LITMIR.BIZ

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he’d known and fed every superstar who’d ever walked along Music Row.

      I stood facing the register, my eyes on a bare section of wall directly above it. Whether by fate, coincidence, or some combination of the two, that space had been there the very first time I entered the deli.

      It was perfect, all right. Perfection defined.

      “The picture goes here.” I stretched to hold the frame up where I wanted it. “Right here.”

      Luke studied the photo. “That’s you with Murray, ain’t it?” he asked.

      “Yeah.”

      “It’s great. I seen it in the office. He must’ve had it up there forever.”

      “Yeah.”

      “Want me to put it on the wall? I’m taller’n you.”

      No kidding. So was Ms. Pac-Man. I kept the thought to myself and shook my head no. “You go back in the aisle and make sure I hang it straight—”

      The telephone next to the cash register rang. Early for customers, I thought. Still holding up the photo with both hands, I glanced over my shoulder as Luke answered.

      “Murray’s Deli,” he said. “Yeah, right. Hang on. I’ll see if she’s in.” He covered the mouthpiece, gave me a guarded look. “It’s a lawyer, Nash.”

      Uh-oh. I’d flashed back on Cazzie’s advice about liability protection.

      “He or she give you a name?” I whispered.

      “He,” Luke said with a nod. “It’s Liar-somethin’.”

      We exchanged glances, and he nodded to indicate he hadn’t made that up. I carefully set the picture frame down on the counter and took the receiver from him.

      “Yes?” I said.

      “Good morning, Ms. Silver,” a voice said in my ear. “You are Gwendolyn Silver, correct?”

      “That’s right.”

      “Wonderful. I’m Cyrus Liarson. My law firm represents—”

      “What was your second name again?”

      “Liarson…an unfortunate familial legacy for someone in my profession.” He gave a rote-sounding chuckle. “I once considered shortening it, but that simply would have left me a ‘Liar.’”

      I caught the pun but didn’t say anything.

      “All humor aside, Ms. Silver, I represent—”

      Buster Sergeant, I thought with a catch in my breath.

      “Ramsey Holdings,” he said.

      “Ramsey who?”

      “Not who, what,” Liarson said. “It is the most prominent real-estate firm in central Tennessee…surely you are familiar with the name.”

      Actually, I wasn’t. Nor was I impressed by Liarson’s mention of it, as his tone suggested I ought to be. I did, however, feel like sighing with relief. Whatever he wanted, it presumably wasn’t connected to Buster Sergeant’s death.

      “I’m pleased to have you on the phone at long last,” he went on. “Having tried to reach you for weeks—”

      “Reach me how?”

      “Well, I left several messages—”

      “Mr. Liarson, I don’t mean to keep interrupting. But I haven’t gotten any messages from you.”

      “You haven’t?”

      “No, sorry.”

      “Hmm. That’s odd.” He paused. “I must have called three or four times.”

      I raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember with whom you spoke?”

      “Yes. In fact, I made definite note of it…give me one second while I check my calendar notes.” I heard him tap away at a computer keyboard. “Here we are…it was your manager. Thomasina Jackson, is that correct?”

      “Yes…”

      “Then there’s been no confusion on my part,” Liarson said. “I’d assumed you were tied up with your reopening and unable to return my calls.”

      I noticed a questioning look on Luke’s face as I reached into my purse for a cigarette. He seemed curious about what had gotten me so aggravated. Not more curious than I was about Thomasina, though. She hadn’t uttered a peep about those calls.

      “In any event,” Liarson said into the silence, “I’ve been eager to have a conversation with you. On behalf of Mr. Ramsey.”

      “Mister? I thought you just told me you’re the attorney for—”

      “Ramsey Holdings is the name of a corporation whose president and major shareholder is Royce Ramsey,” Liarson said. “Technically I manage his personal affairs. But I will on occasion handle his more important commercial ventures.”

      My eyebrow shot higher up my forehead. Granted, I was overtired, irritable, and admittedly ready to pounce. But Liarson’s pushiness had been getting on my nerves…and finding out Thom was keeping secrets bugged me to no end.

      “Look,” I said, “I’m busy, so can you get to the point?”

      “Absolutely,” Liarson said. “I would like to make arrangements between you and my client—”

      “What for?”

      “A meeting.”

      “About?”

      “Mr. Ramsey would rather tell you in person.”

      “And I’d rather hear it from you over the phone.”

      A pause. Liarson cleared his throat. “Yes, certainly,” he said. “I read about the incident at your restaurant in today’s paper. Our community has suffered a profound loss. But as an attorney, I’ve seen opportunity arise from the worst of tragedies. It turns out Mr. Ramsey has prepared a generous offer for your property at precisely the right moment to divest yourself of a financial albatross—”

      “What are you talking about?” I asked, the cigarette hanging from my mouth. “Are you saying your boss wants to buy my deli?”

      “He isn’t my boss, Ms. Silver…our relationship is that of an attorney and client,” Liarson said, betraying the faintest hint of peevishness. “Also, I’d make a distinction between the restaurant and its location. It’s the second that primarily interests Mr. Ramsey despite its low market value.”

      “Hang on. You’re joking, right? We’re in the busiest part of town.”

      “In a passé sense, perhaps—”

      “Passé, schmassé,” I said. “The convention center’s practically across the street. Bridgestone Arena’s right over on Fourth—”

      “Yes, yes. And in a sense that’s my point.”

      “How so?”

      “My client is best suited to explain, which is why he would prefer meeting with you face-to-face,” Liarson said. “In the meantime, suffice it to say trends change…even downtown. Mr. Ramsey has built his reputation on foresight, vision, and maximizing his acquired assets. He has the resources to absorb current and near-future losses and look toward eventual redevelopment. Your neighbors came to understand this to their considerable gain.”

      That raised my curiosity. It also raised my eyebrow some more. In fact, I was thinking that if it got any higher, it would probably reach the top of my head and start down the other side.

      “What neighbors?” I said, taking his bait.

      “It isn’t my place to say, but as a newcomer to the Metro area you might want to make some inquiries,” Liarson replied in a cryptic

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