Free Murder.com by Haughton Murphy Page B

preeminent trust and estates lawyer, had dealt with several prominent multimillion-­dollar divorces, but always with immaculately clean hands, and never at the pedestrian level of garnisheeing a person’s wages. It must have been quite a confrontation with the “divorce mavens.”
    â€œHe’d married his wife before law school. Maybe you met her at one of our social events. Nice girl, as I recall. Foreigner of some sort.”
    â€œNot that I remember.”
    â€œWell, it seems like the classic case: Wife supports husband through law school, then gets dumped when hubby hits the big-time.”
    â€œWhat else does that file show?”
    â€œLet’s see. Young Joyner was born and grew up in Montgomery, Alabama. Public school there, then the University of Alabama and Tulane Law School. Did well there, which is why he ended up with us. Not exactly a law school on our A-list, but he came here four years ago when, you may recall, we had to reach out for new recruits. That goddamn article.”
    Townley was referring to an American Lawyer piece that named Chase & Ward as one of the nation’s top three law office “sweatshops.” It had put a temporary chill on the firm’s recruiting efforts, but with the recent shrinking of legal openings, it was ignored—or never known—by the current crop of job prospects.
    â€œHe was assigned to the corporate department, and has not been a particularly distinguished citizen, I gather. I’m trying to get the scoop from Jerry Gilbert, for whom he most recently worked, but Jerry isn’t here yet. One of our late-arrival gang.”
    â€œThere is such a gang,” Reuben agreed, having always been a member himself. The point was lost on the punctilious Townley.
    â€œWhere did he live? Where was the body found?”
    â€œHis address in the office directory is in Tribeca. Probably one of those lofts our overpaid associates can now afford. The file shows a change of address, which would indicate he moved there after his divorce. So much for the background. I go back to my original question: What do we do?”
    â€œFirst thing, Russ, is get ready for the press. It’s not every day that an associate of what they insist on calling a ‘major white-shoe law firm’ is murdered. Send out a memo that no one is to talk to the press except you.”
    â€œWhy me?”
    â€œBecause, my friend, you are the Executive Partner.”
    â€œWhat do I say?
    â€œStick to the facts. When he was hired, what department he was in. Nothing about who he worked for. Nothing about the clients he did things for. And for God’s sake, nothing about his ability or lack of it. He was an associate here, period. Not a good associate, a bad associate, a promising associate, just an associate. And a junior one at that.”
    â€œAnd can I count on you to do some sleuthing?” Townley asked.
    â€œYou’d better not. You forget how ancient I am, and I’m busy enough holding Dan Courtland’s hand and assisting, as best I can, the police in the investigation of Marina’s death.”
    Townley looked disappointed.
    â€œOf course, just as a matter of my own curiosity, I may talk to Eskill Lander and maybe the partner Joyner worked for. Jerry Gilbert, was it?”
    â€œYes. I’ll be grateful to learn anything you find out. And, Reuben, couldn’t you be our liaison with the police? You know all the people down there.”
    â€œAgain, no. I know one detective, who I doubt, from what you say, has anything to do with this case. I have no idea who this Muldoon fellow is. I simply can’t devote time to this. But I assure you you’ll be the first to know if I find out anything. And please feel free to call me at any point.”
    â€œThank you—I guess.”
    â€œJust one other thing, Russ. I assume you can’t see any connection between Marina Courtland’s murder and this