[October 6th, 5:43 pm, LeBlanc & Co. Law Offices]

The indigo light of approaching dusk began to fill the corners of the room, shadows starkly marked in purple against the gold of the sunset above them. The room was deathly quiet, save the occasional rapid pecking noises of typing from Anna's desk as her face radiated blue from the laptop's monitor. Robin lay on the office's sofa, arms folded behind his head in a resplendent position of repose, a contented smile on his face. A set of papers, menacingly flashing their red ink at the attorney, remained in an unattended pile on the coffee table just beside him. He thought about getting up and switching on the radio that sat in the front corner of the office to listen to a talk show, if only for the background noise, but decided against it as Anna would often note that it distracted her. She'd be leaving before long, and he could turn it on then.

"You know," Robin was jolted out of his idle thoughts as Anna's fingers stopped, "as great as your first-ever victory was, it's going to take a hell of a lot more than one case to take care of these bills... especially considering that our first case turned out to be pro bono." Robin thought for a second, but before he could answer, his secretary added, "I really wish you'd have let me in on that decision, by the way." Her tone indicated this was a little more than a wish.

"It came as a little bit of a surprise to me, too," the attorney answered flatly, but then sighed with relief, "Don't worry about it: now that people have heard of me and know they aren't gambling on a total rookie, I'm guessing our odds will be way better. People will probably be knocking down that door." Robin pointed to the office door with a quick chuckle as he looked over the sofa to see Anna's reaction: she had not been amused.

As if on cue, several quick, hard knocks smacked against the door. Both of the firms' workers' eyebrows shot up, and Robin threw himself off the couch to answer the door.

On the other side was a young man, probably in his early twenties, with shortly-cut moss-green hair, a few jagged bangs of which dangled just above his eyes. His face was severe and he seemed to be professionally dressed, for some reason: he wore a long black jacket, but the tactician could see that he had on a blood-orange hoodie that covered a white athletic t-shirt. "Pardon me," he gestured with a polite tone, "is this the LeBlanc and Company Law Offices?"

Robin looked back at Anna and smirked, then nodded at the visitor, "That's right, I'm Mr. Robin LeBlanc. Can I help you?"

"I was hoping so," the young man said. He gestured to the couch, "May we sit down?"

"Of course," Robin nodded hastily, clearing off the coffee table and pulling over the chair for interviews, gesturing to it with his hands. He plopped himself back on the sofa as his guest seated himself and folded his arms.

"So, for starters, my name is Rath Tolstoy," the young man began, offering his hand.

Robin took it, but became aware that Anna had stopped typing. He glanced back over the sofa to see that Anna was now looking over in her peripheral vision, pretending to still focus on the laptop. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Tolstoy."

"Rath, please," he insisted, "Mr. Tolstoy is my father."

"What brings you to me, Rath?" the attorney proceeded.

"I heard about your defense of that Plegian girl in the newspapers," Rath said as if he were telling someone else, "I was wondering if I could secure your services myself."

"Of what are you accused?" Robin asked.

Rath laughed, "Allow me to rephrase that: I wanted to secure your assistance for a member of my family. My half-sister, to be specific."

"Ah, I see," the attorney allowed him to continue, "What's the trouble?"

"She was accused of murdering her co-worker," Rath shook his head derisively, "It's silly, of course. Laughable. She'd never do anything like that. The poor girl doesn't have the heart to hurt a damn thing."

"I'm sure," Robin agreed, "Have the police already begun investigating?"

"Yes," Rath answered, "The murder was discovered this morning, in her office. I have the address right here..."

Robin jotted it down on a small notepad. "And she's at the detention center now?" he continued.

Rath nodded, "So, what do you think? Will you take it?"

The attorney's eyes widened, "Sorry?"

"The case," Rath insisted, the politeness of his tone suddenly dropping, "will you defend my sister?"

"Well, I have to know details first," Robin shrugged, "I have to be sure I believe there's a hope of winning."

Rath frowned impatiently, "What's this about? There was no hope for that Plegian witch, but you got her off the hook."

"Of course there was hope," the attorney rebutted, "Tharja was innocent."

"And you're telling me you knew that from the start?" the young man grimaced.

Robin nodded, "I could tell. When she explained her case, I knew she was telling the truth."

"You don't think I am?" Rath balled his fists.

"That's not what I said," the attorney countered calmly but sternly, "I believe you believe she's innocent, but I have to talk to her myself."

"Well, then, c'mon," the young man stood, tugging on his jacket.

