41
A
YOUNG MAN who needed a haircut came into my office wearing a
seersucker suit, a white shirt, a blue tie, and a woven straw
snap-brim hat.
"Spenser," he
said.
"I am he," I
said.
"My name is Corky
Corrigan," he said. "From the law offices of Morris
Hardy."
He took a card from
his shirt pocket and laid it on my desk.
"Wow," I said. "I've
seen Morris's ads on television. He looks implacable."
"Right," Corrigan
said. "We represent Thomas and Beatrice Lopata."
"You and Morris," I
said.
"Yes," Corky
said.
"Have you ever met
Morris Hardy?" I said.
"Certainly," Corky
said. "He spoke at one of our associate meetings."
"You work for
Morris?" I said.
"We are associated,"
he said.
"And you do the
case," I said. "And Morris looks implacable and takes a third of
the fee."
Corky gave a little
head shake, as if there was a bug on his nose.
"We are bringing a
wrongful-death suit," he said, "against Jeremy Franklin Nelson in
the death of Dawn Ellen Lopata."
"Good for you," I
said.
"I know you've been
investigating the case," he said. "And as we assemble our witness
list, I thought it might be wise to see what you've
learned."
"I've learned that I
don't know what happened," I said.
"But you must have a
slant on things," Corky said.
He had a little
notebook resting on his thigh, and had his Bic pen poised to
transcribe things.
"My slant is pretty
much a combination of subjective impressions and hearsay," I
said.
Corky
nodded.
"Useful background,"
he said.
"It is," I
said.
"So go ahead," Corky
said with a smile. "Don't worry about hearsay, leave the legal
stuff to me, just relax and tell me what you've found and what you
suspect."
"Where'd you go to
law school, Corky?" I said.
"Bradford School of
Law," he said.
"In Haverhill," I
said.
He
nodded.
"And you
graduated?"
"Three years
ago."
"And passed the
bar?"
"Last year," he
said.
I
nodded.
"Mum's the word," I
said.
"Excuse me?" Corky
said.
"I don't want to
tell you what I've found and what I suspect," I said.
Corky seemed
startled.
"Why not?" he
said.
"Don't see anything
in there for me," I said.
"Don't you care
about justice?"
"I do," I said.
"Also truth, and the American way. But I am not so sure about civil
litigation."
"Are you asking to
be paid?" Corky said.
"No."
"Then I don't
understand," Corky said.
"I'm sure you
don't," I said. "I am still working on the case, and I don't want
you, or even the implacable Morris, stepping on leads and tripping
over suspects while I'm trying to work."
"Who is your
client?" Corky asked.
"Nope," I
said.
"Well, who do you
recommend I talk with?" he said.
"Captain Martin
Quirk," I said. "Boston Police Department. He's in charge of the
case."
Corky wrote it
down.
"Do you think he'll
cooperate?" Corky said.
"Serve and protect,"
I said. "But it would be good not to annoy him."
"Do I annoy you?"
Corky said.
"Let me count the
ways," I said.