bedroom. No, wait, this was his
bedroom, but not in his own house, in his father's. He was in his old
bedroom in his father's house. At that realization, the events of the
previous evening came flooding back: his accusing his father of trading
the firm for the judgeship; his dad showing up at his house to tell him
that he'd made a deal with Caldwell to keep Nick from serving time, and
Mandy...Mandy dying on his living room floor.

God! Nick rolled over on his side, and brought the pillow up over his
head to block out both the light of day and the disturbing memories. But
it was no use, his mind continued to churn through the happenings of the
previous night. When he got to the part where he'd sobbed in his
father's arms, Nick turned red with embarrassment, and let out a groan.
Oh, shit, he couldn't believe that he'd done that! He hadn't broken down
in front of his father like that since his mother died. But still, he
had to admit that for those few minutes it had felt good to be held in
his father's arms, to just...just let go. It had been wonderful to
finally be able to unburden himself to *someone*. He had felt an immense
sense of relief upon confessing to his dad just how hard it was for him
to hold it all together. Nick knew that because he was smart, and things
came so easily to him, people assumed that he could cope with whatever
was thrown his way. That he'd, he'd think his way through it, or around
it...something. But he couldn't, not always, and last night had made
that abundantly clear. He had been in over his head, way over his head,
and look at the outcome. Three people dead, and his own future possibly
hanging in tatters.

Nick found his thoughts returning to Mandy. Last night, his lawyer, Bob
Colden, had suggested that Mandy's death might be drug-related. At the
time, Nick had briefly considered it, but had been too overwhelmed by
the evening's events to give the suggestion his complete attention. Now,
examining the circumstances of her death with a clearer head, Nick
concluded that it did seem very likely that she could have died of an
overdose. When he thought about it, he realized that the way Mandy had
fallen to the floor was a clue. She had made no effort to break her
fall. He didn't even think she had cried out, had she? He wasn't sure,
but he didn't think so. Maybe he'd be off the hook for that, at least.
But there were still the deaths at the strip club.... Now that Mandy was
dead there was no one to confirm his version of events. Nick knew if
Darger wanted to, he could still cause him problems over that.

Nick sighed loudly, and shifted in the bed. What was he going to do?
Before his father's revelation, he had been set on severing his ties
with F&A (no, C&A, he corrected himself, grimly). He'd been planning on
starting his own firm with Jake and some of the other associates who
were unhappy with the changes at F&A. But then...then that slimy little
bastard Lichtman had threatened to cause trouble for his dad if Nick
left -- if he left and took his own clients and his father's former
clients with him. That was when Nick had confronted his father to find
out what Lichtman had on him, what it was that Mitchell could hold over
Dad's head. Nick felt ashamed now thinking back on how he had accused
his dad of making a deal with Caldwell to get the federal judgeship. He
had actually accused his father of trading his, Nick's, future for the
bench. He felt himself color again at that memory. He had been
completely wrong. Dad hadn't made a deal to gain anything for himself.
No, at the time of Nick's arrest, he had made an arrangement with the
senator to use his influence with the D.A. to keep Nick from going to
prison. Nick had learned all this from his father last night, along with
the fact that Mitchell Lichtman had kept records of the whole thing, of
all Burton and Caldwell's conversations.

Now Nick knew what Lichtman had meant by that veiled threat that he
could "make life pretty miserable" for his father. Yet...when Nick
thought about it, he knew that Lichtman couldn't expose his dad's
under-the-table dealings without revealing Caldwell's own part in it.
But, by doing that, he would be cutting his own throat. Caldwell was his
bread and butter. Why wreck Caldwell's reputation, and destroy his own
meal ticket? It made no sense. Nick thought that it was likely that
Lichtman was counting on just the threat to his father being enough to
hold him, Nick, in line, to keep him at the firm. He didn't see how
Mitchell would go through with it unless Caldwell had already ceased to
be of value to him. He supposed that if C&A did go under, then Lichtman
might decide to seek revenge on him by ruining his father's reputation,
but not before that. Still...was it worth taking the risk? To risk
Lichtman exposing his father's dirty little secret, ruining his
reputation, and losing him the seat on the federal bench that he had
just now secured? It was all so complicated. Nick sighed again, and
punched his fist into the mattress in frustration.

At that moment, Nick heard his father's footsteps approaching down the
hall. He briefly considered feigning sleep, thinking it likely that his
father would check on him, but he decided that was an unworthy trick to
play on his dad after all he'd done for him last night, after all he'd
done for him, period. A moment later, just as he had suspected, the door
opened, and Burton stuck his head in. Nick brought his own head from
under the pillow, and met his father's gaze with a steady one of his own.

