Czytaj książkę: «Her Best Defense»

“You’ve already convicted her!”

“Not me, babe. I’m not on the case.”

“Sorry, but I’ve never known the police to move that fast before.” Lisa leaned forward. “There’s something more, isn’t there? What is it, Kurt?”

He sat there and stared into her eyes for a long tension-filled moment. She neither blinked nor backed down.

“Well, you’re going to hear about it from the prosecutor soon, I’m sure, so I’ll tell you if you swear you didn’t hear it from me. I don’t intend to lose my badge over this.”

Lisa’s pulse quickened. “For the record, no one will ever hear from me that you gave me any information, all right?”

“There was an eyewitness.”

Dear Reader,

This book began as a plot suggestion—quite detailed—from my editor, Mary-Theresa Hussey. Besides being a wonderful editor, this lady has a great imagination and I have truly enjoyed working with her.

She phoned one day with an invitation to do a book for Silhouette’s new Bombshell line. After some discussion I agreed and it took off from there.

At this point I would like to introduce my coauthor, Lori Myles, who is my daughter. Kaye, her real name, has always wanted to write, ever since she was a very young child. I still have her first book, written in block letters on lined grade school paper. It’s about an elephant and rather amazing because she set up the story and carried it through to an appropriate ending.

We have loved working together and plan to continue writing as a team. We both hope that you’ll be seeing many books on the shelves written by Jackie Merritt and Lori Myles.

Jackie Merritt

A note from Lori: It’s been a wonderful experience writing with my mother, and I would like to thank Mary-Theresa and Silhouette for giving me this opportunity.

Lori Myles

Her Best Defense
Jackie Merritt and Lori Myles

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JACKIE MERRITT

is still writing, just not with the speed and constancy of years past. She and her husband are living in southern Nevada again, falling back on old habits of loving the long, warm or slightly cool winters and trying almost desperately to head north for the months of July and August, when the fiery sun bakes people and cacti alike. She has written dozens of novels for Silhouette Books.

LORI MYLES

was born and raised in Idaho and moved to Nevada shortly after graduating high school. After college and many years of traveling for her job, including a two-year stint in Japan, she now calls Henderson, Nevada, home.

For the past several years she worked in the convention industry in Las Vegas, and while she enjoyed “show” business very much, her heart lay in the world of words. She still has boxes and boxes of stories she wrote over the years and her mother, Jackie Merritt, still has the first story she ever wrote, when she was in the third grade.

She is very excited to have this book out and hopes it leads to more and more and more…!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

Prologue

Sixteen years ago

Chicago, Illinois

The alley was dark, lit only by lone streetlights at either end. At best, those lights illuminated no more then a few feet of the alley, casting shadows that bespoke of hidden, unspeakable things. The middle of the alley looked as if it had been swallowed by the night, and his stomach churned with dread. Was blackness and an eerie silence the reason that this particular place had been chosen for the meeting?

He looked around before entering the alleyway. The buildings on either side appeared to be deserted.

Again, not a good sign.

But it wasn’t just the lack of light that was unnerving; the lack of sound was equally as injurious to his normal courage. No cars passed by, no voices could be heard, no music wafting through windows. The only sounds now were those of his shoes softly shuffling against the pavement and a lone dog barking somewhere off in the distance.

“That’s far enough,” he heard from out of the darkness.

“Step out so I can see you,” he addressed the shadows.

“You don’t need to see anything.”

But he did see something. A glint of light, a flash of sorts, but all too late. He felt the bullets entering his body at the same time he heard the shots. Everything went black.

“You shot him! What the hell did you do that for? I thought we were only going to talk to him.”

“Shut up and get over there. Make sure he’s dead.”

“Hey, I want nothing to do with this.”

“Johnny, go make sure he’s dead while I have a little talk with Paulie here.”

“Sure, boss.”

The barrel of the gun jammed into his guts. For a few seconds, Paulie thought he was going to be next. Out of instinct, he grabbed at the gun; at the same time, he felt his boss releasing the weapon into his possession.

“Now you got something to do with this.”

Paulie knew he’d just been framed for murder. “What do you want me to do, boss?”

“Get rid of the gun, stupid. Unless you want to go to prison.”

“Yeah, he’s dead,” Johnny hollered back.

“Good, now let’s get out of here.”

Chapter 1

Present day

Lisa Jensen entered The Pub at 6:15 p.m. Polished wood and brass, indirect lighting, unobtrusive background music and friendly service made The Pub the perfect place to relax after a long and strenuous day of work. Lisa had stopped briefly to deposit files in her office at the law firm of Bonner, Drake, Ludlow and Kirten, a mid-sized firm in the heart of Chicago’s famed Loop with a reputation for successful litigation and criminal defense. It occupied the sixteenth and seventeenth floors of the Ridge Building, a gray, quarried rock structure just minutes away from the courthouse as well as most of the other city offices. Lisa had always felt that the original partners had chosen their place of business perfectly when they’d selected this site thirty years ago.

“Especially this part of the operation,” Lisa said as she spotted her friends and began walking toward the group. The Pub was located on the first floor of the Ridge Building and on Wednesday nights Lisa met—whenever she could make it—with others from work for a drink and some good conversation.

