William Lashner - Falls The Shadow

“What does your private detective say?”

“He has suspicions, but no specific proof.”

“Then you need a better detective.”

“You represent the chef she was sleeping with before she met me. Did she sleep with him after the marriage? Or does he know of someone with whom she did? If the answer is yes, and you have proof, it could be quite valuable to both of you.”

“I don’t want any part of this,” I said. “It’s your business.”

“That is almost admirable, Mr. Carl, but if things go as we both hope, my business will soon be your business. I must say, I am somewhat surprised. Your reaction seems so out of character.”

“And what do you know of my character, Mr. Takahashi?”

“You’re a lawyer, for one thing,” he said. “And you haven’t cultivated the reputation of a priest.”

“No, I suppose I haven’t.” I paused for a moment, thought. “Just out of curiosity, how much are we talking about?”

He laughed again. “Now I see before me a man with whom I can do business. Think about it. I am sure a clever man like yourself can come up with sufficient proof. You would not be disappointed in the result. As for the bankruptcy case, I will have one of my people send around the file shortly. I am certain you will be able to turn the entire situation around in no time. Will you be needing a retainer?”

“Oh, yes, indeed.”

“As I expected.”

“What kind of business are we talking about?” I said.

“My wife asked me to invest with an old friend whose business was failing.”

“Are there assets?”

“A building, a business. Pots and pans. It is a restaurant, you see. My wife seems to have a thing for restaurants, but they never work out. This one is in an old bank building. It is called Marrakech. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

“Yes,” I said, trying to remain inscrutable, even as my heart fluttered like that of a guy who has just hit trip aces on the flop. “I’ve heard of it.”

“Good. The financial slide is getting more precipitous, and I have been having some disagreements with my partner, an oily little man who runs the place. His name is Sunshine. He is of the opinion that he has done me a great favor by taking my money. You must understand the way I do business. Financial success is only the penultimate goal.”

“What could be more important in business than money?”

He smiled. “Spite.” Takahashi shifted away from the wall. The paper towel drifted to the floor. He showed no intention of picking it up. “It would be quite acceptable for you to save my investment. It would be even more acceptable if you could cut off Mr. Sunshine’s testicles.”

“That,” I said, bowing once more, “would be my pleasure.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Carl?” said Judge Sistine when I stepped into her rather ordinary office. She barely glanced up at me as I entered. She was sitting behind her desk, law books piled all about her, scrawling on a legal pad.

“You look busy,” I said.

“Always in this job.” She dropped her pen, leaned back, beckoned me to sit.

I sat.

“I was a civil litigator before I became a judge. Personal-injury defense, medical-malpractice defense, you know the drill. Good money, but I was getting tired of the fighting, tired of the hours. When I ran for the judgeship, I thought I’d be able to relax a bit. No one knew more about civil litigation than I. I figured I’d be up to speed my first day, on cruise control shortly thereafter. So of course, the chief judge assigned me to family court, where I had never set foot my entire career. Six months, and I’m still struggling to figure it out.”

“That’s encouraging,” I said, “because I’m totally lost. I came about the Daniel Rose case.”

“Yes, of course. I’ve been getting reports from Miss Chandler.”

“So you know the details of his situation.”

“You misunderstand, Mr. Carl. The reports I’ve been getting from Miss Chandler haven’t been about Daniel. They’ve been about you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. I rely on the lawyers to keep on top of difficult situations, often volunteer lawyers like yourself. I can’t do it, my caseload is ridiculous, and Social Services is swamped. If I trust the lawyer, then I can assume problems will be dealt with properly. But you worried me. Frankly, you looked to be lazy and uninterested, a disaster waiting to happen.”

“That’s our firm’s motto,” I said. “ ‘Derringer and Carl, a disaster waiting to happen.’ ”

“So I asked Miss Chandler to keep me apprised of your performance.”

“That little spy. She said good things, I hope.”

“I haven’t replaced you yet. Is that why you are here? Do you want to be replaced?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. Then what is it, Mr. Carl?”

“Apparently Daniel has a sister. Her name is Tanya. She is older than Daniel, and she’s missing. Not just in her person but in the documents, too. She’s not in the Child Services file. In fact, there is no record of her anywhere. But I learned about her from what I believe is a reliable source, and Daniel confirmed her existence.”

“Daniel is how old?”

“Four. He doesn’t say much, but what he says, I believe.”

“Have you asked the mother about her?”

“Not yet. She’s very skittish. Daniel’s teeth are a mess. The mother has taken him to a dentist I found who will do the necessary work for free. The dentist is going to cement caps on Daniel’s upper teeth in a few days, which is the only way he’ll save the teeth. The mother is also cooperating with Isabel’s parenting plan. But she has a tendency to disappear when things get difficult, and I fear that if I press her about the daughter too soon, she’ll disappear with Daniel before all the work is done on his teeth. And with her gone, even if you issue a bench warrant, that will be the end of our ability to help.”

“So what do you want to do about it?”

“I think you should appoint the missing girl an attorney, someone to find her and make sure she is all right.”

She pinched her lip and thought about it for a moment. “We don’t even know if she exists.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“I agree. Good work. I’ll find someone.”

She leaned forward, started writing again on the yellow pad, noticed I hadn’t moved. Staring at me over her reading glasses, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Carl.”

When I still didn’t move, she said, “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, Judge.”

“Go ahead.”

“I think you should appoint me.”

“Don’t you have enough on your plate? I saw your name in the paper in connection with the François Dubé case.”

“That’s right.”

“I used to eat in his restaurant. He made a wonderful duck.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him.”

“It sounds like a murder trial will keep you busy enough.”

“I expect so.”

“And still you want me to appoint you to represent this girl?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Isabel said you and your client had started to bond.”

“I don’t really like kids.”

“And that you keep surprising her with the fruits of your investigations.”

“I’ve been lucky.”

“Why you and not someone else with more time?”

“I promised Daniel I’d find her.”

“You promised? That’s a hell of an irresponsible thing to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You have no idea where she might be, or even if she exists.”

“No, ma’am.”

“We make a lot of promises to these kids, and sometimes we even keep them.” She tapped her lip with the tip of her pen as she thought. “All right then, Mr. Carl. A promise is a promise. I’ll have the paperwork taken care of. As of now you represent that girl.”