Burton was already dressed in a short-sleeved shirt, and khakis. That's
right, Nick found himself thinking gloomily, his father wouldn't be
going into the office today. His going-away party last night had been
his final bow. He had made his exit from the firm that had once proudly
been known as "Fallin and Associates", but now would have to limp along
sadly as "Caldwell and Associates".... God, that still hurt.

"Morning, son," Burton said cheerfully.

"Morning," Nick replied, but couldn't find it in himself to be cheerful
about it.

"How, uh, how'd you sleep?" Burton inquired.

"Like the dead," Nick said, then shivered as he heard the phrase come
out of his own mouth. "God! Why did I say that?" he wondered to himself.

Burton didn't seem fazed by Nick's choice of words, and so Nick, sitting
up and rubbing at his eyes, asked, "What time is it?"

"About 7:00. I thought I'd head downstairs, and make us some breakfast."

"Okay." Nick realized that he was hungry. He hadn't had anything to eat
since yesterday morning. He'd been too busy to make time for lunch, and
then with Mandy arriving on his doorstep, and everything that followed,
there'd been no time for food, even if he had been able to stomach it.
He realized suddenly that his dad was speaking again, and said, "Hmmm?"

Burton repeated his last comment. "I said, I'd see you downstairs then."

"Yeah, okay." Nick nodded as he spoke.

Burton pulled the door to, and Nick climbed reluctantly out of bed. He
wore only a simple pair of white boxers with a tiny print in blue. He
didn't go in for pajamas, at least not normally. He raised his arms
above his head, and stretched, yawning widely. Returning both arms to
his side, he then put one hand up to his hair, scratched his head, and
glanced around the room idly. God, he didn't really want to face the day
ahead. He knew that the story of Mandy's death would be in the papers,
probably under a headline like, "Stripper wanted for murder found dead
in lawyer's home." Shit! What a mess, what a god-awful mess he'd made
for himself. He was pathetic.... Deciding it was wiser not to let his
thoughts carry too far down that road, Nick turned, and headed for the
bathroom. He might as well get dressed, and go downstairs. Staying up
here wasn't going to solve anything. He would just have to deal with
things as they came, one at a time. And the first thing to deal with was
breakfast (and...his father).

Burton looked up from his place at the stove when his son walked into
the kitchen. He was pleased to see that Nick looked like his normal self
this morning. He was dressed in black suit pants, a white dress shirt,
and dark, patterned tie. He had his suit jacket thrown over his arm. He
was the picture of self-possession.

Nick glanced his father's way, and saw that he was making omelettes.
Bacon was frying in a second pan. The smell of the bacon brought a
rumble from his stomach. He really was hungry, and the food looked good.
He was glad his father could cook. He realized he'd never really
appreciated that when he was a boy, but he did now.

"Pour yourself some coffee, Nick," Burton directed, as he took a puff
from the cigarette in his left hand. Nick walked over and laid his
jacket across the couch, and then returned to the counter. His father
already had an empty cup sitting there for him. He poured the coffee,
and brought the cup to his lips, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it
slightly before taking a sip. It tasted wonderful, and he took another
sip gratefully. He leaned against the counter, and watched his dad cook.

Burton glanced back at Nick, and then gestured to the paper sitting on
the counter next to him. "It's, uh, it's in this morning's paper,
Nick.... It's not too bad. Could be worse.... It's on the front page of
the Metro section."

Nick grimaced, and walked over to retrieve the paper. Returning to the
counter, he took another sip of his coffee, then set the cup down beside
him so he could have both hands free to read the paper. He felt his
heart rate increase as he thumbed through the paper looking for the
Metro section. Locating the story, he scanned down it quickly:

Stripper dies in home of attorney

A local stripper, Mandy Gresler, 27, who had been wanted for questioning
in the murders that occurred earlier this month at the Girls, Girls,
Girls strip club at 909 Blakely died Thursday evening in the home of
Nicholas Fallin, 32, son of prominent Pittsburgh attorney Burton Fallin.
Police are refusing to release details of the incident at this time, but
it is known that a 911 call was placed from Fallin's home in the 1900
block of Ellsworth in Shadyside at 8:37PM. The caller reported a woman
with no heartbeat at that location. Paramedics responded to the scene,
and Gresler was later rushed to St. Bartholomew's Hospital where doctors
pronounced her dead at 9:05PM.

Gresler, who had previously been convicted on two occasions for
misdemeanor drug possession, had been employed at the downtown strip
club for two years prior to the murders that occurred there on May 3rd.
Killed in the incident were two local men, Dale Petrocki, 46, Gresler's
boyfriend and former probation officer, and Lenny Getgin, 41, owner of
the club. Petrocki died from a blow to the head with a fire
extinguisher. Getgin was shot to death. A source inside the Police Dept.
has revealed that a witness (who remains unidentified) had earlier named
Gresler as the shooter in the death of Getgin.