Robin looked up at the clock: it read 6:02. "Not right now," he shook his head, "the office is closing for the night, and I've got a little extra work to take care of. I set these hours for a reason: I don't have any extra time to work on cases this late in the day."

Rath gritted his teeth, "You're being a real nuisance right now, pal..."

"Then go somewhere else," Robin leered, "There are lots of other attorneys in this town, I'm sure you can find another."

The young man's cheeks pulled back taut from his tensing jaw before he grunted, "I'm visiting her at 9 am tomorrow. I'd better see you there or there's going to be trouble."

"Right," Robin stared at the visitor as he took one last glaring look at the attorney and his office before throwing open the door and heading out.

When he made a few footsteps down the hall and started to shuffle rapidly down the staircase, Anna piped up, "Are you crazy?"

"I didn't turn him down, I just got a weird vibe..." Robin began, "I mean, what was his problem, anyway?"

"You're kidding, right?" Anna rolled her eyes, "Didn't you hear his name?"

"Rath Tolstoy?" Robin recited with a quirk of his eyebrow.

The redhead sighed loudly, shaking her head, "You've never heard of the Tolstoys? Robin, they're a big organized crime family! The Tolstoys have been operating unchecked in Ylisstol for decades: racketeering, burglary, even assassination! They're bad news, and if this Rath guy wants you to defend one of them, you can bet it's not gonna be a pretty scene. I say you go there tomorrow and tell him straight away that you can't take the case."

"Well..." Robin absorbed the information, "but what if she really is innocent?"

"Robin..." Anna crossed her arms.

"Don't 'Robin...' me," the attorney grumbled, "I have to give the girl a fair shake. After all, you're the one who wanted me to be on the lookout for new cases. It's not going to hurt to give her a try, right?"

"Trust me," she insisted, "guys like him... it's better just to not get involved."

"I'll think on it," Robin concluded, sighing and shutting his eyes.

"Don't do anything stupid, Robin," Anna demanded, "I don't want anything to happen... Er, that is, I'm supposed to be your adviser, right? So take my advice on this one."

The attorney cracked a small smile, "Financial adviser. I take care of the clients."

"Just... be careful," she commanded, breathing hotly with frustration.

"I will, don't worry," he assured her, "Now, it's quitting time for you, isn't it?" Robin gestured to the clock: 6:11.

"Uh, yeah," the redhead concurred, pulling up her purse and the carrying bag for her laptop, "Nothing to worry about, though. It's just a question of how soon I'm gonna be eating noodles in my pajamas."

"Wouldn't want to keep you from that," Robin smiled warmly.

She packed her laptop away and draped the bag and her purse over her shoulder, "Then I'll take off. Thanks, boss man."

"Anna..." he protested.

"I know, I know," she shrugged him off, "just giving you a hard time." As she opened the door, the secretary lingered, "But I'm serious about the Tolstoys, Robin: watch out. You'd better know damn well what you're doing."

"I got it, mom," he smirked.

Anna offered him a particular gesture with one finger, "G'night."

"Night," he waved her off. He listened to her steps as she slowly walked a few paces down the hall, then quickened a bit as she descended the stairs. When he could no longer hear her, the attorney got up and pushed the button on the radio, which fizzled on immediately: a rather unpleasant-sounding pundit was railing about taxation policy. Robin walked into Fado's office and pulled a big volume with a faded blue cover off of the shelf. He flipped it open and was overcome with the musty smell of a well-used book. The attorney made a trip to the fridge to grab an iced tea and a package of sliced pepperoni. He sat back down and set to work on the tome.

[October 7th, 8:58 am, Detention Center]

The car's barely-functioning clock radio read 8:58 when Robin pulled into the parking lot of the detention center. He walked in and decided not to give the guards a thought this time, though he did notice that at least one of them was looking at him curiously. When he entered, Robin gave his information to the receptionist at the desk in the front room and, when she asked who he was visiting that day, he replied that he was waiting on someone before he went ahead.

Rath strode in, skipping the jacket and just wearing his loud orange hoodie today. He nodded slightly at the attorney just as the receptionist was explaining that prisoners could only have one visitor at a time. Robin took the news with a bit of surprise: he had sat beside Fado during all of his questioning sessions... maybe there was some kind of exception for junior partners? Dismissing that, Robin offered his hands to show Rath he could go first.

