life.
The three of them stood just inside Phoebe's office where Phoebe had greeted them. An enormous portrait of Alphonse Angell himself dominated the wall opposite her desk. A formidable-looking man, he hadn't even managed a smile for his portrait. Mallory wondered how Phoebe got any work done under the vigilant scrutiny of his cold black eyes. She shivered. It was possible Alphonse Angell could win in a face-off against her own father. Maybe even against her mother, and that was saying something. She felt a flash of sympathy for Phoebe Angell, which she quashed, mainly because Phoebe was still clinging to Carter's hand.
Having assessed the opposition with her own hand still flapping around emptily in front of her, Mallory sent a sidelong glance toward the man who was supposed to be on her side. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he did seem to be trying to get his hand back, and his smile was still an impersonal one.
'Thank you, Phoebe,' Mallory said sharply, giving up on the possibility of a handshake, 'for offering us your conference room for the depositions.'
'Hmm?' Phoebe said dreamily. 'Oh, yes.' She released Carter and regained her poise with admirable speed, herding them toward the conference room in question, which was several doors down from her office. 'It seemed the sensible thing to do, to depose the plaintiffs here since they live close by. The green dye was all in Lot Number 12867 which was shipped to New Jersey.'
'And besides,' Phoebe said, sealing her fate with Mallory, 'I've never known a Midwesterner who wasn't looking for a junket to New York. And I have to say I can't blame you.' She rolled her eyes, dismissing the Midwestern work ethic, standards and values,
Marshall Fields, the best pizza in the world and Frank Lloyd Wright architecture in that one gesture. Mallory didn't know where to start-'It's not a junket,' 'Keep your hands off Carter' or 'I'll meet you out back by the Dumpster and we'll see about changing your attitude toward the Midwest.'
Carter's elbow nudged her. She was sure it was accidental that he nudged her just below her breast. Nonetheless, it took the breath out of her, so she didn't say or do anything drastic, just surreptitiously hiked her skirt up a bit.
'Will your father be involved in the case?' she asked Phoebe, hoping to distract both her and Carter from the little alteration project she was attempting by sliding her hand up under the red jacket and turning over her waistband.
'Father's involved in a big case in Minneapolis,' Phoebe said abruptly. 'He won't be on the premises. I'll be discussing the case with him, of course. He's very interested in it.' Her eyes darted toward her own office, where the portrait hung.
'We're going to depose Tammy Sue Teezer this morning, right?' Carter said, starting to layer the table with the contents of his briefcase.
'Right,' said Phoebe. 'She'll be here in a few minutes. The court reporter's already here and so is the cameraman. I've arranged for coffee and pastries this morning, sandwiches and cookies this afternoon. If you have time to get started with Kevin Knightson, he'll be on hand at one o'clock. Anything else?'
'That should take care of us,' Carter said. 'We'll get set up.'
'Yell if you need anything before Tammy Sue arrives,' Phoebe said, curling herself around the doorframe and finally disappearing.
'Junket,' Mallory muttered.
'Black Widow spider's what she is,' Carter whispered. 'Her plaintiffs must have been putty in her hands.'
'Slime,' Mallory said. 'It's green.'
'Good joke,' Carter said without a hint of amusement in his voice. 'Now, I'm going to put the witness at the head of the table and I'm going to sit to the side. You sit on my left, the court reporter asked for her own little table, which is there.' He pointed. 'The cameraman gets the foot of the table with a direct view of the witness and the Black Widow can sit beside her client. How about that skirt? I can't imagine you going to work in a skirt like that.'
He'd certainly been fascinated by her rear end this morning.
A soft ache slid down her body as she remembered the hot glitter in his eyes when she caught him staring. And what had she done? She'd glowered at him. Even if she fine-tuned her outside, she'd still have a lot of work to do on the inside.
'Earth to Mallory.'
'Oh, sorry,' she said. 'The arrangement sounds fine. Tammy Sue Teezer,' she added. 'Can that possibly be her real name?'
'That question's on my list,' Carter said.
'I'mall set,' said the cameraman. From his position at the foot of the table, he would videotape the depositions. If the case went to trial, the jury could view the tape to see the witnesses in person.
'Ms. White?' Carter said to the court reporter, a middle-aged woman who sat poised over her shorthand machine.
'Ready to go,' she said.
'Bring in the first witness,' Carter said.
Phoebe appeared at the door with a woman who was probably not as young as she seemed at first glance. Her black leather skirt was shorter than Phoebe's and her biker jacket was half leather, half zippers. Her hair was short, curly and a peculiar shade of green at the ends. The peculiar shade could probably be explained by the fact that the hair that had grown out was bleached almost white. The peroxide hadn't taken out the green, just toned it down some.
'Hi,' she said, struck a pose for the cameraman, then sat down and splayed out fingernails that were red in the middle and green around the edges.
She made quite an impression. 'Good morning, Miss Teezer,' Carter said, and choked. Damn it, he was going to laugh. He darted a desperate look at Mallory, who sent back a repressive frown. He managed to introduce himself and her, then said, 'Try to relax. You're not on trial here. We're all just friends and business associates trying to come to an equitable solution to a difficult problem.'
It would be hard to imagine anyone more relaxed than Tammy Sue. She sat back in her chair, rested one booted foot on the other knee and popped her chewing gum.
'State your full name, please, for the court reporter.'
'Like I said, Tammy Sue Teezer.'
'Is this the name you were given at birth?'
Her red lips went into a pout. 'No.'
'What name were you given at birth?'
'Kimberly.'
'Kimberly-?'
'Kimberly Johnson.'
'Thank you. Your occupation?'
'May I ask my lawyer a question?'
'Of course.'
Listening to the murmurs from across the table, Carter picked up his pen and began to worry it between his index and middle fingers. He'd promised himself to stop doing that. He was doing better at his other promise-turn women off, not on. He'd done the best he could with Phoebe Angell, but he sensed trouble in his future. He was not going to use testosterone to settle this case, no matter how practical a solution it might-
'Services,' Tammy Sue said sweetly. 'Personal services.'
'I already know from your answers to interrogatories that you have a career in personal services, Tammy Sue,' Carter said. 'I'd like you to tell me exactly what services you perform. Do you understand the question?'
Tammy Sue tilted her head up in thought. 'Yes. I guess you could say I perform services that are personal in nature.' She beamed at the cameraman.
'You need to be more specific,' he said, getting frustrated. Why was she being so evasive?
