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see. How long did you work there?”
    “Six months, but I quit. Everyone smelled like bug spray. It made me sick.”
    “Then you were at Mike’s Body Shop.”
    “Yeah, I was the cashier in one of those little window places, where the customers go to pick up their cars, but they get them only if they pay, you know. I had to leave there. The claustrophobia got me.”
    “I thought Ms. Shmeegle said you were a trained legal secretary.”
    Well, I worked for Hank and he was a lawyer. When do you want me to start and what’s the pay?”
    “Somehow, Brittany, I don’t think you’re right for this job, but thanks for coming over.” I stood up and led her to the door. So much for the Shmeegle legal service.
    I was back to square one. I dug into the first pile of motions, booted up my computer, and thanked God that I knew how to type.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    I drove into the parking lot of Elite Wines at five minutes before noon for my appointment with Jack Brandeis. The two-story stucco building covered the whole block. The front of the building looked like an office building with floor-to-ceiling glass doors. At the back, near the parking lot, were a loading dock and numerous trucks. I chose the front door. Jack Brandeis didn’t sound like the type to be hands-on, shipping and receiving cargo. He sounded like the executive type, consumed with his own importance. He had tried to dodge meeting with me. I was getting the idea he cared more about Elite Wines than about his sister.
    An information desk filled the front lobby. Three attractive young women were behind the desk fielding telephone calls. They looked more like models than receptionists. One of the Naomi Campbell look-alikes finally noticed me.
    “I have an appointment with Jack Brandeis. I’m Mary Katz.” I handed her my card.
    I glanced around the lobby. It was decorated in anart deco look. A showcase was filled with interesting wine bottles. A poster announced the new wine of the month. A sauvignon blanc from New Zealand. Mymind wandered. A bottle of wine and Carlos sure would be great. The receptionist broke into my daydream.
    “I’ll ring him,” she said in a fake British accent, “but I believe he just left the building.”
    “That can’t be correct. We had an appointment for twelve sharp.” I tried to swallow the anger building up in my throat. I had left my office at eleven and fought the traffic through the usual freeway lane closings for repairs. I had left loads of other clients’ work strewn around my office.
    The receptionist was on the phone. “Yes, I told her he went out, but she insists that she has an appointment. Okay, I’ll tell her.”
    She replaced the phone and turned to me. “Mr. Brandeis is very sorry. He was called out unexpectedly and asks that you reschedule.”
    “That won’t be necessary. I’ll wait in his office,” I said as I rushed for the elevator. I had glanced at the guide as I entered the lobby and noted executive offices, second floor.
    I was in the elevator before any of the models could chase me down in their super spike heels. I imagined that they were calling security, but I was dashing down the hallway until I saw the mahogany double doors with a gold plate announcing executive suite.
    The woman behind the desk was wiping herglasses. It was obvious she had been crying. She looked more like a librarian than an executive secretary. Her salt-and-pepper hair was held tightly in a bun. She wore a dark dress and pearls.
    “Excuse me.” I said. “I’m here to see Jack Brandeis. We have an appointment for twelve o’clock.”
    The woman looked me over. “They called from the lobby. They said you came up here without permission.”
    “Look, I’m Lillian Yarmouth’s attorney. Mr. Brandeis was unable to come to my office, so I came here to interview him. It’s essential that I meet with everyone who can help me with Mrs. Yarmouth’s defense.”
    Before I finished my sentence, the woman began to cry in great