Page 66 of Danny Hall Gets a Lawyer
“Oh, thanks. That’s really nice.”
We both looked at his empty desk.
“Then I drank it because you were late,” he said and yawned. “I shouldn’t drink coffee with my meds. But it was really good.”
“Well, I appreciate the gesture,” I said.
“Cal wants to see you,” Marty said, wheeling back and forth in tiny increments in his chair. It squeaked every time. “And also I’m leaving early today because my boyfriend is coming to town and we’re taking Squirrel to the vet. Squirrel is our dog.”
“I remember,” I said. I’d seen enough photos of Squirrel to describe him accurately to a police sketch artist should the need ever arise. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he just needs to get his shots, and Dalton has to come because it’s super upsetting.”
“Oh, I don’t think dogs even really feel it, do they?” I asked.
“No, it’s upsetting for me,” Marty clarified. “Like, they juststabhim, bro, with a big-ass needle!”
“Ah. Well, good luck.” I escaped down the hall to Callahan’s office. The door was open, but I leaned in the doorway and knocked. “Marty said you wanted to see me?”
Callahan looked up from his screen and gave me a warm smile. “Have a seat, son.”
I sat down across from him.
Callahan’s office was not one of those fancy corner offices you saw on television shows about highly paid and sophisticated lawyers. It was a corner office, sure, but the window looked out onto the patch of grass where he walked his dog during the day and, past that, the parking lot. The walls of his office were full of pictures of framed newspaper articles from community events the firm sponsored and family photographs. In pride of place in the middle of the wall, right where another man might have put his framed certification from the state bar, Callahan had a photograph of his dog and his wife standing in front of his fishing cabin. There was no mistaking his priorities.
Callahan took a sip from his World’s Best Grandpa mug, and said, “How was New York?”
I jolted. “What?”
“I hope you said hello to Ezra Fisk from me,” he said. “Lovely man, Ezra.”
I rubbed my forehead. “Shit. You knew?”
“Not too much gets past me, son,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
Even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, I had a brief stab of guilt. “You didn’t say anything.”
“Well, what would be the point of that?” he asked. “You’ve been hankering for bigger and better things for a while now. I figured you needed to get it out of your system.”
“I didn’t take the job,” I said.
“I figured.” He leaned back in his chair. “I wanted to be a big city lawyer once upon a time, you know? I even worked in D.C. for a while. But it wasn’t what I expected. So I came here on a whim, and the place grew on me. The people too.” He let out a long breath and shook his head. “Did you know there are some law firms out there that won’t even let you bring your dog to work?”
“I think that’s most law firms, Callahan. And also most other places of business.”
“Which is why you sometimes have to start your own firm,” he said. “Oh! Speaking of dogs, have you heard the latest?”
“I heard Squirrel’s getting his shots,” I said, unsure if that was newsworthy or not.
“Mmm. I hope Marty holds up okay, but this is about Alexander Hamilton.”
I shuddered. “Let me guess. The divorce and dog custody battle is back on?”
Callahan laughed. “Not only is the divorce back on, but Missy has run off with her pool boy. She called me last night, wanting to know if them getting Vegas married counted as really married and if it did would itreallybe a problem? She suggested maybe one marriage could cancel the other one out, like exchanging a pair of shoes for the same ones in a different color.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. “Okay, I know I’m going to be sorry I asked, but what does this have to do with Alexander Hamilton?”
“Oh, he was the best man,” Callahan said and turned his computer monitor around so that I could see the photographs Missy had so kindly emailed him. Who knew you could buy dog tuxedos on short notice like that? That seemed wild, even for Vegas.
