My stapler was missing. The gap reserved for it on my desk yawned like a giant mouth, beckoning me to fill it. I'd only left work a few hours early on Friday to catch the plane to Vegas! Seriously, you cannot trust anyone in the Roxburg D.A.'s office. I pushed out of my chair and poked my head over the partition to speak to my P.A. Beverley wasn't just my P.A. She worked for our three-person team, but she felt like mine. I was the one she always came to when she needed something clarified, or when she had a complaint about one of the other attorneys. She was a middle-aged woman, about my mother's age, and she was sweet as apple pie.
"Beverley, have you seen my stapler?"
She blinked back at me with watery eyes and sniffed.
"I wasn't accusing you!" I protested. "I was just wondering where
