Free Loren D. Estleman - Valentino 03 - Alive! by Loren D. Estleman

agree. Are you a native Californian?”
    “No. I was born and raised in Indiana.”
    “I am. The first firm I interned with had a department that specialized in contract law and represented people in the entertainment industry. In your time here you can’t have failed to note that publicity is the coin of the realm. Washington is no different. Face time means as much to a politician as it does to an actor. When it comes to headlines, the name Grundage is magic. Now, if there’s nothing else you wanted to see me about, I have important calls to place.”
    It was a scene-ending line if ever there was one, but rather than turn away in dismissal, Lysander held his ground. Clearly he was expecting his visitor to make the next move. In that moment, Valentino realized the attorney had consented to the interview as much to gain information as to impart it. It was time for the archivist to play his card.
    “There is something else. You denied ever hearing from Craig Hunter, but he called you in this office last Friday night.”
    Lysander didn’t blink. “Who said that?”
    “No one. Your number was on his redial.”
    “Anyone is free to dial my number. It’s listed. Perhaps he misdialed.”
    “Angering you enough to tell your client, who had him killed using his modus operandi. That’s no sillier than to call it coincidence.”
    “Be careful, young man. The line between hypothesis and false accusation is very thin.”
    “I have a witness who says he was in conversation for some time with whoever answered. It was the last call he made from that phone before he was murdered.”
    “And the name of your witness?”
    Valentino shook his head.
    “Young man, I’ve faced many an ambitious prosecutor. I know when I’m being bluffed.”
    “I told you I’m older than I look. Telephone company records will show whether a call was placed to your number and for how long.”
    For the first time he saw an authentic-looking reaction on the lawyer’s face, a slight deepening of the pink on his cheek. “I need to confer with a client before I continue this conversation,” he said. “Would you step outside for a few minutes?”
    “Mike Grundage?”
    “Please step outside.”
    Valentino did so, strolling the reception room and reading certificates of public service preserved in clear Lucite as the woman behind the desk whispered her fingers over her computer keyboard. She stopped typing, listening over her headset. She gave the visitor a chilly smile and pushed the button that unlocked and opened the door to the private office.
    This time Lysander remained sitting. Valentino consigned himself to more butter-soft leather in front of the great mass of obsidian.
    “What you and I discuss can never leave this office.” The lawyer’s hands were clasped on the glistening surface separating host from guest. Valentino kept his own hands off it, knowing he’d leave a wet mark. “I made that promise in return for permission to breach attorney-client privilege. I can go no further until you agree to that.”
    “If it’s a criminal matter, I’m bound to report it. I have no such privilege.”
    “So far as my client and I are aware, it involves nothing illegal.”
    “If that’s the case, I agree.”
    An index finger detached itself from the others and pointed toward the ceiling. “If word of the conversation gets out, I face disbarment. That’s nothing compared with the firestorm of litigation you will face from my partners. It will follow you for years, drain all your resources, and plunge you so deep in debt your heirs will never be able to repay it.”
    “I’m already there, Mr. Lysander. I’m rebuilding a theater.”
    “You’ll lose it and everything you’ve invested in it. In the end you’ll wish you and Hunter had never met.”
    He was used to that feeling; but he nodded.
    The finger rejoined its mates. “Hunter’s business was with Elizabeth Grundage, not Mike.”
    “His wife?”
    “His stepmother. Tony, her late