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  It dawned on Will that Ben’s death might be a murder, not a suicide. Worse yet, someone seemed to be trying to cast suspicion on him.

  As Will reached into his pants pocket, he already knew what he was going to find there. He removed the white plastic access card that he had used in his hurried exit from the building. There was no doubt in his mind that it had belonged to Ben Fisher.

  TWO

  When he returned to his office, Will placed a phone call to the police to report the switched access cards. The officer taking the call seemed distracted at first, but was quite attentive by the time Will had finished his story. “We’ll send someone to your office to take your statement,” the officer said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Part of him had wanted to keep quiet because he knew that the police would immediately view him as a suspect. But he figured that they would eventually figure it out anyway, and, after all, he had done nothing wrong. While waiting for the police to arrive, Will tried to resume his work, hoping to put some psychic distance between himself and the events of the morning.

  Within three hours of Ben’s death, an e-mail appeared in his inbox from Don Rubinowski, the firm’s managing partner: Will—

  What happened today with Ben was a terrible tragedy, and we all need time to grieve and mourn. But, unfortunately, there are matters that Ben was handling that will not wait. Ben was lead attorney on the Jupiter Software/ Pearl Systems merger, which must close very soon. I know I don’t need to emphasize that this is a major transaction. Negotiations are at a particularly critical stage, and we need you to take the lead on this, effective immediately. You’ll be receiving the files shortly. Claire Rowland will get you up to speed on the due diligence.

  Don

  Will replied that he would begin reviewing the files immediately. He was not about to say no to the managing partner when he was on the brink of partnership, especially not on a deal like this one. Jupiter Software was the world’s leading encryption software company, and it was being acquired by Pearl Systems, the top maker of desktop computers, in a transaction that would change the landscape of the technology industry. It was the sort of deal that could make or break an attorney’s career.

  Around two P.M., he looked up from a conference call to see a tall man in a baggy blue-black sport coat standing in the doorway to his office. With a quizzical expression and a bit of sign language, the man asked if he could enter. Will nodded, and the visitor took a seat in front of his desk. Will gestured to indicate that the call was winding up.

  If this was what a police detective looked like, it was not quite what he had been expecting. The stranger had a long, oval face, heavy eyelids, close-cropped black hair that was graying at the temples, and a mouth that seemed to naturally twist into a frown. He was unself-consciously examining the contents of Will’s desk and bookshelves.

  After waiting a couple of minutes for Will to extricate himself from his phone call, the visitor removed something from his jacket and slid it across Will’s desk. It was the gold badge of a San Francisco Police Department detective.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to call you back,” Will said, hanging up without waiting for a response.

  “Sorry for the interruption,” the visitor said in a rumbling baritone that, if it were one octave lower, would have been subsonic. “Detective Lazlo Kovach, San Francisco Police Department.”

  Will hoped the panic didn’t show on his face. “No problem, Detective. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “No problem.” Detective Kovach once more glanced at the books on Will’s shelves. “You’re a corporate attorney?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Will braced for the next question, which he was certain would involve Ben Fisher.

  “I have a question for you, if you don’t mind. I have a little business I operate on the side, selling first-edition books on eBay. My specialty is crime and detective fiction.”

  “Very appropriate.”

  “I know, I know. I found a nearly pristine first edition of Ross McDonald’s The Galton Case at a garage sale last month—you could have knocked me over. So, now my little business is starting to take off. I’ve even bought a climate-controlled storage locker for the books because there wasn’t any more room in my house. So what I wanted to ask you is . . . do you think I should incorporate?”

  “I wasn’t expecting that one,” Will said with a nervous laugh. “Incorporating is probably a good idea. It sounds like it’s more than a hobby for you at this point. Having a corporation will protect your personal assets if there’s a lawsuit or the business becomes insolvent.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the free advice. It is free, right?”

  “On the house,” Will said, growing more comfortable, despite his knowledge that this was an obvious ploy to put him at ease.

  “So we should probably get to it. My partner and I are here today talking to several of the people who worked with Ben Fisher. I understand that you called in.”

  “Yes. I actually saw him fall past my window.”

  “Horrible,” Detective Kovach said with a shake of his head. “It must be hard to carry on with your day after something like that.”

  “Yes, it is. So what can I do to help?” He suddenly felt like one of those cheesily suave criminal masterminds in an episode of Columbo, a role that would be played by Jack Cassidy or perhaps Robert Culp. They always tried to appear so casual when Columbo arrived at their offices to ask a few questions, yet they all met the same fate by the final commercial break. He had to remind himself that he had no reason to feel guilty because he had not committed any crime.

  “How long had you known Mr. Fisher?”

  “About six years. We came up through the ranks together at the firm. Worked together pretty regularly.”

  “And you were both up for partner, weren’t you? Were you competitive?”

  “No. We were friends. Maybe not really close friends, but friends.”

  “But not everyone can make partner. That must have caused some tension.”

