Hostile Witness
“was printed in gold letters above a rendering of the scales of justice on the plate-glass window of the storefront at 15th and Pine. The lights were off in the front waiting area, but I could see a glimmer of light traveling from the back part of the office, through a hallway, spreading like an invitation into the waiting room. I switched the heavy plastic bag from my right hand to my left and buzzed the buzzer. When nothing happened I buzzed it again and again. I kept buzzing it until the ligh...t widened in the waiting area and Tony Baloney, stuffing his shirt into his pants with one hand and leaning on a cane with the other, came limping along the very same path that the light had traveled. At the window he peered out at me.
“We’re closed,” he shouted. “What do you want?”
“We have to talk,” I shouted back.
He looked at his watch. “It’s after eleven. We’re closed. Who are you, anyway?”
“Victor Carl.”MoreLess
“We’re closed,” he shouted. “What do you want?”
“We have to talk,” I shouted back.
He looked at his watch. “It’s after eleven. We’re closed. Who are you, anyway?”
“Victor Carl.”MoreLess
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