Less than an hour later, there’s a knock on my door. I call out “Come in!” It’s my boss, Lauren Wright, on the other side. She smiles at me, flashing her perfect teeth, and then moves ever so slightly to the side, revealing that she’s not alone. Her husband stands beside her.

As man and wife, Lauren and her husband, Richard Trofino, are a study in contrasts. Lauren is tall and thin, with the look of a former ballerina, and her fair skin and red hair conjure the image of the all-American girl. By contrast, Richard’s olive complexion tells you that his family tree is 100 percent Italian. Even in his finely tailored suit, his powerful appendages and thick neck make him look like a wrestler. Although he’s barely taller than his wife, Richard conveys an intimidating presence—tempered by the fact that he’s also extremely handsome.

He smiles at me in a way that’s too familiar for my liking, especially in front of his wife. When I turn to gauge Lauren’s reaction, she immediately breaks eye contact.

“Richard and I have a dinner tonight, and he surprised me by making a visit here before we head uptown,” Lauren says by way of explaining her husband’s presence in our office, which is rarer than a blue moon.

“We’re dining with Ella Broden and her boyfriend,” Richard says.

I look past Richard to Lauren, who’s still standing at the threshold to my office. If looks could kill, I’m not sure which one of the three of us would be dead the quickest.

“Dana,” Lauren says, “could I talk to you for a second? It’s about the Dallenbach case.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she turns and walks out of my office, undoubtedly expecting me to follow. I look at Richard, who doesn’t seem the least bit inclined to move. I suppose that’s because Richard’s reached a point in his life where he doesn’t move for anyone. Everyone in his world either needs something from him or is afraid to cross him, and so he does what he pleases. In this instance, that apparently means he’s not going to budge.

I, of course, do not have that luxury. When my boss tells me to come, I do.

In the hallway, I see Lauren fifteen feet ahead, just entering her office. I give chase, passing the secretary we share, Rita DeSapio, without saying a word. The usual protocol is to ask her permission before entering her boss’s domain.

Lauren has left her door open, but when I enter I close it behind me. Anticipating my arrival, Lauren hasn’t gone behind her desk. Instead, she stands right in front of me.