'In this case?'
'In any case,' I said.
Frampton shook his head slowly.
'Marlene is a client,' he said. 'It is unbecoming an attorney to discuss his clients' personal quirks.'
'Heavens,' I said. 'Integrity?'
'One finds it in the most unlikely places,' Frampton said.'Even, now and then, in law firms.'
'I'm heartened,' I said.
3
I took Rita Fiore to dinner at the Federalist. Rita was the chief criminal litigator at Cone, Oakes. But I had known her since she was an ADA in Norfolk County, and, in a healthy platonic fashion, we liked each other.
'How's your love life,' I said after we'd each gotten a martini.
'Busy,' she said. 'But, same old question-why are there so many more horses' asses than there are horses?'
'Still looking for Mr. Right?'
'Always. I thought I had him last year. Chief of police on the North Shore.'
'But?'
'But he had an ex-wife.'
'And?'
'And he wouldn't let go.'
'Oh well,' I said.
'Yeah. That may become the Fiore family motto.'
'And the previous Mr. Right?' I said. 'Number, what was it, five?'
'Divorce is final.' She grinned at me. 'I cleaned his clock too.'
'I'd have expected no less,' I said. 'What do you know about Trent Rowley?'
'He's the CFO at Kinergy. Whom we represent.'
'Tell me about him?'
'Discussing a client is considered unethical.'
I nodded. The waiter brought menus. We read them and ordered.
'May I bring you another cocktail?' he said. Rita smiled up at him.
'Oh, please,' she said.
'You, sir?'
'He'll have one too,' Rita said.
'Very good.'
The waiter picked up the menus and smiled at Rita and left. 'Our waiter is hot for you,' I said.
'Wow,' Rita said. 'A straight waiter.'
'Maybe he's Mr. Right,' I said.
'Can't be. For one thing a waiter can't swathe me in luxury. And secondly, if they're hot for me that proves they're Mr. Wrong.'
'Maybe you should stop getting married and just sleep with people.'
'I'm doing that too,' Rita said. 'Except you.'
'My loss,' I said. 'What about Trent Rowlcy?'
'What about client confidentiality?'
'What about several martinis and dinner?' I said.
The waiter came with our second martinis. Rita sipped hers happily.
'You think you can bribe me,' she said, 'with a few martinis and some Chilean sea bass?'
'I do,' I said.
O ur salads arrived. Rita picked up a scrap of Boston lettuce in her fingers and nibbled on it. Susan was the only other person I knew who could eat with her fingers and look elegant.
'Why do you want to know about him?' Rita said. 'Why not just catch him in the act? Tell the little woman, collect your fee, and stand by to testify at the divorce proceedings.'
