Mistress of Justice

"Everything. Soldiers, horses, ca

She sipped the wine and was thinking. Sometimes in life this craziness falls right on top of you and you find yourself almost floating up and away from your body like a guru or psychic, looking down at yourself, and all you can say is, Shit a brick, this is so weird. I mean, here I am, Alice in Wonderland, in a fab loft, next to a handsome man I'm playing detective with, drinking hundred-dollar wine and talking toy soldiers.

Taylor told herself not, under any circumstances, to get drunk.

Reece played with some of the figures. "I have a British Square. I made it when I was sixteen."

"Like a park? Like Trafalgar Square?"

Reece was laughing. "Taylor, British Square? A fighting formation? You know, Gunga Din."

"Kipling," she said.

He nodded. "The ranks divided into two lines. One stood and reloaded, the other knelt and fired. The fuzzy-wuzzies were the only warriors to break through the square."

"The, uh…"

"Zulus African tribal warriors."

"Ah. Boer War."

"That was twenty years later."

"Oh, sure," she said seriously, nodding in recognition.

"You're laughing at me, aren't you?"

She shook her head but couldn't keep a straight face and said through the grin, "Definitely."

He hit her playfully on the arm and let his hand pause on the thin cotton of her blouse for a moment.

He put on some music jazz.

"Any word about your demo tapes?"

"The responses ain't been jim-dandy."

"It only takes one record company."

She shrugged. And glanced at an antique clock. Eight-thirty. She could smell nothing simmering. Well, scratch one. He can't cook. Maybe they were going out. But -

The door buzzer sounded.

"Excuse me."

He let a young man into the loft. He nodded politely to Taylor and, from a large shopping bag, took out plates wrapped in stippled foil. Reece set the table with bone china plates, silver and a candlestick.

The portable butler said, "Would you like me to pour the wine, Mr. Reece?"

"No, thank you anyway, Robert." Reece signed the proffered slip of paper. A bill changed hands.

"Then good night, sir."

Di

No fake burgers and sprouts for this boy.

They sat at the table and began to eat. Reece said, "Now, tell me what you've found out about the note."

Taylor organized her thoughts. "First, somebody got into the computer and erased all the disbursements, expenses and phone call logs for Saturday and Sunday."

"All of them?" He winced.

She nodded. "All last week, actually. Everything that'd link a particular person to the firm – except the door card keys and the time sheets."

"Okay." He nodded, taking this in. "Who can get into the system?"

"It's not that hard. You need an access card but it'd be easy to steal one." More of the wonderful wine – he'd opened a second bottle. "Let me go through the suspects. First, Thom Sebastian."

He nodded. "Go ahead."

"Well, I fingerprinted your safe and found his on the top and side."

He laughed. "You did what?"

"I got a private-eye kit – deerstalker cap and decoder ring, the works. I dusted the scene of the crime and came up with twenty-five latents – that's prints, to you. Fifteen completely unrecognizable. The other ten, most were partials but seven seem to be the same person – you, I'm pretty sure. I dusted your coffee cup – I owe you a new one, by the way, the powder didn't come off too well I. threw it out."

"I wondered what happened to it."

"And three others. A couple of prints are unidentified but there are a dozen or so that're smooth smudges, as if somebody'd worn gloves. Thom's're pretty clear."

"Thom?" Reece frowned. "Son of a bitch."

She said, "I don't think he actually broke into the safe, from the position on the metal it looks like the guy who did that was the one wearing the gloves – the pro. But Sebastian may have checked it out before – or tried to open it that night and when he couldn't called in an expert. Is there any reason why he'd've been going through your files?"

"He's worked for New Amsterdam in the past though not on the Hanover & Stiver deal – not that I've heard about. Anyway, he'd have no business going through anybody's office without asking." He laughed and looked at her admiringly. "Fingerprints. That never occurred to me."

She continued, explaining to him that Sebastian had lied about how late he'd stayed at the club on Saturday night and that she'd confirmed he was in fact in the firm. She told him too about Bosk and De

She asked, "You ever hear the name Callaghan in co

"No." Reece shook his head. "But what about Sebastian's motive? He's risking prison just to get even with the firm?'

"Why not? The firm was his entire life. Besides, he's got a dark side to him. He was a process server in Brooklyn and Queens."

Reece nodded. "Yeah, those guys are tough."

Sebastian's implicit threat echoed in her mind again.

She said, "I think he wants revenge. But mostly I think he looks at the money Hanover'd pay him to lose the note as something the firm owes him – for not getting made partner. Think about it. He's a product of Hubbard, White – which's been training him for six or seven years to go for the throat, look only at the bottom line. He's also been checking me out."

"You?"

She nodded. "He's got a little dossier on me."

"Why?"

"Know your enemy?" She then continued, "Remember I mentioned Dudley? Well, are you ready for this?"

She told him about Junie and the West Side Art and Photography Club.

"Whoa," Reece blurted. "That little girl's a hooker? Dudley 's mad. They'll put him away forever for that Statutory rape, contributing to the delinquency."

"And it looks like he's paying a thousand bucks a week cash for her. You told me he's got money problems to start with. That's his motive. And as for being in the firm on Saturday I know he was there and he told Junie that some project he was working on was going to mean a lot of money. I checked his time sheets and he didn't bill any time Saturday or Sunday. So whatever he was doing at the firm then was personal.

Taylor added, "Now, we've got a third-party candidate."

"Who?"

"Sean Lillick."

"The paralegal? Hell, he's been working for me on the case – he knows all the details about the note. But what's his motive?"

"Also money. I found thousands of dollars hidden in his apartment. He didn't get it from a paralegal's salary. And he sure didn't make it doing that performance art crap of his."

"But he wasn't in the firm when the note was stolen, was he?"

"I'm not sure. He did come in Saturday morning, according to his key entry card I assumed he left, because he only billed a few hours to a client But he might've stayed all night."

Reece had a thought. "Something interesting. Lillick hangs around with Wendall Clayton a lot."

She nodded. She'd seen them together.

"But you know what's curious?" Reece mused. "Lillick's assigned to the litigation department. Not corporate. Why'd he be working for Clayton?"

"I don't know."

A frown on the lawyer's face. "Lillick'd be familiar with the St Agnes files too. He might've fed Clayton some information that led him to that surprise witness from San Diego."

"You think Clayton's behind that?" she asked.

Reece shrugged. "St Agnes is Donald's client and so's New Amsterdam Bank. All Clayton cares about is getting the merger through, and sabotaging Burdick's clients is a pretty efficient way to do it."