Loving Again(23)
As Sam had suggested, she’d called Mr. Todd’s office the Monday after their dinner, to discover he’d retired from his law practice but his former secretary gave her his home phone number saying Mr. Todd would be happy to talk to her. With a bribe of dinner, she’d gotten an appointment with him that evening.
“And the food you brought was delicious.” The white-haired, eighty-ish attorney had finished up a plate of grilled shrimp, sesame noodles, and tossed salad, and his blue eyes were wandering to the plate of brownies on the table in front of him. “I hope my legal advice is up to this standard.”
“I was surprised when I was told you’d retired,” Amanda said. “I thought you were going to be there until they carried you out on a gurney.”
“When I realized I enjoyed sitting here watching the river as much as I enjoyed the view from the twenty-first floor, I knew it was time to leave a full-time law practice. But I made a list of a handful of clients I’d be willing to see at home. You were at the head of the list. So, tell me your problem.”
Amanda summarized her run-in with Eubie Kane and ended by saying, “So, what should I do? Is this even an area of your expertise?”
“It’s not one I’m familiar with, no. Art law is a specialized field particularly when it comes to issues like copyright.”
“I’ve never filed a copyright for any of my work.”
“Even if you haven’t registered it, for both the visual and literary arts, the creator holds the copyright from the moment of creation. There may be subtle differences between literary arts and fine arts and crafts, I don’t know. But I can find out for you.” He took two brownies from the plate, nibbled at one and started to speak again. “And I can also … ” The doorbell interrupted.
A woman was at the door. “Hi, neighbor,” she said. “I’ve got the olive ciabatta rolls you asked me to pick up for you. And I added an éclair because I know how much you like them.” She handed him a bag, a small white box and a handful of change.
“Thank you for both, although my doctor wouldn’t approve of the addition.”
“I’ll never tell, if you won’t.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you have a minute? I’d like you to meet someone.”
“I have nothing but time for you.” The woman followed him to the dining room.
With a sweep of first one hand then the other, he introduced the two women. “Margo Keyes, meet Amanda St. Claire. She’s a glass artist and a client of mine.”
“For heaven’s sake. I’ve always wanted to meet you, Amanda,” Margo said, “I have a piece of your work — Serenity, it’s called — from LOCAL 14 about four, maybe five, years ago. It’s my favorite piece of art.”
“Good,” Mr. Todd said. “You’re a fan. Amanda has a problem and you might be able to help me help her.” He turned to Amanda. “Margo is not only my neighbor but she’s a deputy district attorney.”
Amanda had smiled at Margo’s praise. Now the smile froze into an expression of distrust. “A DA?” Thanks to her recent experience with the criminal justice system, the DA’s office was almost as high on her shit list as the Portland Police Bureau.
“Yeah,” Margo said. “Me and the boys and girls in blue get the bad guys off the street.”