“Maddy Rivers,” she said holding her hand out to Spenser.
“I am truly delighted,” Spenser replied.
“Actually, we’re engaged,” Marc said. “She’s my fiancé.”
“For now,” Maddy dryly replied.
“Congratulations. You’re overreaching,” Spenser told Marc. “You may want to be careful.”
For the next hour, Cliff Spenser proudly put the two of them on display. He guided them around the tables, bars, and grounds, introducing them as if Marc and Maddy, especially Maddy, were trophies.
“I think he likes you,” Marc whispered in her ear when Spenser was distracted for a moment.
“Everybody likes me,” she whispered back “Wait till I tell him about the bullet scar.”
The last guest Spenser introduced them to was Wade MacAlister. Of course, being a male and pseudo politician, he tried to walk off with Maddy. Maddy, having plenty of practice with such things, made sure the old boy did not get very far. Much to Marc’s amusement.
They were barely out of earshot when Spenser said, “He always gets what he wants.”
“Not this time,” Marc replied. “Did you notice the scar near her right shoulder?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s from a bullet wound. She shot the guy twice before he got her. He’s dead,” Marc said.
“Madeline Rivers,” Spenser said. “I thought that sounded familiar. She’s your investigator. Interesting woman.”
“You have no idea,” Marc replied.
Gavin Blake joined them and said to Marc, “Mr. MacAlister would like a word, Marc.”
“Sure,” Marc said while making a mental note of Blake’s subservient use of the word mister.
By now, Maddy had steered the man back to the table they were standing by. With Gavin Blake in front, they went into the house leaving Maddy at a table of senior partners.
“I’m not sure I’d trust leaving her alone with a table of rich lawyers. Even with their wives with them,” Spenser said to Marc as they walked away.
“Bullet wound,” was Marc’s short response.
“Good point. She can handle them.”
“How’s the harassment case coming?” MacAlister asked.
They were all seated in comfortable expensive leather club chairs in what appeared to be a small library. Three walls contained sunken bookshelves filled with books that Brandon Stafford had never touched. Brandon had been inside waiting for them.
“Too early to tell,” Marc answered.
“I understand you do mostly criminal defense cases,” MacAlister said.
“I try not to let them touch me, if you’re worried,” Marc said. “Just kidding.”
“I’d like to get this case settled. The firm’s reputation is at stake and we don’t need the publicity.”
“I understand, sir,” Marc said. “And I appreciate your, concern. May I ask, why isn’t Melanie Stewart in here? She’s outside. Shouldn’t she be involved?” Marc asked as innocently as possible.
“Oh, c’mon, Marc. It’s just us boys sitting around bullshitting at a party. Why do we need more lawyers involved? “MacAlister asked trying to put on the good ol’ boy charm.
“Because these three signed an agreement, a representation retainer agreement, that Melanie was to be the sole manager of this case on behalf of the firm. I insisted so I wouldn’t have to deal with a roomful of senior partners.”