Caught Read-Handed by Terrie Farley Moran Page B

slightly as if no one in his right mind would decline to be represented by Goddard Swerling.
    â€œBut I thought . . .” George was flustered; clearly he thought the issue of representation was resolved.
    â€œPlease, please, Mr. Mersky. You, George, are the one who guarantees payment, but your brother, Alan, will be the actual client. He is the only one empowered to make decisions.”
    Then he shrugged, lifting his padded shoulders well past his chin as if to say, “That’s the deal, take it or leave it.” And he put out his hand for still another handshake.
    His attitude was so grating that I wanted to smack his arrogant face, and I noticed O’Mally take a slight step forward probably with the same thought in mind. George grabbed her hand, and I guessed it was to stop the explosion he could feel building up inside her. Then he firmly took the lead. “Mr. Swerling, for now, I’d be grateful if you’d talk to Alan, let him know you are on his side and let him know that his family is here. We can work out the details later.”
    The two men shook hands for what seemed like the third or fourth time, but it was the first time the gesture helped George visibly relax, as though he finally believed they’d reached a gentleman’s agreement. Swerling, on the other hand, grinned like a Cheshire cat. George was going to pay the bills andSwerling had figured out how to keep him happy—access to his brother. George must have forgotten that Frank Anthony had assured me there was a procedure for family visits, or perhaps he thought of Swerling as added insurance.
    â€œI’ll do so much better than telling him you’re here. I’ll get you in to see him—as soon as Alan and I have a private word—I’ll demand your right to visit. First I need you to sign this agreement.” He handed George a few sheets of paper and a pen. “Right there at the bottom of page three. Once your brother signs, we’ll be fine.”
    As George scribbled his signature, Swerling said, almost as an aside, “And the amount is flexible you realize. It may increase. Depends on how much work is required to, ah, straighten out this little misunderstanding.”
    The lawyer looked at the signature and brightened with approval. “Okay, now you wait here and I’ll go speak to your brother, and then I’ll get you in.”
    George was antsy, as he had every right to be. “Will it take long? We’ve come a long way and we’re anxious to see Alan.”
    The lawyer looked at the flashy gold watch on his wrist. He mugged an “I don’t know” face and snapped. “It will take as long as it takes.”
    Now that he had George’s signature, he had no reason to be agreeable. Turning his back on us, he presented himself at the desk and asked for a deputy to escort him inside to meet Alan.
    At that precise moment the Lipscomes, father and sons, walked back into the vestibule. I hoped they were leaving the building. One son had a firm grasp on his father’s arm, and Barry seemed calmer. His eyes glazed over when he looked at us, as if he was reminding himself that George was not Alan. Then he saw Goddard Swerling, and chaos started anew.
    Barry shook off his son’s hand and pointed his arm, stabbing the air over and over again. “You! Of course you’d defend that killer. You’re on everybody’s side except my poor wife. Why do you hate her so?”
    His choking up at the end of his rant sounded phony to me but I heard Regina actually breathe, “The poor man.” And a deputy, who jumped in front of him before he could reach Swerling, raised his hand like a stop sign. “Tough times, Mr. Lipscome, but remember what the lieutenant said. We can’t allow violence. It only causes more trouble.”
    Barry Lipscome raised his eyes to the ceiling and then he crumpled into an exhausted heap. He let his sons lead him