It is not known at this time what relationship, if any, existed between
Nicholas Fallin and Gresler, and Fallin could not be reached for
comment. Fallin was convicted in January 2001 of a misdemeanor charge of
possession of cocaine, and is currently on probation for that offense.
He is an attorney in the firm of Caldwell and Associates (formerly
Fallin and Associates, the prestigious downtown law firm started by his
father Burton in 1971). Burton Fallin resigned from the firm (now headed
by former state senator, Nathan Caldwell) this week after his
appointment Monday to the Federal bench.

After skimming the article, Nick returned to the top, and read it all
again slowly. He supposed his father was right. It could have been
worse. But still, seeing his conviction for cocaine possession spelled
out in black and white like that was upsetting. He'd expected it, of
course, but it still bothered him. And it brought his arrest, and his
drug use, back to the attention of both clients and perspective clients.
Thinking of his clients brought him back to the question of what he was
going to do now that he knew what cards Lichtman really held. But, he
couldn't decide that now. He needed time to think about it, and time to
gather more information on Caldwell and Lichtman, and the situation, in
general.

Looking up, Nick realized that his father was watching him, waiting for
his reaction to the story. Nick said, in the best tone he could manage,
"You're right. It's not too bad. Could be a lot worse."

Burton nodded, and turned to pick up the two plates that now each held a
steaming Western omelette. He asked Nick to get the platter of bacon,
and the two men proceeded to the dining room. Nick had brought his
coffee cup along, but Burton, lacking a free hand, had to return to the
kitchen for his. He brought it back, along with the coffee carafe, and
topped off both his and Nick's cups before he sat down.

"Eat up, son," Burton said heartily. "It's best hot."

Nick didn't have to be told twice. He was ready to eat. Reading the
article in the paper had not been enough to deter his appetite. Both men
dug into their breakfasts with gusto. After just a couple bites of his
omelette, Nick looked up at his father, and said with sincerity, "It's
good." Burton smiled, pleased.

There was no more conversation until father and son were almost through,
then Burton said, "Nick, about what I told you last night, I, uh, I've
decided I'm going to refuse the appointment to the bench...that way
Lichtman won't have any leverage to use against you. And you, you can do
what you want. Start this new firm, or...whatever."

Nick looked up, startled by his father's words. "You can't do that,
Dad--," he started to protest, but Burton interrupted him.

"I can, Nicholas, and I'm going to. That will put an end to all this."

"But, Dad," Nick said with strong feeling, "if you do that Lichtman
wins.... No.... No, there's got to be a better way."

Burton was silent.

"Just, just don't do anything yet," Nick continued, his mind working
furiously. "I'll, I'll tell Jake and the others that we have to hold off
on the new firm, that...that we need to let things settle down a little
bit after...." He swallowed. "After what happened last night.... I'll
let Caldwell and Lichtman think I've given in to their blackmail, and
that I, I'll be staying at the firm. Then, uh, then we can start trying
to dig up something on Lichtman to use as a bargaining chip. If the guy
had no qualms about committing a felony by telling me about the
government annex for Angel's Landing, you know, you *know* there must be
other questionable activities in his past. We find out what they are,
and then it's stalemate. He can't expose your, uh, your deal with
Caldwell without risking exposure himself."

Burton had looked thoughtful during Nick's spiel. He was pleased that
Nick was able to look at things in such a clear light this morning.
Considering the state his son had been in the night before, Burton
hadn't been sure what to expect. But it was obvious that Nick had pulled
himself together. His son had an enemy to fight now -- that little shit,
Lichtman -- and he seemed more than game for battle. Burton was pleased,
and decided to let Nick have his way for now. "Okay," he said mildly,
nodding. "Okay, we'll play it your way, Nicholas."

"Good," Nick said simply. He was a little surprised that Dad had let him
win this argument so easily, but he wasn't about to question it.

Burton reached to take another sip of his coffee, and as he did Nick
said, "Dad, about...about Mandy Gresler...." Burton looked up. Nick had
his full attention. "I-I think it might have been the drugs that killed
her, not, uhm, not the fall. Bob mentioned the same thing to me last
night, but I, well...I guess, I didn't really take it in properly.
Mandy'd done a lot of coke yesterday...." Nick winced internally; he
hated talking about drugs with his father. "And, and, she may have died
from an overdose. In fact, I, I think it's likely."

"Huh," Burton said. The thought had never occurred to him. "That's,
that's good to know, son. Thanks for telling me."

Nick nodded. He reached for his own coffee cup, and kept his gaze
focused on it for the next few minutes until his discomfort with the
recent conversation had passed.

It was almost 8:00, and Nick was getting ready to leave the table when
his cell phone rang. He retrieved it from his pants' pocket, and flipped
it open. "Hello," he said.

"You had quite a busy night last night, didn't you, Nick?"

