THIRTY
Frank Oliver’s reaction to the appearance of MacIntosh & Adair’s offices was predictable. Of course, his own condition didn’t help. Since his release from jail, and abandonment by Alicia, he’d been drinking far more than usual, and his typical foul mood had taken a nosedive for the worse. Now hung over from a weekend binge, he crinkled his nose in disgust as he got out of his midnight blue Mercedes-Benz AMG on Monday morning, one week to the day of his first interrogation by the police, and looked at the shabby building. Driving down Cedar Springs, he had noticed the building right off but hoped it wasn’t the one. He didn’t mind not having downtown lawyers – downtown lawyers were almost all civil lawyers. But he did expect his lawyers to at least appear prosperous.
The drab exteri