His face softened ever so slightly as he nodded again, looking at Robin in a "this-won't-take-long" fashion. As he walked over and sat down across from the cubicle, Robin couldn't see the girl herself, but he could make out some of their conversation:

"Rath..." the voice was excited but fell immediately into depression, as if she'd only suddenly remembered where she was.

"Lyn... quieter..." Rath wasn't as vocal, "...with me today."

"Who?"

"...ask you some questions... as you can, okay? Tell him everything about that night."

"Do you want me to... er, should I...?"

"No, 'less he asks..."

"Did... him?"

"...I did, but on his orders... kinda."

"Kinda?"

"...improvised."

"...scary in here."

"I know... get you out..."

"...so soon?"

"...talk later, for now, just answer him. Be on your best behavior."

"Okay... soon."

Rath returned to the small waiting area with a frown, glancing at Robin, who looked up from a newspaper as he heard the footsteps. "Go ahead," the mafioso gestured toward the room, pointing at one particular cubicle. Robin rose and thanked him, walking over and seating himself in a gray folding chair. He looked across from himself and saw the girl Rath had been talking to: she had emerald-colored hair that flowed longer than her shoulders despite the fact that it was in a neat, long, rounded ponytail. Her eyes matched the shade of her hair, and he face was soft and pale, although her jaw was a bit sharper than her cheeks might suggest. She didn't seem to be wearing any makeup at the moment, or, at least, not that Robin could perceive; her eyes looked tired and somewhat baggy. She definitely wasn't accustomed to sleeping in dark rooms close to the floor. She was dressed in a business-casual style: a long-sleeve sky-blue button-up shirt and a moderately long black skirt with some kind of red fringe design. It looked gaudy, but Robin was beginning to feel embarrassed for staring and looked back up at her and pressed the button for the microphone, "Hello. My name is Robin LeBlanc, attorney at law. I came here with Rath today."

She took a moment to absorb that, as he noticed her chest quickly swell and then drop again, "Hello, Mr. LeBlanc. My name is Lyndis Lorca, I'm Rath's sister."

"He said you were his half-sister," the attorney noted.

"Technically," she said, "but Rath and I are so close, and our parents have been together for years, we don't even consider the difference anymore." She was smiling at the mention of her brother.

"That's good," Robin said, unfolding his notebook, "It's good to have someone you can rely on like that." She nodded in affirmation. "Now, I hope you won't think I'm rushing, but can you give me some idea why you're in here today?"

Lyndis pouted at the thought, "I was... they, uh, accused me of..."

"It's okay, Lyndis," Robin assured her, "I'm here to help you, just tell me what you know."

"Lyn," she said, "Nobody calls me 'Lyndis.' Nobody that I like, anyway, so please, call me Lyn."

"Fine," Robin said, "Lyn, why are you here, please?"

"They said I murdered Nephenee..." she mewled.

"And who's Nephenee?"

"My co-worker. We have offices on the same floor at Heron Corp."

"Oh? What kind of work do you do?"

"I'm a sales representative. It's an insurance company."

Robin paused and cocked an eyebrow, "How old are you, Lyn?"

"Twenty-two," she said. Robin's eyes widened: she had legs up to here...

"And already working a job for a big corporation? That's pretty lucky," the attorney supposed.

She nodded, "My father happens to know some people who helped, but Heron Corp. actually hires a lot of recent college graduates, something about keeping on the cutting edge. My grades were good, so they were happy to have me even with just a bachelor's in business administration."

Robin kept the conversation going, "Did you like it there?"

"Oh, yeah, it was a nice place. Nice break room, good food nearby, and most everyone is pretty friendly, except the managers, but they on come around every once in a blue moon, so it's not too bad."

"Was Nephenee nice?"

"She was fine, I didn't have any problems with her, but... we got into a little spat."

"Can you explain this 'spat?'"

"She sent me an email a little over a week ago, saying I'd stolen a promotion from her. I'd only talked with her a little bit before then, but she sounded so angry, I typed up a response right away, but she never got back to me. Every time I saw her after that, she looked angrier and angrier, and she even talked to a few of my other co-workers, but I'm not sure exactly who or what about... rumors, you know. Yesterday, she approached me and said she wanted to meet with me face-to-face after hours: I thought that was fine, we could clear the air on this whole stupid affair, and so I agreed."

"So, what happened at the meeting?" Robin asked, seeing the natural stopping point.

Lyn shifted in her chair, "I... she... Erm... Ahem."

"I have to know in order to help you, Lyn," the attorney said.

"You won't believe me."

"I don't have a choice if you don't say anything."

