The Devil's Advocate by Steve Cavanagh

Author:Steve Cavanagh [Cavanagh, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781409185918
Google: tQ_oDwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2021-08-04T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

BLOCH

Bloch stood on the corner of 15th Street and Main, scanning the parking lot on the opposite side of the street. A parking lot behind a wire fence that could take maybe fifty cars. On either side of the lot was a post office that looked like it had been there for a while, and a bagel shop that looked like it had been there five minutes. On Bloch’s side of the street was a warehouse, and a candy store that faced the lot.

It was 10.01 in the a.m., and the person she was supposed to meet was technically one minute late. She caught herself grinding her teeth, stopped it. Popped a piece of Juicy Fruit in her mouth and sighed.

If Bloch said she would be somewhere at a certain time, she was there, at the exact spot, where she was supposed to be, at the exact time or earlier. She could not abide being late, or anyone else who wasn’t on time. Things were supposed to be done in a certain way. She still struggled with those who were not on her program.

A Lincoln Navigator entered the parking lot across the street. The tires crunching over the layer of gravel at the entrance, and then rolling onto the smooth concrete. The Lincoln reversed into a space, and a lady in a beige top, flannel pants and hemp shoes got out of the car. She had brown hair, tied up, and a necklace of fine gold with a lump of what looked like jade on the end of it. Bloch crossed the street and met the lady as she was exiting the lot.

‘Jane?’ asked Bloch.

‘Yes, you must be Bloch,’ said the lady. She smelled of fine oils. Sweet and rich. Bloch imagined Jane spending her evenings eating vegan food, while listening to classical jazz and catching up on this week’s New Yorker. Jane had money. Enough that she didn’t need a real job and was content to devote her time to a number of charities. One of which was a charity campaigning for convicts on death row. Jane was the vice-chair.

Bloch nodded in greeting.

‘Well, this is where it happened,’ said Jane. ‘Like I said, there’s not much to see. The car dealership closed after Mr. Sequentes was murdered. It lay vacant for a long time, then as the businesses came to this side of town, they needed more parking and this lot opened up. It’s quite cheap, for the area. Four dollars an hour.’

Bloch wasn’t interested in how much it cost to park.

‘Did you bring the file?’ asked Bloch.

Jane folded her arms, shifted her weight onto one hip, angled her head.

‘Can you tell me your interest in all of this? I didn’t see your name mentioned anywhere in the file.’

‘I work for a law firm,’ said Bloch.

Jane didn’t move. Didn’t ask anything else. She was trying to let Bloch know this wasn’t enough. Not even close.

‘We represent Andy Dubois,’ said Bloch.

‘Oh, I heard about that case. That starts tomorrow,

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