“I had to stay awake,” she laughed.
“Something to tell Landon about,” I teased her.
AJ’s face fell, and her thin mouth pursed into a scowl. “Landon and I aren’t speaking,” she said indignantly.
“Oh, no,” Vicki said and leaned forward in her chair. “What happened?”
“He told me I’m a sellout,” AJ replied in a flippant tone, but I could see in her eyes it bothered her.
“How are you a sellout?” I asked as I settled into a chair and propped my feet up on the table.
All we were finding were dead ends. We might as well catch up on gossip.
“Apparently,” AJ drawled sarcastically, “by writing with a traditionalist view of U.S. history for the play, I’ve somehow become a conformist. But I told him, the play wouldn’t get published with an alt-history angle. He thinks I should have tried it and been true to ‘the message,’ is what he called it.”
Then she slammed down her notes and aimlessly clicked around on her laptop.
“But,” Vicki said, “that’s what Jerry was doing, and it was a piece of trash.”
“Thank you!” AJ exclaimed and threw her hands up in the air. “See that’s what I told him. But then he went on this whole thing about how I’m perpetuating lies by writing from a traditionalist viewpoint, and that I should put out something edgy that makes people think.” She rolled her eyes and mocked Landon’s voice. “‘Make people question their reality. Everything they know is wrong.’ Ugh.”
Vicki and I stifled laughter at her fairly accurate impression.
“There’s no time to write something that multi-faceted,” I replied.
“That’s what I said, too,” AJ groaned and raked her hand through her hair. “And then, the whole thing escalated out of control. He’s all like telling me I should put myself out there and try to make a difference in the world. And that’s why he’s in Chicago, and I’m still here.”
“Ooh,” I winced. “What a jerk.”
“So,” she continued, “I told him my work here is doing a lot more good for the world than him sitting on his ass in school, playing with a computer mouse.”
Vicki and I laughed at the burn.
“The truth hurts,” I snickered.
“And then,” AJ went on and shook her head, “then it just got insane. I don’t even know what was said anymore. I can’t keep track.”
“It sounds like he’s jealous,” Vicki remarked with raised eyebrows.
“See, that’s what I think.” AJ nodded. “So, I texted him and told him I was totally supportive when he wanted to do that stupid documentary.”
Landon had done a documentary on our team when we defended a murder case not too long ago. He was convinced the Illuminati was behind the murder of a nude dancer.
“And you know what,” AJ continued, ”just between us … I knew the idea was crap. But I went with it anyway to be supportive. And now, I start to get just a tiny, little thing for my writing, and it becomes, ‘oh yeah, your idea is crap.’ You know? I don’t need that in my life! And where is he right now? He’s not here! He’s off in Chicago eating authentic Japanese sushi with … sorority girls named Jemma and Stona, and they sit around and tell stories about the summer they spent at the Playboy Mansion. I mean, really. Who names their kid Stona? What kind of a name is that? They even sound like porn stars!”
I cleared my throat and scratched my head. She was clearly at the end of her rope here. We had all been running on fumes and pressure over the last few days, and it was getting to her.
“AJ, it’s been a long day,” I said gently, “and an even longer night before that. Why don’t you go home for a bit?”
“I’m fine,” she slammed down a stack of spreadsheets, “I’m too busy selling my soul to the devil of American elitist dogma to care about sleep.”
I sighed and ignored the fact that this was probably a veiled dig at our firm being part of the “system.”
“Okay,” I said. “Do you want to get away from all of this for a while? We can take over.”
“Totally,” Vicki agreed and nodded vehemently. “At least go get some coffee. You’re losing it.”
“Fine,” AJ huffed and threw up her hands. “Anyone need anything from Jitters?”
“No,” I replied as I flashed a quick smile. “Just go read a book or something. Or go home and take a nap. We can hold down the fort for a while.”
“Thanks,” she sighed before she shuffled out of the office like a zombie.
Then Vicki took over her post at the hi-fi terminal where AJ had spreadsheets full of notes and stickies.
“Verb tenses?” Vicki mused as she fingered a sticky note on AJ’s laptop.
“He had so many languages in those tapes,” I commented with a shrug. “I guess she was trying to piece it all together.”
“Geez,” Vicki muttered and shook her head. “This is a project.”
I nodded. “I need to find out where the police are in their investigation.”
“Great,” she clapped her hands together, “I’ll man the battle station here. See if I find anything.”
“Other than a migraine?” I snorted as I took a sip of coffee.
“I think AJ already found that one,” Vicki laughed. “We’re good on migraines.”
I chuckled and left Vicki to take over the recordings. Then I pulled out my phone and called Officer Durant.
“Officer Durant,” he answered after several rings.
“This is Henry Irving,” I replied. “How are you doing?”
“Irving,” he said slowly. “Yeah, good to hear from you. I’ve been uh … meaning to call you.”
“Oh yeah?” I said as I leaned my chair back on two legs. “Why is that?”
“Look,” he sighed, “we’re out of time on this Steele case. We’re moving
