jg.thefirm-第24节

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ou　some　pictures。〃
　　Ollie　glared　at　the　wall　but　said　nothing。
　　〃Listen；　Ollie；　I　think　we　need　to　send　the　kid　with　Avery　to　Grand　Cayman　on　business。　See　if　you　can　arrange　it。〃
　　〃That's　no　problem。　May　I　ask　why？〃
　　〃Not　right　now。　You'll　know　later。〃
　　The　building　was　in　the　low…rent　section　of　downtown；　a　couple　of　blocks　from　the　shadows　of　the　modern　steel…and…glass　towers　which　were　packed　together　as　if　land　was　scarce　in　Memphis。　A　sign　on　a　door　directed　one's　attention　upstairs；　where　Eddie　Lomax；　private　investigator；　maintained　an　office。　Hours　by　appointment　only。　The　door　upstairs　advertised　investigations　of　all　types…divorces；　accidents；　missing　relatives；　surveillance。　The　ad　in　the　phone　book　mentioned　the　police　expertise；　but　not　the　ending　of　that　career。　It　listed　eavesdropping；　countermeasures；　child　custody；　photographs；　courtroom　evidence；　voice…stress　analysis；　location　of　assets；　insurance　claims　and　premarital　background　review。　Bonded；　insured；　licensed　and　available　twenty…four　hours　a　day。　Ethical；　reliable；　confidential；　peace　of　mind。
　　Mitch　was　impressed　with　the　abundance　of　confidence。　The　appointment　was　for　5　P。M。；　and　he　arrived　a　few　minutes　early。　A　shapely　platinum　blonde　with　a　constricting　leather　skirt　and　matching　black　boots　asked　for　his　name　and　pointed　to　an　orange　vinyl　chair　next　to　a　window。　Eddie　would　be　a　minute。　He　inspected　the　chair；　and　noticing　a　fine　layer　of　dust　and　several　spots　of　what　appeared　to　be　grease；　he　declined　and　said　his　back　was　sore。　Tammy　shrugged　and　returned　to　her　gum　chewing　and　typing　of　some　document；　Mitch　speculated　whether　it　was　a　premarital　report；　or　maybe　a　surveillance　summary；　or　perhaps　a　countermeasure　attack　plan。　The　ashtray　on　her　desk　was　filled　with　butts　smeared　with　pink　lipstick。　While　typing　with　her　left　hand；　the　right　one　instantly　and　precisely　picked　another　cigarette　from　the　pack　and　thrust　it　between　her　sticky　lips。　With　remarkable　coordination；　she　nicked　something　with　her　left　hand　and　a　flame　shot　to　the　tip　of　a　very　skinny　and　incredibly　long　liberated　cigarette。　When　the　flame　disappeared；　the　lips　instinctively　pacted　and　hardened　around　the　tiny　protrusion；　and　the　entire　body　began　to　inhale。　Letters　became　words；　words　became　sentences；　sentences　became　paragraphs　as　she　tried　desperately　to　fill　her　lungs。　Finally；　with　an　inch　of　the　cigarette　hanging　as　ashes；　she　swallowed；　picked　it　from　her　lips　with　two　brilliant　red　fingernails　and　exhaled　mightily。　The　smoke　billowed　toward　the　stained　plaster　ceiling；　where　it　upset　an　existing　cloud　and　swirled　around　a　hanging　fluorescent　light。　She　coughed；　a　hacking；　irritating　cough　which　reddened　her　face　and　gyrated　her　full　breasts　until　they　bounced　dangerously　close　to　the　typewriter　keys。　She　grabbed　a　nearby　cup　and　lapped　up　something；　then　reinserted　the　filter…tip　1000　and　pecked　away。
