The only good Lawyer

closing. Given that Imogene Burbage had immediately ushered “Mt Cuddy” in to see Uta Radachowski, the temp behind the desk probably thought it was okay to tell me that the real-estate associate had said she’d be back by six. I sat down on the love seat to wait. About 5:50, I heard the elevator moving up its shaft, the doors opening to spill Deborah Ling into the reception area. She’d traded the pinstriped suit for a fawn-colored dress today, accessorized by a matching briefcase and handbag.
    Race-walking to the desk, Ling never even glanced my way. “Any calls?”
    “Three,” said the temp, reaching into the plastic holder. “And Mr. Cuddy to see you.”
    “Mr....?” Ling turned, her pixie-cut hair quivering a bit as I thought she tried to maintain a poker face. “Again?”
    “It’ll just take a minute.”
    A sigh as Ling accepted her pink message slips from the receptionist. “Come into my office.”

    Circling around the black, lacquered desk, Deborah Ling sank into her swivel chair. “I’ve had a long, hard day, Mr. Cuddy.”
    “That makes two of us.”
    “Can we get on with it, then?”
    “Sure. The last time I was here, you told me you introduced Woodrow Gant to the restaurant where he ate dinner the night of his death.”
    Very casual, but impatient. “That’s right.”
    “Coming back from Dedham . On a friend’s recommendation, I think you said.”
    Now just impatient. “Mr. Cuddy, we’ve already spoken about—”
    “But I’m afraid you forgot to mention something else.”
    “What?” said Ling, impatience verging on exasperation.
    “That you handled the purchase of the building Viet Mam is in.”
    For a moment, she didn’t reply. Then, in a voice without inflection, “What are you talking about?”
    “The property is leased to a man named Chan, who’s trying to make a go of the restaurant. But you represented Nguyen Trinh when he bought the building.”
    A laugh that didn’t quite come off. “Who?”
    “Nguyen Trinh, though he told me he prefers ‘Nugey.’ Woodrow Gant prosecuted Trinh and a buddy of his named Oscar Huong for home invasion some years back.”
    Ling made no attempt to laugh now. “What in the world makes you think I’m involved in any of this?”
    “You mean, because there wouldn’t be any billing records here at the firm showing you ever worked on the transaction?”
    Now she didn’t even reply.
    “Ms. Ling, your notary public seal and signature are on the deed to Trinh.”
    She tried to recover. “Oh, that? I was at the Registry one day, and another lawyer had forgotten his seal, so he asked me to just—”
    “Do you really think the lawyer who represented the seller of the building is going to back you on that? Especially after you had him prepare all the conveyancing documents so there wouldn’t be any embarrassing paper trail for Frank Neely or Imogene Burbage to stumble on here at the firm?”
    Ling closed down, eyes, face, even torso. Then she looked up at me. “Are you trying to ruin my career?”
    “No, but I would like the truth.”
    “The truth.” Ling bit her lower lip. “All right. The truth is that I met Nugey Trinh over the summer at one of the dance clubs in the theater district. We started talking, about me being a real estate attorney and him wanting to buy a building. Nugey asked me to represent him on the purchase, but he wanted it ‘off the books.’ ”
    “Why?”
    “Nugey said that since he met me at the club instead of through the firm, and if I was going to do all the work, why should Epstein & Neely get the fee? Then he—”
    “Wait a minute. Trinh knew where you worked?”
    Ling hesitated. “Yes. When we first started talking—about me doing real estate law—he asked where, and I told him.”
    So if Trinh had known Gant was at Epstein & Neely, Trinh also would know that Ling worked with him there. “Go on.”
    “Well, I told Nugey I’d have to think about it.”
    “Why did you even consider it?”
    “Mr. Cuddy, Nugey Trinh is an attractive man. Exotic, with his racial background. And I’d broken away from my family, anyway, so I didn’t have them to ‘embarrass’ by seeing someone who wasn’t Chinese.”
    “Which might explain why you’d want to date Trinh, but not why you’d represent him ‘off the books.’ ”
    Ling looked away, out her window. “The first time you were here, we talked about student loans.” She patted the lacquered wood in front of her. “Well, this desk was the