Page 40 of Battle Mountain

“So,” Geronimo said. “How do you want to play it?”

“You’re the talker,” Nate replied.

“Weapons?”

“Always.”

—

As they enteredthe front door, an old-fashioned bell tinkled. It startled a woman sitting behind a desk, who was absorbed in doing something on the screen of her phone. Her eyes got wide when she looked up and she involuntarily pushed back a few inches on her rolling chair. Nate assumed it was unusual for two large men—one Black with massive dreadlocks, the other white and rough-looking—to enter the law office unannounced at the same time. The lobby had obviously once been the parlor of a small home before being remodeled into a business office. An elaborate stone fireplace took up the entire right wall and the left wall had built-in bookcases filled with law books, primarily the statutes of the State of Wyoming. The receptionist’s desk was just a few feet in front of them. A plastic plaque on the front of the desk identified her as Joann Delaney.

By her reaction, Delaney likely thought they were there to commence a home invasion, Nate thought. He slid in behindGeronimo’s wide shoulders, and they practically filled the small lobby.

She was a pert-looking woman in her midfifties with too much makeup. She had short reddish hair cut in a pixie style, and her long, curved, and painted nails likely clacked on the keyboard as she typed.

“I’m Geronimo Jones,” Geronimo said in his gentlest baritone. “This is my associate, Nate Romanowski. We’re here to see Cheryl Tuck-Smith. Is she in?”

“I don’t want any trouble,” Delaney said.

“And you won’t get any from us,” Geronimo assured her.

“Usually people call or email for an appointment,” she said.

“And we apologize for not doing exactly that,” Geronimo said. “But we’ve been on the road from Montana and we have an urgent matter to discuss with the attorney.”

Delaney glared at Geronimo for a beat, then chinned toward a closed door over her shoulder and said, “She’s on a call at the moment. I can ask her if she has a few minutes when it’s done. But please be aware that the conference call may take a while and that she may have other business this afternoon.”

Geronimo stepped closer to Delaney’s desk and pointed at the single line on the three-line phone set that was illuminated. “I can see when she concludes the call,” he said. “Until then, I guess we can wait. In the meantime, may I use your men’s restroom? We’ve been driving all day.”

“There is only one bathroom available to the public,” she said.

“May I use it, please?” Geronimo asked.

After a beat, Delaney gestured toward a short hallway next to the closed door. She handed him a key on a rabbit’s foot key chainfrom the top drawer of her desk. “It’s the first door on the left,” she said.

When Geronimo found the bathroom and went inside, Nate noticed that Delaney shot furtive looks at him standing next to the fireplace. Her hands were out of sight under the desktop and he realized she was furiously texting something on her phone without looking down.

“Stop doing that,” he said. “Who are you texting?”

Caught, her face flushed. “Just my sister,” she said.

“Your sister can wait. Our visit is unofficial. We’d like to keep it that way.”

“I don’t want any trouble,” she said again. “The only reason I’m even here is to work off a legal bill.”

“Then put your phone on your desk and leave it alone,” he said.

“Okay, okay,” she said, doing exactly that. She placed it screen-down and drew her hands away from it as if it were suddenly very hot.

“I’m not officially Ms. Tuck-Smith’s receptionist,” she said. “I just happen to be here at the moment. I don’t know anything about her clients or her business.”

Nate nodded once that he had heard her. She was scared of him, and probably more scared of Geronimo. Nate was fine with that.

“Really,” she said, to emphasize her previous contention.

“Is that why you have your nameplate on the desk?” he asked.

Caught in a lie, she broke eye contact.

---