Late afternoon performed a decrescendo, strong light withdrawing down to its subtler tones.\u00a0 Paul drove, holding his left arm awkwardly in his lap to relieve the strain on his shoulder.\u00a0 Remo had waved a prescription bottle under his nose, but Paul waved it away.\u00a0 \u201cThose make me itchy.\u201d<\/p>\n
They finally arrived at the two story building that currently housed the law offices of MacQuincy, et al.\u00a0 The skinny structure seemed to be squeezed on both sides by its direct neighbors, a barber shop and an empty storefront.\u00a0 Remo advised Paul to drive by slowly then park around the corner.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow, here\u2019s the keys.\u201d\u00a0 He handed Paul a large ring crammed to capacity with jangling brass.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
He peeled two of them back at an angle.\u00a0 \u201cThis one is to my office, this one is to the cabinet.\u00a0 Pull every folder with a pink tab.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou want me to go in there?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s perfectly safe.\u00a0 A few of the boys should still be in there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRemo, I\u2019m not so sure if\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
The man pulled out a small bottle of breath spray, stuck out his tongue, and misted it.\u00a0 \u201cLook, they\u2019re all under the belief that I\u2019m in Baton Rouge for the weekend beating the bushes for info.\u00a0 But they have been advised that you\u2019re coming.\u00a0 Just go in there, get the files, and lock back up.\u00a0 Effortless.\u201d<\/p>\n
Paul sighed.\u00a0 \u201cBut my shoulder\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI offered you the appropriate remedies, but you just said no.\u00a0 Come on, do me the favor.\u201d<\/p>\n
Paul wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and got out of the car.\u00a0 Remo slouched down in his seat and watched him turn the corner in the side mirror.\u00a0 Across the white tiled stoop in front of Remo\u2019s door some vandal had spray painted the words, \u201cWe Know White Lies.\u201d\u00a0 Paul rolled his eyes and pushed the ancient door open.<\/p>\n
Inside the bare wood floors scratched and treaded into ruin strained to hold up four large gunmetal gray desks.\u00a0 The desks bore carefully arranged blotters, rotary phones, and pencil holders, and all their accompanying chairs were neatly tucked in.\u00a0 On the wall to the left hung a large oil portrait of Remo in which he wore a double-breasted suit and stood with his head bowed forward pondering a maize-colored legal tome, his free hand held up under the prominent chin he had once had twenty years ago.\u00a0 Paul passed it by seeking out the source of voices he could hear from farther back in the building.\u00a0 He opened the door at the back of the room and entered a small conference that seemed to be built around a large oak table whose borders ended a mere two feet from the encompassing walls.\u00a0 Paul edged sideways all the way around the room to get to the next door.<\/p>\n
Here, in a makeshift club room, he found the boys, four young men wearing identical tan trousers and white shirts with the sleeves rolled and ties slung so loose they looked about to slip their knots and fall free.\u00a0 A tall oscillating fan blew from a corner and spread the woven scent of scotch and cologne.\u00a0 They each sat in a leather high-backed chair pulled to the center of the room around a short ottoman upon which they were busy stacking playing cards and dollar bills according to rules unfamiliar to Paul.\u00a0 Preoccupied with their game, their slang, and highballs, they didn\u2019t notice him until he was right up behind their clutch.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s the word, fellas?\u201d<\/p>\n
They all uttered some vulgar form of surprise.\u00a0 Two of them stood straight up and backed away, clinging to their cards.\u00a0 The one who had found him in the Mayfair Lounge recognized him and swept his hand outward.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s all right guys.\u00a0 This is Mr. Hinckley.\u00a0 Josh, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, yeah, Josh,\u201d Paul said.<\/p>\n
The boys assumed their comfortable postures again and shook his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cA little Friday afternoon bull session, huh?\u201d Paul asked, trying to establish a knowing camaraderie.<\/p>\n
\u201cFriday, Tuesday, whenever.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s not that much to do around here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHoly shit, it\u2019s past five.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFinish this hand, finish this hand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can grab a glass and ice over there if you want, Mr. Hinckley, but we\u2019re about to head,\u201d Josh said.<\/p>\n
