that up by listening to Ezra’s last gasps? I shuddered at the thought, even as I tried cheerfully to ignore her, too, while bantering with the older attorneys.
“Does that creature have to stay here?” demanded Geraldine right in Gigi’s presence. Geraldine had curly brown hair and a thick neck, and constantly wore reading glasses clipped to the end of her nose.
“Yes,” I asserted firmly. “She’s had a hard time, losing her owner that way, and at least for now she needs to be in familiar surroundings.”
“Gigi want a cracker?” chirped plump and well-preserved William as he stuffed a sliver of English muffin between the cage bars. Gigi barely eyed it before grabbing it in her sharp, black beak and making short shrift of it—then returning to her sorrowful sounds.
“She could at least say thank you,” Geraldine said with a sniff, then slipped from the kitchen holding her coffee mug.
Borden was in his office, and I shot the breeze with him for a short while. “I’m going to suggest that T.O. put together a dog-and-pony show to wow the Vancino opposition,” I told him. “Anticipate their every complaint and address it first, like noise, parking, upscale businesses and residents the development will attract, mitigation measures to propose to the city to secure building permits—such as low-income housing units—everything. Once the plans are complete, we’ll let the media meddle in it, too. Obtain as much public opinion on our side as possible. Then, if we go to trial, we’ll insist on a jury, and most members will have seen a discussion of the best points about the project in the papers.”
“Will that work?” Borden asked.
“Who knows? But we’ll also make it damned clear that even as T.O. tries to accommodate VORPO’s reasonable requests—assuming there are any—they’re ready to commit a fountain full of money to fight. Of course, they’re willing to use it as sums for settlement instead of enriching their attorneys. Money sometimes works where words don’t.”
Borden grinned his agreement. “Sure, but we’re their money-hungry attorneys, so let’s not toss away those fees too fast.” He frowned. “The police have questioned me a lot, Kendra, about how well I knew Ezra. I thought I knew him well. I liked him. I told the detectives that, but they seem to think I could have killed him.”
“It’s their job to think that anyone who knew a victim could have killed him,” I assured the senior partner. “They’re probably not serious about you. Unless . . .” Okay, I had to ask. As I’ve said, circumstances over the last few months had set me thinking like an amateur sleuth. “Was there any animosity between Ezra and you? Anything the cops could latch on to as a motive for you to have murdered him?”
Borden’s eyes grew horrified behind his bifocals. “Of course not.” He hesitated. “Although . . .”
“Although?” I prompted.
“I gently suggested to Ezra that he act a little nicer to people around here. He responded by telling me I could either let him be or rely on my own stable of clients to keep everyone busy.”
“It sounds as if he’d have left willingly if you’d told him to. I don’t see that as a motive for murder.”
“Me, neither.” Borden’s shoulders visibly relaxed beneath this day’s Hawaiian shirt. He even sent me one of his lopsided smiles.
I didn’t suggest that it would have been a motive for murder if he’d decided to keep Ezra’s clients while dumping his difficult personality by disposing of him more direly.
Back in my office, I spent the next hour at my computer listing scenarios, both logical and inane, petting Lexie as she lay beneath my desk, and trying to tune out the creepy cries that Gigi continued to make in the not-so-distant kitchen.
At ten o’clock, I told Lexie to stay and shut her again inside my office. My feet started sidling toward the kitchen.
Polly Bright was already there. So was Elaine. And Gigi, too.
“Does that creature have to stay here?” demanded Geraldine right in Gigi’s presence. Geraldine had curly brown hair and a thick neck, and constantly wore reading glasses clipped to the end of her nose.
“Yes,” I asserted firmly. “She’s had a hard time, losing her owner that way, and at least for now she needs to be in familiar surroundings.”
“Gigi want a cracker?” chirped plump and well-preserved William as he stuffed a sliver of English muffin between the cage bars. Gigi barely eyed it before grabbing it in her sharp, black beak and making short shrift of it—then returning to her sorrowful sounds.
“She could at least say thank you,” Geraldine said with a sniff, then slipped from the kitchen holding her coffee mug.
Borden was in his office, and I shot the breeze with him for a short while. “I’m going to suggest that T.O. put together a dog-and-pony show to wow the Vancino opposition,” I told him. “Anticipate their every complaint and address it first, like noise, parking, upscale businesses and residents the development will attract, mitigation measures to propose to the city to secure building permits—such as low-income housing units—everything. Once the plans are complete, we’ll let the media meddle in it, too. Obtain as much public opinion on our side as possible. Then, if we go to trial, we’ll insist on a jury, and most members will have seen a discussion of the best points about the project in the papers.”
“Will that work?” Borden asked.
“Who knows? But we’ll also make it damned clear that even as T.O. tries to accommodate VORPO’s reasonable requests—assuming there are any—they’re ready to commit a fountain full of money to fight. Of course, they’re willing to use it as sums for settlement instead of enriching their attorneys. Money sometimes works where words don’t.”
Borden grinned his agreement. “Sure, but we’re their money-hungry attorneys, so let’s not toss away those fees too fast.” He frowned. “The police have questioned me a lot, Kendra, about how well I knew Ezra. I thought I knew him well. I liked him. I told the detectives that, but they seem to think I could have killed him.”
“It’s their job to think that anyone who knew a victim could have killed him,” I assured the senior partner. “They’re probably not serious about you. Unless . . .” Okay, I had to ask. As I’ve said, circumstances over the last few months had set me thinking like an amateur sleuth. “Was there any animosity between Ezra and you? Anything the cops could latch on to as a motive for you to have murdered him?”
Borden’s eyes grew horrified behind his bifocals. “Of course not.” He hesitated. “Although . . .”
“Although?” I prompted.
“I gently suggested to Ezra that he act a little nicer to people around here. He responded by telling me I could either let him be or rely on my own stable of clients to keep everyone busy.”
“It sounds as if he’d have left willingly if you’d told him to. I don’t see that as a motive for murder.”
“Me, neither.” Borden’s shoulders visibly relaxed beneath this day’s Hawaiian shirt. He even sent me one of his lopsided smiles.
I didn’t suggest that it would have been a motive for murder if he’d decided to keep Ezra’s clients while dumping his difficult personality by disposing of him more direly.
Back in my office, I spent the next hour at my computer listing scenarios, both logical and inane, petting Lexie as she lay beneath my desk, and trying to tune out the creepy cries that Gigi continued to make in the not-so-distant kitchen.
At ten o’clock, I told Lexie to stay and shut her again inside my office. My feet started sidling toward the kitchen.
Polly Bright was already there. So was Elaine. And Gigi, too.
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