Free One Dead Lawyer by Tony Lindsay Page B

were walking up LaSalle Street when Daphne threw me off. She grabbed a hold of my arm and snuggled up close to me. Her presence chased my hard exterior right away. I was back to smiling at her pretty face and finesse.
    â€œWhy you looking so mean, Mr. Price? Did I say something to offend you?”
    â€œNo, baby, you seem only capable of making me smile.”
    That got me a kiss on the cheek.
    The office was located in one of Chicago’s older, musty buildings. We stepped from the ancient elevator, directly into the firm of Peal, MacNard and Nelson. The name of the firm was above the receptionist desk in tacky gold plastic letters. My first thought was, Damn, her lawyer must be broke.
    Standing at the receptionist desk, I looked down to Daphne who gave me a “don’t you get it” look before she told the receptionist, “Veronica, have Martin meet us in conference room one.”
    The hint or point she thought I should have got, I didn’t get. On the corner of the receptionist’s desk was a message spindle, Daphne spun it to the slot labeled NELSON and took the message slips. She looked curiously back over her shoulder at me. I still hadn’t gotten it. It wasn’t until we walked past an office with D. NELSON scripted on the door did I start to get it.
    â€œOh! You are a lawyer.”
    A proud, youthful smile caused her eyes to sparkle. “Yes, for a little over six months.” She was obviously happy about her accomplishment.
    â€œWow! Color me surprised.”
    â€œI hope you like surprises, because I have a couple more for you.” The childish smile turned devilish. Something more was brewing, I could tell because of the tingling in my armpits. Since childhood this tingling had been my early warning system.
    â€œNot many people from my past know I practice law. I look ahead, not back. Here.” She pushed opened two large doors. “Go in and have a seat, I’ll be back in a second.”
    She led me into a standard meeting room. Where there should have been a long shiny cherrywood or slate table, there were instead three card tables pushed together, complete with vinyl folding chairs. Instead of prints in nice frames, there were motivational posters taped up with bits of masking tape; “Believe and achieve,” “Expect the best” and “No I in team”. The law firm’s conference room looked more like a retail store’s employee lunchroom.
    Minutes later Daphne returned with a box full of office stuff, pictures of her with local dignitaries and her law degree. She bent over and kissed me on the cheek. “You’re my backbone right now. Having you here with me is giving me the strength to do something I’ve been planning for weeks.”
    After she slid her box of stuff under the table, a white man walked in. He was dressed in a very stylish dark blue pinstriped suit. He was followed by a brother in a forest-green, double-breasted suit. The white guy looked familiar but it didn’t click as to where I had seen him.
    The brother’s expensive suit didn’t hide his skinny build and the nice haircut couldn’t do a thing with that narrow head and ping-pong-ball eyes. I didn’t like the look of him.
    The white guy said “Daph, I hope this doesn’t take long, I’m scheduled tight today.” He pointed his pink stubby index finger at me and said, “Don’t I know you?”
    â€œI was thinking the same thing,” I answered. Normally I extend my hand when I first meet people; shaking hands is polite. However, the minute he pointed his finger at me, politeness was no longer the protocol.
    â€œHmph,” we both said.
    The brother said nothing but kept his large eyes on me as they both joined us sitting at the card tables. Across the tables Daphne slid them each a packet of papers.
    â€œI am leaving the firm, gentlemen. I am a partner in this firm in name only. My token days are over. I