“I don’t play well with others,” I said. “Wouldyou like to come in?”She peered around me into my office, checkingout my desk, two file cabinets, and the couchwhere Pearl slept when it was take-your-dog-to-work day. I extended my hand toward my guestchair and sat behind my desk. She joined me.
The girl had a full face with ruddy cheeks, acouple of moles on the right side. A cute kid if she’d sit up straight. But she slouched into herchair and nervously toyed with a SaintChristopher medal.“Who busted your nose?” she asked.
“Jersey Joe Walcott,” I said.“Who’s he?”“Former heavyweight champ,” I said. “Beforeyour time.”I pushed the box of donuts toward her. Shelooked down at my carefully chosen assortment. Then she looked back at me, still playing with themedal, and shook her head. I let the silence hangthere for a moment. I figured if I waited longenough, she might tell me why she was in needof my services. After a long pause, she did.“Somebody killed my mom.”I took a deep breath and leaned forward.“When?”“Four years ago,” she said.“I’m sorry.”“I want to find the bastards.”“Okay.” I nodded. “Why now?”“Nobody listens to kids,” she said. “I’m older