Carol O’Connell - Winter House

They exited at the last stop and breezed on by a young woman at the reception desk, paying no attention to her as she called after them, asking if they had an appointment. The next woman to ask this question was a more formidable brunette, whose desk stood guard before a lawyer’s door. The secretary spoke only to Mallory, or, more accurately, to Mallory’s clothes, the silk T-shirt and tailored blazer, money on the hoof that blended well with the luxurious surroundings. The brunette made it clear that Riker’s suit really ought to have arrived on the delivery elevator at the rear.

Mallory’s clothes leaned over the desk and said, „We don’t need an appointment.“

Did the dark-haired woman find her unsettling, possibly dangerous?

Oh, yeah.

The secretary sat very still, hands tightly folded and knuckles turning white, as the young detective reached across her desk to press the button that would admit them to the inner sanctum of Sid Henry, Esquire. Riker followed his partner through the door, glancing back at the cowed woman behind the desk.

Good job.

The door swung open on panoramic windows and brilliant light. The lawyer was reclining in a leather chair and sunning himself like a lizard in very expensive threads. The man even moved like a reptile, his head jerking upward, startled. As the attorney rose from his desk, preparing his first verbal assault, he suddenly shut his gaping mouth. Was it the sight of Mallory’s lovely face? No, Riker guessed it was probably the very large gun, a.357 Smith and Wesson revolver. She had one hand on her hip, her blazer open and pulled to one side, and there was no way he could fail to see that cannon.

Sid Henry sat down – quietly.

Riker luxuriated in these passing seconds, for Mallory had not yet produced her shield, and, considering this attorney’s recent client, a serial killer, the poor bastard sincerely did not know if she was crazy or a cop. Would he live or die?

It was Riker who ended the suspense, holding up his own gold shield.

Mallory pulled a manila envelope from her knapsack, tore it open, and held up the morgue photograph of a body on the dissection table – after the dissection, minus all the vital organs, and looking very pale. „Recognize your former client? No? Well, it’s a bad photo. Willy Roy Boyd was the psycho who butchered three women, gutted them with a hunting knife. And you got him out on bail.“ She dropped the photo on his desk. „Remember now?“

„Blame it on NYPD.“ Sid Henry grinned at her, entirely too confident that she would not hurt him. „The case against my client wasn’t exactly flawless.“

Mallory slammed her fist down on the desk with the force of a hammer. „My case was perfectl“

The attorney flinched, and his eyes widened with sudden clarity, for now he understood his error: she was the lead detective on that case – and she did not respond well to criticism.

„I looked up every precedent you cited at that bail hearing,“ she said. „You had nothing. It was all smoke. You knew that judge would never admit he didn’t know case law on search and seizure. You were right on the edge of perjury.“

„So,“ said Sid Henry, „this is retribution? You plan to scare me to death?“ He tapped the photograph. „This is so unnecessary.“ He turned the picture over. „The dramatics, this disgusting picture.“

Riker had predicted that the man would rally quickly. According to police lore, lawyers were as resilient as cockroaches, and one who had been decapitated could litigate for up to three days.

Mallory walked back to the door and closed it – slowly – smiling as she shut out all sound and sight of witnesses, and this little gesture was not lost on Sid Henry.

„So, Sid, let me guess,“ said Riker. „You’re just an associate, right? Not a partner in the firm? Naw, you’re too young. I’d bet even money those old geezers don’t know you took a fee to bail out that butcher.“

„Maybe,“ said Mallory, „you told them it was pro bono. All the money you made on that hearing didn’t go through the firm’s billing office.“ At least, she had found no record of it while raiding the firm’s database. However, she had found a large deposit in the lawyer’s personal bank account.

By Sid Henry’s silence, Riker knew they had the man cold for pocketing money that belonged to his firm, and now they owned him. Oh, and best of all, there would be no charge of police harassment at the end of the day – even if Mallory left marks on him.

„You didn’t ask how your client died,“ said Riker, not giving the lawyer any time to wonder how the police could access the firm’s billing office.

„It wasn’t in the newspapers. Not on the tube, either. But you don’t seem surprised.“

„I haven’t seen Willy since the bail hearing.“ Sid Henry picked up the photograph of his late client and forced a smile as he handed it back to Mallory. „So he’s dead. Can I assume this is your work, Detective? Rather excessive use of force.“

Mallory ignored the photo and let it hang in the air between them until the man’s arm got tired and he lost the idea that he could win a staring contest with her. She pulled out the pocket watch that had once belonged to the late Louis Markowitz. „You’ve got two minutes to clear yourself on a charge of murder for hire.“ This little trick of time, the pressure of a ticking bomb, was another hand-me-down from her foster father. „If you can’t do that, then we get to parade you out of here in handcuffs.“ She waited out the silence, her eyes cast down to the face of her watch. „One minute, fifty-five seconds.“

Sid Henry’s voice cracked. „If you think you can – “

„We wanna know who paid for that bail hearing.“ Riker snatched the photograph from the lawyer’s hand. „And don’t give us any crap about attorney-client privilege. That won’t cover the bastard who hired you. We know Willy couldn’t afford fifteen minutes of your time. So who paid your fee?“

„One minute, fifty seconds,“ said Mallory.

„You’ve got no right to – “

„This is a warrant.“ Riker waved a folded sheet of paper. It bore no judge’s signature, but it worked well as a prop. „The charge is attempted murder. Your client tried to kill another woman last night – a rich woman. Now the older lawyers, the guys with their names on the door of this outfit, maybe they even know her. All these rich people know each other, don’t they?“ He turned to his partner. „Curious, Mallory? We could ask them on the way out.“

She nodded, saying, „One minute, thirty seconds.“

Riker pulled out his handcuffs, then tossed a Miranda card on the desk. „I think we can assume you know your legal rights. I’m guessing you plan to use the right to remain silent.“

„One minute, fifteen seconds.“

Riker grinned at her. „I think your watch is slow, kid. I say we just do him.“

It happened very fast. She had reached the other side of the desk before the lawyer knew she was after him. Now he was half risen from the chair and pulled forward by her hand dragging his necktie – no visible bruising that way. He was quickly bent over the desk, face pressed to the blotter, as she worked his arms behind his back.

Riker threw her the handcuffs, and, while she did the honors, he stood back and smiled, wanting always to remember this special moment – Sid Henry bending over and exposing his ass to all comers.

Evidently, the lawyer saw his own posture as a portent of things to come in lockup. „I don’t know who hired me!“ he yelled.

No – call it a squeal.

„That’s not what we wanted to hear,“ said Mallory.