He took a long time before answering. What was she really asking? Did it matter? “They’re two wins from clinching the wild card. If they get a streak, they might not need it.”

“Will you take me sometime?”

Ted could hear what it cost her to ask, but he was too choked up to reply.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” she said.

“No. No. It’s okay. I’d love to take you to a game.”

“I’ve missed you.”

He thought he heard a tiny sob. “I know. Me too.”

“You’re sure?”

“Pick a day,” he said.

“Tomorrow.”

He laughed. “They’re in Atlanta. How’s next Tuesday?”

And now here was Ted in need of the cooperation of Jill’s new love. Well, he might be able to get by without Jacqueline Clavette. But a few answers from her would clear up a number of issues about the Miller properties. He swallowed and tried to sound as if he were smiling.

“I’m sorry if I caused you two any aggravation. And if she tells me she doesn’t ever want to go to a Mets game with me as long as she lives, I will respect her wishes, though I may not believe her.”

“I could get canned for talking to you.”

“So far, all you’ve done is yell at me. I think the firm would approve.”

“Do not contact me. Understand? Not on my private line. Not at the firm.”

The woman’s one great failing as a lawyer, and the reason she had never been prodded into the role of negotiator, was that she tended to set absolute boundaries. Compromise was a dirty word. Ted thought it worked for her more often than not—she was good at her job—but it kept her from being effective on a larger stage.

He had no leverage, either emotional or rational, but he had to make one more attempt to get her cooperation. “If you answer one question.”

“I’m hanging up now,” she said.

“Just one. Where’s Barbara Miller? How can I find her?”

“Who?”

“Come on, Counsellor. She’s a client. Barbara Miller. Little old lady in Corona. Owned a bunch of three stories.”

“I’m not going to share client information with you.”

“You have just confirmed that you know her, so cut me a break. I only want to talk to her. I met some friends of hers.” Acquaintances really, but he thought the slight exaggeration was warranted. “They want to know that she’s all right. They’re worried about her. She disappeared, they say.”

“What are you up to, Molloy? Don’t stir up trouble. The firm went easy on you. I can promise you they will not be so friendly next time around.”

What was she talking about? The firm had blown him off—along with six other lawyers and a score of paralegals, secretaries, and other support staff. That was being easy on him?