"Joseph Delaney - Brainchild" - читать интересную книгу автора (Delaney Joseph)

Brainchild
Joseph H. Delaney

Two days of rooting around in Delmar Schoonover's records by the
now-frantic Ruth Purley had resulted in the formation of a precarious
mound on his living room floor which threatened avalanche at any
moment.
Dr. Schoonover watched pensively. Seated on a nearby ottoman, he'd
long ago gnawed away his last consumable fingernail, and was reduced to
simple fidgeting.
On the floor, sprawled out in a most unladylike manner. Ruth displayed
her own frustration in regular bursts of muttering, as she slipped through
yet another of the many notebooks. In her right hand a brand-new yellow
pencil, already cracked, suddenly snapped, and she jumped to her unshod
feet. A towering five foot three, she glared down at him, hands on hips,
brown hair falling over hazel eyes, white blouse half fallen from the waist
band of her severely slit black skirt. "Dummy," she roared at him.
Schoonover's eyes fell. He looked crushed, his hands grinding into one
another.
She dropped to her knees and place her hands on his shoulders. "I'm
sorry Delmar. That was cruel of me. I take it all back. If you were a dummy
you wouldn't be in the fix you're in, with all your own words about to bite
you.
"But I'm frustrated. Worse yet. I'm sorely in need of some fresh cuss
words. The ones I had are worn out."
"There's no need to apologize. Ruth. You're doing your best. Don't ruin
your own career trying to save mine."
"It's not a question of that, Delmar. I'm your lawyer, remember, and
lawyers thrive on controversy. None of this is going to do me one bit of
harm. Notoriety like this could make my reputation. Why do you think I've
been working my buns off out here, instead of at the office? It's to keep the
senior partners from taking you away from me." She grinned and rubbed
his shoulders.
 And that, she thought, had been true enough to start with. Now, it was
different. He'd grown on her, big awkward baby that he was: helpless,
bumbling, absent-minded, thoroughly lovable man. And she, Ruth Purley,
modern, independent, liberated professional woman in the tradition of the
old bra-burners, was falling in love with him. "Disgusting!"
"What did you say?"
Think quickly, Ruth! "I said it's disgusting. There has to be something
basically wrong with a social system that can do a thing like this to you
and to Adam. There has to be a way out of it. Everything I believe in
depends on finding it. If I lose this case my faith in the system gets lost
too. I think that's the part that really scares me."
"I'm satisfied with what you're doing, Ruth. And I'm grateful. You have
no idea how scared I was when the F.B.I. grabbed me, and when they took
Adam away. Just when I needed an angel, there you were, breathing fire
on Marshal McGill. If you hadn't bailed me out I would've told them
anything they wanted to know."
"There's nothing they need from you they haven't got already.