  “Not really. There are other associates here that are very cutthroat about that sort of thing, but Ben wasn’t one of them.”

  “Were you currently working on any projects together?”

  “Ben was providing the tax advice on a merger transaction that I was working on.”

  “Which one?”

  “I’d prefer not to say, if that’s all right. The transaction involves a public company and it hasn’t been announced.”

  “I understand, but this is a homicide investigation, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist. Don’t worry, cops don’t make enough money to invest anyway.”

  “It was the merger of Boston Technologies with Davionics. They make navigation systems for the aviation industry.”

  “And did you see Ben this morning?” The detective paused. “Other than when he was falling from the roof.”

  “No.”

  “Did you talk to him on the phone?”

  “No, but he tried to call me twice this morning. He probably knew I was in the office early and wanted to talk about the Boston Technologies deal.”

  “How do you know it was Ben who called?”

  Will pointed at his phone. “There’s a display. I saw his name flash both times.”

  “Why didn’t you answer?”

  “I didn’t want to be bothered. It was six thirty in the morning, and I wanted to concentrate on the project that I was working on. I figured that we could always talk later.”

  “And he didn’t leave a message?”

  “No. The second time there was a message, but he didn’t say anything and hung up after a few seconds.”

  “Weren’t you curious?”

  “It was early, I hadn’t had my coffee yet, and I wasn’t ready to get my head around complicated tax issues.”

  “So you’re sure you didn’t meet with Ben at all this morning?”

  “No.” Will didn’t like the way Detective Kovach had repeated the question.
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br />   “So how did Ben manage to have your card key to the office when he went off the roof?”

  “I really don’t know, but I suppose that Ben or someone else could have entered my office and taken it from my jacket pocket while I was in the library.”

  “But you didn’t hear anyone else on the floor?”

  “I heard a door shut around six forty-five or so, but I didn’t see anyone.”

  “Tell me how you found the other access card.”

  “It was just there in my pocket.”

  “You told Lieutenant Morrison on the phone that you realized that Ben was using your access card because you recognized the blue and green cord that was attached.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So why didn’t you realize that the key you took with you to go downstairs wasn’t yours? It didn’t have a blue and green cord.”

  “I had just seen someone fall to his death. I was kind of freaked out at that point.”

  “So you have the other key with you right now?”

  Will nodded and handed over the access card to the detective.

  “Why don’t you just set that on the desk,” Detective Kovach said. He picked it up gingerly by its edges and dropped it into a plastic baggie that he removed from his jacket. “You know, Will, you have the right to have an attorney present while we have this discussion.”

  “Wait a second . . .”

  “You know that you have the right to an attorney, right?”

  “Yeah, sure. I know my story sounds odd, but I’m telling you the truth. I called you, remember?”

  Detective Kovach examined the access card through the plastic bag. “What do you think the odds are that this belonged to Ben Fisher? Pretty good, I’d say, but we’ll know soon enough. Or would you prefer to just tell me right now?”

  The detective slipped the plastic bag into his jacket pocket. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you just tell me the whole truth about what happened this morning?”

  “I don’t know what happened here, but I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t meet with Ben Fisher this morning. And I have no idea how our access cards got switched.”

  “Now why would he sneak into your office and do that? What purpose could that possibly serve? He obviously had his own access card.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe someone wanted to frame me for his murder.”

  “Frame you for his murder,” the detective repeated softly. “And I thought I was the one who read too many crime novels. No one said that Ben Fisher’s death was a murder. Did I say that?”

  “No, but from the tone of your questions . . .”

  “I’m sorry, did I have a tone?”

  “Maybe I should have a lawyer.”

  “No, I think I’m done for right now. But the next time we talk, you’ll want to bring a lawyer. And there will be a next time. In the meantime, I strongly recommend that you not tell anyone, other than your lawyer, about the access card thing. It will just make our job more difficult, and it could lead to some press coverage that I don’t think you’d like.”

  Detective Kovach rose, unfolding himself slowly to his full height. “Oh, and thanks again for the legal advice.”

  Watching the detective leave, Will felt dazed, like the time he had cracked the windshield with his head after being struck in a rear-end collision. He had hoped that the police would appreciate the fact that he was coming forward voluntarily with useful information. Instead, Detective Kovach just seemed grateful to have a suspect. The fact that he was innocent should have been a comfort to him, but it wasn’t. Innocent men were convicted of murder all the time—DNA evidence was freeing only the lucky ones. And even the rumor that he was a suspect in Ben’s death would be enough to derail his partnership and perhaps his entire legal career.

  Unable to concentrate on his work, Will kept turning the facts of that morning over in his head, but they refused to cohere. Why would anyone want to kill mild-mannered Ben Fisher? And if someone wanted to kill Ben, why would they do it at the office when they could have killed him someplace where there was less risk of discovery? Will thought he might know the answer to that one—whoever committed the murder wanted Will to be present so that suspicion could be cast on him. But why would anyone want to implicate him in Ben’s death?

