Read Online A Nasty Piece of Work by Robert Littell - Free Book Online Page B

which time I got a better look at him. R. Russell was an ungainly man—wide waist, broad chest, broad in the beam—in his late thirties or early forties. Neither his seventy-five-dollar haircut nor his nine-hundred-dollar suit could disguise the fact that he was seriously ugly, which is how Ornella Neppi, who’d seen him that one time in court, had described him. He had fat jowls and beetle brows and tiny eyes and a gnarled nose, all of which gave him the allure of a hagfish, which is one of those eel-like creatures you come across now and then in the Bermuda Triangle. If you’re lucky, you come across it when it’s dead. Its most distinctive feature is a mouth filled with horn-shaped teeth for boring through the flesh of fishes in order to feed off their innards. For some reason I couldn’t put my finger on, this accumulation of ugliness only seemed to make R. Russell very, very sure of himself. I’d run into people like him before—they think, for their ship to come in, they only have to put to sea. He didn’t offer to shake hands. Neither did I. He glanced at a wafer-thin wristwatch that he wore on the inside of a fleshy wrist. I supposed he was checking the time so he could bill me later.
    “Your secretary’s secretary told me you get three hundred bucks an hour.”
    “That’s correct.” He gave me the once-over, guessing the size of my bank balance from the cut of my trousers. I was very fit and reasonably tan, both attributes that come in two basic models—playboy prosperous or down-on-his-luck indigent. It was easy to see which he had me pegged for.
    “The three hundred an hour put me off,” I admitted. “I was worried you couldn’t be much good at what you do if that’s all you charged.”
    He didn’t crack a smile. He didn’t even look as if he had one in his inventory of expressions. “Perhaps you ought to get to the point. I’m a busy man. What’s this about Emilio Gava jumping bail? And what does it have to do with you?”
    “I represent the Neppi bail bond company, which stands to lose $125,000 if Emilio Gava doesn’t turn up for his trial. We have reason to believe he skipped out on his bond. He never returned to his condo in Las Cruces after you pleaded him not guilty. Nobody seems to have any idea where he is or how to get in touch with him. Being his lawyer, I thought you might have an address or a phone number.”
    “Are you familiar with the legal concept of attorney-client privilege, Mr.—what did you say your name was?”
    “Gunn. Lemuel Gunn. I’ve heard of attorney-client privilege but I thought, all things considered, you might waive it in Mr. Gava’s case and give me a helping hand. As his attorney, you are also an officer of the court. You asked the judge to release Gava on bail. As I understand it, it’s not in your interests to have him jump bail.”
    R. Russell stabbed at the sleeve of his jacket and took another look at his watch. “Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Gunn. I’m sorry I can’t be of assistance to you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll have my secretary show you to the elevator.”
    “I do mind.” The horns of our stares locked. “In fact, I mind a great deal. I came a long way to see you. It would be a blow to my ego to have to go home empty-handed.” I drifted over to the glass shelf running along one wall and absently plucked one of the antique globes off of its cradle.
    “Be careful with that—it’s a three-hundred-year-old Lorenzo da Silva. It’s worth more than you earn in ten years. There are only three da Silvas in the world in anything like this condition—the second is in the Louvre, the third is in the Metropolitan. I’ll sue the trousers off you if you so much as scratch it.”
    “I don’t know much about law but I know enough to know the difference between actionable and collectable. If I were to drop this—always assuming the judge doesn’t buy my story that you tried to physically throw me out of your office and the globe