The place was busy so she had to wind her way through several other groups to get to hers. She knew many of the people she passed or bumped into along the way. Most were also attorneys, housed, as she was, in upper level offices.

She heard “Hey, Lisa!” coming from several different directions, but it wasn’t until she was within a few feet of her friends that they spotted her. And when she did get close, she almost wished she had bypassed The Pub that night. Everyone there from her firm stood and clapped, whistled and cheered as she approached.

“Will you guys stop?” she said as she looked around and saw that practically everyone else in The Pub had put their drinks down to grin and gawk at what was going on in the far corner.

“Hey, golden girl,” Larry called out. “What are you drinking tonight? The first one’s on me.”

“And you stop with that golden girl nonsense,” Lisa shot back good-naturedly.

“I don’t know, Lisa,” Darren McCaffery, another junior associate said, “I think Larry might have something there. What is this? Your twelfth straight win?”

“Actually, it’s my thirteenth. But who’s counting,” she said with a teasing grin.

A space was opened for Lisa at the two tables the group had joined together, and before she could say Jack Frost, an icy cold beer was set in front of her.

“You know, winning thirteen consecutive cases is an accomplishment to be proud of,” Pamela said as Lisa took her first sip. “And if you consider the type of cases Ludlow has given you lately, you really are the firm’s golden girl.”

“Come on, Pam, not you, too. You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“I wonder if we’ll still be friends when you’re moved upstairs,” Pamela commented.

“Oh, please!” Lisa said, nearly spilling her beer. “You know me better than that. Besides, I don’t think I’ll be moving anywhere in the near future.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Madeline chimed in.

Madeline was the sixteenth-floor receptionist and crucial to everyone on the floor. It wasn’t just her expertise with the complicated telephone system or the way she handled visitors and clients that had her held in such high esteem by her co-workers. What made Madeline special was her knowledge of everything that went on in the firm. Some said it was because of a long-term affair she was supposedly having with one of the firm’s senior partners, Philip Bonner. Others speculated that it was simply because she had been there for so many years. Whatever the case, Lisa was glad she could call the woman a friend.

“You heard it here first,” Pamela said.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Lisa replied, making light of a subject dear to her heart.

Moving upstairs would mean a huge promotion and it was, of course, what every associate was working toward. Moving upstairs meant a junior partnership and that was something that wasn’t offered very often or taken lightly. Lisa felt her heart picking up its pace just from thinking about such a move.

“Hey, Lisa,” Larry called from the other end of the two tables, “tell us about court today.”

Lisa shook her head. Larry Lutz was the firm’s researcher and another valuable asset. He loved to tease her about her success because he knew she was never the type to brag, like the other lawyers they all knew.

“We can certainly find something more interesting than that to talk about,” she called back with her face screwed up in a comical expression that made the others laugh.

Then she unconsciously pushed her shoulder-length blond hair behind her left ear, and was completely unaware of how one particular light fixture beamed directly on her and turned her hair color to gleaming gold. She was a pretty woman, twenty-eight years of age, with dark eyes and beautifully shaped lips. She was five feet six inches tall and weighed in at 120. She loved high heels and extravagant shoes, and would willingly spend much more on a pair of elegant designer shoes than on one of the business suits she favored for work.

A round of jokes began, with everyone getting in on the fun. The group was laughing and cutting up when someone tapped Lisa on the shoulder. She glanced up and saw Grant Gowan, a handsome young attorney with one of the other law firms in the building. Grant was smiling down at her, his light brown eyes sparkling.

“You’re all having entirely too much fun over here,” he said and heard a round of good-natured boos in response. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I really came over to speak to Lisa.” He put a hand on the table and leaned toward her. “Do you mind?”

“Mind talking to you? Of course not. But you might have to yell to be heard over this bunch.”

“I’ll lean in a bit more,” he said and did exactly that, putting his mouth very close to Lisa’s ear. “There’s a birthday party for Faith Unser tomorrow night. I know you know her and I thought you might like to go with me. It’s being held at John and Rita Bryant’s apartment. You’ve met them, haven’t you?”

Lisa gave a slight nod. “Yes, we’ve met. Sure, I’ll go with you.”

“How about I give you a call tomorrow and we’ll firm up our plans? It’s pretty hard to talk in here.”

“Good idea.” She smiled as Grant straightened up, nodded and walked away.

“Now, pray tell what that was all about,” Pamela said with a raised eyebrow. Madeline was all ears, too, Lisa saw. “Grant is quite a hunk,” Pamela added. “How long has this been going on?”

Lisa laughed. “Nothing’s going on, so put your wild imagination back in its cage.”

“A man whispering in a woman’s ear is nothing?” Pamela’s left eyebrow was still higher than the right.

Lisa playfully decided to let them all wonder about Grant. Even the men at the table wore expressions of downright nosiness, which brought out her devilish side.

“I never talk about anything that a man whispers in my ear,” she said with a teasing little grin. “That’s just the way I am.”

“Well, I can pretty much guess what it was, so there!” Pamela shot back.

“Taken up mind reading, have we, Pam?”

“You’re incorrigible. You know you’re going to tell me all about it sooner or later.” Pamela turned to the others at the table and began relating a joke.

Lisa chuckled to herself. She had unwound beautifully with one glass of beer and some laughs. The Pub was good medicine for a hardworking attorney who had spent most of the day in a courtroom, winning her thirteenth consecutive case.

