“Sorry, we need them,” said Marjorie Holman. “Our attorney has instructed us to place all the furniture and equipment in storage, so we can show that Helga clearly abandoned the office.”

Criminal trumps civil, but Milo didn’t push it. “Those websites—”

“Were sent to Helga. We had no idea the two of them had any relationship beyond the firm. On the contrary, Helga claimed not to even like Des.”

“Even though she hired him?”

Cohen said, “Helga was good at putting things—and people—in boxes.”

“Acceptable professionally,” said Milo. “Unacceptable personally.”

Holman said, “There was no ‘personally.’ The woman is coldblooded. As was her version of green.”

Cohen said, “The unfortunate truth is, a strong misanthropic streak exists within the green community. But it’s a minority view and Helga seemed to take it to the extreme.”

“Plagues and wars.”

Holman said, “Des sent her j-pegs of burned-out buildings and she sent him LOLs and happy faces. Singing the praises of ‘selective pyrotechnics’ as a tool of ‘biological cleansing.’”

Milo had her repeat that, scribbled in his pad.

Cohen said, “What was surprising was Des mirroring Helga’s point of view. He had seemed so sociable and humanistic. Talked about his niece, wanting to build a better world for her.”

Holman said, “She’s capable of anything, probably killed Des simply because she felt like it. Or maybe he was supposed to burn down that house, chickened out, and she executed him for disloyalty to the fatherland, whatever.”

Milo said, “Who’s your attorney?”

Holman said, “Manny—Emmanuel Forbush.”

Cohen said, “Forbush, Ziskin and Shapiro. Here’s their number.”

“Thank you, sir. What else?”

Holman said, “That’s not enough?”

“It’s a good start, Ms. Holman—”

“Then get going with it. Run that bitch into the ground and do the world a favor.” Making progress on the booze slur. She drank, spilled gin on her lap. Cohen handed her a tissue. She ignored him, drank some more.

Milo said, “Any idea where Helga is, ma’am?”

“For all I know, she’s back in Shwitzerland.”

“Why Switzerland?”

“Because that’s where she’s from.”

“Thought she was Austrian.”

“She was born in Austria but the family moved to Spritz-Shwitzlerland, her father owns a bank there. Manny found that out easily enough.”

“Do you have the bank’s name?”

“Why would I?”

Judah Cohen said, “GGI-Alter Privatbank, Zurich. The address is a postfach—a post office box.”

Holman stared at him. “You should go on Jee-epardy.”

Milo said, “A bank with no office?”

“I’m sure there’s an office,” said Cohen, “but perhaps they’re all about investing, have no interest in walk-ins. Apparently, it’s not unusual in Zurich, according to Emmanuel Forbush. He’s sent several certified letters but no answer so far, feels a civil suit will take years to unravel, we need to be patient. If we choose to persist.”

Holman said, “Oh, we choose, all right.”

Cohen didn’t answer.