Malice In Miami

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

An hour later I was across town at a diner with one of my favorite people. He also happened to be my new boss.

"I'll just assume you know nothing, Jamie Quinn," Herb Lowenthal said matter-of-factly, digging into his hash browns.

"Geez, Herb," I said, "Way to boost a girl's ego. And here I thought I was being too hard on myself." I sipped my fresh-squeezed orange juice and then raised my glass: "A toast! To my new career as a know-nothing!"

In response, Herb made a snorting noise followed by a raspy wheezing sound that made me believe he was choking. I hopped out of the booth and was about to start pounding him on his eighty-five-year-old back when he said: "What are you doing? Have you lost your marbles?"

I stepped back from the table, as confused as he was. "I thought you were dying," I said.

He started making the same noise again, his bushy white eyebrows wiggling like two dancing caterpillars and I realized what was happening. Herb was laughing!

I slid back into my side of the booth. "That's some laugh you have there, Herb. I thought you needed the Heimlich maneuver. From now on, whenever I tell you a joke I'll be ready to perform CPR, just in case." Then I held up my hand like Diana Ross or one of the Supremes. "Stop! That's not funny."

Then we both laughed. "The bottom line," I said, taking a bite of toast, "is you saved my life and I was ready to save yours. I get points for that."

"How many points do you want?" Herb chuckled. "You can have them all." He signaled to the waitress to bring more coffee. "Let's talk about your training."

"Huh?" I responded, eloquent as always. "What training?"

Herb slurped his coffee in a way Miss Manners would have frowned upon. "Oy, did you think you could hobnob with art experts with no training? Ha! Good one, Jamie Quinn."

I leaned back in the booth. "There was no training requirement in our contract. Unlike my iPhone agreement, I actually read it."

Herb looked pleased. "Oh, it's in there alright. It's the last paragraph, where it says and other related duties. That's why I pay those shyster lawyers the big bucks, no offense."

I shrugged. "None taken. At least you didn't call me a blood-sucking leech, bottom-feeder, or ambulance chaser." I speared the last grape in my fruit salad.

With a sly grin, Herb said, "I didn't call you anything, Jamie Quinn. You're a rare breed, the honorable lawyer."

"Sure, I'm a unicorn," I agreed, "one of a kind. So, what's this training I have to do?" The waitress took our plates and left the check with a quick thank-you to Herb, a regular at The Bagel Joint.

"I made you a list," Herb handed me a large envelope. "You can open it later." With his puff of white hair above each ear he looked like a Keebler elf handing me a cookie.

"Thanks, I guess. This better not take as long as law school. I can't afford to study art for three years."

Herb reached over and patted my hand with his liver-spotted one. "Sure you can, I'm paying you to study. And it will only take a few months--six, if you take your time. Now let's talk about your wardrobe."

I sat up straighter in my casual sundress. "What about my wardrobe?"

"How many evening gowns do you own?"

"The same number as you," I shot back.

"Then it's time to go shopping, Jamie Quinn."