Lisa was home shortly after nine. Home was a renovated town house, circa 1920, and she loved it. It was the most significant purchase of her life. After moving in, she had spent a lot of time and money on personalizing the two-story, long, narrow building with its small but wonderful backyard.

In the foyer, she set her briefcase and purse on the ancient library table she’d run across in a secondhand shop and fallen madly in love with—she was a sucker for furnishings from past eras—stepped out of her high heels and took off her suit jacket. She loved the smell of her home, a combination of old wood, furniture polish, her favorite perfume and something she couldn’t positively identify but liked thinking as her unique scent.

Shoeless, Lisa went into the kitchen, took some cheese and fruit, which she figured would do nicely for her supper, from the refrigerator and then returned to the foyer for her briefcase. She left her shoes and jacket to be put away in the morning, whereupon she went upstairs to the small room she used as a home office. Seated at her desk, she took a bite of cheese and dialed her mother’s telephone number. Claudia Caputo answered at once.

“Hi, Mom, what’s up?”

“Nothing new, honey. Another day, another dollar.”

Lisa had long ago formed the habit of calling her mother every day. They both looked forward to their daily chat.

“I won in court today,” Lisa said.

“Of course you did.”

“I’m not always going to win, Mom.”

“Well, if you don’t, you should have.”

“Always on my team, aren’t you?”

“Always, honey.”

“I dropped into The Pub for a drink with the gang,” Lisa said. “And a guy asked me to go to a birthday party with him tomorrow evening. What do you think of that?”

“Is he young, handsome and sexy?”

“Mom!”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, why would you want to go out with an ugly old coot?”

Lisa couldn’t help laughing. “He’s young and good-looking, but sexy? I don’t know about that.”

“You’d know, believe me, you’d know,” Claudia said dryly. “You knew with Bobby, didn’t you?”

Lisa had married Bobby Jensen while they were both still in college. It hadn’t lasted; he hadn’t been able to keep his pants zipped around other women. She had kept her married name for no particular reason and sometimes wished she hadn’t as it was an unneeded reminder of Bobby. Legally changing it back to Caputo would be a pain at this late date, though. She was Lisa Jensen to Chicago’s legal community, and Lisa Jensen she would remain.

“Yes, I knew with Bobby,” she said quietly. “And so did every other woman on campus. Mom, I’m going to say goodnight. It’s been a long day and I’m beat.”

“All right, honey. Get a good night’s sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Lisa hung up and finished eating her fruit and cheese while staring off into space. She hated thinking about her short-lived marriage, she really did. For one thing, Bobby’s overactive libido and almost constant infidelity had left her extremely cautious with other men. She believed with all her heart and soul in total faithfulness between committed partners, and had to wonder—from firsthand experience—if there was such a thing as a man who felt the same way.

“Oh, to hell with it,” she muttered, getting up from her desk, turning out the light and going to her bedroom to hit the sack. She hadn’t lied to her mother about being beat; she was asleep shortly after her head hit the pillow.

It was May, pleasantly warm during the day and chilly at night. Not consistently, of course. Chicago was known for its erratic weather, and at this time of year it could be hot and sunny one day and snowing the next. Lake Michigan was beautiful to the eye, a fabulous playground for water and beach enthusiasts, and essential to Chicago’s commerce, but it could stir up a dilly of a storm in the blink of an eye. Lisa enjoyed the good weather when it came along and endured the bad without complaint; it was, after all, Chicago, and she loved the city.

Thursday dawned sunny and bright, making Lisa feel especially good. Arriving at work around eight, as usual, she stopped at the reception desk to pick up yesterday’s phone messages and mail from Madeline. They chatted a few moments about last night’s fun at The Pub. Then Lisa put herself into work mode.

“Thanks for these, Madeline.” Lisa eyed her mail and messages. “Looks like a load of work here.” With her briefcase in one hand and the stack of items Madeline had just given her in the other, Lisa walked down the hall to her office.

She left her door open, as was her habit, and was getting settled at her desk when the intercom line on her telephone beeped. “Lisa Jensen,” she said after hitting the Speaker button.

“Just checking to make sure you were there. Mr. Ludlow is on his way down to see you.” The caller was John Ludlow’s private secretary, Audrey Muldaney.

“I’ll be here,” Lisa said. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence for a senior partner to visit the sixteenth floor, but it happened often enough that Lisa wasn’t at all uneasy about the meeting. She tidied her desk a bit and waited. In mere moments, she saw Ludlow walking toward her office. When he entered, he shut the door behind him.

“Good morning, Lisa,” he said.

She stood and smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Ludlow. Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, I will.”

Ludlow was a tall, gaunt-looking man well past sixty. He no longer did trial work, but his reputation from former years, Lisa had learned, was that of a brilliant litigator, a real tiger in court. Given his present soft handshake and nonabrasive personality, Lisa had trouble picturing him as a tiger at anything.

But he was always polite and pleasant around the firm, and Lisa liked him. They sat down and Lisa waited for him to speak, which he did with little pause.

