Bargain Hunting (26 page)

“Really?”

“You did?”

“Well, it’s about freaking time,” Becky said before taking a sip of her iced tea.

Jane looked positively giddy, while Liv wore an I-told-you-so smirk. The restaurant was hopping and we’d waited ten minutes for a table. Since I had no excuse for a prolonged absence from the office, and I was going out that afternoon, I had no choice but to stick to the one-hour rule overseen by Maudlin Margaret. She ate her lunch in the firm’s lunchroom and proudly exclaimed to one and all that she took a mere fifteen minutes to eat.

You pay me for lunch, I’m taking lunch.

“Was it amazing?” Liv asked.

“No details,” I answered with a straight face. Then added, “It was better than amazing.”

“Your place or his?” Jane asked.

“Mine, why?”

“If you do it at his place, you can check his drawers and stuff while he’s in the shower.”

“Jane Spencer! When did you get so sneaky?”

“When I woke up next to a dead guy. Now I’m not taking any guy back to my place unless I’ve run a full background check on him.”

Becky took a bite of her burger, then said, “I don’t think I remember what sex is like.”

I smiled. “That’s because you work eighty hours a week.”

“No,” she countered. “It’s because the only people more loathed than lawyers are tow truck drivers and I haven’t met one of those yet.”

“I’m telling you,” Liv added. “Go for the young guys. They always want sex.”

“Your young guy still lives at home,” I said pointedly.

“He’s an artist. He’s trying to get established.”

Becky scoffed. “He’s sold one painting and that was to you.”

As usual, Liv was drawing the attention of every man who entered the place. Her unusual beauty had that effect on the opposite sex. It also had a downside. Whenever the four of us went out, it was Liv who was never asked to dance. I guess men were afraid of being shot down by the prettiest girl in the room.

“I heard you went to prison,” Becky said.

“For an interview,” I clarified. Then I shared what I knew to date.

“Shouldn’t Tony be doing this legwork?” Liv asked.

“He’s got a client with immediate needs. A thirteen-year-old he’s trying to keep out of adult court.”

“The kid who stabbed his father to death?” Jane asked.

I nodded. “But it isn’t that simple.”

“It is for the dead guy,” Becky said.

“I’m waiting for school records, medical records, and records from Child Protective Services. Tony and a shrink are with him now.”

“This is depressing,” Liv said. “Let’s get back to Finley and Liam. Where is this going?”

I shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

“The Ashley factor?” Jane asked.

I shook my head. “No. He explained all that to me.”

“Do tell,” Liv urged.

I shook my head again. “Not for public consumption. I don’t think Liam would appreciate my broadcasting his past. He’s kind of secretive that way.”

“But he told you,” Becky pointed out. “That implies trust.”

“He wants me to meet his dog,” I said with a definite lack of enthusiasm. “I guess that’s a step in the right direction.”

“So you can get bitten on the butt again?” Jane teased.

“My point exactly. It’s the Liam version of meeting the folks. Swears I’ll love the thing.” That would be a miracle. Fear trumps everything.

“You might,” Liv suggested. “At least give it a try.”

“The dog could be a deal breaker,” Jane said.

“We don’t have a deal,” I told them.

“What do you call a guy who’s living at your house and who you’re sleeping with?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem.” I checked my watch. “I’ve got to get back.”

“A Margaret bed check?” Becky teased. As a firm attorney, the rules didn’t apply to her.

“Yes. I wish she’d take a vacation. She’s got to have about a year’s worth saved up. I’ll see you guys later.” I stood and wadded my trash into its wrapper. “Oh, Jane, before I forget, I bought a couple of watch parts on eBay.”

“Finley?” she warned.

“Gotta go,” I said as I quickly left the restaurant.

Once I was back at work, I made a copy of Liam’s signature from his DMV records and added the copy of the sign-out sheet I’d taken from the files then sent them by courier to the expert we used when we had to verify signatures on will or estate documents. He was good and he was quick. If Liam wasn’t on his way I would have walked them over to Darrell’s office myself; it was only four blocks away.

