Haunted Hearts Read Online Free Page A

looked both expensive and defiantly unfashionable. They suited him even now, in the rarified climate of one of Boston’s most prestigious law firms.
    â€œMr. Pinnington has been expecting you,” the receptionist smiled when McGuire announced his name. A minute later Richard Pinnington, senior partner, was walking across the Axminster from somewhere beyond the reception area, his hand extended, and his patrician face beaming a smile at McGuire.
    â€œIt’s a matter of having access to a special kind of talent.”
    Richard Pinnington leaned forward, his eyes on McGuire. They were seated in matching wing chairs covered in green leather with brass upholstery studs. The leather was soft and yielding, and the aroma of the tannery still rose from its buttery surface. Between them, a silver tea service and two ornate bone-china teacups rested on a low, glass-topped oak table. Pinnington’s office, encompassing as much square footage as the entire ground floor of Ollie and Ronnie’s house, stretched to a bank of windows overlooking the Atlantic.
    Pinnington was in his early sixties and he carried his age, like his upper-class bearing, in a manner that members of a privileged class often do: with elegance and grace. His hair, thinning but still wavy, was pewter-gray, a colour repeated throughout the man’s wardrobe. His Egyptian cotton shirt sported a subtle gray stripe, his maroon tie was flecked in an amorphous gray pattern, and his blue suit had an undertone of gray.
    McGuire suppressed a rare feeling of inadequacy in Pinnington’s presence.
    â€œYou’re not that involved in criminal law,” McGuire said, settling back in the chair facing Pinnington. “Why call on a cop who spent his career on the street?”
    â€œWell, you’re absolutely right.” Pinnington sat back, mimicking McGuire’s posture. “We are not specifically a criminal-law firm. Just two criminal lawyers on staff. But things are becoming so complex for us that we need . . .” Pinnington looked for the phrase in the air beyond McGuire’s shoulder. “We need a radar detector, a sonar device is maybe a good way of putting it, that can alert us to potential criminal activity.”
    â€œOn the part of your clients?”
    â€œPerhaps. More likely, of course, on the part of our adversaries. Also, we often make use of certain criminal investigative techniques in our civil cases.”
    â€œSuch as?”
    Pinnington shrugged. “People who can locate lost individuals for us. Assembly of evidence in perhaps a more effective manner than civil lawyers can muster. And there are borderline cases where civil and criminal law seem to be overlapping at a faster rate every day. Child-custody cases, for example. That’s become a big part in our practice. Abduction is a serious criminal offense. Assuming wide interpretations of custody laws is a civil matter. See my point?”
    McGuire nodded.
    â€œBusiness espionage is another concern. We can become involved in corporate civil law and discover the possibility of criminal activity by employees or officers.”
    â€œThese are hardly my field.”
    â€œNo, they’re not. But we can use your perception, your instincts. I have a colleague who practices criminal law. Marv Rosen. I think you know him. Anyway, he’s our criminal-law counsel.”
    McGuire knew Rosen, would never forget the ferret-faced lawyer. He had physically attacked Rosen in a courtroom years earlier, a foolish move that cost McGuire a demotion and two weeks’ income. “He tried to charge me with assault once,” McGuire said. “He dropped it in exchange for an apology, and told everybody I’d given him the best PR he’d ever received.”
    Pinnington smiled. “Marv still talks about it. It’s his best dinner-party story. I’ve heard it over and over. Now, I’m not saying Marv would enjoy sharing a slow boat to China with