The Heavens May Fall by Allen Eskens

anything. I think she was killed at our house. There’s an army of cops there. They won’t let me go home.”
    “If you need a place to stay—”
    “No. That’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I think I need a lawyer.”
    Boady started to say something. He wanted to tell his friend to look elsewhere if he needed an attorney, but the words knotted up in his throat.
    “I’m afraid Rupert’s going to try and hang this on me.” Ben shifted in his seat, as though settling in for a longer conversation. “I mean, you heard about the problem between Max Rupert and me, I assume.”
    Now it was Boady’s turn to settle in. He leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and tried to recall what he could about the bad blood between Pruitt and Rupert. “I read something about it in the Minnesota Lawyer . I also read the Board of Professional Responsibility opinion.” Boady tried not to look disappointed, but he must have failed because Ben dropped his eyes as Boady spoke. “You were suspended for . . . was it thirty days?”
    “Sixty. But I didn’t know that document was a forgery. I swear to God, Boady. My investigator gave that document to me and told me it came from Max Rupert’s disciplinary file. I had no way of knowing. It looked legit. I had no reason to question it.”
    “I’m not saying you knew anything like—”
    “Wait. Boady, listen to me. I would never knowingly commit fraud on the court. I would never do that. When you left the practice, you entrusted me with your clients. You said that you knew you were leaving them in good hands, my hands. Did you mean that?”
    “Of course I did.”
    “In all the years we worked together, did I ever do anything to make you believe I would intentionally introduce a forged document into a trial?”
    “No.”
    “Not one of your clients, not one judge, not a single prosecutor has ever accused me of unethical behavior—except that one damned document. That’s because I didn’t know it was a forgery.”
    “I believe you, Ben. And you’re right, I turned my practice over to you because I trusted you. I never doubted your integrity for a moment. When I read that you’d been publicly reprimanded, I wanted to call. I should have—”
    “I understand why you didn’t. I can’t blame you. The opinion was so one-sided, I’d have believed it if it weren’t about me.”
    “No, Ben. I should have called. You could have used my support and I . . . well, I dropped the ball.”
    “Boady, I need your support now. Rupert’s never forgiven me. He’s the lead on Jennavieve’s case, and I know he’ll try to find a way to charge me with her death.”
    “Have you met with him yet?”
    “Yes, earlier today.”
    Boady scratched his chin. “You think that was wise?”
    Ben shook his head and looked out to the street. “I know. I would have told any client to stay away from Rupert. It’s stupid, but dammit, Boady, I’d just found out that my wife was dead. I wasn’t thinking like a lawyer. I just wanted to help find the sonofabitch that killed Jennavieve. If I can help with that, I want to.”
    “And did you help with that?”
    “Probably not.”
    “What did Rupert want to know?”
    “He started by asking me where I was last night. I told him the Marriott in downtown Chicago. I told him that my last communication with her was around five o’clock yesterday. And then he started asking about our marriage and I told him not to.”
    “Looking for a motive, marital discord.”
    “If he’d asked me questions that I thought might lead to the person who killed my wife, I’d still be there. But he kept bringing it back to me, so I left.”
    “And you think he’s gunning for you?”
    “Boady, I didn’t kill Jennavieve. I don’t know how he could possibly hang me with this, because I was in Chicago. I had no reason to kill her. I don’t know what Max Rupert might do, but I think I need someone on my side. I’m a mess and I need you to help me