Goldenboy

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Ah, Spencer Since words are crude and only stand between Heart and heart, and understanding fails us There’s nothing left amid such deafness but bodily Contact between men. And even that is very Little. All is vanity.

The Life of Edward the Second of England — Bertolt Brecht

“You have a call.”

I looked up from the police report I had been reading and spoke into the phone intercom. “Who?”

“Mr. Ross from Los Angeles.”

“Put him through.” I picked up the phone thinking it had been at least a year since I’d last talked to Larry Ross.

“Henry?” It was less a question than a demand.

“Hello, Larry. This is a surprise.”

“Are you free to come down here and handle a case?”

I leaned back into my chair and smiled. Born and bred in Vermont, Larry retained a New England asperity even after twenty years in Beverly Hills where he practiced entertainment law. His looks fit his manner: he was tall and thin and beneath the pink, nude dome of his head he had the face of a crafty infant.

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