Haunted Hearts Read Online Free Page B

you, but he has a keen respect for your intuitive abilities.” Pinnington leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head. “One of the many things you
don’t
learn at law school is how to hone your intuition. But the more I practice law, the more I value that . . .” He hesitated, then found the word. “. . . skill. So I decided a few weeks ago I could either try to inject it into each of our partners and staff, or I could consider buying it on the open market, so to speak.”
    â€œWhich is me.”
    â€œWhich is you.”
    â€œWhat are you offering?”
    â€œFive thousand dollars’ monthly retainer, plus itemized expenses. It’s flat, whether you work eighty hours a week or none. And your workload could vary that much. Let’s assume a firm three-month contract to start. After that, we’ll review your hours and make adjustments to the fee if necessary. Maybe reassess the whole arrangement. This is an experiment for us. For you as well, I suspect.”
    â€œHow does it work?” Pinnington was offering an income equal to McGuire’s best years as a homicide detective. Fix the Chrysler’s transmission? Hell, he’d dump it for something a little flashier and a lot more reliable.
    â€œEach lawyer has the right to draw upon your skills as he or she sees fit. Partners take precedence over non-partners. Senior partners have ultimate prerogative on your time. Any conflicts among staff regarding your availability will be resolved by me. You track your hours per case, and they’re pro-rated against the docket by the lawyer who contracted your services. We’ll make a small office available down on the fourteenth floor. It’s not spectacular, but it gives you a telephone and a desk. As I said, after three months we review everything.”
    â€œDo I have to wear a tie, dress like a lawyer?”
    â€œNot unless you want to. Wear a tie, I mean.”
    â€œWill I be testifying in court?”
    â€œWe will do our best to avoid that eventuality.”
    McGuire nodded. “Sounds okay.”
    Pinnington almost leaped to his feet, his pleasure mixed with impatience to move on to other things. “Sounds like we have a deal. When can you get started?”
    â€œWhat time is it now?”
    â€œUnspectacular” was hardly the appropriate word for a windowless space that, a few days earlier, had functioned as a combination document-storage area and passageway, and was now to serve as McGuire’s office. He entered it through an unmarked door from the word-processing area, where several women sat at computers and printers, preparing long documents for the lawyers who occupied the offices above them. Another unmarked door exited to a hallway leading to the fourteenth-floor elevator foyer.
    â€œIt’s so we can keep people apart,” said Pinnington’s secretary. Her name was Woodson. “Mrs. Woodson,” was how Pinnington had introduced her to McGuire, never referring to her first name, which McGuire soon learned was Connie.
    Pinnington had asked Connie Woodson to escort McGuire to his new office and introduce him to key staff members. She was warm and pleasant, and her eyes reflected a hidden humour, a sense that she found the world amusing in a manner that she was unable to share with others.
    â€œWe used to bring people through here while their adversaries, or anyone else we didn’t want them to meet, waited in Reception upstairs,” Connie Woodson explained. “But Mr. Pinnington has made other arrangements.”
    â€œIt’s perfect,” McGuire said. And it was. He could come and go through the hall door without being seen. He had a small metal desk, a swivel chair, two metal side chairs, a telephone, a water cooler, and two filing cabinets set beneath a dusty black-and-white photograph of Cambridge that appeared to date back to the 1920s. An equally dusty coffeemaker sat atop one of the filing