Chaingang

A brusque, middle-aged man with dark, poorly complected skin and a widow's peak, he greeted them the moment they arrived for Mary's appointment, showed them to seats in his office, and spent nearly five minutes with paperwork and a phone call before he managed to finally speak to them again.

“I apologize. A matter that couldn't wait. Now—how can I help you?” Mary explained. Told him about her husband's disappearance.

“My husband and I were friends with the Luther Lloyd family. Both Mrs. Lloyd and I had the same reaction, that something wasn't quite right about the large-scale land sale involving the World Ecosphere company. She told me in conversation that you'd advised her there might be a way to prove that the land deal wasn't completely on the up and up—that it had been done when Mr. Lloyd was under duress, perhaps."

“I mentioned that as one theoretical possibility, not as a serious suggestion."

“But you suggested Mrs. Lloyd should not pursue any legal action, is that correct?” Mary hadn't liked his curt tone, and her own took on a sharp, inquisitive edge. He fielded it easily.

“True.” So?

“I ask because I was considering retaining an attorney to pursue a similar matter on my—and on my husband's—behalf. And Mrs. Lloyd gave us the impression you thought World Ecosphere was too big. And that they were involved with the government and could tie any litigation up for years and years."

“Are you asking me to represent you in a legal matter, Mrs. Perkins?” he said, rather frostily.

“I want to know if you think ... such an inquiry, you know ... could be...” It was getting too much for her, Royce sensed, and he jumped in.

“We wondered if they're actually involved with the U.S. government. If so, in what way? Obviously Mrs. Perkins can't sue the government.” He figured the lawyer would ask what his part was in this, but he didn't. Instead he simply finessed him.

“I haven't any notion, offhand, not having studied what Mrs. Perkins's particular situation is. As I understand it—” he waved a beringed hand in the air “—Mr. Perkins was an intermediary, representing the purchasing agent—so to speak—and I don't see what possible relation that would have to Mrs. Lloyd's situation. She thought her husband would have said no to the offer, which—again, I'm just guessing here, but—which your husband tendered. Is that about the way it was?"

“Yes."

“As I say, there's no relation, other than the fact that each of you has had a tragic thing occur—but that has no provable basis for an action against the land developers. None that I see, anyway."

“Are they a U.S. government-related company? Could you tell us if you have any knowledge about that?” Royce wasn't letting go.

“I have no knowledge, other than my own casual surmises which I made to Mrs. Lloyd. They're dealing in a massive amount of development on behalf of a holding company, and as I understand the project in question, it's some sort of environmental center, which, of course, suggests at least a working relationship with...” He droned on in a lawyerly, boring tone, and Royce let his mind relax. They were learning nothing here.

“A case with contingency fees ... limited when you're taking on the government ... twenty-five percent recovery ... lots of property work around this area ... trust lawyer ... be glad to recommend someone with a better...” Slick mumbo-jumbo legalese.

As soon as they could, they thanked him and left the law offices, once again going forward three paces and going back four.

“The more we learn about this thing, the less we know,” Royce said.

“You're not just realizing that, are you?” They laughed mirthlessly. “Let's hear some good ideas."

Royce shook his head. “Um..."

“Me too.” They went to a phone and did their thing. Mary was first. It seemed to Royce as if she'd been on the telephone for a very long time, and most of it was listening.

“Listen,” she began, as soon as they were back in his vehicle, “you know Jimmie and Lurene Gallagher, don't you?"

“Uh-uh."

“She's with the welfare office here, and Jimmie works on the county road crews. They live out by the land project. Alberta Riley heard that they had a run-in with the Ecoworld people. Jimmie Gallagher's dog was rolling around in some garbage they dumped out by the construction site, and the dog died. They got all crazy about it because they were afraid Jimmie's little boy might have played with the dog and got some of it on him."

“What kind of stuff—something radioactive?"

“Pardon?"

“What kind of garbage?"

“Oh! I don't know—poisons, I think. Anyway, they went to Marty Kerns, and he said he couldn't do anything—naturally. They were supposed to go to the EPA about it. And they had an inspector come look at it, but he wouldn't do anything either. He said it was the Gallaghers’ fault for letting their dog run loose. Apparently the little boy is okay, but they're really mad about it."

“Where was this garbage?"