She handed me a business card with Freeman’s name neatly embossed on it. He’d waited to leave until his new quarters were ready—the card listed both a phone and a fax. I was going to have to break down and get a fax myself—it was too hard to do business, at least my kind of business, without one. Even my favorite Loop deli wouldn’t accept phone orders for lunch anymore—you had to fax ahead during the noon rush.

I was so deep in contemplation of the gap between me and modern technology that I didn’t notice the people around me until someone grabbed my arm.

“That’s her!” a voice shrieked.

It was the young receptionist. The person holding my arm was a member of the building’s security force. When I tried to twist free his hold tightened.

“Sorry, ma’am. They tell me you went busting into their offices without permission, and they’ve asked me to see you off the premises.”

“I’m a client,” I protested. “At least, I was until you grabbed my arm.”

We were blocking the stairs. A crowd was gathering below us when a man behind me demanded to know what the trouble was. I turned and smiled thankfully: it was Leigh Wilton, one of the senior partners. While we’d never been friends, he didn’t share the active disdain toward me of many of his peers.

“Leigh—it’s me—Vic Warshawski. I went back to try to talk to Freeman—didn’t know you and he had parted company—and your receptionist here thought I was a mugger.”

“Vic! How are you? Looking great.” He patted the guard’s shoulder. “You can let her go. And Cindy, check with me before you turn the dogs loose on our clients, okay?”

The receptionist flushed. “Mr. Pichea came through. When I explained it to him, he called the guard. I just came along to identify her. I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t, honey. But Mr. Pichea doesn’t make the decisions around here. So why don’t you go back to your desk. And you”—to the guard—“do you need me to clear anything up with your superiors?”

The guard shook his head and followed Cindy on a fast track to the door. Leigh thought it was such a good joke, my almost being arrested, that he insisted I come to his office for a cup of coffee. He called Pichea and made him join us. My neighbor’s chagrin made up for a little of the humiliation I’d experienced the last few days.

“I’m going to have to put together a photo album of our clients so you young eager beavers don’t send them all to jail,” Leigh added.