by John Foxjohn
“Might as well get it over with,” she said to the empty office. When she opened her door, silence greeted her. The second floor of the building, usually a hub of noise, conversations, clicking computer keys, and ringing phones, held a vigil in her honor.
Everyone knew about it before she received the call. This kind of news spread through the office like a grassfire during a drought. Sarah Jane, Kayla’s administrative assistant, wiped her eyes and averted her gaze.
Kayla didn’t stop to say anything to her or anyone else. She trudged to the elevator and hit the top floor button. The doors shut and a low whine carried her upward. Once before, she’d taken this trip—eight years before when she interviewed for her job. In the eight years she’d worked for the law firm of McMasters, Sullivan, and Bedford, four attorneys had made this trip twice. All four had a brief visit to the sixth floor then returned to clean out their offices. Taylor McMasters, the firm’s CEO, only encountered the attorneys on two occasions—hiring them and firing them.
When she exited the elevator on the sixth floor, everything appeared the same—a large reception area covered with navy carpet, comfortable chairs, pictures lining the walls, and a desk occupied by a secretary, and four offices with the solid oak doors closed.
Kayla adjusted her beige jacket over her white blouse. She took a deep breath and stood straight. Her pulse throbbed at the temples and her hands shook, but she would not give them the satisfaction of begging or groveling. She didn’t know what she would do from this point on in her life, had never considered that they would fire her, but she would at least go out as her father would have.
The secretary didn’t say a word. She just pointed to McMasters’ office door. Kayla hesitated, not knowing if she should knock or enter. She chose to enter.
She froze in the doorway. She didn’t know what to expect—perhaps McMasters behind his desk, a short, formal sentence, “You’re fired. Clean out your office and get out.”
McMasters did sit behind his desk, but why did it take Homer Sullivan, Ralph Bedford, and Edward Harkens to fire her? She’d spoken with Sullivan and Bedford a couple of times, but never in a formal setting. All assignments and performance reviews in the office went through Edward Harkens, the next partner in the firm.
McMasters’ intense blue eyes shone from beneath clouds of white eyebrows, matching a shock of hair. He indicated a chair. “Have a seat, Kayla.” His voice twanged like a guitar out of tune.
She took a deep breath. “I’d prefer to stand, sir.”
His lips thinned and the intense eyes clouded. “I said sit.”
Kayla debated a moment, but sat, back straight, hands in her lap.
McMasters indicated for the others to sit without taking his eyes off Kayla. “You lost your first case.”
She didn’t know if he’d asked a question or made a statement, and nodded. What was this? Were they planning to crucify her before they fired her? She wished they’d just get it over with.
McMasters leaned back in his seat. “Deason has retained another attorney and plans to appeal, of course. Word is, his knew attorney will file a motion for ineffective counsel. Deason claims he insisted on testifying on his own behalf, but you refused to let him. Is this true?”
Kayla glanced at the others out of the corner of her eye. Neither McMasters nor the others seemed that upset with the jury verdict and this surprised her. If they didn’t call her up here to fire her for that, why were they firing her? She straightened her skirt. "I didn’t refuse to let him testify. As you know, sir, that is not in my realm as an attorney. I strongly advised him against it and told him that if he testified and perjured himself on the stand, I was duty bound by law to inform the court.”
McMasters leaned forward, opened a drawer, took out a cigar and clipped the end. When he had it going with smoke spiraling to the ceiling, he pointed it at Kayla. “So he confessed to you.”
“Yes, sir, he did.”
“Good call on that one,” Bedford said.
Surprised, Kayla turned to face Bedford. She knew she’d made the right call, but why were the partners admitting it? “Thank you, sir,”
Kayla glanced at the floor as Bedford continued, taking his compliment back. “You know if you hadn’t said anything, no one but you and he would have known.”
Her head snapped up. “Sir, I would have known and it isn’t ethical.”
Her father had taught her since the time she could talk that too many attorneys get so caught up in winning or losing. They forget the ethics they swore to uphold. Then they were no better than the person they defended. Her attention shifted to McMasters when he said, “Kayla.”
He puffed on his cigar and drummed his fingers on the chair arm. “Why do you think we hired you at this firm?”
His question threw her for a loop. She knew exactly why they’d hired her. She looked him straight in the eye. “Sir, you hired me because of my father.”
McMasters leaned forward and stabbed his cigar out in the ashtray on the corner of his desk, then leaned back, folding his arms. “Your father and I go way back, and I considered him a close friend. He was without a doubt the best criminal defense attorney I ever saw in my life, and I have seen quite a few over my fifty-five years as an attorney. Although he was a friend, my first obligation has always been to my own firm and our clients. I’d never hire an attorney in this firm as a favor to anyone.”
She blinked her eyes. Why hadn’t they told her why they were firing her? She knew what he was saying. He’d hired her on her abilities. Now, he was firing her for the same reason. Couldn’t they just get it over with?
“Kayla, have you read the newspaper or watched the news in the last day or so?” Sullivan asked.
Her eyebrows creased at the top of her nose. “No, sir. I’ve been rather busy.”
“Have you heard of Michelle McCrery, the author?” Sullivan asked.
Still confused, Kayla nodded, but answered, too. “She’s a best-selling romance author.” In fact, McCrery was Kayla’s favorite author, and she read her books anytime she had a chance.
Sullivan nodded. “She was murdered last night.”
“Murdered!”
Sullivan tapped on his chin with an index finger. “The police are questioning a suspect. The suspect and her father have contacted us. We are assigning you to this case.”
She tried to stop her mouth from falling open. She wanted to show no emotion, but knew she’d failed when McMasters chuckled. “Not everyone who comes up here is fired.”
She blinked. “Ah—who—I mean.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Who is the suspect?”
“Lawrence Estes’ daughter, Loren Estes.”
Kayla’s chin dropped to her chest and she closed her eyes. Why couldn’t they have just fired me?
About Author John Foxjohn
Best-selling author John Foxjohn epitomizes the phrase, “been there—done that.” Born and raised in the rural East Texas town of Nacogdoches, he quit high school and joined the Army at seventeen—Viet Nam veteran, Army Airborne Ranger, policeman, retired teacher and coach, and now, a multi-published author.
Considered one of the rising stars in the publishing world, John’s worldwide fan base has increased beyond his wildest dreams. Fans are so enamored with his novels, in a worldwide poll—they voted his novel, Cold Tears, as the best mystery in the world.
John is the author of Code of Deceit, Cold Tears, Journey of the Spirit, and now, Color of Murder. Watch for his next novel, Tattered Justice.
John is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, Elements of Romance, Sisters-in-Crime, and League of Texas Writers, and others. He is a full time writer, and tours the country speaking to writer groups and other organizations. John lives in Lufkin, Texas with his wife Beth, and son Andy.
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