Chapter 7 - THE DEAD CLIENT
Daniel Voss had been seventy-one.
A retired building inspector.
Widowed.
No children.
According to Clara, he had walked into Ashford Legal Aid carrying three banker boxes and insisted that someone inside Hayes Community Housing was using abandoned renovation projects to move money.
At first nobody believed him.
Then Clara verified several invoices.
"They billed three hundred thousand dollars to replace plumbing in a building that had been demolished two years earlier."
Julian stared.
"And Daniel knew?"
"He had inspection records."
"Why didn't he go directly to police?"
"He did."
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Why?"
"Files disappeared."
Julian looked away.
"How did he die?"
"Car accident."
"When?"
"Nine years ago."
"Accident?"
Clara hesitated.
"It was ruled an accident."
"But?"
"He told me two days before he died that someone was following him."
Julian felt cold.
"And one week later my father introduced us."
"Yes."
He stared at her.
"Where?"
"A charity auction."
"I remember."
Charles Hayes had walked Julian across a crowded ballroom.
There is someone I'd like you to meet.
Clara Mitchell.
Brilliant lawyer.
Terrible taste in wine.
Julian remembered laughing.
He remembered Clara correcting his father and saying her wine taste was excellent.
It had seemed spontaneous.
Natural.
Now every detail felt contaminated.
"Did my father know you represented Voss?"
"I don't know."
"Did you?"
"Know what?"
"Know he was connected to my father?"
"No."
Julian paced.
"But you knew his foundation was under investigation."
"Yes."
"And still dated me."
Clara flinched.
"At first I almost didn't."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because the first time we went to dinner, you talked about your father for an hour."
Julian stopped.
"You adored him."
"I did."
"I couldn't look at you on our second date and say I had evidence suggesting his foundation was stealing millions."
"You could have."
"I should have."
Julian didn't answer.
She continued.
"And then the case was buried. Voss was dead. My supervisor warned me I could lose my license if I released confidential files. Your father treated me kindly. You treated me better than anyone ever had."
Her voice broke.
"I convinced myself the signatures were administrative."
Julian looked at her.
"And after we married?"
"I kept telling myself I would tell you."
"But you didn't."
"No."
The silence between them was painful.
Bishop returned from speaking with her team.
"The phone was untraceable."
Julian nodded.
"Of course."
"You're not going to Pier seventeen."
Julian looked at her.
"Of course I am."
"No."
"Detective."
"This isn't a negotiation."
"Neither is my marriage."
Bishop's expression softened slightly.
"Someone is manipulating both of you."
"I know."
"And whoever planted that phone had access to your vehicle inside a secure garage."
"I know."
"They may be watching us right now."
Julian looked at Clara.
"Then let them."
Bishop sighed.
"Fine."
Clara stared at him.
"Fine?"
"We'll go."
"Julian."
"With police surveillance."
At 11:58 p.m., Pier Seventeen was nearly empty.
Cold wind came off Lake Michigan.
Julian stood beside Clara beneath a broken overhead lamp.
The photograph was inside his coat.
Police teams remained hidden several hundred feet away.
Midnight came.
Nothing.
12:03.
Nothing.
12:07.
A black sedan appeared at the far end of the pier.
Its headlights switched off.
A figure stepped out.
Clara whispered, "Oh my God."
Julian looked at her.
"You know him?"
The man walked closer.
Silver hair.
Long dark coat.
Clara's breathing changed.
"That's impossible."
"Who is he?"
The man stopped twenty feet away.
Then spoke.
"Hello, Clara."
She stared at him.
"Daniel?"
Julian slowly turned toward his wife.
May you like
Daniel Voss smiled.
The dead man was alive.
