Chapter 18: The Sample

The lawyer asked to meet in Philadelphia, in a hotel conference room with no windows.

He was a thin man of about fifty with a briefcase and a tie that didn't match his suit.

He looked like he hadn't slept since Atlanta.

Hank had put a pot of coffee on the table.

Kit sat beside me in jeans and a plain gray sweatshirt, with no rhinestones anywhere.

Jude sat on my other side, and Stevie sat by the door with her arms crossed.

"I'm going to say this once," said the lawyer, "and then I'm going to ask you not to tell anyone where you heard it."

He opened the briefcase and took out a single sheet.

"Every track needs a clearance sheet before a distributor takes it.

If it holds a sample, the sheet says who owns the sample and who signed for it."

He turned the page around.

"This is track nine's."

I looked at the line he was pointing to.

SAMPLE: Voice (female), 0:00 to 0:04.

LICENSED FROM: Private source, on file.

AUTHORIZED BY: S. Trowbridge.

"On file where?" I said.

"Nowhere." He swallowed. "There is no file.

You never signed, Ms. Doyle. Deirdre certified it as cleared anyway."

Hank leaned back in his chair.

"So it's fraud."

"It's a false statement to a distributor, and a serious one." The lawyer took off his glasses.

"I was told it was licensed. I told my own partners it was licensed."

"Is that why you called me?" I asked.

"I called because last night I read the takedown. It claims the label owns your voice, using a licence that doesn't exist."