Sometimes a Whole Lotta of Nothing Is a Whole Lotta Something

While taking his last few strides toward me, with an outstretched hand, the man called, "Yes, sir.  James Blake.  How can I help you?"

I waited for the handshake.  "Ian MacKenzie, Mr. Blake, detective with BPD."  I noticed that this announcement did not send the slightest ripple of concern into this fellow.

"Yes, sir."

"I was hoping that you might have an insight into a murder that took place last night."

"Well, Detective MacKenzie, I'm not all that sure how we could help with that."

"Well, the deceased had in her possession one of your firm's business cards.  I thought she might be one of your clients." 

"I'll have to check with our lawyers, but I'm not sure we can divulge our client list."

"Mr. Blake, I know you will cooperate all you and your fine lawyers can to make sure we find justice in this case.  Might I speak to one of the senior partners.  Mr. Keller, possibly, or Mr. Brown."

"Mr. MacKenzie, if you will leave me your number I'll have one of our lead attorneys to give you a call.'

"Sir, I really need to take care of this now."

"I'm not sure if the person we need is available at the moment."

"No problem, I can't wait.  I'll sit here while you retrieve someone who can answer my questions."  I gave him my card and a good hard look that carried my thought, "Mr. Blake, you don't want to mess with me."

He let.  I took a seat.  And Mrs. Devonshire gave me a rather artificial smile. 

It took over an hour for Mr. Blake to return with someone in act, he came back with the unavailble Mr. Brown.

The End

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