What she doing

What she doing “Gwen Bartlet here to see Phillip Castor as his defense attorney.”

The man picked up a tablet and skimmed through it. I think we’re done here.” She glanced up at a camera hanging in the corner. Castor. Highly inefficient, incredibly expensive, and an eyesore if Amber were to be asked. “I believe it went bankrupt about ten years ago and was bought out by another company. “What does that have to do with the elevators being slow?”

“At the time, in the state of Colorado, there was a local ordinance that required slow elevator speeds in hospitals due to health issues. “The ledger you stole from Mr. It would have been labeled an uncomfortable silence if Amber had been able to feel such a thing. She wore a blouse that plunged just enough to tease a bit of cleavage—it was her second-best asset. It was practical, after all. Even if he did divulge the exact location, a Swiss bank was notorious for honoring privacy and wouldn’t allow just anyone near Castor’s box. If one must go to prison, this was the way to do it. It was hardly a drab place where people went to think about their crimes in remorse and sorrow. Instead of enjoying one of the loungers, Amber went to the small square table and sat in one of the seats. Hip-hugging khaki pants were