Free Murder.com by Haughton Murphy Page A

earlier, Townley had seemed rather nervous and flighty. Those qualities were abundantly evident now.
    â€œI have some terrible news—”
    â€œI think I’ve already heard it,” Reuben said. “The Chase & Ward jungle drums are already beating.”
    â€œGood grief, I only learned about this Joyner thing thirty minutes ago, when the police called.”
    â€œRuss, you know a secret can’t be kept around here for more than a microsecond. Tell me what you know.”
    â€œA detective named Muldoon called me and said that our associate Joyner had been found stabbed in his apartment. That’s it. No other details. However, he warned me that the police would probably be around to question people here. What do I do, Reuben? You’ve been through this before. Give me a clue.”
    â€œYes, long ago and as recently as two weeks ago. You recall that Dan Courtland’s daughter was murdered then.”
    â€œI suppose you’re involved in that, you being Courtland’s old buddy.”
    â€œI don’t think ‘buddy’ is precisely the right word, but Courtland’s certainly been a friend. And yes, I’m involved in the investigation of Marina’s death. Peripherally, I hope.”
    â€œYou’re the firm’s expert on murder. Vast homicide experience. We’ve got lawyers who know about tax shelters and suck-up mergers and document dumps and every other lawyer thing. But you’re the homicide authority.” He fluttered his hands as he spoke.
    â€œI’d like to think, Russ, that my reputation at Chase & Ward has more to do with substantive matters other than random slaughtering.”
    â€œOf course, Reuben, of course,” he replied, his hands still fluttering.
    Reuben, given his long-retired status, had not had a voice in selecting Townley as the new Executive Partner. Partners over seventy-five did not have a vote, like cardinals over the age of eighty who did not have a vote in selecting the pope. He had, however, agreed with the choice, though the man’s nervousness under stress was beginning to give him doubts. (His only other reservation had been Townley’s lack of deference to Reuben and his other retired colleagues. It was paranoid to think so, but he had wondered whether Townley didn’t perhaps wish that the oldsters would disappear—i.e., die—thus easing the burden of payments under the firm’s generous retirement arrangements.)
    â€œAll right, all right, let’s just say that your crime experience has been a sideline. What do we do? Help me out!”
    Reuben tried to order his thoughts, as he always had over the years when confronted with any firm crisis.
    â€œI take it we don’t know any of the circumstances of this fellow’s death. No idea who the perp—a word I’ve picked up in my ‘vast homicide experience’—might be.”
    Townley gave a hollow laugh. “I know nothing other than what I’ve already told you.”
    â€œI assume there’s no reason to think that anyone here at the firm had anything to do with this,” Reuben asked.
    â€œNo, thank God. At least not anybody that I’m aware of.”
    â€œDid he leave a wife, a family, what?”
    â€œI’ve got his personnel file here,” Townley answered as he reached for the green manila folder on his desk and opened it.
    â€œAs near as I can tell, he has no relatives other than a father in Tucson. He did have a wife, but they had a very messy divorce two years ago. You know about that?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt was his personal fight, his personal business, but we had to get involved a little bit when the divorce mavens representing his wife tried to garnish his salary here. Eskill Lander—as you know, he’s the closest thing we’ve got to a domestic affairs attorney—had to step in and fight them off.”
    Reuben was silently amused. Eskill, as the firm’s