\u201cActually, I just came by to get some of Remo\u2019s fi\u2014.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you talked to him?\u00a0 He say anything about our paychecks?\u201d<\/p>\n
Paul tried to look thoughtful.\u00a0 \u201cNo-o.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDammit.\u00a0 Always late.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhoo!\u00a0 There she is.\u00a0 Pick it up, Avery, pick her up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLead, come on.\u00a0 Last round.\u00a0 Yep, yep.\u201d<\/p>\n
They all concentrated for one last flurry of cards in silence. \u00a0Paul coughed.\u00a0 A moment later they all erupted, three with exasperation, one in victory, picking up the bills he\u2019d won, and then they collected their coats, pushed back the chairs, and headed towards the door chattering with shared insults.<\/p>\n
\u201cSomebody call United.\u00a0 We\u2019re going downtown.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBye, Mr. Hinckley.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t stay past dark!\u201d<\/p>\n
Paul watched one of them dive under the conference table in the room behind and crawl under; the other three either slid across its surface or strode atop it.\u00a0 He could hear the front door clack shut and all their noise was gone.\u00a0 Paul crossed his arms and tried to make sense of the rush.\u00a0 He shook his head.\u00a0 Youth seemed to be such a limited concept, but it had somehow become a subject beyond his understanding, a forgotten scheme of logic lost like algebra after years without its exercise.\u00a0 He turned towards the last door marked Private<\/em>, utilized the key, and stepped through.<\/p>\n Remo\u2019s office seemed anachronistic in the context of the outer rooms, and it was clear he reserved a higher priority for his own needs.\u00a0 Here a large L-shaped desk and modern office chair occupied a clean and newly painted room.\u00a0 A closed laptop lay on the desktop connected to a bank of printers, scanners, and audio recording equipment all humming and green-light ready.\u00a0 The room was somehow fifteen degrees cooler than the rest of the building.\u00a0 Paul opened the sliding doors of a closet that contained a six-foot fireproof safe flanked by two filing cabinets.\u00a0 He unlocked the top drawer of each cabinet with a long key, then pulled open all the drawers.\u00a0 Each one was crammed to capacity with manila folders and accordion-sided document pouches, all labeled with black marker in Remo\u2019s strong slanted hand, but apparently in some kind of order unrelated to the alphabet or any form of numerology.\u00a0 The tabs contained headings like, \u201cAlbatross\u201d, \u201c1995\u201d, \u201cCarondelet\u201d, or \u201cAcquisitions: M-Z,\u201d incomprehensible to anyone but their compiler.\u00a0 Inserted seemingly at random amongst these were blank tabs colored in with pink highlighter.\u00a0 Paul pursed his lips and decided to make a stack that would reflect their position in the drawers\u2014front to back, top to bottom\u2014in case there was some methodic importance to their arrangement.\u00a0 He pulled a milk crate down from the storage shelf above and started to withdraw the folders.<\/p>\n Halfway through, his fingers paused before pressing back a tab marked, \u201cLies.\u201d\u00a0 He pulled the thick folder out, knelt, and opened it.\u00a0 Newspaper clippings affixed with rubber cement to black cardstock lay inside with dates ranging back to the eighties.<\/p>\n LOCAL ATTORNEY SQUARES OFF WITH BAR ADVISORY BOARD<\/p>\n <\/p>\n MACQUINCY DEFENDS \u201cKINGPISSER\u201d COMMENT<\/p>\n <\/p>\n PARISH PRESIDENT: \u201cOUR CASE WAS MISREPRESENTED\u201d<\/p>\n MacQuincy Cites \u2018Differing Levels of Moral Fortitude\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n N.O. LAWYER SUBPEONAED IN FEDERAL INQUIRY<\/p>\n <\/p>\n MACQUINCY HELD IN CONTEMPT AFTER COURTROOM ANTICS<\/p>\n <\/p>\n MISTRIAL DECLARED IN MONTEBLEAU CASE<\/p>\n Defense Attorney Calls Jury \u2018Nest of Vipers\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n ANOTHER PHYRRIC VICTORY FOR MACQUINCY<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Paul skimmed the stories, the journalistic versions of his own balled memories.\u00a0 He could only wonder what use the collection had for Remo, whether fuel for fury or smug proofs of his sphere of influence.\u00a0 Paul replaced it and completed his task.<\/p>\n Outside he set the crate down and had just locked the front door when he heard determined footsteps coming down the sidewalk.\u00a0 A voice called out, \u201cHey!\u00a0 You with MacQuincy?\u201d<\/p>\n Paul lifted the crate and held it to his chest protectively.\u00a0 A short black man in his shirtsleeves with clip suspenders holding up his baggy wool trousers was waving a fist at him.\u00a0 He approached slowly on a bad left hip, but his forceful countenance held Paul where he stood.<\/p>\n \u201cMacQuincy.\u00a0 You with him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot in a professional sense, if that\u2019s what you mean.