Chapters (89)
“Oh, I also got the expedited tire-track analysis you wanted. Tire tracks around the scene belong to a large truck of the same type Anderson Ficco owns. Can’t confirm make or model.”
“That’d be great, except that everybody and their mother in this town drives a large truck.”
“It’s something, at least.”
I flipped through her reports while she took another sip of my coffee and leaned back in the seat. “I like this town. It’s quaint.”
“Try growing up here. That quaintness doesn’t last long.”
“I think you forget I grew up in Jerusalem. I would’ve loved a small town where nothing ever happens.”
“Yeah, it had its charms, I guess.”
“Why’d you leave? Typical story of a small-town genius who needs to experience everything?”
“I’m flattered you recognize I’m a genius, but no, I just felt suffocated. This town, any small town, I guess, can feel like a noose around your neck, and the older you get, the tighter that noose gets.” I glanced over at the barista, who was humming along to a country song playing over the speakers. “I need one more thing. Russell’s got something on this case. He asked for the quickest trial date possible and only filed three motions, even though I’m sure he could think up twenty more. I gotta find out what he has.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t. I have to be in Madrid.”
“I’ll pay double your fee.”
“You know I don’t work that way. A promise is a promise. I get a reputation for dropping clients and pretty soon I won’t have clients.”
She rose and kissed me on the cheek.
“What am I supposed to do without you?” I said.
She grinned and said, “You’ll figure something out. You always do.” As she was about to leave, she said, “Oh, and the eye injury, that’s not from a pipe.”
“What’dya mean?”
“I pulled the medical reports like you asked. Doctor said it was repeated blunt force trauma.”
“Repeated? Like fists?”
“Yup. I think someone didn’t like him very much.”
53
53
It was afternoon when I got the call that they were discharging my father from the hospital. I rushed down there and found Dr. Langley in another patient’s room.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I said.
“Mr. Graham, you can’t be in here.”
“The hell I can’t. He’s going to die without treatment.”
The doctor told the patient he would be right back and said, “Outside, please.”
We went out into the hallway, and I folded my arms as he took his glasses off and tucked them into the breast pocket of his white coat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Graham. I spoke to the psychologist, and he stated that your father is fully competent and in charge of his faculties. I have no choice but to follow the patient’s wishes.”