"We met in her cubicle—"

"When was this?"

"Pretty late, after eight, I think."

"Go ahead."

"We met in her cubicle and... well, we talked for a few minutes, and then, out of nowhere, she lurched forward and pushed me!"

"So, what did you do?"

"I pushed back. Er, but not hard, or anything, just a little shove, like, 'Why did you do that?'"

"And then?"

"Then... then I felt something hit me on the back of the head."

That gave Robin pause, "The back of the head? Well, that doesn't make any sense, Nephenee—right?—she was in front of you."

"I know, I don't get it either," she sighed, "I told the police that, but they didn't believe me. When I woke up, I was in a chair and Nephenee was dead on the floor, bleeding out of her head..." The woman shriveled up as she said it.

"But you didn't hit her?" the attorney asked.

"No, I swear. But... there was this coffee mug next to her, all in shards, they said my fingerprints were on it and that Nephenee's blood was, too, plus there was a coffee stain on the wall, like I'd smacked her with it..." Lyn said meekly.

"I see..." Robin finished taking his notes, re-examining them as he lifted his pen, "Anything else you care to tell me?"

"Not that I can think of," she shrugged.

"All right," he stuffed his notes into his pocket, "Thanks for your help, Lyn, you've been very cooperative."

"You're going to help me, then?" she lifted her eyes to him as he stood.

"Yes, I am," he said, "If I could get you to sign this for me." He held out an affidavit and slipped it through the mail slot, "It just gives me permission to make inquiries on your behalf."

"Thank you," she signed it and closed her eyes like she was releasing a weight, "I'll be happy to answer any other questions you may have, Mr. LeBlanc." She pushed the document back through the slot.

"You can call me Robin, if you like," he offered, "and thanks, I'll pay you a visit if I need to talk to you before the trial." They waved their final goodbyes as Robin headed for the door. He was apprehended by the shoulder as soon as he attempted to exit the building and was directed into Rath.

"So, can I count on you?" the green-haired man commanded curtly.

Robin nodded, "The case seems worthwhile. I think I can help Lyn, but I'd like to make a request."

"Name it," said Rath.

The attorney's eyes flashed as they lowered carefully and threateningly at the mafioso, "I want you to stay out of it."

Rath bared his teeth, "What was that?! You think you can tell me what to do?"

"I'm telling you what will be best for Lyn," Robin said, "Staying away from her will get this investigation over with without any unnecessary questions, if you get my drift."

Rath stared at him severely for a moment, then relented, "I still want to see her... But... I suppose you have a point. Just... stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours, capisce?"

"Fine by me," Robin agreed. The pair shook hands and headed back to their cars. Robin lingered in the lot a little longer while he made a call, then set it to speaker as he started driving.

"LeBlanc and Co. Law Offices, how—"

"It's me, Anna, start looking at the caller ID."

"Why bother? You're the only one who's called this office in three months, other than debt collectors..."

"I'm taking the case."

"What?!"

"Lyndis Lorca's the name. She seems sincere, a real straight-laced girl, I think she's in the right, Anna."

"Be honest, was that it, or did you just like the way Don Tolstoy's daughter looked in a dress?"

"Anna! Wait... her father's the don?"

"Stepfather, but yeah, no doubt about it. I've been doing a little sleuthing since I came in this morning."

"You saw it on the morning news, didn't you?"

"Ding."

"Well, I'll call on you if I need anything else, Gumshoe Gal."

"For the record, I still think taking this girl's defense is a bad idea."

"Objection noted," he hung up. Robin read the address once more and made a quick left toward the commercial center of town.

[October 7th, 10:34 am, Heron Corporation]

Robin pulled into the lot surrounding a tall, cream-colored twelve story building, dodging a few squad cars and an area roped off with police tape. As he approached the scene, he heard a familiar voice, "Well search the back again, just to be sure. And you, go find us something to eat, for Naga's sake. It's gonna be a long day."

"Detective Fletcher," Robin called, drawing near. The detective had a cigarette in his mouth, as usual.

"Hey, if it isn't Mr. Rookie Lawyer," the detective responded, "Whatcha need?"

"I happen to be representing the defendant on this crime," the attorney said.

Colm frowned, "Now's not the time to be screwin' with me, kid, I got enough people breathing down my neck."

"I have the affidavit right here," Robin pulled it out and presented it to the detective.

He skimmed it, "You gotta be yankin' my chain... Well, hate to say it, kid, but you're up a creek with this one."

