Two weeks before Christmas, Mitch and Eddie Lomax met on a
bridge in a park in the freezing rain. They had both made sure that
they were not followed. Lomax's news was very interesting. All three
of the dead lawyers had died in mysterious circumstances. The lorry
which killed Alice Knauss had been stolen in St Louis three days
earlier. The driver drove straight into her car and then ran away. He
was never found. The hunter, Robert Lamm, was almost certainly
murdered. It didn't look like a hunting accident, because his body was
found in a part of the forest where there were few animals and the
hunters didn't usually go. There were two strange things about
Mickel's death: first, the letter to his wife was typed, not handwritten;
second, he had never bought a gun in his life, and yet the gun that
killed him was an old gun, which the police thought criminals had
used in the past. Where did a respectable lawyer get such a gun?
'Your firm has lost five lawyers in fifteen years,' Lomax ended.
'And you're acting as if you're going to be the next. I'd say you've got
problems.'
'What about Tarrance?'
'I don't have very much. He's one of their best men; he came down
here from New York about two years ago.'
'Thanks.'
'I'll do anything I can to help Ray McDeere's little brother. It seems
to me that you're swimming in dangerous waters.'
Mitch nodded slightly, but said nothing.