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGet him out here then.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s not here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou tell him then.\u00a0 You tell him I wants to withdraw.\u00a0 I want out<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLook, I don\u2019t really have anything to do with his practice.\u00a0 I\u2019m sure if you call during normal business hours\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThem phones ain\u2019t hooked up!\u00a0 I tried callin\u2019 from that payphone right there\u201d\u2014he pointed across the street\u2014\u201cand watched \u2018em through the windows.\u00a0 Nobody picked \u2018em up.\u00a0 And it ring and ring.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLook, I really don\u2019t know.\u00a0 I\u2019m just here as a favor.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, now you gonna do me<\/em> a favor.\u00a0 You got keys.\u00a0 You take me inside and we\u2019re gonna take my name offa whatever list and we\u2019re gonna get me a check for three hundred dollars and we\u2019re gonna consider my stake in this bullshit<\/em> dissolved.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m afraid I can\u2019t do that.\u00a0 I\u2019m actually very late for dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul\u2019s face tried to convey a limited ability to do anything but sympathize with the old man for a moment before turning away.\u00a0 He made it two steps before the old man reached up and attempted to jerk him back around.\u00a0 His hand clamped right below Paul\u2019s wounded shoulder, reawakening the wrenching pain stored there.\u00a0 Paul dropped the crate, and a few folders popped out onto the ground.\u00a0 He bent to collect them, but the old man put his foot down on a stray pile and poked at Paul again.<\/p>\n \u201cNow, you listen here!\u201d<\/p>\n Remo suddenly appeared around the corner at the end of the block.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Paul, what\u2019s the hold up?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRemo!\u00a0 Help!\u201d<\/p>\n The old man started pointing.\u00a0 \u201cThere he is, there he is!\u00a0 Mr. MacQuincy.\u00a0 I can had my money back now?\u201d<\/p>\n Remo jogged towards them.\u00a0 \u201cGet off, get off, get off!\u00a0 Step back!\u201d<\/p>\n Paul pulled at the folder under the stranger\u2019s foot, but it wouldn\u2019t give.<\/p>\n \u201cYou want this file, you better listen here.\u201d<\/p>\n Remo didn\u2019t slow down when he reached them, but instead dipped his shoulder and knocked into the old man who fell sideways with a wheeze onto Paul\u2019s back then slid to the ground.\u00a0 Paul snatched the last folder and stuffed it into the crate and backed away.\u00a0 Remo reached down, pulled the man up by his elbow, and set him right again.\u00a0 He leaned into the man\u2019s face and glowered.<\/p>\n \u201cThe information contained in these files is of the utmost importance to our case\u2014your case and mine.\u00a0 So I\u2019m sorry to be rude, but they absolutely can\u2019t be tampered with.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you even know my name?\u00a0 Do you even recognize<\/em> me?\u201d<\/p>\n Remo huffed.\u00a0 His eyes ticked back and forth over the man\u2019s face.<\/p>\n \u201cThere are so many of you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat that supposed to mean?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho need my help.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t need you kind of help.\u00a0 I need<\/em> my three hundred back.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you don\u2019t get an announcement letter from my office within a month, then you can come back, and I\u2019ll have a reimbursement for you.\u00a0 Thirty days and we\u2019ll have commenced the trial, I assure you.\u00a0 And then we\u2019re on the road.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTo what exactly?\u00a0 More talkin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCome on, Paul.\u00a0 We can\u2019t draw this attention.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you was decent!\u00a0 Three years this has been.\u00a0 I thought you was decent!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRun, Paul, come on!\u201d<\/p>\n The two white men scuttled away with the last of the rebuke aimed at their backs.\u00a0 Paul threw the crate into the backseat, started up the car, and pulled away.\u00a0 In the rearview mirror he saw the old man turn the corner still signaling and yelling.<\/p>\n \u201cForget about all that,\u201d Remo said.\u00a0 \u201cIt foreshadows nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Late afternoon performed a decrescendo, strong light withdrawing down to its subtler tones.\u00a0 Paul drove, holding his left arm awkwardly in his lap to relieve the strain on his shoulder.\u00a0 Remo had waved a prescription bottle under his nose, but …<\/p>\n