The only good Lawyer

room but not quite in its doorway, holding a Colt forty-five semiautomatic handgun the way they taught us back in Officer Basic, feet spread shoulder width apart, the muzzle steady and aimed at my chest.
    Neely closed his eyes, but lowered the Colt. “I’m glad it’s you.”

    He looked a little more comfortable at one end of the teak conference table, the forty-five on the wood in front of him, encircled by his forearms. Uta Radachowski sat to Neely’s right, back to the exterior window, Elliot Herman next to her. Imogene Burbage was at Neely’s left, pencil hovering over a steno pad, which I found quaintly affecting. It had seemed sensible for me to take the other end of the table, facing the senior partner across its long axis, and so I had.
    Neely said, “We’ve been grieving so much lately, it almost seems like what we do.”
    “I’m sorry about Ms. Ling.”
    Radachowski leaned forward, looking at me. “What did you do that got Deborah killed?”
    “I don’t know that I did anything.”
    Herman said, “No more rations of shit, Cuddy. Two of us are dead, and you’re saying you don’t think they’re connected?”
    “I think they’re connected. I just don’t know what, if anything, I did to close the circuit.”
    Neely held up a hand. “This isn’t the time to be extending metaphors, John. Elliot’s right. We want to know why two attorneys from this firm are dead, but we also want to know whether the rest of us are in any kind of jeopardy.”
    I let my eyes go around the table. Everybody was looking at me except for Burbage, who seemed to concentrate on her steno pad.
    I said, “Woodrow Gant was killed a week ago Wednesday night. Alan Spaeth claimed he had an alibi witness named Michael Mantle. Predawn today, this Mantle was found dead, probably a good week after the fact. Which means Spaeth’s alibi witness died about the same time as your Mr. Gant. Then this afternoon, Deborah Ling is found dead, too, apparently killed by the same method as Mr. Mantle, but now while Spaeth is locked away in a cell. That’s pretty much all I know. Any ideas?”
    Herman kept looking at me, Radachowski switched to the table, and Neely to Burbage. “Imogene, when did you last see Deborah?”
    Burbage wrote as she spoke. “Eleven-forty-seven, exactly. Ms. Ling said she had an early afternoon meeting, and therefore needed to eat a quick lunch first.”
    I said, “Ms. Ling’s body was behind the South Market building. Anybody see her after she left here?” Herman worked his jaw, and Neely caught it. “Elliot?”
    “As I told the police detective, I went to one of the counter places in Quincy Market on the way to my own meeting. About a block away, I saw this woman who could have been Deborah, but her back was toward me as she walked, so I’m going mainly by that.” I said, “By the way the woman walked, you mean?”
    “Yes. But her hair was right, too.”
    “How about clothes?”
    Herman shook his head. “Didn’t notice.”
    Burbage said, “Deborah was wearing a—”
    Herman snapped. “I said I didn’t notice, Imogene.” She bit at her lower lip, but kept writing on the pad.
    Uta Radachowski turned toward me. “I never saw Deborah at all this morning.”
    I said, “Frank?”
    Neely seemed uncomfortable. “What you’re about to hear is... confidential information.”
    I looked at him. “The police aren’t likely to respect that very much.”
    “I’ve already told them, John. I meant more that it was given to me in confidence by Deborah, and so I’d appreciate the rest of you keeping it that way as much as possible, too.”
    Neely waited until we all nodded back at him, then spoke toward his pistol. “Deborah came to see me early this morning, in my office. She said she had a problem of a... romantic nature. It required her to take at least a few days off, and maybe to request a... leave of absence.”
    Not what I expected. Nor what anyone else did, apparently. Herman closed his eyes, Radachowski shook her head, and Burbage raised her chin to stare very, very hard at her boss.
    Neely looked at me instead of his secretary. “When I asked Deborah how long a leave she was talking about, she said she wasn’t sure.”
    I watched the others. “I take it this is the first time the rest of you have heard of Ms. Ling’s intentions?” Nods all around.
    Neely waited a beat, then said, “John, I’d still like your best analysis. Do we have anything to fear individually from whoever killed