"How do you mean?" he wondered.

"Haven't you heard who's gonna prosecute this one? Lyndis, the girl you're defending, she's Don Tolstoy's stepdaughter, but then you probably knew that..."

"So?"

"So, the prosecutor's office isn't screwin' around this time: they've got Lloyd Reed on this case."

"Not ringing any bells."

"Naga, you live under a rock? Sumbitch musta won a hundred murder convictions last year alone, and not on open-and-shut cases, either. He's a monster to defense attorneys like you—picks 'em outta his teeth."

"Sounds interesting," Robin smiled, "can you let me onto the scene now?"

"Bein' nonchalant doesn't fool me for a second, kid," Detective Fletcher took a drag on his cigarette, "I been doin' this way too long."

Robin's smile stopped: he was right, that description had set the attorney a little on edge. To save face, he asked, "How long is that?"

"Four years," he detective said. Robin cocked an eyebrow, but Colm made no further remarks. The detective stuffed his hands in his pockets and waved for the attorney to follow, stepping inside and pressing an elevator call button not far from the door. He blew a puff of smoke as the pair waited. When the elevator finally descended, they hopped on and Colm pressed the button for the eleventh floor.

[October 7th, 10:38 am, Heron Corp. Sales Office]

"This is the spot," Detective Fletcher announced as the elevator chimed to let them know they had reached their destination. They entered the office, Colm waiting in the door frame, and Robin immediately began to recall the details of Lyn's story, associating them with what he saw: the first thing that caught his attention was the body on its side on the floor, arms squared up to its head as if the poor girl had just been taking a nap. Cyan hair, a neat navy shirt, and some very light blue jeans, the girl was the picture of cubicle professionalism, but she also looked quite young, similar to Lyn, the more Robin thought of it.

Sensing his gaze, Colm piped up, "Nephenee Monell, age twenty-four, apparent CoD: cerebral hemorrhage by being struck with a blunt instrument."

"I imagine that has something to do with this," Robin said, eyes trailing to a smattering of dirt-colored droplets on the walls, which were the color and apparent texture of spongecake.

The detective nodded, "The current theory is that Ms. Lorca smashed her coworker upside the head with a coffee mug nearby, causing that splatter. You'll know why if you look down."

Robin did so, seeing at his feet the remains of a seafoam-colored mug, shredded into fragments, laying about the floor. He picked one up and spotted scarlet color mixing with the paint on the outside layer and reddening the chipped white of the inner material "A bloodstain?" the attorney said aloud.

"The victim's, most likely," Detective Fletcher concurred, "It'll be double-checked by the boys in the lab, but I wouldn't count on any miracles. Besides, we already know those two were the only ones in the room at the estimated time o' death, so it's pretty much a foregone conclusion."

"What about Lyn?" Robin asked. Colm responded with a glance of ignorance. "Lyn said she was hit on the head and blacked out," he recalled.

Colm nodded, "That's what she claimed when we found her. Thought she was just delirious, or something, but there was a slight bruise on the back of her head. Probably just came from a scuffle with the victim that she's trying to use as an excuse."

"You think so?" Robin debated, not really knowing why.

Detective Fletcher scoffed, "Tch. Yeah, I do. I know you prob'ly don't wanna hear it, but it's my best guess as a result of all my experience in the field."

All four years of it, Robin noted ironically to himself.

"D'ya mind?" a voice grunted from behind them both. Robin turned his head to find a blonde woman wearing a navy suit jacket with a purple blouse underneath and black pants pushing the detective out of the way.

"It's still an active crime scene, ma'am," Colm tried to stop her.

"It's also my office, where all my friggin' work is, pig," she ignored him, storming to the back corner of the room where one office was partitioned from the other cubicles with an enclosed wall and a few tall windows. The woman glared unpleasantly at Robin, "Here to cut her up?"

"Huh?" Robin looked around, "No... uh, I'm a defense attorney..."

"Oh," her brow creased like she was tasting something sour, "even worse. I guess that means you're representing... her."

"I think so?" Robin's voice wavered, "I'm representing Lyndis Lorca's defense."

"Yeah, well," the boisterous blonde said, "don't bother, the girl's guilty as sin, and she deserves whatever's coming to her. I had bad vibes about that chick all along, and now I have confirmation... all too late."

"I take it you knew the victim and the defendant?" Robin supposed.

She dipped her head, "Yeah, I was their direct superior, which means it's my fault I didn't stop this before it happened."

