seat. It’ll be a minute.”
Mark eased into a chair, and as soon as Clint disappeared he opened a yellow phone book and flipped through the pages until he found the attorneys. There was Gill Teal again in his full-page spread. Pages and pages of huge ads, all crying out for injured people.
Photos of busy and important men and women holding thick law books or sitting behind wide desks or listening intently to the telephones stuck in their ears. Then half-page ones, then quarter. Reggie Love was not there. What kind of lawyer was she?
Reggie Love was one of thousands in the Memphis Yellow Pages. She couldn’t be much of a lawyer if the Yellow Pages thought so little of her, and the thought of racing from the office crossed his mind. But then there was Gill Teal, the one for real, the people’s lawyer, the star of the Yellow Pages who also had enough fame to get himself on television, and just look at his office down the hall. No, he quickly decided, he’d take his chances with Reggie Love. Maybe she needed clients. Maybe she had more time to help him. The idea of a woman lawyer suddenly appealed to him because he’d seen one on “L.A. Law” once and she had ripped up some cops pretty good. He closed the book and returned it carefully to the magazine rack beside the chair. The office was cool and pretty. There were no voices.
CLINT CLOSED THE DOOR BEHIND HIM AND EASED ACROSS
the Persian rug to her desk. Reggie Love was on the phone, listening, more than talking. Clint placed three phone messages before her, and gave the standard hand signal to indicate someone was waiting in the reception area. He sat on the corner of the desk, straightening a paper clip and watching her.
There was no leather in the office. The walls were papered with light floral shades of rose and pink. A spotless desk of glass and chrome covered one corner of the rug. The chairs were sleek and upholstered with a
burgundy rabric. inis, witnout a doubt, was trie orrice of a woman. A very neat woman.
Reggie Love was fifty-two years old, and had been practicing law for less than five years. She was of medium build with very short, very gray hair that fell in bangs almost to the top of her perfectly round, black-framed glasses. The eyes were green, and they glowed at Glint as if something funny had been said. Then she rolled them and shook her head. “Good-bye, Sam,” she finally said, and hung up.
“Got a new client for you,” Clint said with a smile.
“I don’t need new clients,’ Clint. I need clients who can pay. What’s his name?”
“Mark Sway. He’s just a kid, ten maybe twelve years old. And he says he’s supposed to meet with the FBI at noon. Says he needs a lawyer.”
“He’s alone?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d he find us?”
“I have no idea. I’m just the secretary, remember. You’ll have to ask some questions yourself.”
Reggie stood and walked around the desk. “Show him in. And rescue me in fifteen minutes, okay. I’ve got a busy morning.”
“FOLLOW ME, MARK,” CLINT SAID, AND MARK FOLLOWED him through a narrow door and down a hallway. Her office door was covered with stained glass, and a small brass plate again said REGGIE LOVE—LAWYER. Clint opened the door, and motioned for Mark to enter.
The first thing he noticed about her was her hair. It was gray and shorter than his; very short above the
ears and in the back, a bit thicker on top with bangs halfway down. He’d never seen a woman with gray hair worn so short. She wasn’t old and she wasn’t young.
She smiled appropriately as they met at the door. “Mark, I’m Reggie Love.” She offered her hand, he took it reluctantly, and she squeezed hard and shook firm. Shaking hands with women was not something he did often. She was neither tall nor short, thin nor heavy. Her dress was straight and black and she wore black and gold bracelets on both wrists. They rattled.
“Nice to meet you,” he said weakly as they shook. She was already leading him to a corner of the office, where two soft chairs faced a table with picture books on it.
“Have a seat,” she said. “I have only a minute.”
Mark sat on the edge of his seat, and was suddenly terrified. He’d lied to his mother. He’d lied to the police. He’d lied to Dr. Greenway. He was about to