The Stranger You Seek by Amanda Kyle Williams

sodas, and she didn’t pull her punches either. Diane Paulaskas was one of those people who would actually give you the truth when you asked for it.
    “So, you get any lately?” she asked.
    I rolled my eyes as if I was above that sort of thing.
    The door opened to Margaret’s office. Diane and I both drew breaths. People seemed to dissolve like gelatin in hot water when Margaret Hazeentered a room, and we were no exception. She was over six feet in heels, hair cascading below her shoulders, red highlights, looked like a goddamn L’Oréal commercial. And she was, well, gorgeous.
    “Please come in, Keye,” she said warmly, and shook my hand. She always shook my hand and she had always insisted on speaking to me personally. The other lawyers were content with scribbling out some instructions and leaving a folder for me at Diane’s desk. Not Margaret.
    “Thank you, by the way, for the excellent work you did on the Stoubart case,” she said, and ushered me to a chair in the sitting area of her enormous office. “You gave me so much to use against the prosecution’s witnesses, it’s not even going to trial. I sent a little something to your office.”
    “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you. It’s a beautiful basket. We’re enjoying it very much,” I lied. I’d already given the fruit to Charlie.
    She smiled, took a chair next to me, and crossed mile-long legs. “I see you were able to file the paperwork on LaBrecque. Was he a problem to serve?”
    I shrugged. “It would have been worse had we not been in church.”
    Margaret nodded. “I was afraid of that.”
    “He’s not a nice man.”
    “Was he aggressive?”
    I showed her my bruised wrist. “I’ll feel it for a day or two.”
    Her nostrils flared ever so slightly. “This man’s wife is a friend of a friend and she asked me for help,” Margaret explained. It was not the kind of case she would normally take on. At this point in her career, she could pick and choose from a long waiting list. Her windowed office atop this gleaming office tower in downtown was a testament to her success. “He has been abusing his wife and child for some time. The restraining order is just the first step. I’ve handed it to one of our attorneys here. The wife will hopefully follow through and file divorce papers. I’m sorry he hurt you.” She rose and moved to her desk. “I think I remember it’s Diet Pepsi you like, right?” She pressed the intercom button on her phone. “Diane, would you please find Keye a Diet Pepsi.”
    “Sure thing,” I heard Diane say cheerfully.
    I read for a few minutes, then looked up from the papers she’d handed me. “You’ve taken a client who shot his boss twenty-three times?”
    Margaret nodded. “We’re going for self-defense.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “His boss was a frightening brute and my client feared for his life. The whole company is a bunch of thugs. Most of them carry weapons. Towing company. Very tough guys.”
    There was a tap on the office door, then Diane came in smiling and handed me a drink on ice. She saw the papers in my hand. “Oh, you’re working on the tow truck driver case? It’s going to be tough to find an impartial jury on that one. Everybody in the city hates the tow guys—”
    “Thank you, Diane,” Margaret interrupted, straightening a stack of papers on her desk, then handing the papers to Diane. “That will be all.”
    “Of course,” Diane said with a smile.
    I watched her leave, then looked back at Margaret. “So he shot him twenty-three times with a Glock nine? He had to reload. That implies calm and purpose. Not terror.”
    A thin smile. “This is why I use you, Keye. You understand the challenges we face. Now go find some scary stuff on my client’s boss. We’ve got about three months to prepare. I’d like something from you within the next four weeks.”
    I stood, took a sip of the Diet Pepsi and set it on the glass table next to my chair, then walked to Margaret’s desk.