“Three to five hours.” Liz seemed to understand the problem. An argument could be made that Andrew was testing the response time. Not to mention that, for three to five hours, his whereabouts were likely unknown.
Liz said, “I’ll see what I can find out.”
Leigh wasn’t finished. “Did you speak to Reggie Paltz yesterday?”
“I gave him the encryption key to upload his files onto our server,” she said. “Should I log in for you on your desktop?”
“I’ve got it, thanks.” Leigh appreciated the way she had worded the offer, leaving out you ancient dinosaur. “Did Paltz ask any questions about me?”
“Lots, but he was mostly confirming,” Liz said. “Where you went to school, how long you worked at Legal Aid, how long you were on your own. When you started working here. I told him to go to the website if he wanted your CV.”
Leigh had never once considered that she was on the company website. “What did you think about him?”
“Work-wise, he’s pretty damn good,” Liz said. “I read his background profile on Tenant. Very thorough, doesn’t look like there are any skeletons, but I can backstop it with one of our usual investigators if you want?”
“I’ll ask the client.” Leigh was perfectly fine with letting the prosecutor surprise her with a dark detail from Andrew’s past during the trial. “But what about in general terms? How did Paltz come across to you?”
“Kind of a dick, but okay-looking.” Liz smiled. “He’s got a website, too.”
Another technological blindspot on Leigh’s part. “I want you to put him on the Stoudt case. He’s willing to travel, but keep him on a tight leash. I don’t want him padding the bill.”
“He’s already doing it, judging by the invoices Octavia sent over.” Liz tapped one of the boxes with her hip. “I went through these last night. Paltz doesn’t take a dump without charging a quarter for the extra flush. His timeline is an illustration of five-star Yelp reviews.”
“Let him know we’re watching.”
Liz was already out the door by the time Leigh took off her mask and woke up her computer. Bradley, Canfield & Marks had exactly the sort of boring website you’d expect. The thick borders were red and black in honor of UGA. Times Roman font. The only embellishment was the curly ampersand.
Appropriately, Leigh found her name under LAWYERS. The photo was the same as the one on her employee badge, which was mildly embarrassing. She was listed as of counsel, a polite way of saying she was not a partner but also not an associate.
Leigh scrolled past the first paragraph, reading that she had appeared before State and Superior Courts and specialized in litigating DUI, theft, fraud, high-net-worth divorce, and white-collar defense. The Atlanta INtown article was hyperlinked for anyone seeking a urine law specialist. The next paragraph listed her awards, pro bono work, various speaking engagements, and articles she had written in the early days of her career when that kind of thing had really mattered. She slipped down to the last line—Mrs. Collier enjoys spending time with her husband and their daughter.
Leigh tapped her finger on the mouse. She was going to have to give the private investigator’s story the benefit of the doubt. It seemed plausible that Reggie had shown Andrew the INtown article featuring Leigh’s photo and that Andrew had recognized Leigh’s face. It also seemed likely that Andrew would have had Reggie do a background check on Leigh before hiring her. Actually, Reggie was probably more dangerous at this point, because he struck Leigh as the type of investigator who was good at digging up skeletons.
Which was why she was going to get Reggie out of the state. Jasper Stoudt, her divorce client’s cheating husband, was about to take his mistress on a ten-day fly-fishing trip to Montana. Leigh imagined Reggie would be too busy ordering catfish tacos off of the room service menu to worry about Andrew Tenant.
For her part, Leigh was doing enough worrying about Andrew for both of them. She bolstered herself by mentally bulletpointing Callie’s speech last night.
— If Andrew had proof of the murder, then he would’ve shown it to the police.
— If Andrew had one of Buddy’s videos, all it would show was that his father was a pedophile.
— If Andrew had put together the clues because Callie couldn’t stop tracing a damn artery on a diagram of a leg, then so what? Even Nancy Drew had to show some actual evidence.
— No one had ever found Buddy Waleski’s body—or the pieces of his body. There was no blood evidence on the steak knife. There was no forensic evidence taken from the Waleski house. There was no forensic evidence found in Buddy’s burned-out Corvette.