into a debate of why none of the North Carolina teams made the final four in college basketball this year. I sliced my eggs, stirred them into the grits, and wondered why they hadn’t found a body. Joe remained quiet the rest of the meal and pulled me aside as we were leaving.
“ This thing could turn out to be a serious problem for you, Rich,” he said heaving an overcoat over his shoulders. “If I were you, I’d get an attorney right now.”
“ Can’t you handle it?”
“ You need someone that knows criminal law, Rich. That’s not what I do.”
The look in his eyes and the sound of his voice gave me the jitters. “You think it’s that serious, huh?”
“ How’d you get the scratch on your face?”
“ Swear to God, I don’t know.”
“ Swear to God, I’d get an attorney.” He slapped my arm as he walked away.
I trailed after him. “But I didn’t do anything.”
“ You need a good attorney more if you didn’t do it than if you did.”
“ Okay. Then who?”
“ Let me check into it. In the meantime, don’t talk to anyone else about this. Not a peep! Do you understand?”
“ Yes.”
“ Good. If the cops want anything else from you, make them get a search warrant. I’ll call you later.”
10
A LL I COULD THINK ABOUT for the rest of the morning was Joe’s admonitions and how he’d acted. My creativity was gone and I couldn’t concentrate. I made it through my first appointment on pure instinct. My eleven o’clock was an on-site conference with the younger sister of a girl I dated back in high school. Pulling into the parking lot of the Deagan Dance Center a few minutes early, I parked next to a black Mazda van lettered with the school’s logo. I’d driven by this place thousands of times, but had never paid much attention to it. The grounds were well-kept and framed with gigantic oak trees budding with new life and dripping with long strands of Spanish moss.
I entered a spacious lobby plastered with dance-related posters, informational signs, photographs, and three large TV monitors high on one wall each showing a different empty classroom. Long wooden benches lined three sides of the lobby, and there was a receptionist center on the fourth with shelves of trophies behind it that covered the walls all the way to the ceiling. There was no one around. Just the steady rhythmic beat of music deep within the building, the melody constricted by the walls.
“ Sydney?” I called.
“ Just a minute. Be right there,” a voice replied. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a figure cross one of the monitors and disappear from view before I had the chance to get a good look. An instant later she entered the adjoining room and for a second I would have sworn I was looking at her older sister Jewell. Though a few years younger, Sydney had always flirted with me whenever I’d showed up at their house. There was a definite resemblance, but as she drew near I could see that Sydney had grown into a far more beautiful woman. She had the same auburn hair and large blue eyes as Jewell, but somehow it had all come together better. It could have been the sparkle in her eyes, the way her personality livened her face, or just the fact that I was seeing a familiar face I hadn’t seen in a long time, but the sight of her set my heart to dancing. She was taller than Jewell and seemed to float across the floor as she moved toward me with that fluid motion that only dancers have. Her hair was back in a ponytail and hung down the back of a dark green dress that laid softly over her slender figure.
“ Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” she said coming toward me. “I was taping a floor.” Her voice was rich and deep, like a tenor sax crooning the blues; luscious and unique . A spark flashed across her eyes as she extended her right hand. “Richard Baimbridge, it’s so good to see you again. Thanks for coming.”
She’d called and asked if I’d photograph her students. It
“ This thing could turn out to be a serious problem for you, Rich,” he said heaving an overcoat over his shoulders. “If I were you, I’d get an attorney right now.”
“ Can’t you handle it?”
“ You need someone that knows criminal law, Rich. That’s not what I do.”
The look in his eyes and the sound of his voice gave me the jitters. “You think it’s that serious, huh?”
“ How’d you get the scratch on your face?”
“ Swear to God, I don’t know.”
“ Swear to God, I’d get an attorney.” He slapped my arm as he walked away.
I trailed after him. “But I didn’t do anything.”
“ You need a good attorney more if you didn’t do it than if you did.”
“ Okay. Then who?”
“ Let me check into it. In the meantime, don’t talk to anyone else about this. Not a peep! Do you understand?”
“ Yes.”
“ Good. If the cops want anything else from you, make them get a search warrant. I’ll call you later.”
10
A LL I COULD THINK ABOUT for the rest of the morning was Joe’s admonitions and how he’d acted. My creativity was gone and I couldn’t concentrate. I made it through my first appointment on pure instinct. My eleven o’clock was an on-site conference with the younger sister of a girl I dated back in high school. Pulling into the parking lot of the Deagan Dance Center a few minutes early, I parked next to a black Mazda van lettered with the school’s logo. I’d driven by this place thousands of times, but had never paid much attention to it. The grounds were well-kept and framed with gigantic oak trees budding with new life and dripping with long strands of Spanish moss.
I entered a spacious lobby plastered with dance-related posters, informational signs, photographs, and three large TV monitors high on one wall each showing a different empty classroom. Long wooden benches lined three sides of the lobby, and there was a receptionist center on the fourth with shelves of trophies behind it that covered the walls all the way to the ceiling. There was no one around. Just the steady rhythmic beat of music deep within the building, the melody constricted by the walls.
“ Sydney?” I called.
“ Just a minute. Be right there,” a voice replied. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a figure cross one of the monitors and disappear from view before I had the chance to get a good look. An instant later she entered the adjoining room and for a second I would have sworn I was looking at her older sister Jewell. Though a few years younger, Sydney had always flirted with me whenever I’d showed up at their house. There was a definite resemblance, but as she drew near I could see that Sydney had grown into a far more beautiful woman. She had the same auburn hair and large blue eyes as Jewell, but somehow it had all come together better. It could have been the sparkle in her eyes, the way her personality livened her face, or just the fact that I was seeing a familiar face I hadn’t seen in a long time, but the sight of her set my heart to dancing. She was taller than Jewell and seemed to float across the floor as she moved toward me with that fluid motion that only dancers have. Her hair was back in a ponytail and hung down the back of a dark green dress that laid softly over her slender figure.
“ Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” she said coming toward me. “I was taping a floor.” Her voice was rich and deep, like a tenor sax crooning the blues; luscious and unique . A spark flashed across her eyes as she extended her right hand. “Richard Baimbridge, it’s so good to see you again. Thanks for coming.”
She’d called and asked if I’d photograph her students. It
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