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The two-story complex was home to, among other things, a high-end floral shop, a rare books bookstore, and someone billing herself as an aromatherapy expert. The law office was nestled in the back corner of the first floor, hard to find unless one was looking for it.
When Ryan opened the door for Jessie, a tiny bell above it tinkled softly. Jessie stepped inside and looked around. The space was small but homey, with thick carpeting, antique chairs, and a loveseat that looked plush enough to take a nap in. The walls were covered in abstract paintings and there were several small sculptures on elaborately carved, wooden tables.
“Hello,” Ryan called out to the empty room.
“Coming,” a female voice replied.
A few seconds later, Nina Kirby emerged from a back office. Jessie recognized her from her firm’s website picture and the driver’s license photo Beth Ryerson had sent them on the way over. The woman’s real-life visage was somewhere in between the two. She looked neither as tired and washed out as her license, nor as glamorous as on the website.
Her blonde hair was short, as was she. Jessie, at five foot ten, was close to a foot taller than her. Kirby was stylishly dressed in a brown suede skirt, a cream blouse, and a black blazer. Jessie already knew that she was thirty-seven but would have guessed that range anyway. Kirby smiled warmly at them.
“How may I help you?” she asked, before focusing on her attention specifically on Jessie. “You look familiar to me.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Jessie replied, not explaining why. “We had a few questions for you.”
“That’s my specialty, answering questions,” Kirby said. “Would you like to come back to my office?”
“Sure,” Ryan said, and they followed her back, passing the open restroom at the end of the hall and turning left into her interior office.
It was as well-appointed as the waiting room, and she guided them to two antique chairs while she moved back behind her desk.
“I’m Nina, by the way,” she said, settling into her chair.
“I’m Ryan, and this is Jessie.”
“Nice to meet you,” Kirby said, “what can I do for you?”
“We’re interested in a meeting you had yesterday with Ava Martell,” Ryan told her, dispensing with the pleasantries now that the woman was a bit of a captive audience.
“Oh, do you know Ava?” Kirby asked.
“Only by reputation,” he acknowledged. “What was that meeting about?”
“Well, Ryan,” she replied with a tight smile, “as I’m sure you can imagine, I’m not able to discuss the content of my meetings with clients. It would be a violation of attorney-client privilege, just as it would be if I discussed the content of the conversation we’re having now, should you hire me.”
“Mrs. Kirby,” he said flatly, “that won’t be a concern as we’re not looking to hire you. My full name is Ryan Hernandez, and I'm a detective with the Los Angeles Police Department. Jessie works for LAPD as well. We’re here for information.”
Kirby frowned briefly, then stopped as she seemed to come to a realization.
“I know why I recognize you!” she said to Jessie. “You’re Jessie Hunt, the famous profiler.”
“That’s right,” Jessie admitted, “and we could really use your help.”
“I’d love to help,” Kirby said sunnily, “but unfortunately, and you surely know this as well as me, my client’s privilege doesn’t go away when I speak with law enforcement. Now, I'm happy to call Ava and see if she'll consider waiving it, but I wouldn’t hold my breath on that. That was a point of emphasis for her as well.”
"I'm afraid we can't call her Mrs. Kirby,” Ryan said matter-of-factly. “She was found dead this morning.”
Jessie, who knew the revelation was coming, watched closely for Kirby’s reaction. For a moment, there was none, as his words didn't seem to register with the lawyer. Then, after a couple of seconds, her mouth dropped open. She swallowed hard, tried to form words, then closed her mouth. After a moment, she tried again.
"I'm sorry, but did you really say that Ava is dead?"
“I did,” he confirmed.
“Oh my god,” she muttered as she reached for a glass of water on her desk. She misjudged and instead knocked it over. The liquid spread across her desk, but she made no move to clean it up.
“Do you need some help?” Jessie asked, nodding at the papers that were getting soaked. She couldn’t confidently determine whether Kirby’s response was one of genuine shock or an act.
Kirby glanced down, apparently briefly confused. Then she managed to reply.