The voice sounded slightly familiar, but Nick couldn't place it. "Who is
this?" he asked.

"Ah, guess you don't recognize my voice yet, huh? This is Jerry Fields."

Nick started to frown, then glanced over at his father, who was watching
with undisguised curiosity. Jerry Fields was his new probation officer.
He supposed he'd been expecting this call.

"Uh-huh," Nick said noncommittally.

"I expect to see you in my office first thing this morning, Nick. I need
to hear about your adventures, and I think we'll need a urine sample
too.... Mixing with a drugged-out chick like Mandy Gresler, Nick, that's
not too smart. And here I thought you were a bright guy." Fields paused,
but Nick ignored the jibe. "Be in my office at 8:30, understand?"

"Yes," Nick said in an even tone. "I'll be there."

"All right," came the reply, and then the line went dead.

As Nick flipped the phone closed he saw that Burton was looking at him
expectantly. "That, uh, that was my new probation officer. He wants to
see me this morning."

Burton nodded in a resigned fashion. He imagined there were going to be
a lot of people clamoring to see Nick today: that detective Darger, Bob
Colden, Caldwell.

---+---

Nick walked into the offices of Caldwell and Associates about 10:00AM.
It had already been a full morning. First, the unpleasant interview with
his probation officer, followed by another consultation with his
attorney Bob Colden. He supposed the session with Fields had gone pretty
well. The man seemed determined to get a rise out of him, but he hadn't
risen to the bait. He had explained what had happened at his house last
night with Mandy. When Jerry started asking questions about his
involvement with Mandy and Dale and the strip club, Nick had kept his
explanations to a minimum. He did have to admit to witnessing the
crimes, but was noncommittal when Fields started probing about why he
was there in the first place. He knew Jerry must have a suspicion about
why he had been helping Dale, but he wasn't going to confirm that
suspicion for him.

Then there had been the meeting with Bob Colden. Bob had laid out some
of the legal options they might pursue if, indeed, it turned out that
Mandy had died as a result of the struggle. Although he repeated again,
his suspicions about the death being drug related. And this time, Nick
had told him he shared his suspicions. Bob had had Nick go over his
story once more to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything in the
emotionally-packed atmosphere of last night. Then he'd given Nick some
instructions on what to do if Darger wanted to question him again. Bob
had also mentioned that the police had searched Nick's house for drugs,
and come up empty. "That's a strong point in your favor, Nick," Bob had
said encouragingly. Nick had supposed it was, and he also supposed that
maybe, privately, Colden had been concerned about that. He couldn't know
that Nick had been clean since his slip that week in January. It
occurred to him to wonder if his father might have shared Colden's
concern. He sighed at that thought. God! Life was so complicated.

As Nick came into the lobby, he mentally prepared himself for the
assorted stares and questions he was sure to receive. It was much like
that Monday morning after his drug arrest. Everyone had stared at Burton
Fallin's son -- the newly revealed "drug addict." Nick shook his head at
the memory, that had been a difficult morning to get through. He thought
maybe this one would be a little easier.

Sure enough, heads came up as he walked past the reception desk, and
rounded the stairway to head for his office. Once inside, he gratefully
shut the door, and went over his plan again. He was sure he'd be
summoned to Caldwell's office as soon as word reached him that Nick had
arrived. He was right, not two minutes after he'd sat down, the phone
rang. It was Sheila, his Dad's old assistant. "Nick," Sheila said, in an
apologetic tone, "I'm sorry, but Senator Caldwell would like to see you
in his office right away."

"Okay, Sheila," Nick said. "Thanks. I'll be right there."

Walking into Caldwell's office without knocking, Nick was unsurprised to
find Mitchell Lichtman there, as well. Mitchell wore that same
self-satisfied, pursed-lip smile that Nick had come to know so well over
their short acquaintance. "God, I hate this guy!" Nick found himself
thinking. "Little bastard!" But, he quickly redirected his attention to
the senator when Caldwell began to speak.

"Nick," the senator said in a disappointed, yet fatherly tone. He held
up the front page of the Metro section. "Nick, what is all this about?
You can imagine my, my shock this morning when I opened up the paper,
and saw this...this story."

When Nick didn't reply, Caldwell continued. "You were involved with a
stripper? A known drug user? And she, she died in your house?... That
looks bad, Nicholas, really bad. It's bad for business." When Nick
continued to maintain his stubborn silence, Caldwell said, "Don't you
have anything to say for yourself?"

Nick glanced at Lichtman with distaste, then stared at Caldwell, as he
said firmly. "I know."

Caldwell looked confused. "You know? You know what?"

Nick continued, his voice rising slightly. "I know about your deal with
my father. And about Mitchell's threat to use that information against him."

"Nicholas--," Caldwell began in a conciliatory voice.

