Cookie's Case by Andy Siegel Page B

either.”
    We chat a little more, and then I tell her I have to get back to the office just as she reminds me Robert has to resume his job. I like Granny. She’s the right combination of gruff and concerned. And I give her full marks for being very aware of Robert’s medical condition.
    As soon as we click off, I send a text to Lily to set up an appointment as soon as possible. I don’t want Robert’s case to wind up dismissed because Ethel’s unfamiliar with the procedures of the judicial system. Just by missing a simple appearance, you can blow everything.
    Some judges are like that, but Ethel couldn’t know it. She and Robert deserve better.
    STAY AWAY FROM HER
    So now I’m crossing Foley Square again. The giant black marble sculpture soaring way up into the sky in front of me is styled after an antelope-inspired African headdress and is mounted on a boat-shaped base. It was commissioned to memorialize the unknown enslaved Africans brought to America. It’s called Triumph of the Human Spirit , and whenever I give myself the chance to think about it, I cringe at the knowledge that our country once allowed slavery. I hate that any one person could exert absolute control over another’s existence.
    As I’m on my way to get a dirty-water dog on the far side of the square before I hop the subway, a guy in oversized black plastic sunglasses and a mini trench coat gets up from a bench and starts walking behind me. His lockstep maneuvers lead me to believe I’m his target. Great. What could this be?
    I take five more steps, confirming that his gait’s keeping pace with mine, then stop. He stops, too. Damn! He’s maintaining distance. That confirms it. Let me head this one off. I turn and begin closing the twenty-foot gap between us by walking directly at him the way a catcher goes at a runner caught between bases. At the ten-foot mark, he turns and starts walking away. Yep, he’s for me, and he’s really bad at what he does. I bet Robert Killroy could keep cover better than he can.
    â€œHold on.” I say. “Let’s get this over with.” He stops and turns. “I’m pretty sure, although not certain, my wife believes in our marriage these days and didn’t hire you. So what’s up?”
    He maintains silence.
    â€œCome on. Out with it. Well?”
    He takes his shades off and assumes a threatening stance. “Cookie,” he says, “you know, the dancer. Stay away from her, Wyler. Seeeee.” I’m immediately reminded of some cartoon character, a gangster type, but just which one escapes me.
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    He shoots me a nasty look.
    I’m at least a foot taller, near double his weight, and can easily outrun him, but the real reason I don’t feel threatened is because there’s a cop fifty yards away.
    â€œListen, wise guy, you heard me. Just stay away from Cookie. Leave her case alone, that’s all, seeeee. Got that? Walk away, and let Charles finish what he started. He’s her attorney. That’s all, seeeee.”
    â€œThis is a first,” I say in a tone of surprise. “I never had an outgoing attorney dispatch his investigator or whatever you are to warn me not to take the case.”
    â€œCharles didn’t send me, seeeee.”
    â€œOf course Charles sent you. He’s the only one with interest. So tell him to get over it. She just signed the Consent to Change Attorney. Tell him to back off, or I’ll have to seek judicial intervention to deem his discharge for cause, and he’ll wind up with nothing for the work he’s done. And clearly his efforts so far entitle him to something. Now run along.”
    His expression of contempt deepens. He’s not ready to leave.
    â€œIf she signed the consent, then tear it up, seeeee. Tell her you can’t handle her case, and then go about your business.” His smirk firms and hands tighten, almost as if