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Tony and he shook, the assessment mutual. “Mr. Longley.”
Longley looked to be in his fifties, dark hair shot with silver, but he was handsome, lean and athletic, just as Alan Schuh was, and maybe five foot ten. Deeply tanned—did these guys spend a lot of time on the golf course?—so that his skin was as dark as Tony’s, sharpening the effect of his gray eyes. Spending that much time in the sun or a tanning booth didn’t seem smart, but he looked good and had an air that probably worked especially well with female clients and jurors.
He gestured Tony to a cluster of upholstered chairs around a coffee table on one side of the large office. “Please, have a seat.”
Doing so, Tony said, “Thank you for seeing me so promptly, Mr. Longley. As you may have guessed, I’m here because of Christine Marshall’s murder.”
He nodded, his face set in serious lines. “I assumed that, but I’m not sure how you think I can help.”
“I understand that she met you on the job. I was surprised that tax law isn’t your specialty.”
“Frenchman Lake isn’t a large town,” he said, leaning back comfortably and steepling his fingers. “As a result, none of us can afford to narrow our focus too much. Will Schaaf comes the closest, with his interest in criminal law, but even he also handles some malpractice and personal injury.”
Schaaf was the asshole Tony had faced in court a couple times. He nodded to express his interest.
“Russ Parsons does divorce and family law, as well as, oh, this and that. My bailiwick is wills, trusts and estates, including real estate law, some business, partnership and incorporation law, that kind of thing. Except for longtime clients, we stay away from bankruptcy, DUIs, Social Security.” He said the last with a hint of disdain that was hard to justify considering how vicious divorces and child custody battles often were. And then there was the criminal law part of the practice.
“So anything to do with money comes your way,” Tony said.
“Well…it’s considerably more complex than that, but I suppose if we’re to simplify, the answer would be yes.”
Tony wondered if Longley patronized his clients the same way. “I can see why Christine’s business would intersect with yours.”
“That’s right. We had several clients in common.”
“And your firm? Did her firm handle your taxes?”
His tone cooled. “As a matter of fact, they did and still do. However, Christine chose to work part time and confined herself to clients whose returns were more straightforward than ours.”
Tony read this to mean people who actually expected to pay the taxes they owed.
“I see. Had you known her husband before this…friendship developed?”
The light gray eyes narrowed a fraction. “No, we found ourselves occasionally meeting for coffee and the like and decided to introduce our respective spouses.”
“In your case, Teresa.”
“You have done your research.” And he wasn’t thrilled.
“A necessary part of my job. In this case, Ms. Marshall—Beth—recalled having your wife as her school counselor.”
He smiled. “Oh, yes. As it happens, Teresa and I divorced nearly ten years ago. I believe she’s in the Tri-Cities now.”
“And have you remarried, Mr. Longley?”
His posture became less relaxed. “How is this relevant?”
“I doubt it is. I’m principally curious how your ex-wife felt about your…friendship with Christine.” The pause had been brief, but Longley heard it.
He sat up and gripped the arms of his chair. “Does throwing out vague accusations work well for you, Detective?”
Tony let himself smile. “Quite often it does, in fact. I didn’t mean that as an accusation, however. It’s just that male-female friendships are still somewhat unusual and subject to misunderstandings.”
“Again, I don’t understand what this has to do with her murder.”
Tony leaned forward, injecting some of his intensity into his voice. “Someone killed Christine Marshall. That someone likely knew her well and was familiar with the house. We’re not talking about a stranger happening to find her home alone.”
