False Justice Page 6

  13

  Jessie called the Rowlands while Noah Snyder poured himself a third glass of Scotch.

  “I think I found a lawyer to take your case.” She ignored Snyder’s arched eyebrow.

  Over the phone line, she heard Deanna say, “Great! Thank you so much….”

  Ken, who was also on the line, cut in. “What do you mean, ‘think’?”

  “He needs to see Kelly’s files before he can make a final decision.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. “Will you please call Cheyenne and authorize her to show us your case file?”

  There was silence on the line. She heard a hum of hesitation from Ken as he presumably mulled over her request.

  “Oh for God’s sake, Ken, why not?” Deanna said.

  “Okay,” Ken said. “We’ll call her.”

  The call disconnected. Jessie waited.

  “So you haven’t seen Kelly Lee’s file,” Snyder observed.

  “Not yet, but the Rowlands are arranging for us to have access.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you have an ulterior motive for being here?”

  Jessie shrugged. “No idea. Maybe because you drink too much?”

  Even though his gaze had become watery, she could feel him scrutinizing her. “You genuinely care about the case,” he said. “I know you well enough to believe that. But there’s something else going on here, too.”

  “There’s nothing else, Noah.”

  “You want to see her files, and not just to prove to me that taking over the case will be a cake-walk. I know there’s more going on here than Jessica Black, good Samaritan, trying to play matchmaker between an orphaned client and Philadelphia’s least-respected attorney-at-law. You’re using me, but I’m not sure to what end.”

  “There’s no mystery. I really am a good Samaritan.”

  Snyder laughed as if she were an endless source of delight for him. It was getting harder to throttle her urge to smack the smug look off his face.

  “You know what I think, Jess? I think that you think your friend Kelly Lee was murdered. And I think your boss, the great and mighty Warren Williams—who hates me, by the way, so you might not want to mention my name to him—doesn’t want you sticking your nose into a case the PPD wants to bury. But you’re doing it anyway, on your own time. Tell me if I’m hot or cold.”

  All she could do was glare at him.

  He grinned back at her. “I think you’re using me as cover. An opportunity to see Kelly Lee’s files without actually doing it yourself and getting fired. Come on, tell me I’m right. I never get tired of hearing it.”

  She chewed her lip. She didn’t trust Snyder and didn’t want to tell him anything he could later use against her. “I don’t know if Kelly’s death was really an accident. That’s a question for the police. I’m just trying to help the Rowlands.”

  Her phone vibrated, saving her from the discussion. Ken Rowland said, “Cheyenne will meet you at Kelly’s office. You know where that is?”

  “The Gardner Building, right?”

  “When will our lawyer get in touch with us? What’s his name?”

  “Soon.”

  Jessie disconnected. “Do you have a car here? Mine’s in a garage.”

  “Wait a second. You think I’m going with you? I’ve got appointments.” He reached for the bottle of Scotch. It was empty.

  “Maybe we should take a cab.”

  “Maybe you should take a cab. Bring me the file.”

  Jessie hesitated. “I don’t—”

  “Let me guess. You want me to go with you because Warren told you to stay out of this. Because he doesn’t want you looking into … what did you call it? Something that should be a question for the police.”

  She winced. “Will you come with me or not?”

  He sighed, as if the fifteen minute trip would be an immense undertaking. “I guess I can move my calendar around.”

  They caught a cab and took it across town. The Gardner Building, an impressively tall office tower, was one of several in this area of Philly, which was dominated by the even taller towers of One and Two Liberty Place. According to a plaque on the Gardner Building’s brick façade, the other tenants ranged from a small marketing agency to the Philly office of a global accounting firm.

  A food truck tempted her with the smells of grilled steak, cheese, onions, and peppers. She considered indulging. She was hungry. But she didn’t want to wolf down a cheesesteak in front of Snyder. Some activities could not be performed gracefully, and eating a cheesesteak on the sidewalk was one of them.