"I know," Nick repeated again, "and I...I've decided that I have no
choice." He turned to Mitchell then. "I'm not going to let you ruin my
father's reputation, ruin all he's worked for...." Nick paused as if he
couldn't go on. He spent a moment pretending to study the carpet, then
brought his eyes back up to meet Mitchell's. "So you win." He brought up
his arms, and let them fall back limply to his side. " You win.... You
can take pride in the fact that your little blackmail scheme worked,
Mitchell."

"Nick," Mitchell began silkily, "blackmail is such an ugly word."

"Blackmail is what it is," Nick said heatedly, his dislike for Mitchell
blazing from his eyes.

"Your father--", Mitchell began is own voice rising, but Caldwell cut
him off.

"Boys, boys," Caldwell said. "Let's not fight."

Nick continued to look daggers at Mitchell, who regarded him calmly in
return, only allowing the slightest little smile to show on his smug lips.

The senator continued, "Nick, I think what I hear you saying is that
you've decided to stay here at the firm? Is that right?"

Nick gave a curt nod, his eyes still on Mitchell.

"Well, I'm very glad to hear that Nick, very glad," the senator said
smoothly, all smiles. "And I think...in time...we'll be able to put all
this ugliness behind us, and make great strides here. Turn this place
into something really special. You know, do credit to your father's legacy."

Nick looked at Caldwell, and played his next card. "Since I'm staying, I
expect you to make good on that partnership you offered me."

"Well, Nick," Caldwell half-laughed (the boy had nerve, you had to give
him credit for that), "Really, I don't know. This mess in the paper--"

"It's not going to be a problem," Nick said dismissively.

"How can you be sure of that, Nick? It seems like you've gotten yourself
mixed up in something pretty unsavory here. Can you guarantee me that
this isn't going to reflect badly on the firm?"

Nick remained silent. He couldn't really, of course, but his demand for
the partnership was more of a ploy than anything.

"Maybe," Caldwell began, "maybe if you tell me exactly what happened
with this girl--"

"That's my personal business," Nick said abruptly.

"Your personal business, yes, but when it affects the firm...."

"It's my business, and I'll deal with it. It needn't concern you," Nick
said, arrogance oozing from every inch of his frame.

Caldwell looked about to argue the point, but then gave in. "Okay....
Okay, Nick, then I do expect you to deal with it. You'll need to perform
some damage control--"

"I'm aware of that," Nick interjected. "It'll be taken care of it."

Caldwell looked at Nick consideringly for a moment. "Well, all right
then.... I tell you what, Nick. If, as you say, this business with the
girl turns out to be nothing then we'll revisit the matter of your
partnership in, oh, say, a month. How's that sound?

Nick forced himself to give Caldwell a curt nod of acceptance.

"Okay, good.... I guess we're done here. If there's anything I can do,
though, Nick, to help out--"

"No. No, there's not." At that, Nick shot one more scornful look at
Mitchell, and then left the room.

Caldwell and Lichtman were silent for a moment after Nick had left. Then
Mitchell said, "You really think he's going to play ball?"

Caldwell didn't answer immediately. "I don't know," he said at last. "I
have the feeling there are a lot of things that go on behind that young
man's eyes that people never see. But...for now...we'll just have to
take him at his word, assume that he's abandoned the idea of starting
his own firm, and that he'll stay here, to protect his father."

As Nick emerged from Caldwell's office, a trace of a smile appeared on
his face. They bought it. They believed he was going to stay here, and
meekly generate money for the two of them! Well, they'd see. It was just
a matter of time until he dug up something on Mitchell that would shut
him up for good. Then they'd see how long Nicholas Fallin and his
clients stayed at this firm.

Nick ignored the stares that followed him as he made his way back to his
office corridor. Now it was time to talk to Jake. This conversation he
wasn't looking forward to. Jake was a good guy. He'd had no qualms about
jumping ship with Nick when Nick suggested it. He'd turned in and done a
lot of the work himself, locating the loft space on the south side,
being Nick's go-between with the other associates. Yeah, Jake had really
come through for him, and now he, Nick, had to put the kibosh on all
their plans. And he had to make Jake and the others believe it was
because of the mess with Mandy, that it was just a temporary
postponement, nothing more. And, most importantly, he had to ensure that
they'd keep quiet about the whole thing. Caldwell and Lichtman had to
believe that Nick had abandoned all plans to strike out on his own.

Walking up to Jake's door, Nick took a deep breath, schooled his
expression, and then knocked.

"Come in," Jake called.

Nick opened the door, and walked into the office slowly.

"Nick," Jake said with surprise, "I, uh, I wasn't sure we'd see you here
today."

"Hi, Jake," Nick said.

Jake gave into his natural curiosity. "What happened, man? I saw the
story in the paper. Who was that girl? Was she a, a friend of yours?"

