The only good Lawyer

jobs he could to pay his way through.”
    I nodded, thinking that Burbage had a better oral presentation style than any of the surviving lawyers. Then she shifted her massage back to the other wrist.
    I said, “Arthritis?”
    Burbage glanced down at her hands. “C-T-D.”
    “Which stands for?”
    “ ‘Cumulative trauma disorder.’ Comes from hunching over computer keyboards too many hours. The worse kind is carpal tunnel syndrome, but I’m still far from that.”
    “I hope it stays that way.”
    Burbage looked at me differently, changing her tone as well. “Does this really work?”
    “Does what really work?”
    “Appearing to sympathize with the problems of the person you’re interrogating.”
    Quick study, Ms. Burbage. “It works sometimes, when I’m using it as a device. I wasn’t just now.”
    Her expression told me she thought I’d just added another layer of... device.
    Burbage said, “Perhaps if you’d just ask your real questions.”
    Okay. “You told me earlier that you’d been with Mr. Gant for over three years?”
    “All the time he was here.”
    “And how long have you been with Epstein & Neely?”
    “Since its third month of operation, eight years ago. Originally, Mr. Neely brought over his secretary from the prior firm, but she was pregnant and decided not to return after her maternity leave.”
    “How many other staffers are there?”
    Burbage’s expression now told me she thought that an odd question. “Why?”
    “I’d like to get a handle on how many more people I might have to interview.”
    “I’m the only permanent ‘staffer’ in the sense I think you mean. The receptionist and the other secretary are temps.”
    “Isn’t that pretty thin on the clerical side?”
    “Not at all. Things have changed quite a bit in the last ten years, Mr. Cuddy.” Burbage began rubbing her right wrist with her left again. “Most lawyers are now not just computer literate, but computer comfortable. They do a lot of their preliminary drafting by calling up prototypes and altering the forms onscreen themselves.”
    “Even so, there must be bookkeeping—”
    “Which is part of my job.”
    I turned that over. “In addition to being secretary for the senior partner and Mr. Gant?”
    “Mr. Neely’s work and Mr. Gant’s are... were inverse to each other.” A more explanatory tone to her voice. “Trust and estates documents tend to be long but not urgent, domestic relations ones shorter but more urgent. Plus, Mr. Neely wanted someone he could... someone he knew was familiar with the firm’s operation to act as bookkeeper. And we have a computer program that does most of that for me, of course.”
    Of course. “But doesn’t the temp-side kind of disrupt things from a continuity standpoint?”
    “Again, not at all. Much of what they do is purely clerical—transcription typing, filing. Besides, it’s less expensive to hire temporary help than to provide all the benefits the firm offers to full-time employees.” The controlled voice replaced the explanatory one. “I hope that answers your question.”
    I got the impression that Burbage had felt the conversation was once more veering away from the mandate her boss had given her. “I understand you were at the reception desk when an incident with Mr. Spaeth occurred about two months ago.”
    “I was.”
    “Can you describe what you saw?”
    Burbage switched the massage to her left wrist, then echoed the Herman/Ling version I’d already heard.
    When she finished, I said, “Was there a reason you had Grover Gant wait out in the reception area rather than let him come back here?”
    A little crack in her control. “I didn’t want to... disturb Mr. Gant during the deposition, and, given the glass walls, I thought it best to ask his brother to wait so Mr. Gant could see him and come out at a good stopping point.”
    “In the deposition.”
    “Yes.”
    Plausible, but it wasn’t delivered as well as her earlier efforts. “And am I right that you never saw Mr. Spaeth approach or swing on anyone?”
    “No, I didn’t. But what he said was a lot worse than what most people ever do”
    I didn’t envy Steve Rothenberg trying to keep Burbage reined in during cross before a jury. “There’s reason to believe that all Mr. Spaeth did was talk.” Burbage stopped the massage to fold her arms across her chest. “You’re saying you think someone else might have killed Mr. Gant?”
    “Yes.”
    “But the police found his