After her workout, Robin showered and changed into the clothes she kept in her locker before walking across town to the law offices of Barrister, Berman & Lockwood.
The walls of the firm’s reception area were decorated with photographs of Haystack Rock, Multnomah Falls, Mount Hood, and other Oregon landmarks, and it was furnished with several chairs, a sofa, and end tables covered by magazines. When Robin entered the waiting area, Linda Garrett, the receptionist, motioned her over.
“What’s up?” Robin asked.
Garrett nodded toward an elegantly dressed gentleman who was thumbing through a magazine.
“He wanted to see Miss Barrister. I told him that she’d retired, so he asked if he could see one of the other attorneys. Mark is out of town taking depositions, and I wasn’t sure you could fit him in.”
When Robin walked over to him, the man put down the magazine and stood up.
“I’m Robin Lockwood, one of the partners.”
“Pleased to meet you,” the man said in a charming British accent. “I’m Robert Chesterfield, and I was hoping to discuss a legal matter with Regina Barrister.”
“Miss Barrister has retired.”
“So I was told. I must say that I was surprised to hear that. She was in her late thirties when she represented me, which means she would only be sixty-something now. I assumed she’d still be practicing.”
“She was able to take early retirement,” Robin said, not wanting to reveal the real reason Regina had been forced to leave the practice of law. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Perhaps.”
“Why don’t we go back to my office?”
When Regina left to travel the world, Mark had graciously given Robin Regina’s corner office. The floor on which the firm did business was high enough above the lobby of a glass-and-steel high-rise in downtown Portland to give Robin a spectacular view of the Willamette River, the foothills of the Cascade Range, and the snowcaps that crowned Mount Hood and Mount St. Helens.
“Why did you want to see Regina?” Robin asked when Chesterfield was seated across the desk from her.
“I’m a professional magician, and I want to get a patent for the Chamber of Death, a new illusion I’m developing for a show I’m going to perform in Las Vegas.”
Robin smiled. “That sounds terrifying.”
Chesterfield returned the smile. “My hope is that it will also be mystifying.”
Robin laughed. Then she grew serious. “Unfortunately, even if Regina were still practicing, she wouldn’t have been able to help you. She specialized in criminal defense. I don’t think she ever handled an intellectual property case.”
“What about you? Can you help me?”
“I’m afraid not. Criminal law is also my specialty. I wouldn’t know the first thing about patenting a magic trick. I don’t even know if you can get a patent for a magic illusion.”
“What about Mr. Berman? Could he secure my patent?”
“Mark specializes in civil litigation. I doubt that he’s ever handled a case involving a patent.”
“Miss Lockwood, if I retained your firm to represent me in a patent case, would you be my attorneys if I became embroiled in a matter in a completely different field of law?”
“What area are you talking about? It would have to be something our firm is competent to handle.”
“Are you a good criminal defense attorney?”
“I do okay.”
Chesterfield gestured toward the wall where Robin’s diplomas were displayed. “I see you’re an Eli. I’ve heard that it is incredibly difficult to gain admission to Yale’s law school, so you are both brilliant and modest, a charming combination for someone in your profession.”
“I love flattery, Mr. Chesterfield, but, unfortunately, we won’t be able to take on your case. I can give you the names of some excellent intellectual property attorneys.”
“I’ve decided that I want your firm to represent me.”