That night on her way home, Jennifer stopped at a drugstore. When she came out and started across the street, she saw Ken Bailey walking with a handsome young blond man. Jennifer hesitated, then turned into a side street so that she would not be seen. Ken’s private life was his own business.

On the day that Jennifer was scheduled to meet with Patrick Maguire, she received a call from his secretary.

“Mr. Maguire asked me to give you his apologies, Miss Parker. He’s going to be tied up in meetings all day. He’ll be happy to meet with you at your convenience tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Jennifer said. “Thank you.”

The call sounded an alarm in Jennifer’s mind. Her instincts had been right. Patrick Maguire was up to something.

“Hold all my calls,” she told Cynthia.

She locked herself in her office, pacing back and forth, trying to think of every possible angle. Patrick Maguire had first told Jennifer she had no case. With almost no persuasion, he had then agreed to pay Connie Garrett two million dollars. Jennifer remembered how uneasy she had been at the time. Since then, Patrick Maguire had been unavailable. First London—if he had really gone to London—and then the conferences that had kept him from returning Jennifer’s telephone calls all week. And now another delay.

But why? The only reason would be if—Jennifer stopped pacing and picked up the interoffice telephone and called Dan Martin.

“Check on the date of Connie Garrett’s accident, would you, Dan? I want to know when the statute of limitations is up.”

Twenty minutes later, Dan Martin walked into Jennifer’s office, his face white.

“We blew it,” he said. “Your hunch was right. The statute of limitations ran out today.”

She felt suddenly sick. “There’s no chance of a mistake?”

“None. I’m sorry, Jennifer. One of us should have checked it out before. It—it just never occurred to me.”

“Or me.” Jennifer picked up the telephone and dialed a number. “Patrick Maguire, please. Jennifer Parker.”

She waited for what seemed an eternity, and then she said brightly into the telephone, “Hello there, Mr. Maguire. How was London?” She listened. “No, I’ve never been there…Ah, well, one of these days…The reason I’m calling,” she said casually, “is that I just talked to Connie Garrett. As I told you before, she really doesn’t want to go to court unless she has to. So if we could settle this today—”

Patrick Maguire’s laugh boomed through the receiver. “Nice try, Miss Parker. The statute of limitations is up today. No one is going to sue anybody. If you’d like to settle for a lunch sometime we can talk about the fickle finger of fate.”

Jennifer tried to keep the anger out of her voice. “That’s a pretty rotten trick, friend.”

“It’s a pretty rotten world, friend,” Patrick Maguire chuckled.

“It’s not how you play the game, it’s whether you win or not, right?”

“You’re pretty good, honey, but I’ve been at it a lot longer than you. Tell your client I said better luck next time.”

And he rang off.

Jennifer sat there holding the telephone in her hand. She thought of Connie Garrett sitting at home, waiting for the news. Jennifer’s head began to pound and a film of perspiration popped out on her forehead. She reached in her desk drawer for an aspirin and looked at the clock on the wall It was four o’clock. They had until five o’clock to file with the Clerk of the Superior Court.

“How long would it take you to prepare the filing?” Jennifer asked Dan Martin, who stood there suffering with her.

He followed her glance. “At least three hours. Maybe four. There’s no way.”

There has to be a way, Jennifer thought.

Jennifer said, “Doesn’t Nationwide have branches all over the United States?”

“Yes.”

“It’s only one o’clock in San Francisco. We’ll file against them there and ask for a change of venue later.”

Dan Martin shook his head. “Jennifer, all the papers are here. If we got a firm in San Francisco and briefed them on what we need and they drew up new papers, there’s no way they could make the five o’clock deadline.”

Something in her refused to give up. “What time is it in Hawaii?”

“Eleven in the morning.”

Jennifer’s headache disappeared as if by magic, and she leapt from her chair in excitement. “That’s it, then! Find out if Nationwide does business there. They must have a factory, sales office, garage—anything. If they do, we file there.”

Dan Martin stared at her for a moment and then his face lit up. “Gotcha!” He was already hurrying toward the door.

Jennifer could still hear Patrick Maguire’s smug tone on the telephone. Tell your client, better luck next time. There would never be a next time for Connie Garrett. It had to be now.

Thirty minutes later Jennifer’s intercom buzzed and Dan Martin said excitedly, “Nationwide Motors manufactures their drive shafts on the island of Oahu.”

“We’ve got them! Get hold of a law firm there and have them file the papers immediately.”

“Did you have any special firm in mind?”

“No. Pick someone out of Martindale-Hubbell. Just make sure they serve the papers on the local attorney for National. Have them call us back the minute those papers are filed. I’ll be waiting here in the office.”

“Anything else I can do?”

“Pray.”

The call from Hawaii came at ten o’clock that evening. Jennifer grabbed the phone and a soft voice said, “Miss Jennifer Parker, please.”

“Speaking.”

“This is Miss Sung of the law firm of Gregg and Hoy in Oahu. We wanted to let you know that fifteen minutes ago we served the papers you requested on the attorney for Nationwide Motors Corporation.”

Jennifer exhaled slowly. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

Cynthia sent in Joey La Guardia. Jennifer had never seen the man before. He had telephoned, asking her to represent him in an assault case. He was short, compactly built and wore an expensive suit that looked as though it had been carefully tailored for someone else. He had an enormous diamond ring on his little finger.

La Guardia smiled with yellowed teeth and said, “I come to you ‘cause I need some help. Anybody can make a mistake, right, Miss Parker? The cops picked me up ‘cause I did a little number on a coupla guys, but I thought they was out to get me, you know? The alley was dark and when I seen them comin’ at me—well, it’s a rough neighborhood down there. I jumped them before they could jump me.”

There was something about his manner that Jennifer found distasteful and false. He was trying too hard to be ingratiating.

He pulled out a large wad of money.

“Here. A grand down an’ another grand when we go to court. Okay?”

“My calendar is full for the next few months. I’ll be glad to recommend some other attorneys to you.”

His manner became insistent. “No. I don’t want nobody else. You’re the best.”

“For a simple assault charge you don’t need the best.”

“Hey, listen,” he said, “I’ll give you more money.” There was a desperation in his voice. “Two grand down and—”

Jennifer pressed the buzzer under her desk and Cynthia walked in. “Mr. La Guardia’s leaving, Cynthia.”

Joey La Guardia glared at Jennifer for a long moment, scooped up his money and thrust it back in his pocket. He walked out of the office without a word. Jennifer pressed the intercom button.

“Ken, could you please come in here a minute?”

It took Ken Bailey less than thirty minutes to get a complete report on Joey La Guardia.

“He’s got a rap sheet a mile long,” he told Jennifer. “He’s been in and out of the pen since he was sixteen.” He glanced at the piece of paper in his hand. “He’s out on bail. He was picked up last week for assault and battery. He beat up two old men who owed the Organization money.”