“I’m sure you are well aware that the firm in general, and I personally, appreciate your intelligent approach to the many intricacies of the law. There are a lot of good attorneys, some of them right here in this firm, but only a few of the mass rise to the very top of the heap, like cream in a container of whole milk.” He smiled. “That analogy harks back to my youth, as I grew up on a farm. Lisa, I believe you’ve been proving right along that you’re one of the chosen few. In time, you’ll be a full partner in this firm, but I’m sure you already know that.”

Lisa’s heart skipped a beat. “I’ve been hoping, sir.”

“Of course you have. I didn’t come down here to talk about your future, but I began thinking of your accomplishments in the elevator. I’ll get to the point of this meeting now. Lisa, I have a bit of a problem waiting in my office. I’m sure you’re familiar with the Witherington name?”

“Most people in this part of the country are, I believe.” The Witheringtons were an extremely wealthy family that had, reputedly, begun amassing their fortune during the early 1900s. She’d never had reason to look into their background and find out how they had become so wealthy; in fact, other than seeing their name in the society pages of various newspapers, she really knew nothing of consequence about the family. “But name recognition is about the extent of my knowledge,” she added.

“That’s about to change,” Ludlow said. “There’s been a serious mishap at the Chandler and Glory Witherington home. A young man was found dead early this morning in their driveway, obviously a victim of foul play. I’m speaking of young Chandler and his wife, with whom I’m acquainted because of my long association with his father, Chandler Sr. You may recall his passing from several days of publicity surrounding his death two years ago. I want to say first of all that young Chandler’s premonition of impending doom, by way of the police coming down on Glory because she was the only one at the house all of last night, could fizzle out to nothing. Personally I’m leaning in that direction, but there’s also a chance of this case becoming quite serious. I thought of you at once because of your enviable flexibility. I think you could deal with Glory’s, uh, shall we say, little eccentricities, better than most.”

Lisa waited a moment, then realized he was waiting for her to say something. “Little eccentricities? Could you give me a hint as to what that term actually covers?”

“Well…perhaps I should have used another term. Yes, I think so. Glory is lovely and can be very charming, but she can also be as scatterbrained as they come.”

“Scatterbrained,” Lisa repeated, wondering if that was a polite word—and abbreviated version—for a more accurate phrase, nuttier than a fruitcake. What Ludlow was doing was appeasing the Witheringtons, she suddenly realized. They had come in asking for legal support for some imagined threat and Ludlow had chosen her because of her “rising star” reputation in the firm, which might impress them.

She could impress the hell out of them, if that was what Ludlow wanted, she thought. Of course, at this point that idea was mere conjecture. She would play it by ear, she decided, take her cue from the Witheringtons themselves.

“I would be happy to meet with the Witheringtons,” she said.

Ludlow got to his feet. “Give me about ten minutes, then come up to my office.”

Lisa rose. “Yes, sir. Ten minutes.”

Alone again, she wasn’t quite so subservient, and it struck her that she wasn’t overly thrilled with what sounded like a time-wasting, kiss-ass project. She loved really tough cases, the kind that made her work hard and think hard, the ones that she became so immersed in that she lived and breathed every segment of the legal process necessary to defend her client to the fullest.

She heaved a sigh and put that bit of rebellion aside because she knew in her soul that she would give the Witherington case her all, as she did with every one she worked on. When it came down to the nuts and bolts of her life, she was happy to have this job, and she would never do less than her best for even a dud of a case.

Checking her watch, she stood, straightened her skirt and jacket, picked up a notebook and pen, and left her office to head for the elevators. In minutes, she had arrived at the seventeenth floor, greeted Audrey and been ushered into Ludlow’s office. John rose to his feet and introduced her to Chandler and Glory Witherington. The first thing that Lisa noted about Chandler was that he had remained seated while John had acknowledged her presence by standing. He also wore an arrogant, condescending expression and his “Pleased to meet ya,” sounded as lame as a one-legged duck.

Lisa sized him up over a limp handshake and from behind the businesslike smile she gave him. He was starting to bald, appeared to be in his fifties and looked physically fit in an obviously expensive custom-made suit. He was also, in her estimation, a jerk.

She turned to Glory and felt struck by lightning. The woman was flamboyantly gorgeous. Flashy as all get-out in a hot pink-and-orange outfit, with flaming red hair and eyes so blue they didn’t seem real. Actually, Glory didn’t seem real, Lisa thought. She looked more like a life-sized doll than a human being. She was obviously very high maintenance and well tended, and it wasn’t hard for Lisa to picture Glory spending a great deal of time in Chicago’s best beauty spas, which offered every procedure known to mankind to keep a woman—or a man—looking young.

So far, she hadn’t moved a muscle or uttered a sound. In truth, she intrigued Lisa. Certainly Lisa knew that she had never met anyone like her.

Lisa stepped over to her and held out her hand, obviously requesting a handshake. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Glory.”

Glory looked at Lisa’s hand for a long moment and finally touched it with hers. “Thanks,” she said in a bored-sounding voice.

Lisa almost laughed. These two were something else. Questions about them began piling up in Lisa’s mind, questions that she would definitely remember and get the answers to, directly from their own lips or indirectly by other methods.

John Ludlow, who was still standing, said, “Lisa, I think it best if you and the Witheringtons get acquainted in the small conference room.”

Lisa looked into his eyes and thought she saw a message: Get these two out of my office. Whether or not that was an accurate interpretation of the vibes she was picking up from Ludlow, she hastened to deliver on his suggestion.

