A commotion outside the door of Vrbinski, Neil, and Kurt brought all the work inside the law firm office to a complete stop. No typing. No talking. Even Ms. Amy Kurt, starting to make her usual vanilla latte, stopped dead in the tracks from tamping her espresso. Voices on the other side of the heavy wooden door sounded muted. Amy, a recently divorced mother of two, was trying to figure out what was happening without walking out the door. The kitchen was closest to the front door on the fourth floor of a six-story office building in the heart of Newport Beach, California.

Knowing that the kitchen was the best vantage point from which to listen, Amy’s personal assistant stood next to her boss, eyebrows raised, shrugging her shoulders. Any idea who it is, she mouthed to her boss. Inside the law firm it was well known that Amy was an expert with body language and, shortly before her divorce, learned how to read lips. Her exceptional talent remained a corporate secret at the law firm, and David Neil, one of the other partners, kept it hidden. David knew that Amy’s gift would serve the law firm’s clients and her career well. The second everyone learned of her gift, that’s when mouths would be covered. Then, there would be no upper hand other than Amy’s incredible gift of learning all she could through research and discovery.

Mark walked into the kitchen in his socks. He liked his leather shoes, but he thought better with them off. It wasn’t uncommon for staff to see him walking around the carpeted floor without shoes. What’s going on, he mouthed to Amy. Amy shrugged, as did Candice, her assistant. Amy sighed, rolled her eyes, pointed at her boss, and mouthed to him, I’m going to go check. Mark shrugged back.

After taking a deep breath, Amy opened the door, pretending she was on the phone, talking to a client. The yelling continued, a woman shouting at a well-dressed gentleman, not an unusual sight in Orange County California. She ended her pretend call with, “Let me call you back in a minute, Sara.”

“I said get away from me, Brian!” From Amy’s vantage point, she appeared to be backed up against the wall. “Tell him to back the hell up!” She looked at Amy.

“What’s going on?” Amy asked.

“She’s being unreasonable and won’t give me my car keys,” Brian said, backing up, hands raised in surrender. “I’ll drop the suit and walk away if you give me back the keys to the Maserati, Emily.”

“Is that true?” Amy asked. She quickly scanned her for cuts, bruising, or torn clothing. No signs of her being brutalized. And in her work, she learned the difference between the women lying through their teeth, and those who wanted to take advantage of wealthy men in Orange County. This felt like that kind of deal. She asked some more questions. “Do you have his car keys?” Emily’s right hand was balled up in a fist. Amy guessed that was where the key fob was. Emily was gritting her teeth, not the sign of an abused woman. “Brian? Can you back up to the end of the hallway for me?” At the hallway’s end was a staircase to the third floor. Elevators were faster, but sometimes you needed the exercise.

“I just want my keys back. And then I’ll go. Emily, you know you are being unreasonable.”

“You can go to hell!” Emily shouted at him, trying to charge through Amy. Having lived through a few problematic encounters, Amy stopped her, planting her weight on her right foot, pressing into Emily. It prevented her from moving anywhere close to Brian, but Emily was strong. Not as strong as Amy, but enough that it took Amy off guard.

“Hey, Emily,” Amy almost whispered, “I need you to give me the fob, and this can all be over. Otherwise, I’m sure someone in that office,” she pointed to the door she came out of, “will or has called the Newport police. That’s not something you want to deal with today. Because, I’m an attorney, and I’d be willing to bet that Brian could have you charged with grand theft auto, and if it’s a real Maserati? You’d be looking at some very hefty charges. So, give me the key, and we’ll talk more about what’s happening, okay?” Amy held out her hand, and Emily gave up trying to get past her.

Emily sighed, shoulders slumping, and pushed the key fob into Amy’s hand. “Choke on that key, Brian!”

“Stay here,” Amy said. Seven people poked their heads out into the hallway outside the various office spaces, the largest of which was Amy’s law firm. “Nothing to see out here, guys. It’s under control.” She looked back over her shoulder seeing Gina, a nosey office neighbor, realtor, and sometimes insurance agent on her phone. “Gina? Did you call the police?”

Gina shook her head rapidly. “No. I swear I didn’t.”

Outside, Amy could see the lights from three police cars reflecting off the building. “Is that so?”

Emily started to walk past Amy. “Excuse me, but I’m leaving.”

“Not until we get to the bottom of this. You can talk to the police. It won’t take long.” Amy handed the fob to Brian.

“Thank you.” His curt reply set off Emily, and she strained to get him, Amy grabbing ahold of her, keeping her from doing anything else that would be stupid. Taking the key was bad enough, but now that Brian had it in his possession? He couldn’t say she stole it. A technicality but enough of one that any judge in O.C. would throw it out. Brian straightened out his suit, strolling down the staircase to the third floor. If Amy had to guess, he’d take the elevator from floor number three to the ground level and out to his car.

“Now, you want to tell me what this is all about?”