Harrison’s POVI was on with Singapore at half past ten when Maria came in without knocking, which she never did, and set a folded slip of paper on the blotter in front of me. I held up one finger to the phone. I read it.Bernadette Blann called. Won’t leave a number. Said she’ll call back at 11.I looked up. Maria was still in the doorway.“Put her through when she does,” I said, my hand over the mic.Maria nodded and went.I muted for another minute, came back, agreed to the extension Singapore had wanted on the Asian distribution rights that I had spent three weeks refusing, and ended the call at ten fifty-four. The line of my calendar for the rest of the morning was blank.At eleven exactly, the desk phone rang. Maria’s voice came through the intercom first.“She’s on.”I picked up.“Miss Blann.”“I thought about it, Mr. Emerson.”“And.”“Fifty thousand dollars.”The pen in my hand went still on the legal pad.“I don’t want to go to the police,” she said, sounding more tired than
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