Chapter2 You make any progress on the 30 Rock shooting? Stone asked. Devine next looked at the photos. The one of him was the same photo shed taken on the rooftop of her building: the troubled man with baggage. The one of her did not have her in a bikini but, rather, jeans and a T-shirt. With the loveliest smile he had ever seen. Damn straight Im serious. Now unplug it. A 1957 Cadillac convertible that you had when you were nineteen, I said. It was yellow. Near Harpers Ferry. Ill take a look at that, and Til ask that the envelopes be passed to the jurors so that each juror can observe that the seals have not been tampered with. Slick was in a mild snit because he had forgotten to bring any salt. Our luncheon appointment was taking place on a bench under the shade of some trees along the north rim of Dupont Circle. Slick had brought his lunch in a proper wicker basket that was covered with a red and white checked cloth. Mine was contained in a brown paper sack. I reached into the sack and handed him a twist of paper that held some salt. He thanked me and sprinkled a pinch of it on his cold broiled breast of chicken. Bathrooms are where you go when youre going to be sick. But I couldnt go in there so I hurried back into the kitchen and threw up in the sink. After that I ran some cold water and washed my face and dried it with a paper towel. I didnt have to explain. He told me all about you and about what you had done at the directors meeting, and I just lay in his arms and stroked his hair and smoothed his forehead and let him tell me his troubles. And he told me that Roxys lawyer had said that you were the most diabolically ingenious attorney of the whole California Bar; so I said, Well, that’s fine. If I ever get in trouble, I’ll call on Perry Mason.’ And he said, You’ll never get in trouble, but if you do, he’s the man you want.’ Stone raised his pistol and fired at Sigs head. His hat flew off, and Stone saw blood on his forehead. He tried to fire again, but Sig had backed out of the room and slammed the door. It was a scalp wound, not a head wound, Stone said, half to himself. The man sniffed, eyed the woman, and in a wishful tone said,Well, on the streaming shows they almost always are. And the woman before her was just as hot. Detective Aaron Oxley of the Metropolitan Police Departments homicide squad couldnt think of anything to charge me with except a felony that could, he said, get me five to ten years in Lorton. The felony that Detective Oxley had in mind was my failure to report a felony. The felony that I had failed to report was Max Quanes murder, but my lawyer, Earl Inch, pooh-poohed that as only a $100-an-hour lawyer can; with magnificent derision and chilling disdain. Detective Oxley took it well enough because he really didn’t seem too interested in charging me with anything anyhow. What he was really interested in was why I had thrown the empty pint bottle of Old Overholt. And Murfin. He was interested in Murfin, too. Oh my God, she exclaimed. Then after Dorothy Fenner sneaked into his house, she knew what was in the letter. She eyed where his hand was under the bed and he saw something in her expression he didnt care for. Sit down. On the other side of the room there were cheers as Trent Dorsey held his clenched hands up in the air the way a winning boxer does. He was following the number-one law of the bullshit room— despite all evidence to the contrary. He was proclaiming himself the winner. Yeah, that I know, thought Devine.And the security card and cameras? Not if the result includes prison. I have an aversion to small rooms with bars..