I Is for Innocent

this, I thought. Do not mouth off. The man was Lonnie's client, not mine, and I couldn't afford to antagonize him. I ambled around the showroom, hoping to stifle my natural inclination to bolt. Getting fired had taken some of the cockiness out of me. I focused on my surroundings, taking in the aura of elegance.
    The air smelled wonderfully of leather and car wax. I wondered what it felt like to have enough in a checking account to make a down payment on a vehicle that cost more than two hundred thousand dollars. I pictured lots of chuckles and not a lot of haggling. If you could afford a Rolls-Royce, you had to know it would set you back plenty walking in the door. What was there to negotiate, the trade-in on your Bentley?
    My gaze settled on a Corniche III, a two-door convertible with a red exterior. The top was down. The interior was upholstered in creamy white leather piped in red. I glanced back at Voigt. He was now fully engrossed in his telephone conversation so I opened the door on the driver's side of the Rolls and got in. Not bad. A copy of the car's specs was printed on parchment, bound in leather, and tucked in the glove box. It looked like the wine list in an expensive restaurant. There wasn't anything as vulgar as a price in evidence, but I did learn that the 'kerb weight' for the motorcar was 2430 kg and the 'luggage boot capacity' was 0,27 m 3 . I studied all the dials and switches on the instrument panel, admiring the inlaid walnut. I did some serious driving, turning the steering wheel this way and that while I made tire-squealing noises with my mouth. James Bond in drag. I was in the process of navigating a hairpin turn on a mountainous road above Monte Carlo when I looked up to find Voigt standing beside the car. I could feel the color rise in my face like heat. "This is beautiful," I murmured. I knew I only said it as a way of sucking up to him, but I couldn't help myself.
    He opened the door and slid in on the passenger side. He surveyed the dashboard lovingly and then touched the supple leather on the bucket seat. "Fourteen hides for every Corniche interior. Sometimes after closing, I come down here and sit."
    "You own this place and you don't drive one yourself?"
    "I can't afford it quite yet," he said. "I made up my mind if we won this lawsuit I was going to buy one of these, just for the thrill of it." His expression was pained. "From what Rhe tells me, you've stirred up a hornets' nest. She's talking about suing the shit out of you and Lonnie both."
    "On what grounds?"
    "I have no idea. People who sue hardly need a reason these days. God only knows how it's going to impact my case. You were hired to serve subpoenas. You weren't instructed to go off on any tangents."
    "I can't assess the situation from a legal standpoint – that's really Lonnie's job...."
    "But how did it happen? That's what I don't get."
    Trying not to sound defensive, I told him about my conversation with Barney and what I'd found out since then, detailing Tippy's involvement in the death of the elderly pedestrian. Voigt didn't let me get to the end of it.
    "That's ludicrous. Absurd! Morley worked on this case for months and he never came up with any information about Tippy and this hit-and-run accident."
    "Actually, that's not true. He was pursuing the same lead I was. He'd already taken pictures of her father's pickup, which was my next step. I showed the photographs to the witness, who's identified it as the vehicle at the scene."
    His brow furrowed. "Oh, for God's sake. So what? After all these years, that doesn't constitute proof. You're jeopardizing millions and what's the point?"
    "The point is I talked to Tippy and she told me she did it."
    "I don't see the relevance. Just because David Barney claims he saw her that night? This is bullshit."
    "You might not see the relevance, but a jury will. Wait until Herb Foss gets hold of it. He'll play the timing for all it's worth."
    "But suppose it was earlier? You can't be sure about what time it was."
    "Yes, I can. There's a corroborating witness and I've talked to him."
    He wiped his face with one hand, palm resting across his mouth briefly. He said, "Jesus. Lonnie's not going to be happy. Have you talked to him?"
    "He'll be back tonight. I can talk to him then."
    "You don't know how much I have wrapped up in this. It's cost me thousands of dollars, not to mention all the pain and suffering. You've undone all of that. And for what? Some six-year-old hit-and-run