"No," Nick said, with a shake of his head. "No, I barely knew her."

Jake looked confused, "Well, but, I mean, she died in your house, Nick."

"I know."

"Well, how, how'd it happen?"

Nick ran a hand down his hair, and shook his head. He'd decided earlier
in the morning that he would have to share at least part of the story
with Jake. Under normal circumstances, he'd keep his own counsel, but,
in this case, he felt he owed Jake something, and also explaining part
of the story would help emphasize to Jake what an untenable situation
Nick was in, why it wouldn't be a good idea to break away from the firm now.

"Look, Jake," Nick began at last. "It's, it's complicated. You know how
in the paper it said Mandy was wanted for questioning about the deaths
at the strip club?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I...I, uh...I was there that day. I witnessed the whole thing."

"What!" Jake's shock was evident.

"Yeah, I was there, and, and the next morning I went to the cops, and
told them what I'd seen." Nick paused. He was finding this harder than
he thought it would be. "Mandy had taken off, and the cops have been
after her ever since. On Monday, the cop in charge of the, of the
investigation came by the office, and told me that Mandy would probably
try to, to contact me. He said, said she'd come up empty everywhere
else, and he figured her next stop would be me."

Jake was listening with rapt attention to Nick's story. Nick paused to
take a breath, then continued.

"He, uh, he was right. Mandy jumped in my car Monday night after our
meeting at the clinic. She wanted money. I told her, told her I couldn't
give her any, and that she should turn herself in. When I started to
call the police, she took off."

"Wow," Jake said.

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "Then last night she showed up at my house. I let
her in, and tried to keep her occupied while I called the cops to come
pick her up, but she, she heard me on the phone. She tried to leave. I
tried to stop her, and, uh, she, she fell to the floor. When I went to
check on her she didn't have a pulse."

"Wow," Jake said again. He was stunned. Trust Nick to get involved in
something like this, something so...colorful -- strippers, guns, people
getting bashed in the head with fire extinguishers. Jesus! "Nothing like
that would ever happen to me," he thought, "not to good ole, reliable,
boring Jake Straka." He was almost envious of Nick in a weird sort of
way. Nick's life certainly couldn't be characterized as boring, not by
any stretch of the imagination.

"Anyway," Nick was saying, "I called for an ambulance, and then, then I
called my lawyer, and that's about it."

"But, what'd she die of?"

Nick crossed his arms in front of himself. "We don't know yet, but I'm
thinking it was an overdose. Mandy had done a lot of coke that day, and
I mean, a LOT of coke."

"Oh," Jake said, as he considered that. "How, how do you know that?"

"She told me," Nick answered simply. "She told me before we went into
the house."

Jake was nodding his head slowly.

Nick drew in a breath, and changed the subject. "Anyway, Jake, I've been
thinking about it, and I don't think we should go through with our plans
right now. Not right now."

"What?" Jake said. He'd still been caught up in the mental image of this
stripper lying dead on Nick's floor.

"I don't think we should move forward with our plans for the new firm
just now. The timing's not right. We need, we need to let all this
settle down for a, a little while first."

"But, Nick," Jake protested. "Everything's ready to go. We were going to
sign the lease for the loft space today, you know that."

"I know...I know." Nick raked a hand through his hair again. "And I'm
really sorry about this Jake, but, I, I think it would be a mistake to
start a new firm now...what with all the bad publicity, and...my, uh,"
Nick stopped to clear his throat, "my uncertain situation. It's just not
the right time. I'm sorry, Jake."

Jake was shaking his head unhappily. "You're sorry? You're sorry." He'd
been really excited about starting this new practice, excited about them
venturing out on their own. And now Nick had just squashed the whole
thing...squashed it just like that. He supposed he was right, though.
They had been counting on the Fallin name being a big draw for new
clients, and at this moment, that name was a bit tarnished, and that was
putting it lightly. "Poor Burton," Jake found himself thinking. He
wondered what the old man thought about all this? He found he couldn't
resist asking the question, although he was sure that Nick would shoot
him down -- leave without a word, or just stare at him. Those were his
usual tactics. The guy was a god-damned master at ignoring questions he
didn't want to answer. Made you feel like an idiot, more times than not,
for even asking.

"Nick, what.... How is your dad handling all this?"

Nick looked away, and Jake thought, "uh-huh, here we go", but then Nick
looked Jake straight in the eye, and said with quiet sincerity, "He's
been great. Really great."

"Well...I'm...I'm glad to hear that Nick. That's...that's good. I know
if it was my dad--", but Nick didn't let him finish.

"Yeah," Nick said abruptly. "Look, Jake, I've got to go. Can you let the
others know we need to meet tonight?" He started to suggest his house as
a meeting place, and then realized that was out. "Can we meet at your
apartment, say at 8:00? I think it's only right that I should tell Lisa,
and Henry, and the rest, all this in person. Can you spread the word?
Thanks." Without even waiting for Jake's assent, Nick turned, and headed
out the door.

