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to the young woman. They looked through the glass and stared coldly at Joe and Daniel. Miranda tapped in her code and opened the door. She flashed the two associates an angry look as she brushed past them.
    Kate Ross was twenty-eight, five-foot-seven, and looked fit in tight jeans, an oxford blue shirt, and a navy-blue blazer. Kate stopped in front of the associates and held out the sign, bottle cap, and pencil sharpener. Her dark complexion, large brown eyes, and curly black, shoulder-length hair made Daniel think of those tough Israeli soldiers he’d seen on the evening news. The hard look she cast at Joe and Daniel made him glad that she wasn’t carrying an Uzi.
    “I believe these are yours.”
    Joe looked sheepish. Kate turned her attention to Daniel.
    “Don’t you have better things to do with your time?” she asked sternly.
    “Hey, I had nothing to do with this,” Daniel answered.
    Kate looked skeptical. She dropped the bottle cap, pencil sharpener, and wadded-up sign into a garbage can and walked off.
    “What a spoilsport,” Molinari said when Kate was out of earshot.
    Daniel hurried after Kate and caught up with her just as she was entering an office she shared with another investigator.
    “I really didn’t have anything to do with that,” he said from the doorway.
    Kate looked up from her mail. “Why should I care how you preppies amuse yourselves?” she asked angrily.
    Daniel reddened. “Don’t confuse me with Joe Molinari. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I’m a working stiff, just like you. I didn’t like Joe’s practical joke any more than you did. I was going to let Miranda in when you showed up.”
    “It didn’t look that way to me,” Kate answered defensively.
    “Believe what you want to believe, but I don’t lie,” Daniel said angrily as he turned on his heel and walked down the hall to his office.
    Reed, Briggs used a large wood-paneled room on the twenty-ninth floor for important depositions. As Daniel hurried toward it he narrowly missed running into Renee Gilchrist.
    “ ’Morning, Renee,” Daniel said as he stepped aside to let her pass.
    Renee took a few steps, then turned around.
    “Daniel.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Mr. Briggs thought you did a good job on the Fairweather memo.”
    “Oh? He didn’t say anything to me about it.”
    “He wouldn’t.”
    The partners never told Daniel what they thought about his work and the only way he could tell if they believed it was any good was by the volume of work they gave him. It dawned on Daniel that Briggs had been loading him up for the past month.
    “Thanks for telling me.”
    Renee smiled. “You’d better get in there. They’re about to start the deposition.”
    At one end of the conference room, a wide picture window offered a view of the Willamette River and, beyond it, Mount Hood and Mount St. Helens. On another wall, a large oil painting of the Columbia Gorge hung over an oak credenza. On the credenza, silver urns filled with coffee and hot water stood next to a matching platter loaded down with croissants and muffins and a bowl filled with fruit.
    Dr. Kurt Schroeder, a Geller Pharmaceuticals executive who was about to be deposed, sat at the end of a huge, cherrywood conference table, with his back to the window. Schroeder’s thin lips were set in a rigid line and it was obvious that he did not enjoy his position on the hot seat.
    To Schroeder’s right sat Aaron Flynn and three associates. To Schroeder’s left sat Arthur Briggs, a reed-thin, chain-smoker who always seemed to be on edge. Briggs’s jet-black hair was swept back revealing a sharp widow’s peak and his eyes were always moving as if he expected an attack from behind. In addition to being one of the most feared attorneys in Oregon, Briggs was a mover and shaker of the first magnitude with a heavy hand in politics, civic affairs, and almost every conservative cause of note. Daniel thought that Briggs was probably a sociopath who had channeled