“She’s shown me photographs. And let me just say, she is extremely proud of you.”
“And I of her, sir.”
“Attaboy. Good for you. Monae?”
“Yes, Arnie?”
“Have you offered our guests a glass of lemonade or, perhaps, a Stewart’s root beer?”
She turns to us. “You want a root beer or lemonade?”
“No, thank you,” says Ceepak.
I hold up my hand. “I’m good.”
“You want a bagel, Arnie?”
“We have bagels?”
“The policemen brought ’em. They’re warm.”
“Yes, dear. A bagel would be nice.”
Monae leaves again. She has a sassy way of walking out a door. Reminds me of the motion of the ocean.
“So, gentlemen,” says Dr. Rosen, “you are conversant with Christine’s unfortunate situation, I take it?”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
“However,” says Ceepak, “to be clear, we are here this morning only as concerned individuals. We are not operating in our official law-enforcement capacities.”
“Of course, of course.” Dr. Rosen shakes his head. “I can’t believe Judge Guarnery signed the TRO. He used to be a patient of mine. Worst overbite I ever saw.”
“Well, sir, the TRO is only the first step in the process. Even when a Temporary Restraining Order is issued under a judge’s signature, there must be a hearing on the complaint within ten days.”
“And do you gentlemen have any suggestions as to how Christine can best prepare for this hearing?”
“It might be advisable for her lawyer to subpoena the police report for the incident in question. Request any and all available evidence gathered at the scene.”
I grin. Ceepak’s hinting at those neck photos I took.
Dr. Rosen sighs. “Her lawyer. Unfortunately, young Miss Lemonopolous is not in a financial position to retain competent counsel. She simply can’t match Mrs. Oppenheimer’s monetary resources. And I can’t loan her the money, as I can’t be seen as taking her side in this matter-not if I wish to keep the peace with my daughter-in-law, Judith.”