　　After　two　minutes；　Mitch　began　to　fear　carbon　monoxide。　He　spotted　a　small　hole　in　the　window；　in　a　pane　that　for　some　reason　the　spiders　had　not　draped　with　cobwebs。　He　walked　to　within　inches　of　the　shredded；　dust…laden　curtains　and　tried　to　inhale　in　the　direction　of　the　opening。　He　felt　sick。　There　was　more　hacking　and　wheezing　behind　him。　He　tried　to　open　the　window；　but　layers　of　cracked　paint　had　long　since　welded　it　shut。
　　Just　when　he　began　to　feel　dizzy　the　typing　and　smoking　stopped。
　　〃You　a　lawyer？〃
　　Mitch　turned　from　the　window　and　looked　at　the　secretary。　She　was　now　sitting　on　the　edge　of　her　desk；　legs　crossed；　with　the　black　leather　skirt　well　above　her　knees。　She　sipped　a　Diet　Pepsi。
　　〃Yes。〃
　　〃In　a　big　firm？〃
　　〃Yes。〃
　　〃I　thought　so。　I　could　tell　by　your　suit　and　your　cute　little　preppie　button…down　with　the　silk　paisley　tie。　I　can　always　spot　the　big…firm　lawyers；　as　opposed　to　the　ham…and…eggers　who　hang　around　City　Court。〃
　　The　smoke　was　clearing　and　Mitch　was　breathing　easier。　He　admired　her　legs；　which　for　the　moment　were　positioned　just　so　and　demanded　to　be　admired。　She　was　now　looking　at　his　shoes。
　　〃You　like　the　suit；　huh？〃　he　said。
　　〃It's　expensive；　I　can　tell。　So's　the　tie。　I'm　not　so　sure　about　the　shirt　and　shoes。〃
　　Mitch　studied　the　leather　boots；　the　legs；　the　skirt　and　the　tight　sweater　around　the　large　breasts　and　tried　to　think　of　something　cute　to　say。　She　enjoyed　this　gazing　back　and　forth；　and　again　sipped　on　her　Diet　Pepsi。
　　When　she'd　had　enough；　she　nodded　at　Eddie's　door　and　said；　〃You　caiv　go　in　now。　Eddie's　waiting。〃
　　The　detective　was　on　the　phone；　trying　to　convince　some　poor　old　man　that　his　son　was　in　fact　a　homosexual。　A　very　active　homosexual。　He　pointed　to　a　wooden　chair；　and　Mitch　sat　down。　He　saw　two　windows；　both　wide　open；　and　breathed　。easier。
　　Eddie　looked　disgusted　and　covered　the　receiver。　〃He's　crying；〃　he　whispered　to　Mitch；　who　smiled　obligingly；　as　if　he　was　amused。
　　He　wore　blue　lizard…skin　boots　with　pointed　toes；　Levi's；　a　well…starched　peach　button…down；　which　was　unbuttoned　well　into　the　dark　chest　hair　and　exposed　two　heavy　gold　chains　and　one　which　appeared　to　be　turquoise。　He　favored　Tom　Jones　or　Humperdinck　or　one　of　those　bushy…headed；　dark…eyed　singers　with　thick　sideburns　and　solid　chins。
　　〃I've　got　photographs；〃　he　said；　and　yanked　the　receiver　from　his　ear　when　the　old　man　screamed。　He　pulled　five　glossy　eight…by…tens　from　a　file　and　slid　them　across　the　desk　into　Mitch's　lap。　Yes；　indeed；　they　were　homosexuals；　whoever　they　were。　Eddie　smiled　at　him　proudly。　The　bodies　were　somewhere　on　a　stage　in　what　appeared　to　be　a　queer　club。　He　laid　them　on　the　desk　and　looked　at　the　window。　They　were　of　high　quality；　in　color。　Whoever　took　them　had　to　have　been　in　the　club。　Mitch　thought　of　the　rape　conviction。　A　cop　sent　up　for　rape。
　　He　slammed　the　phone　down。　〃So　you're　Mitchell　McDeere！　Nice　to　meet　you。〃
　　They　shook　hands　across　the　desk。　〃My　pleasure；〃　Mitch　said。　〃I　saw　Ray　Sunday。〃
