The first thing I remembered about that day was being painfully nervous.

Indeed, I had never felt so fidgety since my first day of primary school, and entering the oh-so-foreboding legal circuit was exactly the same. A new, dangerous world opening up right before my eyes like the pages of a horror story. As I stared at my own twin brother through the glass panel of the detention cell, I wanted very much to go home and curl up in my bed. This was my first case, and it came like a bullet to the head. Hard and sharp.

Oh! I have not yet introduced myself. Forgive me. I’m Kerrigan Turner, I’m 23-years-old and I’m a defence attorney. I studied law in America, and I’ve been working at the Goldbeck Law Offices in Lewiston, Maine, for about six months (and thanks to my co-workers I could add the frankly annoying nickname of ‘Princess,’ to my repertoire, they think it’s funny because I’m originally from England, and I’ve sometimes considered forcing an American accent upon myself just to shut them up). You must forgive me for prattling on, you see even as I write this my nerves are still very much on edge, just a moment ago I could see my hand shaking. I never thought my very first real case would hit so close to home, but you gaze at these pages for a story, and I will oblige.

8:30 A.M.

I arrived at the office a bit earlier than usual and let myself in. I was woken up by a cat fight outside (which I promptly ended with a well-aimed throw of my socks, although it would be safe to say a passing car made them thoroughly irretrievable moments later), and when I couldn’t go back to sleep, I had breakfast and walked. No. Not quite. Before leaving, I walked into the same wall that always barred my way. My eyes were drawn to the doorknob, and my hand reached out to wipe my thumb across its dull, bronze surface exactly five times. It’s a habit that’s been with me for years, and I’ve never known the reason. My family, or rather the few members of my family who are aware of this, put it down to some variety of autism. Even writing that word causes a sharp drop in my self-esteem, because it hardly seems appropriate for someone in my profession to have.

The office is only about three streets away from the guesthouse run by Mr and Mrs Hudson. Maybe I could find something to keep myself busy. When I did arrive, I found Mr Goldbeck’s secretary, Christa Lime, unlocking the door on the ninth floor of Cypress Mansions.

“Ah, good morning, Kerry,” she greeted me. I smiled. Christa was the only other woman working here, and through that faint psychic network women share, she knew how much I hated nicknames, and compared to ‘Princess,’ I can’t really complain about ‘Kerry.’

“Morning, Christa,” I replied. We enjoyed a brief chat before going inside. As always, the office was immaculate, and also absolutely magnificent. The carpet was soft, neat and covered in green-and-gold oriental designs. The walls were a light green and lined with ornately carved white skirting. A painting of a court scene hung on one of these walls, and below it was a gold plaque with Mr Goldbeck’s motto engraved.



As Christa sat down behind her desk, the phone rang. I could not help to raise my brow. Who could possibly be calling at this time of the morning? Christa lifted the phone and gave her mentally recorded response: “Hello, Goldbeck Law Offices. Christa Lime speaking. How may I help you?” I was making my way over to the little desk I had on the other side of the room when the words reached my ears.

“Kerry…it’s for you.”

I curiously took the phone from her and pressed it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, Boo.”

I froze. Only one person ever called me ‘Boo,’ and lived to tell the tale. I glanced at Christa, who pretended to occupy herself by carrying some documents into one of the adjacent rooms. I clutched the receiver tightly. If it were alive I’m sure I would have choked it to death.

“Lemmy,” I spoke quietly, “is that you? What is it?”

My twin brother sounded dead serious, which could only mean something bad had happened. Lemuel Turner was known for his jovial nature, able to find the bright side in just about any situation, but he knew when to draw the line and when that happened, it was because of something big. No. Something huge.

“Boo,” he croaked, “you were the first person I thought of to call. Come down to the detention centre, we need to talk. Come now.”

He hung up. I’m not sure how long I stood there, clasping the phone to my skull. I felt my whole face heating up. It was only when Christa returned with two plastic cups of tea in her hands that I was finally able to move. Slowly. I knocked back the tea, feeling it burn my throat as it went down. I should have explained, I suppose, but I was in too much of a panic. I was out of the door in moments, leaving my poor friend to her confusion.

9:00 A.M.

It took me about twenty minutes to reach the detention centre, but another ten before they prepared Lemmy to speak with me. His strawberry-coloured hair, a genetic trait we shared, hung in its usual bangs over his eyes, which were ringed with purple marks from lack of sleep. I felt a lump in my throat at the sorry state he was in.

“Morning,” he said tonelessly.

“Morning, Lemmy,” I replied. “What happened to you?”

Lemmy fiddled with something inside his scarlet jacket, then settled down and smiled at me.

“Something bad,” he said, “but God, it’s been too long, Kerry. Really wish it was under better conditions.”

“That goes without saying,” I said, running my hand along the desk beneath the window. “Lemmy, what happened to you?”

“Whole case went pear-shaped,” he sighed. My brother had always took pride in being a skilled detective of notable acclaim, and the sudden blackness in his eyes told me just how much this was hurting him to admit. Before I could say anything to comfort him, he continued. “My own client, a woman named Mrs Janine Lamelle, was found dead in my office while I was out following up on the case she hired me for.”

“Case?” I interrupted. “Can you tell me about this case?”

“Normally, I’d say ‘no’,” said Lemmy, “but considering my own freedom may rest upon it, I’ll give you the bare bones of it. Mrs Lamelle asked me to follow a certain man for three days. Don’t ask why, she kept that to herself. Considering I had to keep my distance or risk being spotted, all I can say is that he had a bushy moustache and dark glasses, he covered himself with a scarf, trench coat and fedora hat whenever he went out.”

I knew I wouldn’t get anything else from that line of questioning, so I changed the subject. Even though we were family, Lemmy defended the concept of ‘client confidentiality’ no matter what. I can respect him for that, he had wanted to be a detective ever since reading about them as a kid, he was hardly likely to compromise his own beliefs, even in the face of danger.

“So were you the one who found the body?”

“No, the cleaning lady did. She was doing her rounds, the door of the office was open, she peaked in, and when she saw Mrs Lamelle she called the police immediately. When I got back that evening I walked right into them. Pushy bleeders, I can tell you.”

I sighed and brushed a few strands of hair out of my eyes. I had full faith that my brother was telling the truth, in my heart at least, but in my mind, in my logic centre, perhaps not so much.

“There’s only one way you’re getting out of this, so far as I can see,” I told him, “and that’s if you have an alibi. If somebody saw you tailing your man around the time your client was killed, then you’re safe.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, “that was a weak story, wasn’t it?” He was looking increasingly more troubled. His entire expression was darkened, and the pause that came with it…well, I now had a sinking feeling in the pit of my gut.

“You have no idea,” I groaned.

“Please…Kerrigan…”

Lemmy was suddenly hugging himself, hands digging into the material of his coat, his lips pulled so tight they disappeared into a thin line. He looked at me, and for the first time, I could see something in his eyes that was completely unlike my brother. He was somewhere between fear and anxiety, his expression was that of someone on the verge of tears.

“Kerrigan…defend me in court tomorrow…you…you’re the only one I thought to turn to…”

I pressed my hand against the window and said in a small voice, “I’ll do everything I can, Lemuel…I promise.”