It was Dan Daly, another defense attorney who was part of a coterie of lawyers who took in Dodgers games occasionally and martinis routinely at Four Green Fields. I had missed the last season of booze and baseball.

“How ya doin’, Dan?”

We shook hands, an indication of how long it had been since we’d seen each other.

“So, who’d you grease?”

He said it with a smile but I could tell there was something behind it. Maybe a dose of jealousy over my scoring the Elliot case. Every lawyer in town knew it was a franchise case. It could pay top dollar for years — first the trial and then the appeals that would come after a conviction.

“Nobody,” I said. “Jerry put me in his will.”

We started walking toward the exit doors. Daly’s ponytail was longer and grayer. But what was most notable was that it was intricately braided. I hadn’t seen that before.

“Then, lucky you,” Daly said. “Let me know if you need a second chair on Elliot.”

“He wants only one lawyer at the table, Dan. He said no dream team.”

“Well, then keep me in mind as a writer in regard to the rest.”

This meant he was available to write appeals on any convictions my new set of clients might incur. Daly had forged a solid reputation as an expert appeals man with a good batting average.

“I’ll do that,” I said. “I’m still reviewing everything.”

“Good enough.”

We came through the doors and I could see the Lincoln at the curb, waiting. Daly was going the other way. I told him I’d keep in touch.

“We miss you at the bar, Mick,” he said over his shoulder.

“I’ll drop by,” I called back.

But I knew I wouldn’t drop by, that I had to stay away from places like that.

I got in the back of the Lincoln — I tell my drivers never to get out and open the door for me — and told Patrick to take me over to Chinese Friends on Broadway. I told him to drop me and go get lunch on his own. I needed to sit and read and didn’t want any conversation.

I got to the restaurant between the first and second waves of patrons and waited no more than five minutes for a table. Wanting to get to work immediately, I ordered a plate of the fried pork chops right away. I knew they would be perfect. They were paper-thin and delicious and I’d be able to eat them with my fingers without taking my eyes off the Wyms documents.