something few people know about me.
He looked me in the eye.
âTell me something that no one knows about you.
I laughed.
But he was serious.
âThat no one knows? I said.
âJust one thing. I promise, Iâll never tell a soul.
He crossed his heart to prove it.
âAll right, I said, setting my coffee cup down. I keep perfect time.
âWhat do you mean?
I shrugged.
âI can count sixty seconds in sixty seconds. Minute in and minute out.
âI donât believe it.
I gestured with a thumb to the soda pop clock on the wall behind me.
âJust let me know when the second hand gets to twelve.
He looked over my shoulder and watched the clock.
âOkay, he said with a game smile. On your mark . . . Get set . . .
Zowie, Eve had said later that afternoon. Someplace, somewhere, sometime. Howâd you get all that?
In taking depositions, one thing you learn is that most people have respect for a direct and well-timed question. Itâs the one thing theyâre not prepared for. Sometimes, they show their cooperative intent (and buy some time) by repeating it back to their questioner: How did I get all that? they ask politely. Sometimes, they counter the boldness of the question with a touch of indignation: Howâd I get what? Whatever the tactic, the seasoned attorney knows that when someone is stalling in this manner, there is fertile ground for further inquiry. So, the best response to a good question is something put simply without hesitation or inflection.
âHe mentioned it when you were in the bathroom at Chernoffâs, I said to Eve.
We exchanged a closing pleasantry and I returned to my desk. I removed the slipcover from my typewriter, found my place in the deposition and rattled away. In the second sentence of the third paragraph, I made my first typo of the afternoon. In transcribing a list of someoneâs chief concerns, for chief I typed thief . And let the record show that those two letters arenât even close to each other on the keyboard.
CHAPTER FOUR
Deus Ex Machina
On Friday night, as we were getting dressed, Eve wouldnât even chat about the weather.
My conscience having gotten the better of me, Iâd fessed up. Sort of. In the course of conversation, I mentioned in an offhand manner that Iâd run into Tinker downtown and that weâd had a cup of coffee.
âA cup of coffee, she said, equally offhand. How nice.
Then she clammed up.
I took a stab at complimenting her outfit: a yellow dress, six months out of season and all the sharper for it.
âDo you really like it? she asked.
âIt looks great.
âYou should try it on for size some time. Maybe you can have a cup of coffee with it.
I was opening my mouth, not sure of what to say, when one of the girls barged in.
âSorry to interrupt, ladies, but Prince Charmingâs here. And heâs brought his chariot.
At the door to our room, Eve took a last look in the mirror.
âI need another a minute, she said.
Then she went back into the bedroom and took off her dress, as if my compliment had put it out of style. Outside the window I could see that a cold drizzle was falling in vindication of her mood. I followed her down the stairs thinking: Weâre in for it all right.
In front of the boardinghouse Tinker was standing beside a Mercedes coupé as silver as mercury. If all the girls at Mrs. Martingaleâs saved a yearâs pay, we couldnât have afforded one.
Fran Pacelli, the five-foot-nine City College dropout from North Jersey who lived down the hall, whistled like a hard hat appreciating the hem of a skirt. Eve and I went down the steps.
Tinker was obviously in a good mood. He gave Eve a kiss on the cheek and a You look terrific . When he turned to me, he smiled and gave my hand a squeeze. He didnât offer me the kiss or the compliment, but Eve was watching and she could tell that she was the one whoâd been shortchanged.
He opened
He looked me in the eye.
âTell me something that no one knows about you.
I laughed.
But he was serious.
âThat no one knows? I said.
âJust one thing. I promise, Iâll never tell a soul.
He crossed his heart to prove it.
âAll right, I said, setting my coffee cup down. I keep perfect time.
âWhat do you mean?
I shrugged.
âI can count sixty seconds in sixty seconds. Minute in and minute out.
âI donât believe it.
I gestured with a thumb to the soda pop clock on the wall behind me.
âJust let me know when the second hand gets to twelve.
He looked over my shoulder and watched the clock.
âOkay, he said with a game smile. On your mark . . . Get set . . .
Zowie, Eve had said later that afternoon. Someplace, somewhere, sometime. Howâd you get all that?
In taking depositions, one thing you learn is that most people have respect for a direct and well-timed question. Itâs the one thing theyâre not prepared for. Sometimes, they show their cooperative intent (and buy some time) by repeating it back to their questioner: How did I get all that? they ask politely. Sometimes, they counter the boldness of the question with a touch of indignation: Howâd I get what? Whatever the tactic, the seasoned attorney knows that when someone is stalling in this manner, there is fertile ground for further inquiry. So, the best response to a good question is something put simply without hesitation or inflection.
âHe mentioned it when you were in the bathroom at Chernoffâs, I said to Eve.
We exchanged a closing pleasantry and I returned to my desk. I removed the slipcover from my typewriter, found my place in the deposition and rattled away. In the second sentence of the third paragraph, I made my first typo of the afternoon. In transcribing a list of someoneâs chief concerns, for chief I typed thief . And let the record show that those two letters arenât even close to each other on the keyboard.
CHAPTER FOUR
Deus Ex Machina
On Friday night, as we were getting dressed, Eve wouldnât even chat about the weather.
My conscience having gotten the better of me, Iâd fessed up. Sort of. In the course of conversation, I mentioned in an offhand manner that Iâd run into Tinker downtown and that weâd had a cup of coffee.
âA cup of coffee, she said, equally offhand. How nice.
Then she clammed up.
I took a stab at complimenting her outfit: a yellow dress, six months out of season and all the sharper for it.
âDo you really like it? she asked.
âIt looks great.
âYou should try it on for size some time. Maybe you can have a cup of coffee with it.
I was opening my mouth, not sure of what to say, when one of the girls barged in.
âSorry to interrupt, ladies, but Prince Charmingâs here. And heâs brought his chariot.
At the door to our room, Eve took a last look in the mirror.
âI need another a minute, she said.
Then she went back into the bedroom and took off her dress, as if my compliment had put it out of style. Outside the window I could see that a cold drizzle was falling in vindication of her mood. I followed her down the stairs thinking: Weâre in for it all right.
In front of the boardinghouse Tinker was standing beside a Mercedes coupé as silver as mercury. If all the girls at Mrs. Martingaleâs saved a yearâs pay, we couldnât have afforded one.
Fran Pacelli, the five-foot-nine City College dropout from North Jersey who lived down the hall, whistled like a hard hat appreciating the hem of a skirt. Eve and I went down the steps.
Tinker was obviously in a good mood. He gave Eve a kiss on the cheek and a You look terrific . When he turned to me, he smiled and gave my hand a squeeze. He didnât offer me the kiss or the compliment, but Eve was watching and she could tell that she was the one whoâd been shortchanged.
He opened
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