　　〃I　feel　like　I've　known　you　for　years。　You　look　just　like　Ray。　He　told　me　you　did。　Told　me　all　about　you。　I　guess　he　told　you　about　me。　The　police　background。　The　conviction。　The　rape。　Did　he　explain　to　you　it　was　statutory　rape；　and　that　the　girl　was　seventeen　years　old；　looked　twenty…five；　and　that　I　got　framed？〃
　　〃He　mentioned　it。　Ray　doesn't　say　much。　You　know　that。〃
　　〃He's　a　helluva　guy。　I　owe　him　my　life；　literally。　They　almost　killed　me　in　prison　when　they　found　out　I　was　a　cop。　He　stepped　in　and　even　the　blacks　backed　down。　He　can　hurt　people　when　he　wants　to。〃
　　〃He's　all　the　family　I　have。〃
　　〃Yeah；　I　know。　You　bunk　with　a　guy　for　years　in　an　eight…by…twelve　cell　and　you　learn　all　about　him。　He's　talked　about　you　for　hours。　When　I　was　paroled　you　were　thinking　about　law　school。〃
　　〃I　finished　in　June　of　this　year　and　went　to　work　for　Bendini；　Lambert　&　Locke。〃
　　〃Never　heard　of　them。〃
　　〃It's　a　tax　and　corporate　firm　on　Front　Street。〃
　　〃I　do　a　lot　of　sleazy　divorce　work　for　lawyers。　Surveillance；　taking　pictures；　like　those；　and　gathering　filth　for　court。〃　He　spoke　quickly；　with　short；　clipped　words　and　sentences。　The　cowboy　boots　were　placed　gingerly　on　the　desk　for　display。　〃Plus；　I've　got　some　lawyers　I　run　cases　for。　If　I　dig　up　a　good　car　wreck　or　personal…injury　suit；　I'll　shop　around　to　see　who'll　give　me　the　best　cut。　That's　how　I　bought　this　building。　That's　where；　the　money　is…personal　injury。　These　lawyers　take　forty　percent　of　the　recovery。　Forty　percent！〃　He　shook　his　head　in　disgust　as　if　he　couldn't　believe　greedy　lawyers　actually　lived　and　breathed　in　this　city。
　　〃You　work　by　the　hour？〃　Mitch　asked。
　　〃Thirty　bucks；　plus　expenses。　Last　night　I　spent　six　hours　in　my　van　outside　a　Holiday　Inn　waiting　for　my　client's　husband　to　leave　his　room　with　his　whore　so　I　could　take　more　pictures。　Six　hours。　That's　a　hundred　eighty　bucks　for　sitting　on　my　ass　looking　at　dirty　magazines　and　waiting。　I　also　charged　her　for　dinner。〃
　　Mitch　listened　intently；　as　if　he　wished　he　could　do　it。
　　Tammy　stuck　her　head　in　the　door　and　said　she　was　leaving。　A　stale　cloud　followed　her　and　Mitch　looked　at　the　windows。　She　slammed　the　door。
　　〃She's　a　great　gal；〃　Eddie　said。　〃She's　got　trouble　with　her　husband。　He's　a　truck　driver　who　thinks　he's　Elvis。　Got　the　jet…black　hair；　ducktail；　lamb…chop　sideburns。　Wears　those　thick　gold　sunglasses　Elvis　wore。　When　he's　not　on　the　road　he　sits　around　the　trailer　listening　to　Elvis　albums　and　watching　those　terrible　movies。　They　moved　here　from　Ohio　just　so　this　clown　can　be　near　the　King's　grave。　Guess　what　his　name　is。〃
　　〃I　have　no　idea。〃
　　〃Elvis。　Elvis　Aaron　Hemphill。　Had　his　name　legally　changed　after　the　King　died。　He　does　an　impersonation　routine　in　dark　nightclubs　around　the　city。　I　saw　him　one　night。　He　wore　a　white　skintight　jumpsuit　unbuttoned　to　his　navel；　which　would've　been　okay　except　he's　got　this　gut　that　hangs　out　and　looks　like　a　bleached　watermelon。　It　was　pretty　sad。　His　voice　is　hilarious；　sounds　like　one　of　those　old　Indian　chiefs　chanting　around　the　campfire。〃
　　〃So　what's　the　problem？〃
　　〃Women。　You　would　not　believe　the　Elvis　nuts　who　visit　this　city。　They　flock　to　watch　this　buffoon　act　like　the