"Now that's more like it," Jake found himself thinking amusedly -- the
patented Nick Fallin "Do-this, I'm-Gone" quick exit. He laughed softly
to himself, and then got up from behind his desk. He'd better start
passing the word about the meeting tonight. The guys were not going to
be pleased, but what could you do? Nick was right. They should hold off
for now.

---+---

It was 2:40, and Nick was walking into Legal Services of Pittsburgh for
the first time that day. He really hadn't wanted to come over here at
all, would rather have waited till Monday to face another roomful of
curious faces, but he had two appointments this afternoon, and dead
stripper, or no, he didn't like to cancel appointments unless he had to.
It wasn't professional. So, he had decided to come on over, and face the
music.

The first person he saw as he came through the elevator doors was
Barbara. She saw him immediately, and a look of concern descended on her
face. She walked right up to him, and said kindly, "You okay, Nick?"

"Yeah," he replied, nodding, while simultaneously turning his head away,
averting his gaze. "Yeah, I'm, I'm fine."

"Well, if there's anything I can do...you just let me know."

"Thanks, Barbara." Nick knew she was sincere in her offer. She was that
kind of person. And, too, he'd helped keep her son Russell from serving
serious time for the death of that teenage football player from that bad
meth-amphetamine a few months ago, so he knew that Barbara probably felt
she owed him something.

Nick started to head for the conference room. His first appointment was
at 3:00, and he needed to read up on the case history first. But before
he could make it to the door, Alvin emerged from his office. Catching
sight of Nick, he called out, "Nick? Got a minute?"

"Here we go," Nick thought to himself. Christ, he could really do
without Alvin's "I wanta be your friend" routine right now, but he
gritted his teeth, and headed for Alvin's office anyway.

Alvin was waiting for him at the door, and closed it behind him after
he'd entered. Nick hadn't planned to sit down (he didn't plan on staying
that long), but Alvin motioned him to a seat, and Nick decided it wasn't
worth arguing about, so he sat down. Alvin returned to his own place
behind his desk.

"Nick," Alvin began slowly. "I don't know what to say... . Is there
anything I can do? You wanta talk about it?"

"No," Nick answered.

"Are you sure? Is there anything you want to tell me?... Anything you
*need* to tell me, Nick? I mean, as your sponsor, ya know."

"No." Keep it to monosyllables, and he'll let you out all the quicker,
Nick thought.

"Well, okay, but ya know if you feel you need someone to talk to, I'm
always here. I want to be there for you, Nick. The way somebody was
there once for me. Ya understand?"

"Yeah, sure," Nick said, rising from his chair, and glancing at his
watch. "Thanks. Is that all?"

Alvin nodded in defeat, and Nick walked out the door without a backward
glance.

---+---

Nick's last appointment had just walked out the door of the conference
room. Nick felt sorry for the girl. Sixteen, and she was seeking to be
emancipated because her mother was a strung-out prostitute, and her
father was a drunk that liked to get a little too friendly with his
daughter when he had one too many.

"And I think I have problems," Nick found himself thinking ruefully.
"You don't know how good you've got it, Nick. You really don't." He
shook his head, and watched the teenager as she waited for the elevator.
Poor kid. She looked as miserable as he had felt last night.

Nick was turning back to the conference room to gather up his things,
when he saw Lulu approaching out of the corner of his eye. Oh, great,
another person he really didn't want to see today, the newly minted,
"Mrs. Lulu Olsen". He reentered the conference room, and busied himself
with putting the teenager's emancipation papers back in his briefcase.
Sure enough, not three seconds later, Lulu walked in the room, shutting
the door behind her.

"Nick," she said with feeling. "Are, are you okay? Who was that girl in
the paper? I, I didn't know you were seeing a, a stripper. Who was she?"

Nick struggled to hold on to his temper. This woman stomps all over his
heart, and then thinks she has the right to ask him questions? Well, she
didn't.... But, still...he couldn't bring himself to ignore her
completely, or to be rude to her either. Despite his own best
intentions, he still cared for her a lot. He was afraid he would for a
long time to come.

He exhaled a long, careful breath, and said, "It wasn't like that, Lulu.
She was just, just an acquaintance. I, uh, I barely knew her." He tried
to step around Lulu to get to the door, but she moved to block him.

"Then who was she? What was she doing in your house?... Nick, how did
that woman *die* in your house?" Her tone on that last question could
only be characterized as demanding.

Nick fought to remain patient. "It's a long story, and, I, I don't mean
to be rude, but it's really none of your business."

