Page 26 of Bent Out of Shade
The story was lore in Vancouver lawyer circles. Unable to resist the lemon squares’ lure, Daniel had eaten an entire box that a well-meaning paralegal had brought during an all-night session. His sugar crash the next morning had been legendary. He’d kept his meeting with opposing counsel but had been jittery and unfocused, ripping off his tie and jacket to reveal he was sweating like a faucet.
Counsel was so freaked out they called 911 on him and the meeting ended with Daniel being wheeled out on a gurney with everyone convinced he was having a heart attack. It was hyperglycemia brought on by the vat of sugar he’d consumed in those bars. Daniel laughed it off, which was good since he kept getting ribbed by lawyers at other firms sending him “get well soon” deliveries of the treats.
Still, to avoid a repeat, Daniel banned the bars at the office. From then on, as the infamous tale spread, sales skyrocketed at the bakery and most days, unless you got there early, you were shit out of luck.
I waved the lemony goodness under Justin’s nose. “The very same.”
His fingers twitched. “Sabrina can fit the young woman in.” He snatched the box away, clutching it close while he selected a treat.
“Great. Does she have any openings this week?” I rotated my wrist against another warning signal flare-up.
Justin swallowed, a look of bliss on his face. “She’s taking some time off after the trial.”
I leaned on the high front counter of the reception desk. “Real time off or lawyer time off where she’s already phoned you twice today?”
A list of frequently used phone numbers was taped next to his mousepad, but I didn’t want Sabrina’s personal number. How could I get her home address?
“Real time off.” He reached for another bar and then closed the cover and wagged a finger at me. “You’re calorie Satan.”
“You’re welcome.” I winked. “Well, I hope it stays real time off. God knows I had enough lawyers contact me at home when they were supposed to be on vacation.” I heaved a dramatic sigh. “No rest for the wicked.”
“Too true.” He placed the bars in a desk drawer. “Plus, I lost the office pool when she didn’t phone me Saturday morning.”
“Ouch.” I winced.
“Right?” he said. “Five bucks is five bucks.”
My reaction had actually been because of the blood oath, but best he have his own interpretation.
Let’s see, Sabrina’s last sighting was Friday night, and she didn’t check in as expected Saturday morning. Excellent. I now had a timeline to follow up and it started with searching her place for any sign of foul play. “It’s good that she’s resting after that trial. She deserves it.”
“Especially after that win.”
I shared my contact information with Justin because I honestly wanted Emily to speak with Sabrina. Also, because he entered it in his contacts program on the computer, and while I stood respectfully behind the counter, Delilah may have snooped out the password.
Leaving the office, I got out of eyesight of the glass doors and cloaked, biding my time. Sure enough, Justin soon left with a stack of papers, headed for the copy room down the hall.
I zipped inside, punched in the password, and opened the contacts program. After snatching a Post-it note off the desk, I scribbled down Sabrina’s address, but as I clicked it closed, another thought occurred to me. Keeping one eye on the glass doors, not that Justin could see me if he came back, I searched for receipts from the company that ran the parking garage under the building.
Justin appeared on the other side of the glass door with a large stack of collated papers so I shot Delilah over to hold the door closed while I found Sabrina’s car make and stall number. The assistant tugged on the door with a frown, the perception filter thankfully keeping him from seeing my shadow, because Delilah would have been incredibly awkward to explain.
Still cloaked, I hurriedly returned the laptop back to its darkened state.
Delilah let go and Justin stumbled inside, losing some of the papers. As he bent over, cursing, to grab them, I slid past him into the hallway, hidden by my magic mesh.
He turned around at the swish of the door closing, but not seeing anyone, finished picking up the papers.
I remained cloaked until I was back in the parking garage. Counting off numbers, I found Sabrina’s stall, but her Prius wasn’t there. Hmm. I’d been to more than a few celebratory lawyer dinners and the booze flowed. She could easily have left her car at the restaurant and gotten a lift home.
Deciding to check out her condo first, I drove over to her high-rise near English Bay in the west end, located in an older tower. It took five tries before someone took pity on my story that my fob to get into the building was dead and let me in, their lax security working in my favor.
Fortunately, when I reached Sabrina’s place on the fifth floor, there was enough of a crack to send Delilah through. I, of course, remained in the corridor under my black mesh.
Other than an open, half-packed suitcase on her sofa with a full laundry hamper on the floor next to it, her two-bedroom apartment was neat, with no sign of a struggle or any foul play. Her bed hadn’t been slept in and the coffeepot was clean and dry.
Since I didn’t know which parking stall at her condo was hers, I checked the entire parkade, but didn’t find her car.
All of that together made it fairly conclusive that Sabrina hadn’t made it home after the dinner. Chances were, she’d been the last to leave after settling the bill. Was she attacked at the restaurant? Had she gone somewhere else and run into trouble?
