The newspapers printed scandalous updates: A big story revealed that Rob would be held in jail while he awaited trial. Another article divulged that people had seen lights flickering in the middle of the night at the old Sweet Breeze home and blamed it on Joe’s bereaved spirit.
So when Winston passed the building a few days later, he was surprised to see a “Sold” sign planted on its tiny front lawn. After the ghost article, he’d checked the Web and saw that the asking price had dropped down by half. Even at such a low price, he wondered what kind of people would occupy a house filled with memories of death and disease.
His phone beeped at him. It was Kristy on his caller ID.
“It’s so good to hear from you,” Winston said. She hadn’t kept in touch with him since the day of the arrest. He hoped she was immersed in her job search and not brushing him off on purpose.
“I have something important to tell you.”
“What is it? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but I just got a call from Officer Gaffey,” Kristy said.
“Gaffey…”
“The cop who arrested Rob. It turns out that there’s a problem with the sample.”
“Was it contaminated?” After all, it had been in one of those flimsy coffee cups and mixed with Coke to boot.
“No, there was no suicide tree in the batch.”
“What do you mean? They couldn’t extract it?”
“No, they didn’t find any in the cup. Or in the vial from the fridge—they only found traces of water. Officer Gaffey says not to worry, though. Rob can be convicted based on the chat record and the physical presence of the vial in his office.”
“There’s still something odd about the suicide tree not being found.” Winston hung up and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Had he been wrong? Could somebody else have murdered Joe?
He stared out into space and found his eyes refocusing on the Victorian house neighboring Sweet Breeze. Its sign read, “Boyle & Davies Law Offices.” The letter. The Harrison family was a mess, but why had Jacqueline given Joe a cease and desist order? Was she truly unhappy behind the kind façade, as her daughter had suggested? Maybe she’d decided to take matters in her own hands by killing Joe when she didn’t get legal results.
Good thing the hardworking lawyers were open. The Law Offices of Boyle & Davies took up the entire space of the beige Victorian home. Upon entering the front door, Winston found himself walking into a room that resembled a large library. Towering bookshelves with thick spines hemmed him in on all sides. The redheaded receptionist, barely twenty and model-thin, let him gape at the volumes accumulated in the main room before addressing him. “How can I help you?”
“I need to see Tim Boyle.”
“Do you have an appointment?” She started tapping away at the sleek laptop on her desk. “What’s your name?”
“I didn’t schedule anything with him.”
She blinked her gravity-defying long lashes at him. “Mr. Boyle can’t help you then.”
Winston pulled out the cease and desist order. “I’ve already received correspondence from him.”
She seemed to recognize the company stationery. “Your name again?”
“Joe Sawyer.”
The woman’s deep blue eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re kidding, right?”
He held his breath. Did she read the news or was she living in the typical self-focused youth bubble? “You don’t look like a Sawyer,” she said.
He resumed breathing. “I was adopted.”
She hesitated for a moment. It was the pause of doubt, but Winston saw that political correctness won out in the end. She pressed the intercom button on her desk. “A Joe Sawyer is waiting to see you in the lobby, Mr. Boyle.”
“Joe Sawyer? Now that I’d like to see. Send the man on up. I can spare fifteen minutes for curiosity’s sake.”
The receptionist told Winston to go up the staircase and turn right. He found the heavy oak door with gold lettering immediately. Tim’s office was decorated all in brass. His desk edges as well as the handles of his clients’ chairs showed off the same polished metal.
Both Winston and Tim stared at each other for a long moment. Winston saw a real-life Mr. Clean in a three-piece-suit looking him over through gold wire-rimmed glasses.
“I don’t think you’re Joseph Sawyer,” Tim said. “You don’t look like a dead ninety-year-old white male to me.”
“No, Mr. Boyle. I’m Winston Wong.” He handed the lawyer his business card. “I’m interested in learning more about this cease and desist order.” He pulled out the letter and placed it on the desk.
Tim shook his head. “I don’t understand why Joe Sawyer hired an investigator. It’s a pretty cut and dry request. He needed to stop harassing my client’s wife.”
“What? Do you mean your client’s Mike Harrison?”
“Of course.” Mike, the man who’d argued with Joe on the cell phone. He did make more sense as a killer than his sweet wife.
“How, may I ask, does an old man bother his ex-wife when she’s his emergency contact?”
“It’s an issue of finances, Mr. Wong. Jacqueline used Mike’s—excuse me, their—money to pay for unneeded medical supplies for Joe. Joe didn’t have the right to demand that from her.”
“Does it occur to you that she might have done it out of the goodness of her heart for a fragile old man?”
“That’s not what Mike told me. He called it extortion. We’re good buddies, so I told him I’d draft a cease and desist order to stop the nonsense.”
“Well, it stopped—because Joe was murdered.”
“I hope you’re not suggesting anything, Mr. Wong. Don’t you read the papers? They already have a suspect behind bars.”
“There’s some new evidence in the case.” He decided to push Tim a little. “I wonder if Mike was the real killer. He was upset enough to ask for legal action after all. And he was overheard arguing with Joe the day the old man died.”
“Don’t level accusations at my client, Mr. Wong. Mike would never hurt anybody.” Tim took out a brass ruler from his penholder and started tapping it against the rich wood of his desk. “Tell me, when did Joe die?”
“Last Tuesday.”
Tim flipped through his calendar. “See, I knew it. We were playing golf then.”
So Mike and Tim were good golfing buddies. That explained the quick and easy access to legal action on the part of Mike. “What’s the name of the golf course?”
“The Pacific Golf.”
Winston waited a beat, but Tim didn’t even crack a smile. Where did people come up with these business names? “I’m going to check his alibi. If it doesn’t pan out, at least I know Mike’s got a lawyer on his side.”