Once again, we were in attendance at Stanley and Forster. After all the time we’d spent here in the last couple days, I was as comfortable in this office as I was in my own.
Even the ghost—pallid receptionist began to warm up a little. She greeted us with a smile.
“Who do you need this time?”
“Philip Carter,” I said.
“You got it.”
She punched some keys, and then said into her headset. “Mr. Carter, the cops are here for you.”
By how fast the call ended, Philip Carter didn’t seem particularly surprised to hear that there were police waiting to see him. I think I might have asked what they wanted.
“Have a seat,” she said. “He’ll be down to see you in just a minute.”
She retrieved a tube of lipstick from her purse and made fish faces in a compact mirror as she applied the diva—pink lipstick. Part of me wanted to know how much she got paid.
The waiting room was full of people who were now watching Louise and me like we’d just dropped our pants and peed on the floor. Cops are nobody’s friends until you need one.