  Not that Snyder was paying her any attention. The silver-haired lawyer was looking at his reflection in the glass and chrome storefront of one of the neighboring buildings, fixing the knot of his tie.

  The squeal of air brakes distracted her as a city bus pulled to a stop and disgorged a stream of men and women. Most of them headed for the Gardner Building’s entrance.

  “You know, I looked at office space in this shithole,” Snyder said. “Total ripoff.”

  Snyder was calling this place a shithole? That was a joke, given his own HQ. “The good news is you can work on the case from your own lovely office,” she said.

  There was an impish glint in his eye. “I still haven’t agreed to work on the case at all.”

  “But you’re here.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I’m still not exactly sure why.”

  “Because deep down inside, you’re a good lawyer dedicated to our noble profession?”

  “Definitely not that.”

  Jessie opened the door for him, since it didn’t look like he was going to do the honors. He strolled past her into the building’s lobby.

  “Unless we find some kind of magical documents that guarantee success on a massive scale, I think we’re both going to be leaving here disappointed.” His voice echoed in the large, marble-laden lobby. “However, I will be less disappointed than you, because there’s an excellent cigar store down the street, and this outing gives me a nice opportunity to check in and see their new stock.”

  She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. They stepped into one of the elevators, along with two men in business suits. Jessie touched the number for Kelly Lee’s floor. The doors slid closed and the car ascended.

  They stood in awkward silence, Snyder tapping one Italian shoe against the floor of the elevator car and humming tunelessly. The elevator made a rattling, clanging sound as it ascended. Snyder arched an eyebrow. “Told you this place was a shithole. Maybe I’m wrong and we won’t leave disappointed. Maybe we won’t leave at all.”

  The two businessmen gave him wary looks.

  “We’ll be fine,” Jessie said.

  “Hey, maybe we should look into a class action lawsuit against the elevator company.”

  “One thing at a time.”

  “You still dating that cop?”

  “What?”

  “The homicide detective you banged in the alleyway?”

  The two businessmen made a valiant effort to pretend they weren’t listening. Jessie felt her face and neck flush. She gritted her teeth. “I don’t see how my personal life is any of your business.”

  “I’m just making conversation. I like you. I want to know more about you.”

  The elevator jerked to a stop. The doors opened and the two businessmen hurried out. She wished she could follow them. When the doors slid closed again and the elevator resumed its climb, she was alone with Snyder.

  “Why don’t you tell me about your love life?” she said.

  Snyder shrugged. “Sure. Sharing is caring, right? I’m single at the moment.”

  “What about your girlfriend? The one who says, Ain’t nobody got time for dat shit?”

  Snyder burst out laughing. “For the record, no matter what else happens, even if we plummet to our deaths in this elevator, everything was worth it just to hear you say that.”

  “Glad I could entertain you.”

  “But bac
k to you. Bumping uglies in an unmarked police car in an alleyway? I’m very envious. I think that’s much more impressive than any of your courtroom victories.”

  “How about if we focus on the case?”

  “Sure thing. Why do you think she was murdered? Did her ghost appear to you, Hamlet-style?”

  “I never said I think she was murdered.”

  “That was a Shakespeare reference by the way. I’m very cultured. And you definitely think she was murdered. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  “Her assistant’s name is Cheyenne.” The elevator chimed and the doors opened with a hiss. “Try to be respectful, okay? The woman’s boss just died.”

  “When am I anything less?”

  14

  Snyder strolled out of the elevator and headed for Kelly Lee’s office suite. Jessie followed him, annoyed to have to jog in his wake. Snyder grasped the knob and they walked inside. There was a small waiting room for clients, with chairs, a couch, and a reception desk. A young woman with bright, blue hair and skintight jeans leaned against the desk. Snyder came up short. “Oh.”

  Jessie had to struggle not to roll her eyes. At least now, maybe there was something about the case that Snyder would find interesting.

