The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(23)

“A mass?” Tom asked, slowly beginning to get it. “Bill... are you telling me I have cancer?”

For several seconds, the line was silent. Then Bill sighed. “Yeah, Tom. Cancer of the bladder.”





18


The office was a strange place on Saturday. Quiet, still – like an amusement park the morning after closing night, the rides still there but not moving. Even in Rick Drake’s small one-horse office, things were different. The constant hum of Frankie’s typing was gone. As was Frankie, who Rick seldom asked to work on the weekend. And the phone, which didn’t ring that much during the week, didn’t ring at all on Saturday. It was a good time to get some work done – if you could stand being there on a day when the college kids started drinking before noon and everyone else, it seemed, was out enjoying the day.

Unfortunately, Rick wasn’t getting any work done this morning. His phone was ringing off the hook with calls from reporters wanting his take on the Professor’s forced retirement and whether Rick felt any vindication. Though Rick was stunned by the announcement, Rick’s answer mirrored the Professor’s. “No comment,” he said. Over. And Over. And Over. Talking about the incident wasn’t going to get him a better job or any new clients. It was just going to make him more of a joke than he already was. Which would be tough to do, he thought, laying his head on his desk. Maybe after a little rest – the constant phone calls had kept him up most of the night – he’d be able to process what had happened. Right now, he just didn’t want to think about it. Closing his eyes, Rick took a deep breath and tried to relax.

Four loud knocks on the front door interrupted his quest for solace.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. When he arrived at the office, he hadn’t noticed anyone waiting for him or tailing him, but maybe one of the stations had got wind of where he worked. Why can’t they just leave me alone? he thought, hoping that it might be Powell as he walked towards the door. Rick unlocked the door and cracked it a few inches, planning to slam it shut if he didn’t recognize the person outside.

When he saw who it was, his stomach tightened and, instinctively, he let the door swing open the rest of the way.

“What... what do you want?” Rick asked.

“I need to talk with you about something,” the Professor said, stepping through the doorway before Rick could invite him in.



Tom took off his overcoat and slumped into a couch in what he guessed was the reception area of Rick’s office. This looks like a converted loft, Tom thought, seeing a kitchen open behind him and a couple of rooms to the right of it.

“I... have a conference room. We can go in there if you...”

“This is fine,” Tom said, gesturing to a chair with rollers behind a desk. His secretary’s desk? “Have a seat, Rick. This won’t take long.”

Rick sat in the chair and rolled it to where he was a few feet from Tom.

“Nice office,” Tom said, forcing a smile and trying to sound genuine. “How long have you been here?”

“Five months,” Rick said, and Tom heard a trace of irritation in the young man’s voice. “You said you wanted to talk about something.”

Tom looked away and leaned forward in the couch, placing his elbows on his knees. After Bill Davis’ call, he had spent all night thinking about his options or lack thereof. Sometime around dawn, he knew what he had to do. When he saw his face plastered all over the morning newspaper, it just confirmed his decision. There were just a couple of loose ends to tie up. Forming a steeple with his hands, Tom gazed into Rick’s eyes.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the news about my ‘retirement’.”

Rick nodded, but didn’t say anything.

Tom looked down at the carpeted floor. “Rick, I need to go away for a little while. Maybe a long while. It’s a zoo here, and I need to get away from it. Have you seen the newspaper this morning?”

Again, Rick nodded.

“Well, it’s going to be like that for a while, and–” Tom paused “–I’m too old to put up with it.” Sighing, Tom looked up from the floor. “I’m sure you’ve been contacted.”

“I’ve told them all, ‘no comment’.”

Tom nodded. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Tom was so tired. You have to do this, he thought. Suck it up.

“Professor, why are you here?”

“I’m about to tell you. You’re from Henshaw, right?”

“Right.”

“Your family has a farm there, don’t they?”

“Yes. What does that have to do with–”

“Are you familiar with the intersection of Limestone Bottom Road and Highway 82?”

Rick wrinkled his eyebrows. “Professor, what...”

“Just answer the question.”

Rick slapped his hands against his legs. “There’s a Texaco there. Been there forever. Used to be a bait and beer store.”

“Do you know anyone that works there?”

Rick snorted. “The only person I know that’s ever worked there is Rose Batson.” Rick stood and took a step forward. “Now, that’s it. I’m going to ask you to leave unless you tell me what this is about.”