"I hardly think so," said Robin, "even if the crime is as the police are reporting it now, it was probably a simple crime of passion. I doubt you had anything to do with it."

"Did I ask what you thought?" she growled.

"Sorry," he relented, offering a hand, "I'm just trying to learn the facts, here. Robin LeBlanc, attorney at law, and you are?"

"Luxberg," she spat, "Heather Luxberg."

"Do you mind if I ask you a little bit about Misses Lorca's and Monell's jobs here, Ms. Luxberg?" Robin asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do," she turned away marching into her office and slamming it shut. Robin noticed through the window that she sat down, placing her arms on the desk, and lay her head between them. "A real charmer, that one," Robin said.

"No kidding," Colm agreed, "I've been dealing with her since yesterday. You shoulda seen her then, she was frickin' hysterical."

"Have you questioned any of the other employees on this floor?" the attorney continued.

"Yep," Detective Fletcher took a drag on his cigarette, "There were only two others in this office space. One of 'em was the one who called the police last night, actually. They'll be in the lobby downstairs, if you wanna meet 'em."

"Please," Robin said, following him back to the elevator.

[October 7th, 11:03 am, Heron Corp. Lobby]

The lobby was gaudily decorated, such that Robin was glad he hadn't seen it on his first venture inside: garish gold trim was slapped onto every wall and fixture, and cheesy marble columns surrounded a rather impressively hideous fountain in the center. The fountain was surrounded with crystalline bath tile and featured a gold statue of a soft-faced young man with wings sprouting from his back gently stroking the neck of a proud-looking heron facing the same direction. The rest of the floor was coated in some shoddy-looking amethyst carpeting that was fading and wanted for some cleaning. Seated upon a maroon leather sofa, Robin saw two young men waiting. One was smaller in frame than the other, but still quite athletic-looking: he had bright red hair, soft blue eyes, and was waiting with his arms neatly folded in his lap, wearing a dark blue button-up shirt with a pale blue undershirt tucked neatly beneath and a gold tie, along with a pair of khakis and brown leather shoes. His companion was much more muscular, with big, broad shoulders and a sleek, slick blue crew cut and narrower eyes which were also blue. He wore a black jacket with a red t-shirt stuffed underneath and darker brown khakis, capped off by black tennis shoes.

"Hello, gentlemen, how do you do?" Robin saluted, waving a hand.

"Finally," grunted the blue-haired one, "We've been waiting forever. Can we get this done so I can go home?"

"Hector, don't be rude," his companion chided him, "We're ready to deliver our statements, officer."

"Officer?" Robin blinked, "No, I'm an attorney, representing Ms. Lyndis Lorca."

"Oh, gods," Hector rolled his eyes.

The redhead scowled at him, then smiled at the attorney, "Sorry about him, we've just been waiting a while without much sleep. Any advocate of Lyn's is a friend of mine, though." The young man offered his hand, "Eliwood Fremont. How can I be of service?"

"Robin LeBlanc," he shook the hand, "I understand that you worked in the same office as Misses Lorca and Monell?"

"That's right," Eliwood nodded, "Lyn and I worked side by side. She was a very nice girl, I don't know how this could possibly have happened." His face fell a little, "I didn't know Ms. Monell, but she was pleasant enough in the break room when I saw her. I simply can't believe Lyn would do something so... that she would... It's..."

"Eliwood's pretty shellshocked about the whole thing, as you can see," Hector said, "Though I can't blame him. Sweet, innocent Lyn just wasn't the type for murder. At least, we thought so."

"And your full name, sir?" added Robin.

"Hector Sturakst," he said, "so, what else did you want to know, Mr. LeBlanc?"

"I heard one of you called the police?" the attorney said.

"That was me," Eliwood raised his hand, "As far as I know, I was the first to see the bodies."

Robin whipped out his notepad, "Interesting. Can you tell me what you saw, and why you were there in the first place? I mean, it was after hours, right?"

"Yes, that's the thing," the redhead gave a long sigh, "About a week before... this, I started noticing Lyn and Nephenee were avoiding each other, and they wouldn't talk, however many times they passed each other. About three days ago, Nephenee talked to me and asked if I knew what was up with Lyn: I told her the same thing I just told you, that all I knew was that they had been avoiding each other recently. She told me she was under threat of losing her job because of some HR complaint."

"She said the same thing to me," Hector interjected, "Asked me the same question, too and, of course, got the same answer."

