was in Planning, and if I remember correctly thatâs how he originally described himself.â
âOkay, so I manage to get him on the phone. Then what?â
âYou need to convey to him that you know me and that youâd like to set up a meeting. You donât have to say anything about delivering information. As soon as he hears my name heâll know thatâs what itâs about, if he is indeed the contact.â
âSo what is it that youâre after?â Sophie asked.
âHe indicated that he may have information about what happened to Peter King,â McBride offered. âHe wanted me to get it that night in the parking lot, but then he got frightened off and seemingly for good reasonâsomeone was keeping an eye on him. I might have been able to get it yesterday if I had followed him down to the archives, but three men he knew got on the elevator and I didnât want to put any focus on a connection to me.â
âOkay. Leave it with me. Iâll figure out a way to meet him. But, I have to be by myself to make the call,â she said. âItâs not just pretend, right. I have to get into it. Iâll do it tomorrow morning. Iâll let you know as soon as itâs set up.â
I could see McBride was a little nonplussed by Sophieâs take-charge approach, but he didnât argue.
âSorry to cut this short, but I have to get to work on Opheliaâs mad scene now,â she said. âIâll see you at rehearsal Roz.â
That was it. We were out of there.
Once home, I got out the card that Eloise Radner had given me for the lawyer, Harvie Greenblatt. It wasnât five oâclock yet and with any luck I could set up a meeting with him for the following day. He was part of a firm that was notable for taking on high-profile civil rights cases and winning. No wonder heâd had a strong connection with Peter King. However, the secretary who answered said Harvie had recently left the firm and had gone to work for the Public Prosecution Service as a Crown Attorney. âWe miss him,â she said, giving me his new number. When I called I got his voicemail. I left a message, mentioning both Eloise Radner and Peter King, and asked him to call me back as soon as possible.
I went down to the kitchen to find something to munch on while working my way through the next section of
Hamlet
. The brutal Gertrude/Hamlet scene was coming up and I needed to look it over. âOne egg and the heel of a loaf of sourdough. Looks like itâs a fried egg sandwich,â I said to the cat, who, in her customary style, materialized out of nowhere. She had clearly been down for her afternoon nap and was stretching, with her long fur every which way. I bent over and scratched her chin. She rubbed herself against my legs, and went and sat by her dish.
âYou are endless,â I said. âWell, there are crunchies here. I promise Iâll go to the store on the way home from rehearsal.â I filled her dish and changed her water. She looked long-suffering as she chewed.
I brought the egg sandwich to my desk and opened
Hamlet
to Act 3, Scene 4. I read through the rapid exchange between Gertrude and Polonius interrupted by Hamletâs offstage battle cry,
â
Mother, Mother, Mother!â
Polonious then secretes himself behind the arras, and as I read Hamletâs entrance line,
âNow mother, whatâs the matter?â
the phone jangled. It was McBride.
âIâm just about to leave for the airport,â he said. I could hear anxiety in his voice.
âWhatâs going on?â
âItâs my son,â he said.
âSomethingâs happened to Alex?â
âHe was on a school ski trip at Whistler and heâs had an accident. Heâs being airlifted to Vancouver.â
âOh my god,â I said. âIt must be serious.â
âI think heâs broken a bone in his legâsounds like his
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