The Fallen Angels Book Club by R. Franklin James Page B

but I couldn’t stop myself. A red flush had made its way up from his starched shirt collar. I wondered which non-performing category he was in.
    I sneaked another peek at the clock. I wanted to print out the Inquiry First response for Gene. I had gotten his birth date from PeopleSearch. A stack of pages was waiting for me.
    â€œThe Management Committee met and we reassigned some of you to new teams. I’ll be posting the new support groups after this meeting.”
    Lisa, one of the more senior associates, asked, “Why all the drama? We’re a small firm. Just tell us the new teams.”
    Ed shot her a look. “In the interest of saving time, which is the whole point I tried to make in my message, we must increase our billable hours and reduce overhead by charging our work to a client matter. Therefore, I’m not taking the time to go into administrative details.”
    â€œAnd face tough questions,” one of the other associates murmured under his breath. He got a few chuckles. I stifled mine.
    â€œAny questions, tough or otherwise, contact the senior attorney on your team.” With a quick look at his watch and a final glance around the room, Ed walked out the door.
    No one rushed to look at the paper taped to the whiteboard in the lunchroom. Clearly we were all too cool for that. After a minute of pretending not to look, we formed a short line in front of the board. I ended up near the end. Mark grinned after he read the list, and I quickly learned the reason. He was joining me on Avery’s support team.
    He caught up to me in the hallway.
    â€œI knew Ed was referring to me. If there’s a silver lining, I think I have a fair chance at getting my stride back by working with you and Avery.”
    I wasn’t as enthusiastic. “It’ll be interesting. Have you done any trust or probate work?”
    â€œSome in law school and a little bit since, but anything has to be better than taxation and partnership agreements.” Mark followed me back to my office.
    Back at my desk, I pulled a Post-it note off my computer monitor: team meeting at three o’clock. “Our esteemed leader is calling us together.” I showed the note to Mark. “I need to wrap up a couple of files. It’s not likely we’ll be taken off the open cases we’ve been working.”
    Mark took the hint. “Oh, yeah, you’re right. I better get back to my office, too. I hoped to get out of having to assist in the Hayman corporate matter, but knowing Ed, he’s going to make sure he doesn’t get stuck with it.”
    I not-so-subtly motioned my head toward the clock. He finally got the message and hurriedly strode down the hallway.
    Not long after, it was time for a break. Munching on carrot sticks and an energy bar, I made my way through the stack of file folders on the corner of my desk. I worked through lunch. In a couple of hours, all my files were up to date. Remembering the battered looking banana I’d taken from my fruit bowl, I dug into my purse, feeling for the softening flesh. A little tired potassium beat none.
    I wanted time to just sit and think over what I knew about Rory’s murder. He was a blackmailer who had somehow obtained current information on club members. I grabbed a notepad and pen and made a list under the headings: What I Know, What I Don’t Know, and What I Need to Know. The Need to Know entries were a half page longer than the two other columns. I slammed my pen down, balled the paper up and tossed the wad into the trash. This exercise would get me nowhere fast.
    When I arrived at the team meeting, Avery was sitting behind his desk looking official. Eager-beaver Mark had beaten me there and taken the front chair—my usual seat. I nodded to both of them and took the remaining chair between two file cabinets.
    â€œWell, team,” Avery said, “got any questions for me?”
    I knew Avery’s management style well enough