“Please come this way,” she said to the Witheringtons. “The room is just down the hall.”

It was tastefully decorated and offered comfortable furniture on which to sit and hopefully relax enough to converse without reservation. Lisa indicated the sofa for the Witheringtons and took a nearby chair for herself.

She opened her notebook and asked Chandler to relate the story he’d told John earlier.

Almost sullenly, obviously because he had to repeat himself, Chandler said, “A man was found shot to death in our driveway. Someone called the police and all hell broke loose.”

“Who made that call, Chandler?”

He glanced at his wife. “You did, didn’t you, hon?”

“I think it was me. Everything was so confusing after Maria started screaming.”

Lisa was busily writing, wondering if she should perhaps be using a recorder. But she had discovered that the sight of a recorder often made people uncomfortable and cautious of what they said, so except in extreme cases she relied on her own brand of shorthand to get down nearly every word spoken between herself and whomever she was interviewing.

“Do you know who the man was?” Lisa asked, expecting a fast and forceful denial.

“Mateo Ruiz,” Chandler said.

Lisa was surprised, although her demeanor didn’t change. “Did you actually know him, or merely overhear someone mention his name? A police officer, for instance.”

“No, I knew him. Not well, but…well enough.”

Chandler’s answer struck Lisa as a bit strange, but she accepted it and turned to Glory. “Did you know him, Glory?”

Glory’s hot pink lips twitched in a semblance of a smile. She looked Lisa directly in the eyes and drawled with that odd little smirk still on her face, “I did from his waist down.”

Chapter 2

Lisa was so stunned she couldn’t speak. She felt as though her jaw had lost a screw and was now wobbling somewhere near her knees. Had she heard this woman correctly? Had she actually said, in front of her husband, that she had been having a physical relationship with another man before his untimely death?

“Don’t look so shocked, dear,” Glory said, smirk intact. “People do these things all the time.”

At first, Lisa couldn’t take her eyes off of Glory. She kept expecting her to say something like, “For heaven’s sake, Lisa, I was only kidding.” When that didn’t happen, when, in fact, she reaffirmed what she’d said in the first place, Lisa couldn’t help but turn her attention to Chandler. Didn’t he mind that his wife had just admitted to having an extramarital affair?

But it appeared as if she were the only one in the room who was the least bit taken aback by Glory’s comments. Was she the prude? Or was it that Glory and Chandler lived by a different set of rules? She finally reasoned that the latter must be true, although if it were prudish to be revolted by a cheating spouse, then prudish she would remain.

She wrote a line about the affair on the open page of her notebook and then moved on. “Other than the obvious, how did you come to know Mateo?”

“He did something around the house,” Glory answered absently.

“I beg your pardon?”

“He worked with the gardener,” Chandler clarified, taking over the conversation.

“He was an employee?”

“Not one of ours. We hired a service to come in and take care of the lawn and gardens. He was an employee of theirs. Part-time, I think.”

“I’ll need the name of that service.”

“Our housekeeper, Maria, will have that. You can call her later.”

Lisa knew she was going to have to start asking some difficult questions. So far, neither Glory nor Chandler seemed the least bit perturbed by what had been said, so obviously the discomfort was hers alone. She must set it aside, she told herself. There was no room for a defense counsel’s personal opinions in a courtroom, nor even during an initial interview of a client.

With her face expressionless, she continued. “How long had he worked for you, or rather, how long had he been coming to your house as an employee of the service?”

Chandler looked at Glory questioningly. She just shrugged and looked away. “I think it was only a few weeks,” he finally said.

Lisa couldn’t help but wonder if Glory’s indifference was real or an act. Did this woman know that from now on, every statement she made and every gesture she used would be noted by anyone and everyone who happened by accident or by design to be in her vicinity?

“Is that what you remember, Glory?” she asked her point-blank.

Glory looked surprised that Lisa was addressing her again. “Yes, I suppose that’s about right.”

“And is that when your…relationship with him began?”

“Yes,” she said, finally answering without hesitation and looking Lisa straight in the eye once more.

It appeared to Lisa that Glory enjoyed causing uneasiness in those around her. Was this a game to her? Or was it that her social standing in the community led her to believe that she was above common decency and good manners? And what about Chandler? He didn’t flinch, bat an eye or even seem to take notice. Didn’t any of this bother him at all?

But if they truly believed they were bulletproof, why on earth had they run to an attorney so soon?

Lisa pondered that question for a moment, then asked, “Was anyone in your household staff aware of the affair?”

“Not that I know of,” Glory answered. “I always gave them the night off when I planned on seeing him.”

“Where were you last night, Chandler?”

“I was in Detroit.”

Lisa wrote, Check Chandler’s alibi. “When did you leave?”

“Yesterday morning. It was a short trip. Just one day.”

“What hotel did you stay at?”

Glory huffed as if to tell Lisa that this was all a waste of time. Lisa ignored her.

“The Radisson, downtown.”

“And you returned just this morning?”

“That’s correct. I was on the six-fifteen flight.”

