Proven Guilty (Page 47)

"Ah, Mr. Crane," the newcomer said. He had a wheezy, nasal voice. "I received your call, but it was apparently cut off just as I answered."

Crane took out his phone again and tossed it underhand to the newcomer. "It seems to have died quite abruptly, Lucius. Like this elevator."

The man caught it and frowned at the phone, then at Murphy with equal amounts of disapproval. "I see."

"Lieutenant Murphy, may I present Lucius Glau, my personal advisor and legal counsel."

Mouse tensed as Glau turned to regard Murphy with his froggy eyes. The little lawyer made a swallowing sound in his throat, and then said, "Is my client under arrest?"

"No," she said. "Naturally n-"

"Then I must insist that this conversation be cut short," Glau said over her. For a pasty little guy, he had a lot of confidence. He squared off in front of Murphy, just to one side of Crane. Murphy’s arms relaxed to her sides and I saw her blue eyes flick down to the floor and back up, gauging distances. The tension level went higher.

"We were just talking," Murphy told Glau. I’d seen her wearing that look, right before she went for her gun, more than once. "In an amiable and cooperative fashion."

"As I informed both the FBI and the investigator in charge of the scene with Chicago’s police department, my client was in his rooms all night and neither witnessed what happened nor even knew of what had transpired until he came down to breakfast this morning." Glau’s voice was clipped, his bulgy eyes impossible to read. I got the feeling it was the expression he used whenever he did anything, be it eating ice cream or drowning puppies. "Continued contact could well be construed as harassment."

"Lucius, Lucius," Crane said, holding out his hand between them, his voice soothing. "Honestly, you react so strongly to the smallest things." He turned that dazzling smile on Murphy and said, "I’m sorry. Lucius has worked for me for a very long time, and he’s seen a number of unreasonable people approach me. I certainly don’t think of the attentions of so striking a woman as harassment."

Murphy’s eyes left Glau for a second as she cocked a golden brow at Crane. "Really?"

"Truly," Crane said, the model of modern gallantry. "Lucius is doubtless concerned about my timetable for today, and I would hate to disappoint any of the fans here to meet me by falling behind my schedule."

He glanced at Froggy as he spoke, and Froggy took a very small step back from Murphy.

Crane nodded at him, continuing to speak. "But if you would permit it, perhaps you would care to let me get you a drink of something later this evening, by way of apology?"

Murphy hesitated, which wasn’t much like her. "I don’t know…" she said.

Crane extended his hand to her to be shaken, still smiling. "If you still had questions, I’d be happy to answer them then. Please, as a token of my intentions, I insist. I would hate you to have the wrong impression of me."

Murphy gave him a look of wary amusement and lifted her hand.

I’m not sure how I got across that much carpet that fast, but I put my hand on Murphy’s shoulder and gripped lightly just before she touched him. She froze, sensing the warning in the gesture, and drew her hand back.

Crane’s eyes narrowed, studying me, his hand still sticking out. "And who is this?"

"Harry Dresden," I said.

Crane went still. Not still like people go still, where you can see them blinking and swaying slightly and adjusting their balance. He went still like corpses and plastic dressing dummies, and said nothing.

As I am a highly experienced investigator, I drew the conclusion that he recognized the name.

Froggy made a gulping sound in his throat, bulging eyes switching to me. I thought he shrunk in on himself a little, as if suddenly losing an inch or two of height-or tensing to crouch.

He recognized it, too. I felt famous.

Mouse let out a relaxed ripsaw of a growl, so low that it could hardly be heard.

Froggy’s eyes went to the dog and widened. He shot a look at Crane.

Everyone froze like that for a moment. Crane and Murphy still smiled their professional smiles. Froggy looked froglike. I went for bored. But I felt my heart speed up as my instincts told me that violence was a hell of a lot closer to the surface than it looked.

"There are witnesses here, Dresden," Crane said. "You can’t move on me. It would be seen."

I tilted my head and pursed my lips thoughtfully. "You’re right. And you’re a public figure. Which means this is a great opportunity for advertising. I haven’t been on TV since the last time I was on the Larry Fowler Show:"

His expression changed then, that cold sneer coming out of the background to twist his lips. "You wouldn’t dare reveal yourself to the world."

I snorted at him and said, "Go read the yellow pages in your room. I’m in there. Under ‘Wizards.’ "

Froggy gulped again.

"You’re insane," Crane said.

"Wizards is the kway-zee-est people," I confirmed. "And you don’t look very much like a Darby."

Crane’s chin lifted, his eyes glittering with some sort of sudden approval. I had no idea why. Dammit, I hate it when someone knows more than me about exactly how deep a hole I’m digging under myself. "No? And what does a Darby look like?"

"I confess, the only one I ever saw was in that leprechaun movie with Sean Connery," I said. "Call it an instinct."

He pursed his lips and fell silent. We all enjoyed another two minutes of wordless, increasingly tense standoff.

Then Murphy said, deadpan, "Say, ten o’clock for that drink, Darby? The hotel’s lounge? We’d hate to keep you from your busy schedule."

He glanced from Murphy to me and back, and then lowered his hand. He gave her a little bow of the head, then turned and walked away, back toward the crowd.

Froggy watched us for a three count, then turned and hurried after his boss, checking frequently over his shoulder.

I exhaled slowly, and leaned against the wall. Adrenaline without an outlet is a funny thing. The long muscles in my legs twitched and flexed without me telling them too, and the lights in the hallway suddenly seemed a little too bright. My bruised head twinged some more.

Murphy just stood there, not moving, but I could hear her consciously regulating her breathing, keeping it smooth.

Mouse sat down and looked bored, but his ears kept twitching in the direction the pair had vanished.

"Well," Murphy said a second later, keeping her voice low. "What was that all about?"

"We almost started a fight," I said.