I shuddered. My brother was currently enjoying a similar status, out on the island, and I still hadn’t been able to figure out how to get him out without his death following soon after. “That’s out too.”
“This is one of those scruples things, isn’t it,” Bob said petulantly.
“I think it might be either morals or ethics,” I said.
“Same difference. Irrational and illogical limits.”
“Factor them in anyway,” I said.
Bob sighed. “Well,” he said after a moment, “it seems to me you have only a few options.”
“Enumerate them, please.”
“First,” Bob said, “You convince him to withdraw the case voluntarily. Either you scare him off or buy him off.”
“The damned castle is expensive,” I said. “After what I set aside for Maggie, I’ve barely got enough to run it for the next eighteen months. I can’t just buy him off. Besides. He’d use the money to expand his operations and ultimately hurt more people.”
“So, call up something ugly out of the Nevernever or Demonreach, or do that face-full-of-plasma spell and tell him to buzz off.”
“Might work,” I said dubiously. “What else?”
“Fight him in court!” Bob said. “Like Perry Mason!”
“I’m not a lawyer, Bob,” I sighed. “And it would probably be more expensive to hire one than to pay him off.”
“Yeah, that’s how settlements work,” Bob agreed. “Can the sexy schoolmarm pay a lawyer with sex?”
“She’s not—no!” I said, exasperated.
“Can you?”
“Bob!”
“Harry,” Bob said, his voice hurt, “I’m merely giving you the options available within your irrational limits. I never said they were good options. You don’t have cash, and barter is an option.”
I frowned for a moment. “Something occurs to me.”
“Bound to happen from time to time.”
I tore a corner from a page of my notebook, wadded it up, and flicked it with a finger. It bounced off the skull’s cheekbone. “If Tripp Gregory has all those bills stacked up from being in the hoosegow,” I murmured, “how the hell can he afford a lawyer?”
“Maybe he’s paying in sex.”
“I’ve met the guy. That transaction only goes the other way, believe me.” I tapped my finger on the table and opened the folder Rawlins had given me, paging through it for a detail that my subconscious told me was in there somewhere. “Here it is,” I said finally. “The lawyer who represented him before he got sent to Pontiac. One Talvi Inverno, Esq. What do you know about this guy?”
“Let me run a search!” Bob’s eyelights dwindled down to almost nothing for a moment, then started scanning left to right. “He doesn’t have much of an internet presence,” the Skull reported. “Just public records. Lots of wins. But there’s no business advertisement or anything.”
“That’s damned peculiar,” I said, thinking. “Outfit lawyer?”
“Hard for Google to say,” Bob replied.
I inhaled slowly, thinking. “Okay. Get in touch with Paranoid Gary. Tell him I need whatever he can find on the guy.”
“Check,” Bob said cheerfully. “You thinking you can wax his lawyer and scare him off?”
“I’m not thinking anything yet,” I sighed. “But while that’s going on, I’m going to go see if Tripp Gregory will respond to me leaning on him a little harder. Maybe I can still warn him off.”