"None of my business...." Lulu seemed stunned by the remark. "But, Nick--"

"Look...I'm sorry, Lulu, but it's, it really is none of your business,
and I, uh, I have to be somewhere. So, if you'll excuse me." This time,
Nick succeeded in making his way past Lulu to the door.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he headed for the elevator. Now if he
could just make it out of here before any other well-intentioned person
collared him. Once at the elevator, he glanced back, and saw that Lulu
was still standing, motionless, in the conference room doorway. What he
couldn't see was the single tear making it's way down Lulu's cheek.

---+---

It was Sunday morning, and Nick was back in his own house. The forensics
team had finished up some time yesterday. Nick had been glad to find
that the place had been left in reasonably good order, not like the last
time the cops had had free rein in his home. Of course, that was back
before he'd bought this house, back when he was still living in that
high-rise apartment downtown. After his drug bust, after the cops had
gotten through with his place it had been a mess! He knew, given the
circumstances of the party, it had been pretty bad to start with, but it
was obvious the cops had not made any attempt to be careful with his
property. This time it looked like they had.

Nick sank down on the couch, and thought back over the last couple days.
Things weren't as bad as they could be. The cops had found Mandy's gun
in her purse (he couldn't believe she hadn't dumped it), and Ballistics
had confirmed that it was the gun that had fired the shot that killed
Lenny. So he was in the clear there. His fingerprints hadn't been on the
fire extinguisher that Lenny had used to kill Dale, so he'd always been
okay on that count. Things had gone all right at the office too. He'd
convinced Caldwell and Mitchell (the slime) that he was going to play
along, be a good boy.

Nick sighed as he thought of the meeting Friday night with Jake and Lisa
Jacoby, and the rest of the F&A associates who had been willing to
strike out on their own with him. That had not gone as smoothly as he
would have liked, but in the end he'd convinced them his way was best.
He knew, though, that if it hadn't been for the fact that his name was
"Fallin" and he still held all his dad's old clients, a couple of them
would have been for going it without him. Lisa, especially, had argued
hard against the delay. He still felt somewhat guilty about concealing
the real reason he couldn't leave C&A right now, but he knew he'd get
over it. He smiled cynically to himself at that thought. Yeah, he was
usually very good at forgiving himself for the rotten things he had to
do as part of conducting business. Of course, this time, it wasn't
really business. He'd lied to protect his father. But, he knew he could
forgive himself for that too. It wouldn't be a problem.

Nick was interrupted from his musing by the insistent ringing of the
telephone. He leaned forward, and grabbed the cordless phone off the
coffee table.

"Hello."

"Nick, it's Bob Colden. Great news! My source in the Coroner's office
just called. The autopsy report is back on Mandy Gresler. It was an
overdose, Nick. No question about it. Apparently she had enough coke in
her system to kill a horse."

Nick was speechless. He'd convinced himself that this had to be the
case, but still to actually hear it put in words.... It was like a huge
weight being lifted off his chest...off his soul. His sense of relief
was enormous. It was...it was completely overwhelming.

"Nick, you there?"

Nick drew in a deep breath, and said, "Yeah. Yeah, Bob, I'm here.
That's, uh...yeah, thanks. Thanks for telling me. Thank you."

"You're welcome.... I think you're in the clear all the way around now,
Nick. I don't believe Darger is going to bring any charges against you.
I think he'll even keep mum about those probation violations he was
holding over your head. He can be a pretty decent guy when he wants to
be. I think he'll decide now he wants to be.... So, I think you're going
to be free to put this whole thing behind you...get on with your life.
How's that sound?"

Nick let out a sigh. "That sounds just great, Bob. Thank you. Really.
Thank you."

"You're welcome, Nick," Bob said warmly. "Take care."

"You too, Bob. Thanks."

"Sure. Bye, Nick."

"Bye."

Nick put the phone back down on the table. Then stood up, and stared
into space for a moment. "God, this latest nightmare is finally over,"
he thought. "Thank God!"

Without conscious thought, he found himself staring at the spot on the
carpet where Mandy had lain only three short nights ago. Yes, the
nightmare was over for him, but Mandy...Mandy was dead. There'd be no
more dreams, or nightmares, for Mandy. For her, everything had come to
an end. Everything.... Nick knew now that her death had had nothing to
do with his actions, but still.... She had died right here, died
virtually in his arms. And that was something he wasn't ever going to be
able to forget. Not ever.

After another moment of quiet reflection, Nick shook himself out of his
melancholy mood. He had to share the news with Dad. He knew this had
been a nightmare for him too. Picking up the phone, he started to dial
his father's number, but then stopped. "No, not by phone," he thought to
himself, "not this time."

Heading into the foyer, Nick picked up his keys from the small table by
the stairs, and then walked out the front door. He was going to tell his
dad the news, but he was going to do it in person. He was going to be
there to share his relief and joy. He owed that to his dad...and himself.

To Be Continued Juggling Act 3