"So," Eliwood continued, "I heard through the grapevine that they were going to meet last night to hash things out. I don't usually get involved in these sorts of things—it's not my business, you know?—so I sort of forgot about it until that evening. When I thought about it again, I got a weird feeling. I won't say I'm psychic, or anything silly like that, but I just got a bad sense, and so I decided to give Lyn a call on her cell phone: no answer. I tried Nephenee after that, same deal. I was worried at that point, so I just hopped in my car and hightailed it out here. When I got up to the office..." At this point, the young man paused and swallowed.

"Go on," Robin coaxed, "tell me everything, it's important."

"I saw the scene much like it is now, I imagine: stains on the wall, Nephenee collapsed and bleeding out of her head, the broken coffee mug, and Lyn seemingly fainted just across from Nephenee."

"It looked like Lyn had 'fainted?'" Robin probed.

"Or just passed out," Eliwood strained, "I mean, I'm not sure, she just—"

"All right," the attorney understood, "just keep going. What else do you remember?"

"Uh, the window was open," Eliwood added, "I know there was a breeze, that's unusual... And... I don't know, I don't recall a whole lot, otherwise. Once I saw all that, I called the police immediately and described the scene. I waited in the lobby for them to arrive, and I've been down here ever since, essentially."

"Do you remember anything different, Mr. Sturakst?" Robin turned his head.

"Nah," he said, "I only got here a little after midnight, well after the police showed up and questioned Eliwood. I haven't even seen the body, I've just been... er, well..." Hector coughed.

Eliwood smiled at him, "Hector's been helping me out. I needed it: I thought I was going to pass out around 1 am, but Hector brought me some coffee and pulled me out of my funk."

Hector blushed and rubbed his neck, "It wasn't like I was babysitting ya, you just looked tired as hell, is all."

Eliwood laughed, "Yes, sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything, Hector's got an image to uphold with the ladies. But he's a good friend, and it would have been a rough evening without him."

"I see," Robin flipped to a new page of notes, "One last question for you fellows, if you will?"

"By all means," said the redhead.

"What is it that you and Ms. Lorca do at your jobs?"

"Oh, of course! We're sales representatives. We distribute and maintain insurance policies."

"Heron Corp. is an insurance company?"

"Yes sir, and one of the most sought-after. People pay high premiums to sign on with us."

"How old are you, Mr. Fremont?"

"Twenty-four."

"Quite young for such a position. You must have just finished college not long ago."

"Quite right. Hector and I were roommates, actually, at Ylisstol University. I went for my bachelor's in business administration, and Hector had no idea because he was there on a soccer scholarship..."

"Coulda gone pro if I hadn't rolled my damn ankle... Those Valmese are some dirty motherf—"

"—so he decided to just follow me. He asked for my help, and I was happy to oblige, as we'd become good friends by then."

"I kept the jocks from stealing his milk money."

"Very funny. Anyway, we managed to graduate just a year apart—"

"—that written exam was a buncha bull. We're supposed to be numbers guys, aren't we?"

"—but I couldn't find a stable source of employment, so I stayed in town. I moved from one small accounting job to another and helped Hector in the hopes that the two of us could make more progress together. It was three months after Hector graduated that I was approached by a nice representative from Heron Corp."

"Do you remember that representative's name?" Robin interjected.

Eliwood's eyes darted toward the ceiling, then back down, "I'm afraid it escapes me, at present. Fine gentleman, though, per my recollection. At any rate, he offered me a salary I would be insane to turn down, but I asked if I could also recommend my friend. The representative said he'd think about it, and so I held off. Apparently, after examining Hector's qualifications, they decided to accept us both. I've been working here happily for a little over a year now."

"Interesting," Robin concluded, putting his notes away, "Well, I think I've got all I need from you two, unless there's anything else you care to tell me."

"I can't think of anything," Eliwood shrugged.

"Kid's brain is fried," Hector thumbed at his coworker.

Robin smiled and nodded, "No trouble. Thanks for everything, you two, you've really helped me a lot."

"Happy to be of assistance," the redhead reciprocated.

"All right, get some rest, then," the attorney parted with a wave. He met up with Detective Fletcher, who had his back turned as he was conversing with a thin but tall young man in a police uniform. "Detective?" Robin called, "I'm going to be taking my leave."

Colm spun around and nodded, "Awright. Thanks for the heads-up. Don't let the door hit you on the way out, kid." He thanked the detective and took a few steps out before he heard the doors pushing open behind him, "Oh, one other thing!" Robin turned back. "I'm gonna have the coroner send you a copy of the autopsy report, alright?"

