Invasion of Privacy

get a look at the school records, I’d need some kind of authorization signed by him.”
    Loiselle showed me the lopsided grin. “Or at least apparently signed by him.”
    “Right.”
    Evorova said, “I do not know. Forging Andrew’s signature?”
    Loiselle patted her forearm again. “In a good cause, Olga.”
    “What cause?”
    “You,” said her friend.
    Evorova closed and opened her eyes once more, then gave me another long stare. “When we are first going out together, I was at Andrew’s house one night, and I was short of cash for the next day. He drove me to the ATM machine in Plymouth Mills, but it was broken. Andrew thought that was funny, a banker who could not get money for herself. So he loaned me fifty dollars, but this was early in our relationship, as I told you, and I wanted to give him a check. He was reluctant, but I insisted.”
    “And Mr. Dees endorsed and deposited it,” I said. “Exactly, yes.”
    “Do you have it here?”
    My client consulted her watch.
    Loiselle said, “Plenty of time, Olga.”
    Evorova rose, the gown shadowing her figure nicely in the process. “I will get the check.”
    Loiselle watched Olga walk back the way she’d come, then picked up her own wineglass. Speaking to me over the rim, Claude said, “Blinded by love.”
    “It happens.”
    She gave me a harder look than Evorova had. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
    Then Claude Loiselle drained the last of her Bonny Doon.

11

    A fter leaving Olga Evorova’s condo carrying the check Andrew Dees had endorsed, I went back to my apartment There was no message from Nancy with my answering service or on my telephone tape machine. I thought about trying her, but after the way we’d left it that afternoon, I decided to wait. Besides, she could always call me, right?
    I fell asleep without hearing from her.
    Thursday dawned bright and clear, the kind of brilliant October morning that brings the tourists back year after year for foliage season. Even the northwest wind was doing its part, a steady ten miles an hour pushing all the smog out to the harbor and beyond as it brought high, patchy clouds over the city.
    I waited until eight, then dialed Nancy at home, getting just the outgoing tape announcement. Figuring she might have gone into work before the doctor’s, I tried the DA’s office too, the secretary telling me that Ms. Meagher wasn’t expected until after lunch. I left the message that I’d be gone most of the day but would still appreciate a return call.
    Hanging up, I sat down and composed, in longhand, the letter I intended to bring with me to Vermont .

    “Okay, now you want me to do this letter, right?” Leaning an elbow on the counter of the copy center, I watched the woman twist her frosted hair around an index finger. “Just like last time.”
    “Yeah, but last time you wanted that questionnaire.”
    “Right.”
    “So, what’d the people say?”
    “Say?”
    “Yeah, about it going two pages and all.”
    I nodded. “They weren’t very helpful.”
    “See,” she said, twisting another hank of her hair. “I told you. Keep it to one page, you’re better off.”
    “Which is why I’m taking your advice on this letter.” She looked at it again. “What’s that word there?”
    “ ‘Authorization.’ ”
    “And you want it centered?”
    “Right. And all caps.”
    She made her way down to the signature line, then the return address in the upper-right-hand corner. “And you’re Andrew Dees?”
    “No, I’m just getting this typed for him.”
    “Word processed. We don’t actually ‘type’ things anymore.”
    “I’d forgotten.”
    She said, “Five minutes.”
    “And I’ll need three originals, please.”
    “Not an original and two photocopies?”
    “No. Three originals right off the printer.”
    “It’ll take longer.”
    “How much?”
    “Two minutes, maybe.”
    “Fine,” I said.
    “And it’ll cost more, too.”
    I tried to keep the impatience out of my voice. “How much more?”
    “Another fifty cents per original.”
    “I’ll take the plunge.”
    Torturing a different hank of the frosted hair, the woman moved slowly toward her desktop computer.

    Back in my condo, I practiced copying the endorsement signature on the back of Olga Evorova’s check until it felt natural. Then I signed the three originals of the authorization letter, gathered some other papers, and went down to my car.

    Used to be, driving north out of Boston was simple, if not easy. Either you took