  “You must be Cheyenne. I’m Jessie. This is Noah Snyder, the lawyer who’s going to take over the Rowland case.”

  “Might take over,” Snyder said.

  “Thanks for coming,” Cheyenne said. “Kelly kept her files in her office. Through that door.” She pointed. “I’ll be in here, gathering up my stuff. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I guess you’re out of a job, huh?” Snyder said. His eyes seemed to sweep up and down her body at regular intervals. Apparently, he’d forgotten his assurances to be respectful, assuming he even knew what the word meant.

  “It looks that way,” Cheyenne said.

  “I might be able to give you some work.”

  Cheyenne shot Jessie a look, and Jessie tugged Snyder toward the office before he could creep her out even more. “Come on, Noah.”

  They passed through the doorway from the lobby to Kelly’s office. At first glance, it appeared to be a typical lawyer’s lair, with furniture straight out of a high-end office catalog, diplomas and bar certificates, on the walls, and a bookshelf. But on closer inspection, the bookshelf only held a handful of law books. Most of the shelves were dominated by books Jessie didn’t recognize. She scanned the spines, seeing titles about game theory, poker, betting, acting, selling, and negotiation.

  “I have this one,” Snyder said. He pulled a thick volume off the shelf. “It was written by a hacker who used social engineering to get access to all kinds of secure information. Great tips about how to make people trust and believe you.”

  “I usually do that by telling the truth.”

  Snyder shook his head. “Looks like Kelly Lee didn’t share your moral limitations.”

  “Kelly was moral. That’s why the Rowlands’ case was so important to her.”

  “Yeah, that and millions of dollars.”

  Jessie bit her lip. She was here to learn what had happened to Kelly, not to judge her.

  Snyder walked around the office and opened a few cabinets. Jessie glimpsed office supplies. “Not a bottle of liquor to be seen,” he said, opening another cabinet. “Not even one of those little travel-size ones.”

  “Haven’t you had enough today?”

  “Never. And look at this chair.” He came around her desk and set the swivel chair spinning. “Her poor back.”

  The chair looked normal enough to Jessie. She gripped the back to stop its movement. “We’re not here to drink or relax, Noah.” She sat in the chair and started opening drawers in the desk. “We’re here to review the Rowland file.”

  “You really think I’m going to hang out here with you and read?” Snyder’s expression was incredulous.

  “Why else did you come here with me?”

  “I’m asking myself the same question.”

  Jessie found nothing in the drawers. She got up and walked to a filing cabinet on one of the walls. She opened the top drawer. “Well, I’m sorry to bore you.”

  “Oh, you could never bore me, Jessie.”

  She let out a frustrated breath. “I can’t find the Rowland file. It doesn’t look like any of Kelly’s case files are here. All I’m finding are bills, invoices, that sort of thing. Can you help me please?”

  “Maybe we should ask the hot girl.”

  Before Jessie could respond, Snyder was out the door and back to the suite’s lobby. Jessie waited, her frustration mounting as the sound of his voice drifted back to her through the doorway. What was I thinking, going to Noah Snyder? After what felt like an eternity, he returned with Cheyenne, Snyder smiling and the assistant looking like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin. Jessie had to force her jaw to relax.

  “Let me take a look,” Cheyenne said. She looked inside the filing cabinet drawer Jessie had opened. Her brow furrowed as she flipped past folders of what looked like bank statements. Quickly, she checked the other drawers in the filing cabinet and then the drawers in Kelly’s desk. “I don’t understand. This is so weird.”

  “What’s weird?” Jessie said.

  “Kelly’s client files. They’re gone.”

  Jessie felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. “You know that for sure?”

  “I know where she kept her client files. The Rowlands’ file should be in this drawer.” She tapped the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet with her shoe. “It’s gone, along with the other ones.”