"Thanks," Robin said, "I appreciate that."

"No prob," the detective took another drag on his cigarette as he looked to he floor, "You're gonna need all the help you can get."

[October 8th, 12:14 pm, LeBlanc & Co. Law Offices]

The attorney burst in rather noisily, shoving the door open and sending his jacket and various legal papers fluttering loudly in the pocket of disturbed air. It was enough to make Anna spring a few inches out of her seat before she settled down and saw who it was. "How's tricks?" the attorney saluted as he put a satchel full of papers down next to the coffee table.

"Electric company called," she said without missing a beat, "You're gonna need to pay up soon."

"Did you tell them—"

"The usual," she cut him off.

"Thanks," he raked a few fingers through his hair to straighten it out, seeing his reflection in the window before him. When he was done, he went on, drifting a little closer to her desk, "Hungry?"

"I was just about to have lunch," she nodded.

"Why don't you come with me?" he offered, "Spare yourself the expense and keep me from being alone."

"You're not going to 'forget' your wallet again, are you?" she snickered.

He frowned, "That happened one time six months ago. And I don't know why you say it like that, I really did just forget it..."

"Whatever you say," she shrugged, standing up and pulling on her scarlet jacket and throwing a yellow scarf around her neck, "but I'm leaving my wallet here, so if you 'forget,' you'll have to skip out or wash dishes."

He patted his rear pocket, smiling, "Got it right here. C'mon, got a favorite place?"

[October 8th, 12:39 pm, Middle of the Road Diner]

Robin put the menu down to find his secretary sipping from a big glass of water. She regarded him silently while she drank, then opened her mouth, "Something on your mind?"

"I've been here before," the attorney recalled a few late lunches taken in solitude in the back corner of the old restaurant, "but that waitress... I've never seen her be so friendly. Do you two know each other?"

"By extension, kinda," she replied.

Robin rolled his eyes, "Well, thanks, that explains everything."

In a moment, the pair heard a few footsteps down the aisle. Robin turned around to find a man with olive hair and wearing a chef's apron wave to the redhead, "Anna! How are you?"

"Oh, I'm doin' okay. How about you?" she cooed, "You're looking fit as a fiddle."

He laughed, "Well, you know, Sully keeps me in shape."

"Come here, big fella," she stood and wrapped him in a hug as he came close. They grinned at each other and Anna sat back down, gesturing up, "Robin, this is Stahl Mollen. He owns the place. Stahl, this is Robin LeBlanc, my new boss."

"Sure," Stahl sized him up as they shook hands, "I've seen him before. You were under Fado's wing for a while, weren't you?"

"That's right."

"Well, and now you've got the run of the office? That's great. Well, hey, any friend of Anna's is a friend of mine. What can I make for you guys today?" The pair placed their orders and Stahl assured them the food would be out before long.

The two exchanged glances for a minute before Anna cocked an eyebrow, "What?"

"Nothing," Robin shrugged, "You've got a lot of friends around here, huh?"

"I guess so," she took another long sip from her water.

The attorney gave up and looked back down at his notes, spilling out of a navy blue folder that was eating up half of his end of the table. He reexamined the scrawling diligently while Anna watched in silence. He had gained a lot of information in a short period, and for that he was grateful, but it also meant he didn't have a lot of time to wrap his head around the significance of the evidence: there were a lot of threads hanging loose that could shed some light if they were pulled taut, but there wasn't any more time to do so in today's investigation. He would have to prepare for the trial, and drag out the remaining gaps in the story there. That reminded Robin, he wanted to mention something to Anna: "Oh, they told me Lloyd Reed was going to be he prosecutor on this trial."

Anna stopped and gravely swallowed her water, then sighed in an effort to recover her composure, "Makes sense. This is Don Tolstoy's little girl we're talking about. If the prosecutor's office can put her away, they'll have the don by the balls."

"Sounds like something out of an old black-and-white movie, doesn't it?" Robin shrugged.

"Don't screw around with Llyod Reed on the opposite side of the courtroom," Anna said, "That's what I've heard, anyway."

"Not really an answer, but thanks anyway," the attorney sighed. With the sound of a few footsteps, the food arrived: a large bowl of salad topped with cranberries, a few croutons, and a raspberry vinaigrette landed in front of Anna, and a hearty-looking turkey sandwich drenched in steaming brown gravy slid out before Robin.

[The Turtle Dove Turnabout ~ Day 1 Investigation-End]