“Detectives? Mr.McGuire will see you now.” The clerk directed them down a side hall to the third door on the right.
A handsome man in his forties sat at a conference table. He had his upper body leaned forward to show he was open to talking, but they would have to see just how open.
“Thank you for seeing us, Mr.McGuire,” she said while closing the door behind her and Trent, to seal them and Duncan in the room. “I’m Detective Amanda Steele, and this is Detective Trent Stenson.”
“If we could make it quick. I have a client meeting in fifteen minutes.” Duncan made a show of checking the time on his wristwatch, possibly a Rolex from the look of it.
She dropped into the chair directly across from him, and Trent sat next to her. “We understand you had a client named Claire Hunter.”
A pressed smile, arrogant, smug. “Had? That’s fine if she went elsewhere, but the firm isn’t returning her retainer.”
A retainer would confirm that Claire was indeed a client of the firm. “Claire is dead. Murdered.” She put that last part out to see if it netted a reaction. All Duncan did was sit back, a grim tightness to his mouth.
“Unfortunate, but attorney–client privilege continues indefinitely. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” He went to stand. She held up a hand.
“You could be the link that helps us figure out who shot her, Mr.McGuire,” she said, trying to appeal to his humanity. It met with a sour expression. Maybe his work defending criminals had desensitized him.
“I see what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work. I’m bound by the law.”
“That law can be overridden by a judge who issues a court order to make you tell us what was said between the two of you.”
“Do what you must.”
“That could take a significant amount of time, during which Claire’s killer is free.” She didn’t even know why she bothered continuing to try to break through this guy’s armor.
“If you won’t tell us what you discussed, will you answer yes or no to some questions we have?” Trent proposed.
Duncan looked at him. “We can give it a try.”
“Did you call Claire at Lux Suites?” Trent began.
“I did.” Spoken slowly like Duncan was bored and uninspired by their continued presence.
Trent went on. “Were you returning her call?”
Amanda knew where Trent was headed with his questioning, but there was nothing to support that Claire had ever called the lawyer—unless she did it from the phone in the lobby.
“She came in last Wednesday demanding a meeting with a lawyer. No one was available on call like that.” He pulled this face like any lawyer who was on call was a loser.
“What time was this?” Amanda asked.
“About ten, ten thirty, in the morning.”
That was before she’d checked in at Lux Suites, so Claire could have made this law office her first stop in Dumfries. “So she was here, and you just sent her on her way?” Amanda was rather offset by this man’s arrogance. He gave defense attorneys a bad rep.
“Cindy did.”
“And who is Cindy?” Trent asked.
“The receptionist.”
“Okay, when did she pay you a retainer?” Amanda knew if money hadn’t exchanged hands, Duncan wouldn’t owe Claire confidentiality. But he’d already said she had.
“She left ten K in cash right then and there. With Cindy.”
“Just like that? Handed it over?” Trent asked, his eyes lit with astonishment.
“Yep. So I made time for a phone call, got some basics.”
