Chapter 310 Client
ADRIANA
The law firm was a glass-fronted building in the commercial district, clean lines, good materials, the particular quiet of a reception area that was designed to make visitors feel that weighty things were handled here.
The moment we walked in, everything stopped.
I had not entirely adjusted to this after all these years. People froze mid-task, mid-sentence, mid-movement, and then reorganized themselves around the fact of my presence. I found it excessive on ordinary days and useful on days like this one.
A man appeared from a side office before we had fully crossed the reception area. He was the kind of man who moved as though he expected the room to accommodate him, and he was looking at me with an expression of barely managed excitement that I found immediately wearying.
“My Queen.” He reached for my hand. “What an extraordinary honor. I had no idea you would be coming personally — my secretary should have told me—”
“Who are you?” Hazel said.
He withdrew his hand and straightened. “Henry Sands. I own this firm.” He recovered the smile. “I understand you’re here about Lucy. Terrible business. Terrible. Please, come to my office, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
He led us upstairs and into an office that was larger than it needed to be and decorated in the way of someone who had read about what successful offices looked like and had implemented the information conscientiously. There was a photograph of his wife on the desk that was tucked between two books in a way that made me think it had been recently retrieved from a drawer.
“What can you tell me about Lucy?” I said, before he could begin whatever introductory monologue he was preparing.
“She was a wonderful woman,” he said, settling into his chair. “An excellent lawyer. Very dedicated to her work.” He paused and leaned forward slightly. “Also — and I say this with complete respect — she had a certain reputation in the office. The kind of woman who, after a few drinks, could be very friendly, if you understand me.”
I kept my face neutral. “Are you saying she was having relationships with colleagues?”
“I’m saying that’s what people said.” He raised his hands. “I never experienced it myself. I’m a happily married man.” He tapped his wedding finger, which was empty, and then opened his drawer and produced the ring and put it on. “But they said all it took was three margaritas and—”
“Did she ever mention anyone she was seeing outside the office?” I said. “A man called Tobby, or any name like that?”
“Not to me directly.” He leaned back. “But honestly, I think her husband found out about whatever she was getting up to and that’s what happened. Crime of passion. Very sad.”
The door opened and a young woman came in. She looked at Henry and then at me and nodded.
“Sandy,” Henry said. “Come in. The Queen wants to ask about Lucy.”
Sandy sat in the chair Hazel indicated and immediately the quality of the room changed — a quietness came off her that was different from the receptionist’s professional blankness, something more private.
I looked at Henry. He was still in his chair, showing no signs of leaving.
“I’ll need the room,” I said.
He started to say something. I waited with the patience of someone who had all the time in the world and would not be hurrying.
He left.
Sandy watched the door close behind him and her shoulders dropped a half-inch.
“Thank you for staying,” I said. “I just want to understand who Lucy was. Not the version that Henry tells — the real version.”
Sandy looked at her hands. Then she looked up with the expression of someone making a decision.
“Lucy was the best boss I’ve ever had,” she said. “She was dedicated to her work and dedicated to Tim. Completely. She turned down positions at larger firms three times because they would have required relocation or longer hours and she didn’t want to do that to him.” She paused. “Tim was struggling — his mental health, and then the business debt on top of it. Lucy was carrying all of it. She was working sixty-hour weeks to try to pay off what they owed and still look after him.” She looked at me steadily. “There was no lover. I would have known. She didn’t have time for herself, let alone someone else.”
I felt something shift. “You’re saying the story about the lover isn’t true?”
“I’m saying I don’t believe it.” Sandy held my gaze. “Henry hated her because she turned him down. He’s been telling that story since before she died and it’s poison. Every person you’ve spoken to in this building who told you something different from what I’m telling you is on Henry’s payroll and says what he wants them to say.”
I looked at Hazel. She looked at me.
Two completely different pictures of the same woman.
One of them was a lie. The question was which one, and who benefited from it.
“Sandy,” I said. “In the months before Lucy died, did anything change? Her workload, her clients, anything unusual?”
Sandy thought about it. “She took on a new client about four months before she died. She didn’t talk about it much, which was unusual for her — she usually discussed her cases with me at least in general terms.” She looked like she was remembering things. “She seemed stressed by it. Not the normal kind of stress. Worried. Like she had found out something she didn’t know what to do with.”
I kept very still. “Do you remember anything about this client? A name, a description?”
“She kept the file locked,” Sandy said. “She never did that. But I did see him once, when he came in for a meeting. He was well-dressed.” She paused. “He had a tattoo on his wrist. I noticed it because it was small and precise — a crown, I think. With red ink.”
I exhaled very slowly.
“One more thing,” Sandy said. “When she came back from that meeting she told me to hold all her calls. She was on the phone for an hour behind a closed door and when she came out her eyes were red.” She looked at me. “Two weeks later she was dead.”
Hazel stood up. “I’m going to need you to give a formal statement,” she said. “And I’m going to need the visitor logs for Lucy’s office in the four months before her death.”
Sandy nodded. “I already pulled them,” she said. “When the Beta called and said you were coming.” She produced a folder from the bag at her feet and set it on the table between us. “I’ve been waiting for someone to ask the right questions for a long time.”
I took the folder. On the top of the first page, in Lucy’s handwriting, a client name and a case reference number.
I said quietly. “Lucy found something out about him through a client matter. Something big enough to get her killed. And Tim has been sitting in a cell paying for it while this person has been running free and operating against my family.” I closed the folder and stood up. “We need Roy. Tonight, not tomorrow. He needs to see this tonight.”
Sandy was still sitting in her chair. She looked at me with the expression of someone who had been carrying something for a very long time and had finally set it down.
“Will Tim be okay?” she said.
“Tim is going to be fine,” I said. “You have my word.”