Collins, Max Allan - Nathan Heller 09 Read Online Free

in town—but I’ll betcha a buncha celebrities can wangle seats!”
    Darrow turned solicitously to Leisure. “Could you get away for the afternoon, George?”
    “Certainly,” Leisure said.
    So in the company of the dapper little mayor—who left his limo and driver at the curb on West 44th, proceeding with no retinue other than Darrow, Leisure, and myself—we cut down Shubert Alley over to the Music Box on West 45th.
    This was my first Broadway show, but I’d seen snazzier productions on Randolph Street. It was a silly musical comedy about a presidential race; there were some nice-looking girls, and Victor Moore was funny as a dippy Vice President. Nonetheless, mediocre as it was, it remains one of the most memorable shows I ever attended—though that had nothing to do with what went on, onstage.
    The mayor, like a glorified usher, had led us to our seats in the front of the orchestra, and a ripple had gone through the audience that turned into a near roar. Walker grinned and waved at the crowd, but it wasn’t him the audience was reacting to, even though the orchestra was graciously playing the theme song Walker had penned himself (“Will You Love Me in December as You Do in May?”).
    The fuss was over Darrow—he’d been recognized.
    Soon the old boy was swamped with autograph-seeking admirers (Walker seemed mildly miffed by the lack of attention), and this went on till the lights dimmed and the overture began.
    I was sitting next to Darrow who was sitting next to Leisure who was sitting next to the mayor. Throughout the entire play—which I understand was a Pulitzer prize-winner by George Gershwin, though I couldn’t hum you a song from it if you put a gun to my head—Darrow sat whispering to Leisure. Their sotto voce dialogue continued through intermission to the finale, as Darrow filled the young lawyer in on the facts of the Massie case, as well as his theories and plans concerning same….
    Mayor Walker ducked out before the final curtain call, and as we were walking out onto West 45th Street, where a cool spring breeze nipped at us, Darrow was saying, “You know, George, I’ve been retired from practice some time now, and haven’t been regularly engaged in courtroom work for several years…”
    “There’s no better man for this job.”
    “Well, thank you, George, but I’m afraid I’m getting on in years…” Darrow stopped, flat-footedly, as if he had suddenly run out of gas. “Frankly, I would be very pleased to have a younger man accompany me on this trip. I wonder…would it be possible for you to go to Honolulu with me?”
    “I would be honored and thrilled,” Leisure blurted.
    “Of course, I have to warn you that the fee involved will not be great. In fact, I can promise you little more than your expenses…and the experience of a lifetime.”
    “I see…”
    “Will you be my associate counsel, sir?”
    Leisure thrust his hand out. “With pleasure!”
    The two men shook hands. Leisure said he would need to inform his partners, and Darrow requested that Leisure—and his wife, if he so desired—join him in Chicago within a week, to make final preparations; they would talk on the phone in a day or so, so that Darrow could book passage.
    Back in Sardi’s, at another booth, with Leisure on his way home, Darrow and I had coffee again—unspiked, this time.
    “I’m impressed,” I said.
    “It was a good show,” Darrow said.
    “It was a good show, all right, and I’m not talking about Of Thee I Sing, baby. Not a moment of which you witnessed, by the way.”
    Darrow just sipped his coffee, smiling.
    “How much was Dudley Malone going to soak you as co-counsel?” I asked him.
    “Ten grand,” Darrow admitted.
    “And you got one of the top lawyers on Wall Street to do the job for you, free.”
    “Not free. Expenses, and probably a modest fee. And priceless experience.”
    “He’s not exactly a damn law clerk, C.D.” I shook my head, laughed. “And how’d you manage getting