"What does Robert have--?"
"Ask Robert who I am."
"What?"
"Ask Robert who Lucas Cortez is. He doesn't know me personally, but we have mutual acquaintances, and if Robert is not inclined to vouch for my integrity, then he will be able to recommend someone who can. Will you do that?"
"What's he going to tell me?"
Cortez paused again. "I think, perhaps, at this stage it would be better if you heard it from Robert first. If I tell you, and you choose not to believe me, you may decide not to follow up with a call to Robert. Please call him, Paige. Then phone me back. I'll be at my motel."
I hung up.
"What'd he say?" Savannah asked.
I shook my head. "Honestly, I have no idea."
"Yeah, sometimes I can't figure it out either. Too many big words."
I hesitated, then dialed Robert's number, but got the machine again and didn't bother leaving a message. My finger was still on the disconnect button when the phone rang. "Williams & Shaw Legal" and a Boston phone number scrolled across the call display. Had my commercial lawyer found someone willing to represent me? God, I hoped so.
"May I speak to Paige Winterbourne?" a nasally female voice asked.
"Speaking."
"This is Roberta Shaw. I'm an attorney with Williams and Shaw. Our firm works with the Cary Law Office in East Falls. Mr. Cary has asked me to assist with the disposal of his son's current caseload. I've come across your folder among the deceased's files."
"Ummm, right. Actually, I am looking for someone to take over the case. If anyone at your firm would be interested--"
"We would not," Shaw said, the chill in her voice bordering on Arctic. "I am simply calling to request that you take possession of your file immediately. It is not in perfect order, but I am not about to ask Mr. Cary or his daughter-in-law to transcribe any of the notes. Under the circumstances, they shouldn't need to look at this file again. Out of consideration to the family, I will ask that you refer all questions to me. The billing will also come from my office."
"Look," I said. "I don't know what you heard, but I had nothing to do with Mr. Cary's--"
"It is not my place to dispute that matter. I have many files to go through today, Ms. Winterbourne. I would like you to collect yours this afternoon."
"Fine. I'll pick it up at the office--"
"That would hardly be appropriate, would it?"
I gritted my teeth. "Where do you suggest--"
"I will be at the Barton Funeral Home all afternoon. They've established an office for me in the funeral parlor, so I may consult with Mr. Cary easily while disturbing him as little as possible. You may meet me there at one o'clock."
"At Grant Cary's visitation? Now that's what I'd call inappropriate."
"You will come to the service door," she said, biting off each word as if it cost her unt
old effort to speak to me.
"There is a parking lot at the side of the building. You turn off--" Papers shuffled. "--off Chestnut. I assume you know where the funeral home is?"
"On Elm," I said. "Beside the county hospital."
"Good. Meet me there at one, in the side parking lot by the service door. Good day, Ms. Winterbourne."
So, with Cortez out of the picture, I was now officially on my own. If this had all happened a year ago I'd have said "no problem," and been glad for the chance to prove myself. Last fall, when the rest of the council had been reluctant to rescue Savannah, I'd been ready to go in on my own. Had I done so, I'd be dead. No question about it. I'd be dead and I might have got Savannah killed doing it. I'd learned my lesson then.
Now, faced with another big threat, I knew I needed help and was prepared to ask for it. But who? If I asked someone in the council, I'd put their life at risk for something that was a witch problem, and should therefore be handled by witches. But our Coven had abandoned us. Where did that leave us?