You there, Moon Dance?
I leaned forward and tapped a few keys: I am, but working. Talk soon, okay?
The butler did it, Moon Dance. Always the butler.
I shook my head and closed the box. Admittedly, I was mildly surprised that the box appeared. Fang always seemed to know when I was working - and respected my time with my clients. I frowned at that as I turned my attention back to Russell.
"May I ask how your opponent died?" I asked, lowering my voice.
"That's a good question, Ms. Moon."
"Please call me Sam."
He nodded. "Officially, they called it brain damage. Unofficially, they found nothing."
"How do you know this?"
"The M.E. told me. He personally called me up and told me that he couldn't find anything other than some bleeding - enough to officially label it a brain hemorrhage, but not enough to cause death. At least, not in the opinion of the medical examiner."
"Yes."
"So, why are you here, Russ?" I asked, trying out a nickname to get him to spill more details.
He continued rubbing his knuckles. His foot, which was crossed over his knee, was jiggling and shaking. Now he rubbed the back of his neck. The bicep that bulged as he did so was...interesting.
"I don't know, Sam. I don't know why I'm here."
"Yes, you do," I said. "Why are you here, Russell?"