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“I always have man trouble.” I had two men in my life, and I didn't know what to do with either of them. Ranger scared the bejeezus out of me, and Morelli had pretty much decided that unless I changed my ways I was more trouble than I was worth. I hadn't heard from Morelli in weeks.
“Yeah, but this is going to be big trouble,” Lula said.
“You're making that up.”
“Am not.”
“You are.”
“Well, okay, maybe I made some of it up, but not the part about the man trouble.”
I fed the meter a quarter and crossed the street. Lula and I entered the building and took the elevator to the third floor. Dickie's office was at the end of the hall. The sign beside the door read Richard Orr, Attorney. I resisted the urge to write asshole below the sign. I was, after all, a woman scorned, and that carried certain responsibilities. Still, best to write asshole on the way out.
The reception area of Dickie's office was tastefully done up in industrial chic. Blacks and grays and the occasional purple upholstered chair. If the Jetsons had hired Tim Burton to decorate, it would have turned out like this. Dickie's secretary was seated behind a large mahogany desk. Caroline Sawyer. I recognized her from my last visit. She looked up when Lula and I entered. Her eyes widened in alarm, and she reached for the phone.
“If you come any closer I'm calling the police,” she said.
“I want to talk to Dickie.”
“He isn't here.”
“I bet she's fibbing,” Lula said. “I got a knack for knowing when people are fibbing.” Lula shook her finger at Sawyer. “The Lord don't like when people fib.”
“Honest to God, he isn't here.”
“Now you're blaspheming,” Lula said. “You're in big trouble now.”
The door to Dickie's inner office opened, and Dickie stuck his head out. “Oh shit,” he said, spotting Lula and me. He pulled his head back and slammed his door shut.
“I need to talk to you,” I yelled.
“No. Go away. Caroline, call the police.”
Lula leaned on Caroline's desk. “You call the police and I'll break one of your fingernails. You'll need a new manicure.”
Caroline looked down at her nails. “I just got them done yesterday.”
“They did a good job,” Lula said. “Where'd you go?”
“Kim's Nails on Second Street.”
“They're the best. I go there, too,” Lula said. “I got mine detailed this time. See, I got little-bitty stars painted on them.”
Caroline looked over at Lula's nails. “Awesome,” she said.
I scooted around Sawyer and knocked on Dickie's door. “Open up. I promise I won't try to choke you. I need to talk to you about Annie Soder. She's missing.”
The door opened a crack. “What do you mean . . . missing?”
; “Evelyn apparently took off with her, and Les Sebring is enforcing the child custody bond.”
The door opened all the way. “I was afraid this would happen.”
“I'm trying to help find Annie. I was hoping you could give me some background information.”
“I don't know how helpful I can be. I was Soder's attorney. Evelyn was represented by Albert Kloughn. There was so much acrimony during the divorce process, and so many threats were made on both sides, that the judge imposed the bonds.”
