The Best Friend (Broden Legal #3) - Adam Mitzner Page 0,1

a few times, as if he’d just awakened. “Clinton,” he said, almost like a question. It was then I noticed that his shirt was still damp. He must have found Carolyn in the bathtub and pulled her out.

Nicky and I weren’t huggers. Even at our weddings, where we’d each stood up for the other as best man, neither of us engaged in any greater expression of intimacy than a pat on the back.

The one exception to our mutual disdain of physical affection occurred when we were twenty and both juniors in college. My parents had been killed by a drunk driver the night before, but word had reached me only that morning. I had returned home in a daze, unable to fathom the sea change in my life that had come without warning and left me alone in the world. That reality came painfully to the fore when I reached my house and realized that there was no reason to enter. Instead, I went to the Zamoras’ home, which was across the street.

Nicky and I were both only children, and we’d moved in and out of each other’s homes in our childhood with such regularity that we were more like brothers than most actual brothers I knew. I was sitting in their living room when Nicky entered. He must have hightailed it down from Vermont the moment his parents told him the news.

He ran right up to me and pulled me in, holding on tight. I think he even kissed my cheek. I know he said, “I love you, Clinton. We’re your family now.”

That memory was front and center when I saw Nicky on the day Carolyn died. As he had with me, I embraced him and held on tight.

“I’m sorry, Nicky,” I said. “You know I love you.”

The police allowed us a moment but not much more than that. “Excuse me,” one of the detectives said. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.”

Nicky and I separated. “I’d like to have a minute to talk with Nicky, alone, please,” I said.

Detective Lynch didn’t give my request a moment’s thought. “No,” he said flatly. “We’ll be done very soon, and then you can talk with Mr. McDermott. But until then, I’m going to need for you to step into the other room.”

To emphasize that my presence was no longer welcome, Detective Lynch’s partner put his hand on my elbow. Their dismissal made my blood run hot. I yanked my arm away from him.

“His name is Zamora,” I said sharply.

“What?” the detective said.

“Carolyn—his wife—her last name is McDermott. His name is Nicky . . . Nicholas Zamora.”

Detective Lynch tried to put things back on track. He turned to Nicky and said, “Our apologies, Mr. Zamora.”

Nicky made eye contact but didn’t seem present. He gave no verbal response, and his expression remained unchanged.

Detective Lynch stared at me until I met his gaze. “You’re still going to have to leave, sir.”

I took another look at Nicky, who was obviously in shock. I played the only card I had.

“I’m Mr. Zamora’s lawyer. So I’m going to have to ask the two of you to give my client and me a few moments to confer. After we talk, then he can continue with you.”

This was checkmate. The only thing that trumps the police is the constitutional right to counsel.

The other detective looked like he wanted to take a swing at me, but Lynch seemed to understand that the power dynamic had shifted.

“We’ll be right outside,” he said.

I led Nicky into the guest bedroom. When Anne and I first got the tour of the house, Carolyn had made no pretense about this space being earmarked to become a nursery. The moment we entered the room, Nicky crumpled onto the bed. His hands immediately came up to his face, almost as if he were trying to hide. Then he began to cry, his body convulsing with each sob.

In short order, a knock came on the door. I was opening it when a push came from the other side.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Detective Lynch said, “but Detective Mercado and I need to finish taking Mr. Zamora’s statement.”

“Okay,” Nicky said, wiping his eyes.

I moved slightly to the side, allowing the detectives to face Nicky. At least now they weren’t going to ask me to leave.

Had I truly been wearing my lawyer hat, I would have shut down the interrogation. But despite what I’d told the detectives, I was there as Nicky’s best friend, not his lawyer. That Carolyn’s death