Issue link: http://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/742011
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S • 77 Trees by Luigi Lucioni – courtesy heritage auctions/www.ha.com I thought, someday after I have made partner and earned a lion's share, then maybe I'll take on little cases in some little town that just happens to have a little trout stream nearby. I was always fond of the leading character in Robert Traver's novel, Anatomy of a Murder; maybe, like Paul Biegler, I'll even tie flies during deliberations. But for now there were depositions to be filed and hours to be billed. Minutes mean money, and appointments are made to be kept. Besides, I was on the fast track—making junior partner in such little time. Life was one great big bubble with me riding right on top of it. Sitting there, feeling pretty good about myself, I smiled as I gazed at the reversed block letters of "Walter Hibbett, Esquire" printed on my door, when a figure began to emerge from behind the frosted glass. "How much do I owe you?" I called out, expecting the deli's delivery boy. But when the figure took form it was that of a woman's . . . and what a figure it was. "Well, I suppose a twenty percent increase would be nice, but I might settle for a kiss," said a feminine voice. It was my secretary, Martha Coldpence. Miss Coldpence had warmed up to me. Although she had only been assigned to my desk for several months, it had become obvious we were quite fond of one another, and while we had exchanged little more than mere office pleasantries, our game of cat and mouse was inevitably destined to come to a head. As a secretary, she was exceptional— she dotted every "I" and crossed every "T." As a member of the opposite sex, she was exquisite. You might say she had a Lana Turner type personality. In fact, she had it in all the right places, a trait not unnoticed by the other attorneys. There wasn't a guy in the firm who wouldn't want to be in my cap-toed oxfords—I had the best secretary who only had eyes for me. "I knew you wouldn't go hunting," she accused. "You, you and this office of yours. You should really get out more." "Why Miss Coldpence, I was expecting the sandwich boy," I said delightedly. "Ham on rye?" she inquired. "Don't you ever get tired of the same old thing." "Creature of habit I guess. What are you doing here so late? I The NAme of wALTeR hIbbeTT S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S • 77 deer in a rainforesT by francis Lee jacques