She said, “You must be Nathaniel’s brother.” She extended her hand.

“I am.” I glanced around to notice that her office, unlike the reception area, was packed with boxes and files, which to me was a good sign because it meant she was busy.

She said, “What’s your name?”

“Mitchum.”

“Your name is Mitchum?”

I didn’t feel like explaining and I wanted to hear about my brother so I just said, “That’s what everyone calls me.” I glanced over at the wall nearest me and noticed her diploma. I looked at her and said, “Impressive, Harvard Law. Surprised you’re not with one of the big firms in the city.”

“I was, but I moved back here for family reasons.” Now she pulled Natty’s file from a stack on her desk and motioned for me to sit down. I noticed my brother’s file was pretty thick.

I said, “Natty called me to look into the death of his friend.”

“Pete Stahl? I know. I represented him, too. Why did your brother ask you to look into it?”

“I’m sort of an unofficial private investigator and he…”

“Nathaniel told me you delivered papers.”

“I do both.” I decided I wanted to change the subject, fast. “Do I owe you any money for this yet?”

The pretty attorney shook her head and said, “No, your brother keeps me on retainer. Granted, it’s normally for narcotics cases, but let’s see what happens with this. So far all they have is the gun used to kill Pete, and unfortunately, Nathaniel’s fingerprints and, potentially, his DNA are on the gun. There are no witnesses, nothing else.”

“Do you believe Natty when he says he had nothing to do with it?”

“I don’t have to believe him. I just have to make sure his rights aren’t violated, and that means that I’ll protect him. If he had nothing to do with the murder and I protect his rights, he’ll be a free man soon enough.”

“Have you handled many cases like this?”

“A few.”

“How many defendants walked free?”

“Every single one who deserved to. This isn’t a sporting event where you keep score. I’ll do my best. If that isn’t good enough, there are other attorneys in town.”

I considered what she had said and nodded, then said, “Do you think they’ll let me visit Natty tonight?”

“They usually don’t at the police department holding cell, but probably when he gets to the county jail.” She took a Post-it pad from the corner of her desk and wrote down the phone number for the jail in the western part of the county.

I took the single blue square sheet of paper with an upstate New York logo that said Adirondacks are not only chairs.

I looked back at her and said, “What can I do to help?”