All of that would be easy enough to check. With security measures being what they were these days, Chandler would not have been able to board an aircraft without first showing identification. Of course, with the weird relationship he and Glory obviously had, Lisa couldn’t quite believe that he had gone off to Detroit, only to return sometime in the night to kill Mateo, then fly back and return in the morning as if nothing had happened. However, there usually was very little logic to murder, and Lisa had learned years ago that anything was possible.

She turned her attention back to Glory. “So, you were alone in the house with Mateo last night?”

“I was until whoever it was came along and killed him.”

“Can you tell me what you remember about the night?”

“Do you want all the gory details?”

“Just the ones about letting the staff off and then everything surrounding the time Mateo was killed.”

Glory looked almost disappointed. “Very well. I guess it was around sixish when I told everyone, including Maria, to leave.”

“Why do say, ‘including Maria?’”

“Maria is our only full-time house staff,” Chandler explained. “She oversees the daily routines of running an efficient household, which includes managing the part-time help…maids and such…we employ. She’s quite adept at it all. And when I’m out of town, she makes sure everything is taken care of for Glory.”

“Does she live on the property?”

“She stays occasionally when her duties cause her to work late. Other times, she goes home.”

“Where is home?”

“You’ll have to get that from her.”

Lisa reverted back to her original line of questioning. “Did everyone leave right away, Glory?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“What time did Mateo get there?”

“I guess about an hour later.”

“Without too much detail, can you tell me about the rest of the evening?”

“After Mateo arrived, we got a bottle of wine and went out to the spa. He liked water sports,” she said with a salacious little grin. Tossing her head, making her fabulous hair bounce a bit, she added, “Then, we went up to my room and spent the rest of the night there.”

“What time did he leave?”

Glory shrugged, which Lisa noticed that she did quite beautifully. Watching this woman was more entertaining than watching a movie, she thought with a slight frown. Truth was, she would like to really know Glory Witherington, through and through. Did Glory ever let anyone get that close?

“I couldn’t say,” Glory said. “I took a pill and went to sleep. I have a hard time sleeping when Chandler is out of town so I always take something that will knock me out.”

“Was Mateo still there when you did this?”

“Yes, I suppose he was.”

“So, you were asleep before he even left?”

“That’s how I remember it, yes.”

“And you heard nothing?”

“Honey, a bomb could go off in that house and I wouldn’t hear it after I’ve taken one of my pills.”

“This could present a problem if the police decide to go after you, Glory.”

“I believe that’s why we’re hiring you, dear, to make sure they don’t.”

Lisa’s intense interest in Glory’s entertainment value came to an abrupt end. In fact, she could stand this woman’s condescending attitude no longer and put pure ice in her voice to respond to such patronization.

“I don’t think you quite understand, dear, but I don’t have any control over what the police decide to do. My job is to defend you, should it come to that. And from what you’ve given me so far, I wouldn’t be able to do that very well.”

Glory appeared to be on the verge of another huff when Chandler intervened. “I think what Glory meant,” he said, patting her hand as if to tell her to cool it, “was that we would like you to do whatever is necessary to prevent that from happening. Use your connections, if you have any, to find out what their intentions are and if they have any suspects. We know Glory didn’t murder Mateo, but then I guess that leaves the question of who did. Why don’t you start there?”

Chandler’s last sentence was more of a directive than a suggestion and Lisa could feel the hair on the back of her neck bristling. Where did these people get off coming in here and ordering her around as if she were simply the hired help? She wasn’t on their personal payroll, and she certainly had other things to do besides catering to them. She would, of course, do absolutely everything in her power to give the Witheringtons the best possible legal advice and, should it come to it, defense. That was her job. But she would not be ordered around and told how to do her job by anyone!

“Mr. Witherington,” she began. “I assure you I will do everything I can for you and Glory—”

“That’s all we’re asking,” Chandler said, interrupting her. He then rose from his seat, bringing Glory up with him. “If that’s all, then we’ll be going. Be sure to keep us informed.” And before Lisa could utter another word, the pair was out the door.

What the hell just happened here? Lisa wondered, dazed by the past few minutes.

Lisa’s head was still spinning as she rode the elevator back down to the sixteenth floor. She hoped that the police had found some evidence of an intruder and that Glory would be ruled out as a suspect. Otherwise, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to do to prevent the woman from being arrested. Perhaps something in Mateo’s background would help find his real killer. Of course, finding out everything she could on Glory and Chandler might help her better understand this strange couple, as well. A stop at Larry’s office was definitely in order.

“Hey, good morning,” Larry said with a smile as she entered the research department. He was seated at a computer desk, one of several in the department, and he did that thing that men do to show their respect for a lady. He lifted himself about a foot off the chair, lingered a second and then sat again.

Lisa, still focused on the Witheringtons, barely noticed that he’d moved and only offered a wan smile in recognition of his greeting. “I’ve just spent time with my newest clients, and I don’t mind admitting that I’m confused and unnerved. Larry, I need anything and everything you can dig up on Chandler and Glory Witherington.”

“I heard their name on the radio this morning while driving to work. Something about a corpse in their front yard? Imagine waking up to that.”

Lisa was in no mood for humor. Ignoring Larry’s comments, she plopped into the nearest chair and moaned, “It’s already in the news?”

“The Witherington name is always news. Anyone with money is news. What are Chandler and Glory like in person?”

“You know I can’t discuss clients. But I don’t think I would be too far out of line by mentioning raw nerve endings and the threat of a massive headache lurking on the fringes of consciousness.”

