Page 18 of Reckless Chance

“When it comes to legal issues, you better believe I’m serious. That’s how I keep my clients out of hot water. They know they can count on me. Let’s hurry. Have Ron find two pairs of plastic gloves and meet us at the tree. We need a witness to confirm we didn’t tamper with anything.”

My cock shouldn’t be twitching now. Damn, tough Lowri is hot as hell.

12

LOWRI

Sean is pissed off that the stage manager and his team let this happen. He’s ready to chop their heads off for signing off on the safety of the elevated platform wedged at the base of the three main branches of the tree. If it wasn’t sturdy enough for one average-size man, then no one should have been allowed to stand on the platform.

As we walk toward the tree at the center of the stage, I quietly caution him to keep those concerns to himself until he can talk with his lawyer under the protection of attorney-client privilege. Anyone else he speaks with could be forced to share what he said if there’s a lawsuit. He needs to be careful not to assume the Athena has done anything wrong until after the investigation.

He's not happy but knows his attorney would give him the same advice. He asks, “Then I shouldn’t be talking to you. You’re not my attorney.”

“Technically, I’m notyourattorney. There’s no attorney-client privilege.” Then it hits me, and I slowly say, “However, Iamyour wife. Anything we say to each other while married is privileged.”

“Excellent. That’s a useful twist.”

“Let’s get started. While we wait for Ron, we can walk around the outside of the tree. If you see anything out of the ordinary, point it out and take a photo. It could be evidence of tampering or faulty construction.”

“Understood.”

After making two full circuits around the tree, nothing is obvious.

“There’s Ron,” Sean says.

“Here are the gloves you wanted.”

“Thanks. We’re going to look inside. We want you to witness that we are only looking around. We’re not going to move anything,” I explain.

“Okay.” Ron nods.

Sean and I don the plastic gloves and peer through the open doorway on the back side of the tree prop.

Despite my bravado, my stomach churns, knowing a man just died here. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I muster my courage and focus on determining why the platform collapsed.

Analyzing the interior of the tree, we see that the trunk consists of a small, hollow room supported by vertical metal posts.

Turning to Ron, I ask, “What is this space used for?”

“It was designed for someone to be inside the tree when it’s rolled onto the stage. That person would use an interior ladder to climb up to the platform when it was time for them to appear for an acrobatic scene. They were going to swing from the tree.”

“No one was inside the tree trunk tonight, were they?” I ask.

“That’s correct. We aren’t using this space now. After the prop was designed, the show’s producer eliminated that acrobatic scene. He replaced it with the scene where the audience member climbs an exterior ladder and sets off the final fireworks from the platform.”

“How did Mr. Brentwood fall?”

“There’s a trap door in the center of the platform to allow a person in the tree trunk to climb up. For some reason, the door fell open, and he dropped into the trunk.

“Where’s the trap door now?” Sean asks.

“It’s hanging on its hinges,” Ron says, pointing to a square piece of wood dangling inside the tree.

“Why wasn’t the door secured shut?” I ask.

“It was secured from below. I don’t understand how this happened,” Ron says.

“Could Mr. Brentwood have opened the trap door from the top of the platform?” Sean asks.