all I know. They arrested her a few days later and her trial is scheduled for August.”
“Is she in jail?”
“No. Her folks borrowed the money for her bail.”
“Will she have a public defender?”
“Her dad can ill afford it, but he hired a first-rate defense attorney. I’ve talked with him; his name is David Wachterman, and he told me that the situation looks grim for Rachel. That’s why I’m here to hire you.”
Huber studied him for a long time. By no means handsome, he had a pleasantly agreeable face, perfectly suited for a general practice physician. He had delicate hands, which he kept folded in front of him on top of the desk. He seemed to be under stress, which Huber linked to the situation Rachel was in. The doctor looked extremely young, almost boyish. He must be straight out of medical school, she presumed, wondering if she’d have confidence in someone that age, were she his patient.
She asked, “Do you have somebody in mind as the suspect?”
“No, but there has to be someone other than Rachel with a motive to kill the man.”
“Has it occurred to you that she might be guilty?”
“Impossible!”
“You don’t think she is capable of murder?”
He took some time before he responded, “I guess, under certain circumstances, anybody could be. Rachel has a temper and if she’d attacked and killed him right then and there in a fit of rage, I’d say that’s possible.” And he eyed her steadily as he continued, “But premeditated murder? No way!”
Huber stated, “You interest me!” And after a slight pause she said, “I take it that you know Rachel well.”
“Better than most people,” he replied.
“How old is she?”
“She turned 28 in March.”
“You mentioned that you grew up together; so are you approximately the same age?”
“I’m three years her senior. As a kid, she always came running to me when in trouble,” and an unexpected smile came over his face as he continued, “even as late as high school.”
Huber absentmindedly made an opening move with a white pawn on her chessboard and said, “You need to be straight with me. Are you and Rachel more than just friends?”
He did not rush to answer but rather seemed to carefully mull over the question. He finally said, “If you mean, are we or have we ever been lovers, I can honestly say no. And as far as Rachel goes, I am positive that she only considers me her best platonic friend. As for me, when in elementary school, I loved her as a little sister. During her teen years, I secretly admired her but made sure she had no inkling of it. Ever since she became an adult, I never showed my true feelings for fear that I might lose her friendship.”
Embarrassed, he looked away, and Huber said, “It took great courage to tell me this. Thank you.”
He still did not meet her eyes, staring at the wall behind her.
Huber thought over his plight for a long moment and then suddenly said, “I’ve decided to take on Rachel’s case. I will do my best to get at the truth, but I’m warning you, the truth may not end up being to your liking.”
She eyed him keenly when uttering those words, making sure he understood her meaning.
He looked at her straight on now, and there was no doubt about his perception as he said, “The true facts are all I want. I hope that you can unearth them before Rachel’s trial begins.”
“I’ll talk with her attorney first and then I need to see Rachel herself. So please give me their numbers.”
The doctor complied, and then they discussed her fee, which he had no problem agreeing with. They shook hands and Huber promised to keep him posted. On his way out and already at the door, he suddenly turned around and walked back to her desk.
He said, “When you talk with Rachel, please don’t tell her who hired you. She has a lot of pride and wouldn’t accept such a gift from me.”
Huber watched him leave and waited until he closed the door. Then she made a counter-move with the black knight in her solitaire chess game and thought, what an unusual young man!
CHAPTER 3
The law offices of Rosenthal, Wachterman, & Vogel was a busy place. Paralegals rushed about trying to meet deadlines while secretaries furiously hammered away on their computers. The receptionist was hard at work arguing with someone on the phone, so Huber sat down in the reception area.
She looked at the décor. It had obviously been chosen to create an image. The antique coffee table next to her seemed made of solid oak. On the walls hung two impressionist prints by Camille Pissarro, Boulevard Montmartre and Avenue de l’Opera. Centered between them, she observed an elegant French commode.
At the front desk, the receptionist ended her call and asked, “May I help you?”
“I’m R. A. Huber and have an appointment at noon with Mr. Wachterman.”
The receptionist pushed a button on her phone and announced, “I have Mrs. Huber here.”
Moments later, a young woman appeared and greeted Huber with, “I’m Pamela, David Wachterman’s secretary,” and ushered her into an inner sanctum. Huber followed her down a hallway, where Pamela stopped in front of an open door and stepped aside, saying, “Go on in, please.”
In contrast to the reception area, Wachterman’s office looked plain. The spacious room lacked any kind of ornamentation. There were bookshelves sagging under the weight of legal tomes, a file cabinet, and a large desk cluttered with paperwork and stacks of files. The lawyer, a lanky man in his forties with deep-set gray eyes and brown buzz-cut hair, sat behind his littered desk, pen in hand, writing away, old-fashioned style. He looked up when Huber entered and got to his feet, revealing a bone- colored shirt, a brown-and-blue striped tie, and a tan Armani suit, the jacket of which hung over the back of his chair.
The secretary said, “If you don’t need me any longer, I’ll take my break.”
“Sure, Pam, go ahead,” he said, and she left, closing the door.
The lawyer motioned Huber into a chair while settling back into his own.
Huber said, “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I’m aware that my appointment is cutting into your lunch time.”
He brushed it off with a flip of the hand and then said, “I know what you’re all about. I looked you up.”
“Oh?”
“Jonathan Lighthart mentioned that he planned to hire a private eye. When you called my secretary for an appointment and mentioned my client, Rachel Penrose, you made me curious. I learned that you are a licensed P.I. with an excellent track record.” He looked her in the eye and continued, “I’m still curious; what made someone like you go into that line of business?”