“All happening to an unknown person, of course.”

“Whatever you say. Larry, the dead guy is Mateo Ruiz. From what I’ve gathered so far, he was an odd-jobs yard boy. Look him up, too, would you?”

Larry wrote the three names on a pad and murmured, “The multimillionaires and the yard boy. Makes for some interesting speculation, don’t you think?”

Lisa got to her feet. “I’m looking for facts, not speculation. Give me a buzz when you have anything, all right?”

“Perfectly all right, but don’t try to convince me that a good lawyer—and you are the best—doesn’t do reams of speculation when putting a case together.”

“Larry, you’re too much for me today. Talk to you later.”

Lisa was back in her own office for only a few minutes when she got a call from Grant Gowan. It was difficult for her to even take the call, let alone not sound as though she had just been run through a hay bailer, but she did her best.

“Hello, Grant.”

“Lisa, how’re tricks?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He chuckled lightly in her ear. “I can take a hint. You’re swamped, right? Okay, we’ll make this short. The party starts at seven. Are you planning to go home first, or what?”

“No, there isn’t time for that. How about we meet in The Pub and go from there? I should be able to get away by six.”

“That sounds fine. See you then.”

As Lisa hung up, she hoped that the conservative three-piece taupe suit she was wearing would work for tonight’s party.

Do you really care?

“Not a whit,” she mumbled and got to work.

The rest of Lisa’s day was much calmer than the beginning. She filled it with paperwork from her previous case and a little research of her own on her new one. Lunch with Pamela took up an hour and a half and then several phone calls later, she was finally out the door to meet Grant.

Over lunch, she and Pamela had discussed the evening ahead. She had tried in several ways to argue that it really wasn’t a date, but in the end had to admit that it probably was, although Pamela should not think of it as a romantic date. It was funny, but until Grant Gowan had actually asked her to attend Faith’s birthday party with him, she had never considered him as anything but another lawyer.

Grant was attractive and Lisa had heard his name mentioned more than once during a gab session between the single women in the office. He was, after all, an eligible bachelor, a successful attorney and, supposedly, from a good home and background. All the makings of Mr. Right. But to her, he’d always just been a colleague of sorts and as she rode the elevator down to the first floor, she couldn’t help but wonder why she’d never been drawn to him, as so many of the other women in the building were.

Oh, well, maybe by the end of the evening I’ll have my answer.

True to his word, Grant was waiting in a booth near the front doors of The Pub when Lisa entered. He was alone and drinking a beer. “Would you like something before we go?” he offered. “We have a few minutes, unless you want to be the first to arrive at the party.”

“A beer would be good,” she said, sliding into the booth opposite him. What was it about arriving somewhere first that had such a stigma attached to it? Someone always had to be first, so why didn’t anyone want it to be him?

Lisa watched Grant go to the bar for her drink. He wasn’t particularly tall but he was tall enough for her, and his body was lean and fit. Of course, it could just be the suits he wore that made him look so good. Nothing off the rack for Grant Gowan, Lisa was sure of that. His clothes looked as if they were made for him.

“Here you go,” he said, placing a cold glass of beer in front of her.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he replied, resuming his seat. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Why is that?”

Grant shrugged. “I don’t know. You always seem a little distant, I guess. I was beginning to wonder if I smelled bad or something.” He made his last statement with a chuckle.

“Why? Because I don’t throw myself at you like some of the other women in the building do?”

A boyish grin crossed Grant’s lips. “Well….”

He understood exactly what she was talking about, Lisa knew. He was a hot commodity in the singles scene, a role he was obviously enjoying. And it was a role that was putting Lisa off. Perhaps she already had her answer about why she wasn’t all that attracted to him.

“Maybe we’d better get going,” she said as she stood up and straightened her skirt.

Grant stood as well. “I think we still have a little time. We don’t need to rush.”

“I really don’t want to be out too late, Grant. I have a new case and I’d like to get into the office early tomorrow.” Besides being the truth, it was as good a reason as any to cut the evening short, she figured.

“Oh, all right, then.”

They left The Pub and went around the corner of the building to the parking garage. “I’m on the second floor,” Grant told her as he steered her to the elevators.

When they reached his floor and then his car, Grant opened her door first and then went around to the driver’s side and slid in behind the wheel. His car was as elegant and expensive as his suits. Lisa took note of the plush leather she was now seated on, as well as the dark mahogany trim. She also noticed the hood ornament—a leaping jaguar. Grant Gowan reeked of money, old and new.

“Nice car,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said proudly.

The party was just getting under way when they arrived. Lisa recognized several other attorneys in attendance as she and Grant passed through each room of the apartment that had been opened up for the occasion. There was food—mostly yummy little bits of finger food—set up in the dining room and drinks in the kitchen. To get to either, one had to pass through the living room where Lisa saw two junior partners from her own firm. She nodded at them and received friendly smiles in return.

“Grant!” Lisa heard some woman exclaim from across the room. “Where have you been keeping yourself?”

Lisa watched as a flashy blonde approached. The curvaceous woman had a martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She stopped about a foot away from Grant and bent forward, kissing the air on either side of his cheeks. It was a scene right out of the movies.

“Oh brother,” Lisa said under her breath.

