Swan Dive

phone bills will refresh yours when the time comes. We could probably even find some folks at the Barry who could prove you knew her socially, too, but for now, let’s try the drugs. Remember them?”
    Her eyes were glittering, but the voice was still steady. ”I thought the police hadn’t found the drugs Marsh was supposed to have had with him.”
    ”Let’s say they haven’t. Let’s also say that the stuff hasn’t shown up on the street.”
    ”It would be hard to tell if it had, you know. One package of it is pretty much the same as another.”
    ”According to my sources, this package is distinctive and it isn’t being pushed.”
    ”And therefore?”
    ”And therefore, we find ourselves in something of an illogical situation.”
    ”How so?”
    ”Somebody mugs me, uses my gun to rip off Marsh and kill Teri Angel, yet the drugs aren’t being marketed.”
    She looked at me. I said, ”Any ideas?”
    ”No.”
    ”Oh, Ms. Arnold. Not very lawyerly of you. One thought certainly comes to my mind.”
    She just kept looking. I said, ”How about a little home consumption?”
    ”I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    ”Well, let me spin it out a bit. Marsh is a distributor for Braxley Cocaine Incorporated, okay? Old Roy has the perfect cover for visiting a lot of people each week. So to make him look plausible, his customers buy bushels of insurance, coverage they don’t need and never claim on. That means they pay a premium to the insurance company over and above the cost of the junk, but hell, that’s a small price to avoid the inconvenience of driving into the seedier areas of our metropolitan area to score a few lines. Marsh makes out on both ends of the deal, the drug margin and his insurance commissions. But Roy is a greedy kind of guy, angry at a nickel because it isn’t a dime, you know?”
    ”Picturesque, but a trifle tedious.”
    ”We’ll cut to the punch line, then. You turn out to be one of his insurance customers. You don’t strike me as a heavy user, but Paulie-boy’s so stoked he’s got to wear shades to brush his teeth. Maybe the drug connection is your way of keeping pocket stallions like him in the stable.”
    ”You contemptible—”
    ”Then something goes wrong, and maybe Marsh starts thinking what I’m thinking.”
    ”Do you realize the potential liability you’re incurring?”
    ”I’m judgment-proof. Prove what you want, there’s no pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. Anyway, Marsh starts thinking that a blue-chip lawyer like you might pay to protect her license from embarrassing probes about drugs and hookers.”
    ”And so Marsh starts blackmailing me?”
    ”It would explain how a schmuck like Roy could get a lawyer like you for his divorce case. It would also explain how you might know when Marsh saw Teri Angel at the Barry.”
    ”I’m really disappointed in you, Cuddy. Even though I’m an established attorney, you just subconsciously assume that since I’m a woman, too, I’d either have to accept whatever Marsh tried to pull or set up the clumsy frame you claim you’re in with the police. Well, look around you. I’ve worked a lot of years to build up what I’ve got here, and I’m not about to give it away.” She hit a button on her phone and barked ”Paul!” into it.
    The door to the adjoining office flew open and Troller burst into the room. He was wearing suit pants, a long-sleeved oxford shirt, sleeves rolled up, and a handsome regimental tie. He grinned at me and started bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking out his shoulders.
    ”I think Paul’s been looking forward to this, Cuddy.”
    American-trained boxers have two major strengths. They are used to dishing out punishment until the other guy falls, so you have a tough time coming back against them once they get in the first licks. They’re used to taking punishment, too. In Saigon , I remember seeing a good MP stunned to find that a nightstick to the collarbone wouldn’t stop a welterweight with a few drinks in him.
    Boxers have a weakness, too, however. They tend to think they’re invincible in close. Even wearing a tie.
    I gambled Paulie’s first punch would be a feint. He jabbed with his left at my eye, then pulled it short, instead driving a good right up and into my body. I caved, keeping my elbows and hands tight to protect the ribs and face. He followed with a left to the body, stepping forward to really bury it. I folded so that most of his force was spent in the