lawyer’s got in the middle of it.”
The elevator stopped on the second floor, and Fred grabbed the handles on his cart.
“Who’s the lawyer?” Slick asked.
The door opened and Fred pushed forward. “Reggie somebody. I haven’t seen him yet.”
“Thanks,” Slick said as Fred disappeared and the elevator filled. He rode it to the ninth floor to search for another fish.
BY NOON, THE REVEREND ROY FOLTRIGG AND HIS SIDE-
kicks, Wally Boxx and Thomas Fink, had become a collective nuisance around the offices of the United States Attorney for the Western District of Tennessee. George Ord had held the office for seven years, and he did not care for Roy Foltrigg. He had not invited him
to Memphis. Ord had met Foltrigg before at numerous conferences and seminars where the various U.S. attorneys gather and plot ways to protect the government. Foltrigg usually spoke at these forums, always eager to share his opinions and strategies and great victories with anyone who would listen.
After McThune and Trumann returned from the hospital and broke the frustrating news about Mark and his new lawyer, Foltrigg, along with Boxx and Fink, had once again situated himself in Ord’s office to analyze the latest. Ord sat in his heavy leather chair behind his massive desk, and listened as Foltrigg interrogated the agents and occasionally barked orders to Boxx.
“What do you know about this lawyer?” he asked Ord.
“Never heard of her.”
“Surely someone in your office has dealt with her?” Foltrigg asked. The question was nothing short of a challenge for Ord to find someone with the scoop on Reggie Love. He left his office and consulted with an assistant. The search began.
Trumann and McThune sat very quietly in one corner of Ord’s office. They had decided to tell no one of the tape, at least for the moment. Maybe later. Maybe, they hoped, never.
A secretary brought sandwiches, and lunch was eaten amid aimless speculation and chatter. Foltrigg was eager to return to New Orleans, but more eager to hear from Mark Sway. The fact that the kid had somehow obtained the services of an attorney was most troublesome. He was afraid to talk. Foltrigg was convinced Clifford had told him something, and as the day wore on he became more convinced the kid knew about the body. He was never one to hesitate before drawing
conclusions. By the time the sandwiches were finished, he had persuaded himself and everyone in the room that Mark Sway knew precisely where Boyette was buried.
David Sharpinski, one of Ord’s many assistants, presented himself at the office and explained he’d gone to law school at Memphis State with Reggie Love. He sat next to Foltrigg, in Wally’s seat, and answered questions. He was busy and would rather have been working on a case.
“We finished law school together four years ago,” Sharpinski said.
“So she’s only practiced for four years,” Foltrigg surmised quickly. “What kind of work does she do? Criminal law? How much criminal law? Does she know the ropes?”
McThune glanced at Trumann. They’d been nailed by a four-year lawyer.
“A little criminal stuff,” Sharpinski replied. “We’re pretty good friends. I see her around from time to time. Most of her work is with abused children. She’s, well, she’s had a pretty rough time of it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s a long story, Mr. Foltrigg. She’s a very complex person. This is her second life.”
“You know her well, don’t you?”
“I do. We were in law school together for three years, off and on.”
“What do you mean, off and on?”
“Well, she had to drop out, let’s say, emotional problems. In her first life, she was the wife of a prominent doctor, an ob-gyn. They were rich and successful, all over the society pages, charities, country clubs, you name it. Big house in Germantown. His and her Jag-
uars. She was on the board of every garden club and social organization in Memphis. She had worked as a schoolteacher to put him through med school, and after fifteen years of marriage he decided to trade her in for a new model. He started chasing women, and became involved with a younger nurse, who eventually became wife number two. Reggie’s name back then was Re-gina Cardoni. She took it hard, filed for divorce, and things got nasty. Dr. Cardoni played hardball, and she slowly cracked up. He tormented her. The divorce dragged along. She felt publicly humiliated. Her friends were all doctors’ wives, country club types, and they ran for cover. She even attempted suicide. It’s all in the divorce papers