“Hello, Deidra,” Grant said to the woman. “How have you been?”

“Fabulous, as always. And who is this gorgeous creature by your side tonight?”

“Deidra Upton, Lisa Jensen.”

Lisa politely said hello, as did Deidra while snuffing her cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “At least now I know why you haven’t called lately, you naughty boy,” Deidra said. She flirtatiously flipped the lapel on Grant’s jacket and walked off to gaily greet someone else.

Grant was quick to explain that he and Deidra were just good friends. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

“Not just yet.”

“How about something to eat?”

“I think I’d just like to find Faith and wish her a happy birthday right now,” Lisa said.

“You aren’t ready to go yet, are you?” Grant asked.

Lisa was ready to go, but she shook her head for Grant’s sake. She had always liked Faith Unser, but the rest of the crowd gave off an aura of pretense that Lisa didn’t much care for. Were these the people Grant regularly socialized with?

Lisa put up with the party for an hour before she told Grant she was tired and had to leave. “But you stay, Grant. I’ll take a cab.”

“Like hell you will! I’ll drive you home.”

“You certainly don’t have to leave on my account,” she said. “I’m perfectly capable of getting home on my own.”

“I have no doubt of that, but you came with me so I’d appreciate your leaving with me. I’ll drive you home. No debate, please.”

Within a few minutes, they were outside and walking down the street to where he had parked his car.

“You didn’t have a good time tonight,” Grant said.

“That just isn’t my crowd,” she said with a sidelong glance at him to see his reaction. “I’m sorry, but I guess I’m more of a meat-and-potatoes kind of girl.”

“Don’t apologize. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it.”

Grant stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Why am I doing nothing right tonight? What is it about you, Lisa Jensen, that gets me all tongue-tied and flustered?”

Lisa was surprised by Grant’s outburst. Did she really have that effect on him? Or was this some kind of ploy to get to her? Stop being so suspicious, she scolded herself. But she couldn’t help doubting. Her past kept creeping forward in her mind, reminding her that she had one failed marriage already and if she wasn’t careful, there could be more, and that was something she didn’t want. The next time she walked down the aisle would be the last time, she had vowed on more than one occasion.

Still, Grant looked so cute and rather hapless standing there on the sidewalk with the streetlight shining down on him that her heart softened toward him.

“Oh, stop,” she said while taking a step back to him, looping her arm through his and pulling him the rest of the way to his car.

Lisa lived only a few miles away from the apartment where the party had been held, so it didn’t take long for Grant to drive to her place.

“It’s still early,” Grant said as he pulled up in front of her home. “I mean, if you’d like we can do something else.”

“Another time, Grant,” she said. “I’m pretty beat tonight.”

“We wouldn’t have to go anywhere,” he tried again. “We could just sit and talk for a while. I’d really like that, and I’m sitting here hoping that so would you.”

Lisa finally got the hint. He wanted to be invited in—something she wasn’t at all ready for. “Can I get a rain check?” she asked quietly.

He hesitated a long moment and finally shrugged. “Sure.”

He was disappointed, but then, what did he expect? This was only their first outing together, with no promise of any others to follow. She wasn’t even sure at this point if she wanted to see him again. What was he thinking? Maybe that she should invite him into her home and possibly her bed after only a few hours together?

Stop it! she told herself again. All he wants is get to know you better. But if she really believed that, why was her left hand curled into a nervous fist?

“I did have a nice time,” she said. “Can I call you in a day or two?”

“Sure,” he repeated, a little more strongly this time.

She quickly bent toward him and gave him a quick kiss. “Thanks again,” she said as she climbed out of his car. As soon as Lisa entered her house, she felt relieved. Her home was truly her sanctuary.

“What a day this was,” she mumbled as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

It had started out with those two crazy people that she hoped she would never have to see again and had ended with a date with a man she really wasn’t attracted to. And why not, she wondered. Why wasn’t she attracted to Grant Gowan like so many of the other women in the building were?

“Building, hell,” she said out loud and quite sarcastically. “How about Chicago’s entire legal profession!”

Lisa kicked off her shoes as soon as she got to her bedroom. Next, she slipped out of her work clothes and hung them up. Grabbing a fresh pair of pajamas from a drawer, she went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She usually checked messages and e-mails when she got home, but not tonight. Tonight she was heading straight to bed, after a call to her mother, of course.

“Hi, Mom,” she said when she heard Claudia pick up.

“Hi, sweetheart. How was your date?”

Lisa expelled a brief, brittle laugh of self-mockery and then spent the next five minutes reciting the details of the evening to her mother.

“Why, I think you should have enjoyed yourself!” Claudia exclaimed. “A nice party and a handsome escort? Yes, you should have had a pleasant evening. Grant sounds like a very nice young man. You should give him a chance.”

“But I’m not attracted to him, Mom.”

“Sex isn’t everything, sweetheart. That goes away and then what’s left? That’s what you should think about.”

“Was there ever a time you weren’t attracted to Daddy?”

Claudia was silent for a few moments. “No, I can’t honestly say there was ever a time I wasn’t attracted to that man.”

Lisa could hear a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone.

“I’m sorry I brought him up, Mom.”

“Don’t be. And don’t listen to me, either. You go find your Mister Right. He’s out there.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”