Rosato and Associates: Legal Tender Part 22

"That's just what my boyfriend says," I said, to discourage any ideas he might be having about our future together. After all, I was true to Grady, right? "Good-bye now," I called out, and returned to the elevator bank and punched the b.u.t.ton. I watched the cops disappear down the hall and almost leapt into the elevator when it came.

Christ. It had been way too close a call. The cops were closing in because of Sam. They would find out where Sam lived, they would go there. They'd be one step behind me all the way, whether by accident or design. Chasing me. Until they caught up.

34th Floor.

My stomach tightened. Soon Azzic would catch wind of Sam's car and start asking more questions. I couldn't stay at Grun anymore. I had to go.

33rd Floor.

I took a tense inventory. I still had my cell phone but the bananamobile was stuck at Sam's with Jamie 17. She was better off there for now, I was back on the run. How could I get away without a car? It was a city. There were trains, buses, subways. Go!

32nd Floor.

The doors opened and I sprang out on the Loser Floor. The air-conditioning was feeble and the reception area smelled of cat s.h.i.t. I carded my way past the security gate and slipped under it while it rattled upwards. I hurried to my conference room and opened the door.

My new wardrobe had arrived, all in plastic garment bags, complete with a shoe box. I grabbed my clothes, briefcase, and papers. I was about to run out again but suddenly there was a knock at the door. s.h.i.t. I held my breath. Was it the cops?

"Who's there?" I asked.

The knock came again, louder this time.

"Who is it?" I asked, louder.

Still, no answer. What was this? The Warrantless Entry Game, where the cops fool you into consenting? I put on my frosty Linda Frost face and opened the door.

I wouldn't have expected it, not in a million years.

Chapter 30.

He was shorter than I remembered, but his face was as pickled as always, puckering behind horn-rimmed gla.s.ses with transparent acetate frames. His bald head had grown elliptical as an egg and it was dappled with freckles from the sun. Even though it was Sunday, he was dressed in his standard white b.u.t.ton-down shirt, rep tie, and Brooks khaki suit.

The Great and Powerful. Standing in the doorway to Conference Room D, listing gently to the right.

"Mr. Grun," I said, shocked.

"Wha?" he asked, touching his ear.

"Mr. Grun!"

He smiled, his lips an unexpectedly wet pink. "Yes. How do you know me?"

Eeek. "Uh, I've seen your picture. In the directory."

"Pleased to meet you." His voice wavered, but it was still strong. He extended a hand that felt dry and frail in mine. "You must be Miss Frost."

"Yes. Right."

He shuffled into the conference room, borne forward by momentum and sheer will, then eased into a chair almost as soon as I yanked one under him. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome."

"So, you must be Miss Frost," he said again, squinting up at me. His smooth head moved like a turtle's in his stiff collar. "Why, you look very familiar to me."

My heart skipped a half-beat. "No. We've never met."

"Your father, do I know him?"

"No." I don't even know him.

"Was he at Piper, Marbury?"

"No, he wasn't a lawyer," I said, though I didn't know what he was. A sneak, according to my mother.

"But you look so familiar. His name, what was it?"

"Frost, the same as mine."

"What was his first name?"

Jack? No. David? Worse. "Grinnell. Grinnell Frost. Like the town, in Iowa." Please G.o.d, teach me to lie better than this.

"Grinnell Frost." He shook his head vaguely. "I guess not. So, you've come to us from the New York office. I like the New York office very much."

"So do I."

"We have some very smart lawyers there."

"Yes, we do."

"I do not like New York City, however."

"Neither do I." But I don't have time to chat about it.

"The people have no manners."

"No, they don't. They ignore everyone around them."

"They move," he waved a jittery hand in the air, "too fast."

"Much too fast."

"And the streets are dirty."

"Very."

"Filthy."

"Noisy." I never agreed with him so much. I never agreed with anybody so much, but I still felt like bolting for the door. Getting out of the building.

"You must be working hard, Miss Frost."

"I am."

"I read your memo, about the computer case you're preparing for."

"You did?" Oh, s.h.i.t.

"Yes. I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. I don't come in to work every day and I don't always keep up with my mail. As for my advance sheets, well, they're a dead letter, I'm afraid. Do you keep up with your advance sheets, Miss Frost?"

"I try to."

"You must, they're essential. You must to know what the courts are deciding, how the law is evolving. You know what Cardozo said."

Cheese it, the cops? "Of course."

" 'The law changes in increments.' " He held up a finger that was very tan for this time of year, and I remembered he had a vacation home in Boca Raton. "You young people have the firm now. The firm, it runs without me now."

I couldn't ignore the regret in his voice. "But not as well, I'm sure."

"You're very kind, Miss Frost," he said, but stared past me. The bright windows reflected white off his bifocals, making him look sightless. "I built this firm, you know. With my friend. He's gone now."

"Mr. Chase?"

"He's gone."

"I didn't know," I said, but I had. I checked the open door behind him, and the coast was still clear.

"That was a long time ago."

"I see."

He sighed. "Anyway, you're on trial in a week."

I was on trial right now. "Yes."

"You said you needed help. In your memo."

"Help?" Stupid, stupid, stupid. Help!

"It was a silly memo, Miss Frost," he said, with a trace of the sternness I remembered. "You don't know us very well, in the main office. No one will help you here if they can't bill it."

"No?" Tell me about it.

"Not nowadays. In my day, we all helped each other. We wouldn't think of billing a client for helping a colleague. We ate lunch together then. Even had tea and a snack together. We were partners then. Truly. Partners."

"Snacks? At Grun?"

"Oh, yes." He smiled shakily at the memory. "Mr. Chase would make some tea and we'd all have tea and chocolate together. Just a piece, in the afternoon. Chase, myself, and McAlpine. Later, Steinman."

"Chocolate?" I forgot the cops for a moment, intrigued.

"Yes, chocolate. Now, Steinman, he loved chocolate more than all of us put together. Had to have some every day."

"What kind of chocolate, Mr. Grun?" Say light chocolate. Was that how it started?

"Always the same kind. We, all of us, liked the same kind."

Say light. So that was it. Not tyranny, comradeship. Collegiality. I felt terrible. I'd misjudged him, and for years.

"Do you like chocolate, Miss Frost?"

It didn't have to think about it this time. "I love chocolate, Mr. Grun."

"What kind of chocolate, light or dark?"

"Light, only." I felt a welling-up, unaccountably.

"Dark, it's too bitter."

"I agree."

He smiled shakily. "Light chocolate is a wonderful thing."

"It is."

"Some things in life cannot be improved upon."

"Like golden retrievers."

He smiled again. "Are you a dog lover, Miss Frost?"

"Yes."

"I like cats, myself."

I thought of Jamie 17, back with Sam. I actually missed her. "They're okay, too."

"I had a cat once, my Tiger. She was striped. She liked to eat cream cheese. Licked it right off my finger." He nodded. "We all helped each other, then. It didn't matter if it could be billed or not. Not in the least. Why bill it and make your friend look bad, eh?"

Why, indeed.

"That's how you build a law firm. Not with cases, not even with clients. With friendships. They grow from there, in reputation. In strength. They become ... organic, that way."