The Nasty Business of a Bodyguard by Elijah Douresseau (top books of all time TXT) 📕

So we moved in, and our little experiment of a law firm began. The office space itself was an open and free layout, with wood floors, and we repainted the walls a clean white. The front door was glass with green wood trim, and our front walls were large windows with long deep window sills. I used them to throw papers. But Vicki and AJ sometimes lounged on the ledges with coffee and a laptop and enjoyed the natural light while poring over grisly murder photos.

Vicki stayed true to our roots, though, by decorating with trendy contemporary style furniture. I was glad she took that over. I would have just gone to Office Depot’s website and clicked on a bunch of random crap and been done with it.

But she has an eye for design. Everything is minimalist and bright with clean lines. We’ve got three desks in the main room, sleek white tables, and white and chrome task lighting, with swivel chairs in the same pallet. We all use our laptops, so we don’t have cluttered cords, and she’s even thrown fuzzy white rugs around in strategic places. The polished dark wood floors and open light added a cozy contrast.

The other room is the conference room where we’ve got an ordinary second hand dining table and whiteboard. Vicki ran out of steam by the time she got to that room. It holds charm in its own right, though, because we’ve deposed more than one felon in that room. We originally talked about replacing the conference table later, but now I’m kind of attached to it.

When I arrived at the office, Vicki and her client Elena were filling out paperwork. Elena had been a housekeeper for one of our previous clients. When he passed away, I had to liquidate his estate, and it came out somewhere in there that Elena had once fled her native Honduras for safety reasons, but had not been able to wade through the asylum process, and now resided in the country illegally.

Her story touched Vicki’s heart, and she decided to take on the case for her. Pro-bono work was fine, and I’m glad Vicki found something that she was passionate about. But I had to devote my time to keeping the money coming in, so I left Elena to Vicki. AJ was in class all morning, it was pre-finals week at the community college. So it was just Vicki and I at the office.

“So,” Vicki told Elena as I settled in for the day, “I did find that your previous application for asylum that was filed with immigration. Like you said, they rejected it. But that was more than four years ago.”

I powered up my laptop and casually eavesdropped. In a town of ten thousand people, there wasn’t enough work to specialize, so we were learning to be a jack of all trades in our focus. Immigration was another area I knew little, if nothing, about. I was sure I would be called in for consultation at some point.

“They said the application was not filed properly,” Elena’s voice rose with desperation in heavily accented English. “I don’t understand what that meant. I talked to a lawyer before, and he said he could help, but it would cost a lot of money. He said I could pay in a plan, and so I paid, and he was helping, or his secretary was. I only saw him once. Then I got sick and had to pay for the hospital bills and couldn’t pay for the lawyer anymore.”

Vicki nodded. “I understand. The amount of time that has passed is going to create a problem. But I think we can work around it.”

I pulled up my e-mails and caught one from Perry McGrath. The estate I managed had just invested in his kombucha manufacturing company. They were working on a facility update, and he sent me a project proposal with a budget breakdown. I replied that it was probably a decent proposal, but I would look it over with the other trustees and let him know before I cut him a check. Then my phone buzzed, but I didn’t recognize the number.

“Henry Irving,” I answered.

“Hello, Henry?”

My eyes widened at the voice. “Julianna?”

“Yeah,” she laughed weakly. “It’s… been a while, huh?”

“Yeah, it has,” I said. “They’re looking for you, you know.”

“Well, they… found me,” her voice choked a bit, and she sniffled. “I’m in police custody right now. They say I need a lawyer. I heard you’re some high-powered big shot now, and I sure could use some help.”

I blinked in shock. “Let me come down there. You’re at the station, you said?”

“Yeah,” she replied.

“I’ll be there in a few,” I said and then ended the call. I turned to Vicki, who had Elena filling out a form on a website, and the office phone on speaker playing hold music.

“Immigration?” I gestured toward the phone.

“Yeah,” she said. “If I can get her assigned to a caseworker, I can expedite the process by working with them directly.”

“They’ve got Julianna down at the station,” I said as I gathered my bag and keys.

She looked surprised. “The dancer? Beowulf?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I knew her in high school, and she needs a lawyer.”

She glanced back and forth furtively, and I could tell she guessed that I had something of a history with Julianna.

“You’re going out there now?” she asked.

I nodded. “Good case. Family money.”

“Uh-huh,” she laughed. “Don’t get any funny ideas, Irving. I know where you sleep.”

I just laughed. That was one thing I really appreciated about her. She was secure enough that she didn’t get in the way of what I was trying to do, or be, with petty jealousy.

The police station in Sedona is a dismal affair, as I suspect is part of the intended punishment.