The building which housed the law offices was an old shoe factory that had been given new life when it was renovated into office space. Ronan loved the high ceilings and the immaculate brickwork.
Taking the elevator to the second floor, Ronan felt a sense of calm. Ten was right, Cisco hadn’t been found guilty of anythingand he needed to fight to find the truth no matter who killed McGrath and the three others.
“We’re here to see Fallon Kirkpatrick,” Fitz said when he reached the receptionist’s desk.
The older woman, whose nameplate identified her as Doris McGovern, eyed Fitzgibbon up and down. “You don’t look like Fallon’susualkind of clients.”
It was on the tip of Ronan’s tongue to ask who Fallon’s usual clients were, but he kept his mouth closed.
“We’re here to consult on a case.” Fitz flashed his gold badge. “I’m Captain Kevin Fitzgibbon.”
Doris’s eyes widened. “Down the hall, second office on the right. If you’re in the mood,Captain, I’ll be at the Black Cauldron for happy hour tonight.”
Fitz grinned broadly. “Maybe I’ll see you there, Doris.” He dropped her a sexy wink and followed Jude down the hall.
“The silver fox strikes again. Does Jace know you’ve switched sides?” Jude asked.
Fitz rolled his eyes. “Doris is the gatekeeper for the entire public defender’s office. She sees and hears everything. Now that she thinks she has a chance with me, she’ll be much more willing to spill the beans about Kirkpatrick. He’s got attorney/client privilege to protect him, Doris does not.”
Ronan knocked on Fitzpatrick’s door and was surprised by what he saw. The office was neat as a pin without even a single sheet of paper out of place. Every other office looked like a tornado had torn through them. “Mr. Fitzpatrick?”
The man sitting behind the desk, however, wasexactlywhat Ronan had expected. Kirkpatrick was short with mousey brown hair and a full beard starting to go grey. “How can I help you?”
Ronan flashed his badge, keeping his eyes glued to Fitzpatrick. Unfortunately, the attorney didn’t so much as blink. “We’re here to talk to you about some of your clients.”
“Please come in, but I’m bound by attorney/client privilege, there’s not much I’ll be able to tell you, Detective O’Mara.” Kirkpatrick paused. “Ah, I see you’ve brought friends. “Detective Byrne, Captain Fitzgibbon, please come in. As I was telling Ronan, I’m not sure what I can do to help the Salem Police Department.”
When Tennyson entered the office, Kirkpatrick sat up straighter, as if he were bracing for battle. “I don’t believe we’ve met, Mr. Grimm, or do you go by Grimm-O’Mara?”
“Tennyson is just fine.”
Ronan wasn’t surprised Kirkpatrick knew their names or that he and Ten were married. It was always wise to know your enemy, the question was why would Fallon need to? “We’re here to talk to you about Jefferson McGrath, Anthony Charles, Craig Ott, and Lewis Prado.”
Kirkpatrick’s eyes narrowed, but he showed no other emotion. “Old cases. Off the top of my head, I seem to remember they were OUI arrests. Most of my clients are frequent fliers, if you catch my drift.”
“Were the clients we named of the frequent flier variety?” Fitz asked, sounding casual, but his eyes were focused on Kirkpatrick.
“I’ll check.” Kirkpatrick hunted and pecked across the keyboard. “I’d defended all four men multiple times in the past.” He paused, seeming to size up Fitzgibbon. “Since we’re at the end of what I can tell you about my clients, why don’t you tell me why you’re here and save everybody some time.”
Ronan’s heart kicked up a notch, this was the kind of moment he lived for. “Would it surprise you to know all four men are dead?”
Kirkpatrick shot Ronan an incredulous look. “Of course I know they’re dead, detective. Doris reads the obits and updates our client records accordingly.”
“There’s nothing like great bookkeeping.” Ronan offered Kirkpatrick a bland smile. “Since you know all four men have met their makers, I suppose you know all four were murdered?”
“What? That’s awful!” Kirkpatrick gasped.
The attorney’s reaction was almost comical. If this case weren’t so damn serious, he would have advised Kirkpatrick against quitting his day job in favor of the bright lights of Hollywood. “You’re right,” Ronan continued, “it is awful. Even more so because all four died in the Salem Jail awaiting transport to county lockup.”
“In that case I’d say you have an in-house problem.” Kirkpatrick smirked.
“You know what? You’re absolutely right, itisan in-house problem.” Ronan returned Kirkpatrick’s smirk with one of his own. “Where things get a little dicey is thatyouare frequently in our station house.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Detective O’Mara. Why on earth would I kill my clients? They keep me in kibble and fancy sports cars. Killing them defeats my purpose.”
“You know, that’s very interesting,” Fitz said, breaking his silence, “you and I are both public employees, which means our salaries are also public. Please explain to me how you can afford your million dollar home on your salary.”
“It’s called smart money management, Captain Fitzgibbon!” Kirkpatrick snapped.