  Jessie and Snyder exchanged a glance. “What about digital files?” Snyder said. Everyone turned toward the computer on the desk. Cheyenne nodded, went to the computer, and turned it on. Jessie and Snyder waited as she logged in. “Crap. The digital files are gone, too. Like somebody deleted them.”

  “Did Kelly keep backups?” Jessie said.

  Cheyenne shook her head doubtfully. “Once in a while she took copies home with her to work on at her apartment. You might find something there. But she didn’t have any official backups or anything like that.”

  Snyder spread his arms. “So, basically, all the work she supposedly did on the case is lost. Whoever takes over the case for the Rowlands—a person who will now most definitely not be me—is in for a whole lot of legal and factual research, drafting, and investment in experts. Sucks for them.”

  “You can’t let this case die,” Jessie said. “Please, Noah.”

  He shook his head. “I may be a cool guy, but unlike you, I’m not a good Samaritan.” He walked out of the office. Without turning, he called over his shoulder, “Call me if you want that job, Cheyenne.”

  The assistant looked at Jessie. “What are you going to do?”

  Jessie wasn’t sure.

  15

  The taxi pulled to a stop in front of Kelly Lee’s apartment building. Jessie paid the driver and climbed out. Standing on the sidewalk, she looked up at the building. The ten-story building was plain and brown, like a dozen other ones in the Center City area. Ranks of identical windows faced the street.

  She entered a generic-looking lobby. There was an elevator bank, an alcove with the tenants’ mailboxes, and a door marked Office. The door was open, and when she leaned inside, she saw a pudgy Indian man sitting at a desk.

  “Hi. Are you the building manager?”

  He rose from his chair and extended a hand. “Are you looking for an apartment? My name is Nishith.”

  “Actually, I’m hoping you can let me into someone else’s apartment.”

  Nishith’s face creased with concern. Jessie hesitated for a second, thinking of Warren’s commandment, but then showed the man her DA’s Office ID. The fact that all of Kelly’s client files were missing was proof that the accident was not what it appeared, right? Warren would surely understand that.

  “This is about the woman in 7D?” Nishith said. “Ms. Lee, yes?”

  Jessie nodded. “Did you know her?”


  “Only to say hi in the elevator. She seemed like a nice woman. Very busy.”

  “If you could let me inside her apartment, that would be very helpful.”

  “Yes.” He unlocked a drawer in his file cabinet, flipped through some files, and retrieved a manila folder. His hand disappeared into the folder and came out holding a key. “Come with me.”

  He led her to the elevator bank. Together they rode to the seventh floor. In the hallway, Jessie spotted Kelly Lee’s door. 7D.

  “That’s strange,” the building manager said.

  “What?”

  “Lights are on.” He gestured at the door and Jessie saw what he’d noticed—a strip of light between the door and the floor. Someone had turned the lights on in Kelly’s apartment.

  “Have you given anyone else access?”

  “No.”

  “Could the police be in there?”

  “I doubt it. They said they had everything they need.”

  “Did Kelly give anyone else a key?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Jessie felt a tremor of fear. She reached for her phone, inwardly debating whether to call the police, but the building manager headed for the door before she could call anyone. “Nishith, hold on.”

  He stuck his key in the lock and turned. Cursing under her breath, Jessie hurried to join him as he opened the door.

  Inside the apartment, two men turned to look at them. Jessie’s body went cold. The men were dressed in black and wore gloves. One of them stood in front of a fancy wooden cabinet. The cabinet was open and one of his hands was inside it. The other man was looking at a bookshelf.

  The men looked at each other. Some silent communication passed between them.

  “Don’t move,” Jessie said. “I’m calling the police.”

  She fumbled with her phone, tapping 911 with a shaking finger and wishing she’d done it earlier. She heard Nishith cry out, and when she looked up from her phone, she saw the men charging toward them. She let out a scream of her own and dropped her phone, raising her hands protectively in front of her. The men ran past her, through the door and into the hallway. She swung around and watched them disappear into a stairwell.