As before, her forehead, neck and upper torso were slick with sweat.
Janek looked her over. "Every time I drop in here I catch you working out."
Her eyes glowed. "I like pumping iron. Sometimes I practice a little law."
He noticed several delightful clusters of freckles on her glossy chest.
Don't start thinking about her body, he warned himself.
"Glad to hear that. I need a good lawyer. I'm here today on my own account."
She raised her eyebrows, beckoned him to her work area, gestured him into her client's chair, sat behind her desk, mopped her face again and settled back.
"Okay," she said nicely, in the manner of a well practiced attorney,
"let's hear your story."
She listened carefully as he spoke, taking occasional notes on a yellow legal pad, nodding at strategic points to show she followed what he was saying. As he recounted his saga-exploitative ex-wife, crushing alimony, ex-wife's live-in lover, imbalance in their incomes-he found, to his surprise, that he was enjoying himself Netti was a good listener; she inspired coherent narrative. And his depiction of Sarah, which always emerged with a bitter edge when he discussed her with Aaron, was coming out now in a far more attractive form.
"Well, it ain't criminal defense," Netti said when he finished. "But it could be fun, specially if I can do it quick." She paused. "What's your bottom line?":, Reduce the alimony, I guess."
"Reduce it? Why not eliminate it?"
"Think you can do that?"
"I'll give it my best shot."
Suddenly he was worried: What if Netti came on too strong, antagonized Sarah, then lost the case? Might that inspire Sarah to seek even more alimony than he was paying?
"Is it smart to demand so much?"
Netti patted his hand. "Only way to go. In a case like this you've gotta break their balls."
He arrived back at Special Squad to take a call from Joe Deforest.
"Free this evening?" Deforest asked.
"What's up?"
"That attorney you're interested in, Gil Thatcher-he just phoned. He wants to take us to dinner."
"Right," Janek said, smiling to himself. "I've been expecting something like this."
He took off an hour, went over to Twelfth Avenue and walked through several new-car dealer showrooms. Everything he touched had a plastic, tinny feel to it. He was angry about the loss of his Saab and hoped Stoney would find the guy who blew it up.
He decided two things: He wouldn't buy a car, and, as soon as he was finished with the Dietz case, he would call Stoney and offer to collaborate.
La Palombe was not the kind of restaurant Janek liked. It was, first of all, very expensive, a fact made clear by its marble-lined foyer, haughty hat-check girl, hovering tuxedoed waiters, lavish floral bouquets and opulent main room where elegantly framed watercolors hung on red damask covered walls.
The pretentious mocitre d' didn't appeal to Janek either; nor, apparently, did Janek do much for him. Must be in – V shoes, Janek thought, but he didn't care. He knew about the supercilious Europeans who guarded the portals of Manhattan's fancier establishments. They were the kind who, if you came in and asked politely to use the men's room, would recoil in disgust.
He didn't like Gilford Thatcher, but he hadn't expected to, so that came as no surprise. Thatcher wasn't up-front arrogant like Feldstein.
Rather, he was oily and affable with the kind of perfect tan you get only if you spend a lot of time on a yacht. He was a ban some man wit a leonine face and carefully cut soft black hair. He had a low-key confidential way of speaking that forced listeners to lean forward, and a smug, sometimes ironic smile.
Janek stayed silent while Thatcher and Deforest made small talk. He listened politely as Thatcher recommended various dishes and then entered into a tedious discussion with the wine steward. When, toward the middle of the meal, he noticed Thatcher studying him, he looked the attorney in the eye.
"You've been quiet, Lieutenant," Thatcher observed.
Janek shrugged. "I like to get to the point."
"Fine." Thatcher grinned. "Let's get to it. You've been asking around about one of my clients. I'd like to know why. "
"I'm looking for a young woman. I think your client knows where she lives."
"Who exactly are we talking about?"
"What exactly is your client's name?" Thatcher smiled again. "Her first name's Diana."
"The first name of the woman I'm looking for is Gelsey. " . "Well, now that we've got that straight… " Thatcher winked at Deforest. "My client is a public-spirited individual. I'm sure she'd like to help. But if she talks to you, she could implicate herself.
Obviously, that's something I can't permit.
"What do you suggest?" Deforest asked.
"That she come forward on a background-only basis."
"What does that mean?"
"No sworn testimony. Any '' referred to are off the record. She will never be called as a witness. She helps you once and that's it… forever." "You're talking about full immunity," Deforest said. Thatcher nodded.
"I'll need your assurance on that." Janek didn't like it. "Your client's running a dope ' and rob ' ring."
Thatcher smiled. "If you're sure about that, Lieutenant, I'd advise you to take your evidence to the D. A."
"Look, we're not interested in Diana," Deforest said.
"Glad to hear it. But my job is to protect. my client. Full immunity's the only way." Thatcher gave a short nod. Then he stood.
"Excuse me. I'll call her now, see how she feels about it. Meantime, you gentlemen talk it over. I'd like to settle this tonight."
As soon as he was gone, Janek looked at Deforest. "It stinks. "
"Sure, it does," Deforest agreed. "But you still need to talk to the lady."
"Who's to say she'll tell me anything? Meantime, she gets immunized."