Chapter 12

Saturday, 10:45 a.m.

Francisco pulled the Interceptor in front of a two-story white stucco building. Dark clouds reflected in the ocean blue floor-to-ceiling windows. The marquee read Sheldon, Patterson, & Levine, P.A. Attorneys at Law. As we got out, I noticed the Lumina with faded gray paint parked haphazardly across the street. Although the windows were tinted, the shadowy figure inside looked at us. I started to walk across the asphalt parking lot to get the license plate. The driver sped off.

“What was that about?” Francisco asked.

“I think Lucius’s lawyer has someone tailing me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“It’s the second time I’ve seen the car.”

Iʼd call Veronica and have her look into it.

We walked through a set of double doors that automatically opened. The foyer was a spacious lounge filled with couches, recliners, and cushioned chairs. Several flat-screen televisions played sports and movies at either end of the lobby. The place resembled a resort instead of a law firm. We approached the receptionist behind a large oval pine desk. She wore a light gray suit, her jet-black hair pulled back in a tight bun that made her face look strained under the pressure.

“How may I help you?” Little Miss Sunshine asked.

I pulled the wallet from my slacks and flipped it open, revealing my badge. “I’m Detective Watson and this is Detective Francisco. We’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge.”

She pressed her lips together then looked past me to Francisco. “I spoke to you earlier, didn’t I?”

“Yes ma’am. Concerning the homicide of Lee Green.”

“And like I told you on the phone, Detective, we can’t give you any files without a court order.”

Francisco placed his elbows on the countertop and leaned forward. He flashed his smile. “My partner and I understand the sensitive nature of what you’re saying, but we also have a murderer out there,” he said in a smooth voice. “All we would like to do is talk to Mr. Green’s supervisor and ask some questions.”

She blushed. This man could work magic on women. I’d seen it a number of times. Maybe it was sexist, but it got results more times than not.

“Call me Annie,” she said, handing him a business card. “It’s got my personal cell on the back.” She picked up the receiver and punched a button on the phone. “Mr. Sheldon, there are two detectives downstairs who would like to see you.”

Annie listened for a moment then hung up.

“He’ll see you now,” she said to Francisco.

He glanced at the business card. “Thank you, Annie Wilkes. You’ve been most helpful.” He placed the card in his coat pocket.

She gestured to the left. “Take the elevator to the second floor. Mr. Sheldon’s door is at the end of the hallway.”

We headed to the elevator.

Francisco pressed the button. “You going to call her?” I asked as we stepped inside the metal coffin.

“Why? You jealous?”

I punched the button for the second floor. “In your dreams, junior.”

We both laughed.

It was nice to be back to our playful banter. I didn’t like the feelings I had felt back at the crime scene and again at the morgue. One of the many things I respected about Francisco was he had never asked me out. I never mixed work with pleasure and apparently he agreed.

We headed down a long corridor with closed doors on either side. At the end was a frosted glass door with the name Paul Sheldon stenciled in black.

I knocked.

“Enter,” a firm voice said inside.

We entered a room large enough to be my first apartment. All one thousand square feet of it. Art décor hung on three of the four walls. There were several framed documents I assumed were certificates, awards or maybe degrees, but the print was too small to read.

A tall, slender male with perfectly trimmed silver hair stood behind an oval oak desk. The large floor-to-ceiling window behind him provided a beautiful view of Escambia Bay. A speed boat sliced through the water, leaving a large frothy wake in its path.

“Please sit.” He gestured to two cushioned chairs in front of his desk. He sat in his executive chair, placing his hands in a steeple on his desk. “How may I help you?”

I scooted to the edge of my seat. “Mr. Sheldon.”

He held up a hand. “Please, call me Paul.”

I nodded. “As you are well aware, one of your associates, Lee Green, was murdered.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Such a travesty. But I’m not at liberty to discuss any of his cases.”

“We understand the confidentiality, but we’re not talking about a lawyer who was simply killed. He was brutally murdered.”

Francisco opened the manila folder and scattered several photos across the desk.

Sheldon flinched. “Please remove them.”

I pointed to the pictures. “This is what happened to Green. The question we’d like your help with is ‘why?’”

Sheldon looked away. “Not until you take those horrific pictures off my desk.”

Not a criminal lawyer, then. Francisco grabbed the photos and shuffled them several times before placing them back in the folder. I could tell my partner was enjoying this little show.

Maybe this wouldn’t be a waste of our time after all. I still wasn’t sure what information this lawyer would be willing to share, but hopefully we’d have a place to start.

Sheldon turned to us. He massaged his temples. “I still can’t discuss any of his cases. However, with that being said, I would be happy to entertain any questions you may have.”

Not exactly the answer we came for, but it was a start.

“Did Green have any open cases?” I began.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

Sheldon logged onto his laptop. A moment later he glanced over the screen. “Three.”

“What kind of cases were they?”

“Lee’s specialty was personal injury and wrongful death.”

“He didn’t practice criminal law?”

“Not for several years. At Sheldon, Patterson, and Levine we don’t represent criminal cases anymore.”

“How come?”

“Let’s just say it’s not a moneymaker.”

Unless your client is rich.

Defense lawyers irked me in the same way my dentist did. It’s not the thought of getting a shot of Novocain to numb the pain to pull a tooth or do a root canal. It’s the obscene price they charge and what little my insurance will cover.

“Did he receive threats from any past or present clients?”

He raised a brow. “You mean like death threats?”

“Well, any threats at all.”

“Lee never mentioned any threats, but I’ll have my secretary check his office.”

My partner leaned forward. “Has anyone here received any threats?”

“It comes with the job.”

“We’d like to get their names if you have them.”

“Do you really think we’re in danger?”

Francisco tapped the folder. “We didn’t say that. But we won’t know until we get the names and check the individuals out. Otherwise you may be playing Russian Roulette.”

Sheldon swallowed hard. “I’ll be sure to get you the names immediately.”