Then, as the trees opened out, he recognized his own driveway. Harriet’s car was parked just ahead, with Batcat coming out from underneath to be let inside the house. And why should he have hoped for anything else? Had he really expected that just when he chose to tune in, something would just happen to be taking place that would give them the great breakthrough? You needed scriptwriters for coincidences like that.
Vanessa turned in her seat, and her arm reached over to retrieve the things from the seat below where Kevin was clinging. He waited for her to leave the car, then returned Mr. Toad to the mec box and deactivated it.
Well, at least the system still worked. And that, he supposed, was something.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Doug Corfe looked at Michelle across the desk in her office in the John Sloane Building in downtown Seattle. His decision to come here midway through Friday morning had been prompted more by desperation at the nearness of the weekend than by any clear intentions thought carefully through. Now that he had committed himself, it was important to go for the opportunity that the holiday presented; to pass up on it now would risk the appearance of fobbing Kevin off and of never having been sincere at all, which was something Corfe couldn’t permit. After yesterday’s experience, he hadn’t been willing to just call and risk being asked to leave another message. This was something that he needed to put to Michelle face to face. That was about as far as he had taken things in his own mind. The rest, he’d more-or-less assumed, would fall into place once Michelle had the picture.
However, he could tell from her expression even before he had finished speaking that either he was putting the case badly or had picked the wrong time—or maybe the idea was just dumb. Whatever the reason, it clearly wasn’t going over well. He stopped it at that point for a reaction.
Michelle spread her hands and looked from side to side, as if searching for words, then shook her head. “Doug, you can’t be serious. It’s just not on. We can’t go breaking into another lawyer’s office. I mean . . . it’s just not something you can do. We’d be the ones who’d end up on criminal charges, with Garsten doing the filing. Then how would we ever be able to put a case of any kind together from that position? We wouldn’t. Is that what you want?”
“What kind of case do we look like putting together as things stand?” Corfe answered. “You said there was no way to move without some kind of evidence of what these people are up to. Well, here’s a practical way we might get some—if any exists to be got.”
“It’s not practical. It’s totally impractical.”
“Well, I haven’t heard too many suggestions from any other direction,” Corfe said hotly. He knew as he blurted the words out that it was the wrong thing to say.
Michelle contained herself with a visible effort. “Excuse me, but I do have other clients . . .”
“And I have a close friend who stands to be killed. You don’t seem to understand. That’s what doesn’t seem to get through.”
“Doug.” Michelle’s tone was sharp. “You just show up here unannounced. I’ve had to shoe-horn you in between appointments—there’s one waiting in reception right now. Why on earth didn’t you call?”
“It’s Friday, and this is the holiday weekend. If we’re going to do it, this is the time. I left messages all day yesterday. . . .”
“I was out working on this very thing yesterday. Yes, I understand perfectly well how you feel, Doug. Do you imagine I don’t feel it too? As a matter of fact, I’ve put a hell of a lot of time in on it this week, despite having a full schedule to begin with. Do you realize how complicated this is? I’m a business attorney. I deal in contracts. We’re probably going to have to call a criminal lawyer in on this, to build a case against somebody’s family lawyer. That isn’t the kind of thing that lawyers take to easily. And the client in question that we’re trying to protect isn’t even being what you’d call a hundred percent cooperative.”