  Will tried to dispel these disturbing questions by immersing himself in the details of the Jupiter-Pearl transaction. He had no choice if he was to be prepared to immediately step in as lead counsel.

  Throughout the rest of the afternoon and a late night at the office, Will worked feverishly to get up to speed on the complex deal. He studied the latest draft of the merger agreement. Claire Rowland, a whip-smart young associate who was leading the team of attorneys conducting due diligence, briefed Will on the status of their review. When he was comfortable that he was conversant in the transaction, he called Jupiter CEO David Lathrop at home that evening to assure him that the transition would be seamless and the closing would not be delayed. Lathrop seemed satisfied that Will was being appropriately obsessive about his new responsibilities.

  Will fell asleep at his desk sometime around three A.M. He started awake to find that the sun was coming up again over the Oakland hills, just as it had twenty-four hours before when Ben had plunged to his death. Will couldn’t remember the dream that had awakened him so suddenly; he just knew that he’d had the sensation of falling from a great height.

  THREE

  The next morning, another visitor stood in the doorway of Will’s office. This time it was Don Rubinowski, the firm’s managing partner—and he wasn’t smiling. Will immediately assumed that Don had spoken with Detective Kovach and learned that he was the prime suspect in Ben Fisher’s death. If the firm didn’t fire him on the spot, they would probably at least ask him to take a leave of absence until he was either exonerated or jailed.

  “You okay?” Don asked, detecting Will’s agitation.

  “Not really,” Will replied.

  “Did you sleep here last night?”

  “Yeah. Just trying to get my arms around the Jupiter Software merger.”

  “It’s good to see that you appreciate what’s at stake. But I would expect nothing less from you. That’s why we gave you the assignment.”

  Don Rubinowski had been managing partner for twelve years, quite a run in the world of law firm management. In fact, he had come to be known as “Teflon Don,” impervious to the vagaries of law firm politics and economic cycles. In a firm that was increasingly giving way to casual dress, one of the few lasting changes on law firm life wrought by the Internet boom, Don remained buttoned down and dapper. He wore a charcoal gray bespoke suit with a pocket handkerchief and suspenders. Like those children of the sixties who never quite moved on from that golden time, Don Rubinowski never really left the leveraged-buyout glory days of the late eighties.

  “Awful thing with Ben. Just awful. No one seems to know why he did it.” Don stepped into Will’s office and shut the door behind him.

  Will wanted to tell Don about the switched access cards and his interview with Detective Kovach, but he felt compelled to obey the detective’s instruction to keep his mouth shut.

  “But I’m not here to talk about Ben,” Don added. “Or the Jupiter Software deal.”

  Will felt a sickening jolt, certain that he would soon be leaving the firm to pursue “other opportunities.”

  “Will, I’m here to inform you that the executive committee has voted to extend you an offer to join the partnership as an equity partner.”

  If he had heard this news yesterday, he would have been ecstatic. Today, he just felt numb. Detective Kovach obviously hadn’t shared his suspicions with firm management. When Will realized that a response was expected, he said, “Thanks, Don. I’ve been looking forward to hearing that for a long time.”

  “I thought about waiting to tell you, given what’s happened. But I figured the news of the vote would leak anyway. And a bit of good news can’t hurt, right?”

  Don clapp
ed Will on the shoulder. “Over the years, we’ve all watched you develop into a superb attorney. You’ve earned this in spades, and we’re all expecting more great things from you in the future. Harvey will provide a package of materials describing the terms of your equity contribution, the changes in your benefits. You know, you won’t be an employee anymore. But listen to me, I’m talking like you’ve already accepted. I don’t expect you to answer until you’ve reviewed the materials.”

  “I’ll review the materials, but there’s absolutely no question. Thank you.”

  “Enough with the thank-yous. We’re not doing this just because you’re a nice guy. You’ve made a hell of a lot of money for this firm. We want you here for the long haul . . . so you can put a bunch of associates to work and make even more money for all of us. Speaking of which, how’s the Catalina Partners deal going?”

  There was a limit to Don’s supply of congratulatory chitchat, and, with that, it had been reached. Will proceeded to give Don a rote update on the progress of the Catalina deal.

  Then it occurred to Will. “Did Ben make partner?”

  Don scowled. “No, he didn’t. I gave him the news the day before he died. It seemed like he was handling it just fine. He was kind of quiet, but Ben was always quiet. We have no reason to think that it was because of the partnership. I mean, elevation to partner is a great thing, but, c’mon, it’s not life and death.”

  “No, it’s not. Did anyone see him go off the roof? Were there any security cameras up there?”

  “No. No cameras on the roof.” Don let out an audible sigh and continued. “Anyway, whatever happened with Ben, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve done a great job here.”

  Don shook Will’s hand again, then hurried off down the hallway, clearly anxious to preempt any further conversation about Ben. Will returned to his desk and sank into his black leather chair.