Instead I handed it to Margaret. “This needs to go right away,” I told her.

She took out her trusty pad. “What’s the name of the client?”

“Liam McGarrity,” I told her.

She met my answer with a pointed stare. “He’s one of Tony’s clients,” I said. “If you’ve got a problem, take it up with him.”

She pursed her lips and wrote the name down as if she was signing her own death warrant.

I saw Liam standing by my car, which I’d carefully parked next to Vain Dane’s Hummer. I still didn’t understand why he needed an urban assault vehicle in the flattest state in the union. I guessed it made him feel powerful.

Briefcase and keys in hand, I left the building. Liam was smiling at me. “Hi,” he greeted me. “How was lunch with the girls?”

“Interesting,” I said, not wanting to tell him the sordid details.

“You have Ina’s address?” he asked.

I nodded. “Let’s take my car. Fewer toxic fumes.” I went to hand him my keys but dropped them. In unison we bent to pick them up, knocking heads in the process. It must have been a hard knock because I heard a buzzing sound whoosh by my ear. Then my brain processed the sound of breaking glass.

Liam reacted, tackling me and shoving me between the two cars, shielding me with his body. The air rushed from my lungs. I heard something ping off the pavement and Liam half-rolled off me and cursed.

“I don’t suppose you own a gun?” he asked.

“Why would I own a gun?”

“Because someone is shooting at us.”

It’s always good to know you’re needed but even better to know you’re wanted.

In what felt like
an eternity but was probably only a matter of minutes, several squad cars arrived on the scene. It was only then that Liam and I stood up, still shielded for the most part by my car.

I’d started to brush my hair off my face when I felt a sharp pain in my palm. I looked down and saw a ragged piece of glass sticking out from where blood trickled from the wound. I looked at Liam, hardly able to hear over the pounding of my heart and the very real sensation of wanting to wet myself. I was shaking as he took my hand. “It’s not deep,” he assured me.

His dark hair glistened from the shower of glass and I could hear the siren of an ambulance coming closer. I glanced over at my office building and noticed several faces pressed up against the windows.

“Ma’am?”

I turned toward the sound of the voice. It was a deputy,
around my age, and he was securing his gun back in the holster on his hip. “What?”

“Are you hurt?”

I looked at my hand, then back at him. “Not really.”

“Sir?” he asked Liam.

He shook his head. “But I think she might be going into shock.”

He wrapped his arms around me. I was shaking like a leaf. “What just happened?” I asked.

“Someone shot at us.”

“Which one of us?” I said, my voice trembling.

“Don’t worry about that now,” he said as a gloved paramedic appeared at my side.

“Let’s go to the ambulance,” he said.

First they wrapped me in a blanket and then they put an oxygen mask over my face. Only then did they inspect the cut on my palm. With relative ease and a very long pair of tweezers, they removed the thick piece of glass and assessed my wound. Someone else was taking my vitals. I only knew that because of the pinch on my arm as the blood pressure cuff inflated. My stomach was doing flip-flops when Becky appeared at the opened ambulance doors.

“Is she okay?” Becky asked the paramedic.

I was lightheaded and felt as if I couldn’t gulp in enough air to sustain life.

“BP is 107 over 45,” one paramedic said to the other.

“Ma’am. We’re going to take you to the hospital as a precaution. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“I’ll follow you,” Liam said

I spent an hour in the emergency room. Most of it with a CNA gently combing glass out of my hair. My clothes were smudged with dirt and I had road rash on one knee. Liam stayed at my side while a deputy stood watch at the edge of the curtain. The wound to my left hand was shallow and required nothing more than a butterfly bandage. I was finally able to breathe again but the shaking still hadn’t abated.

“Your color is coming back,” Liam said as soon as we were alone.

“Getting shot at isn’t an everyday occurrence for me.”

“That’s a good thing,” he said as he gently kissed my wounded palm. “The cops want to talk to us.”

“I can’t tell them anything.”

The curtain yanked open and Tony entered the small cubicle. “Are you both okay?” he asked in a rush of breath.

I nodded while Liam answered, “She’s shaken up pretty bad.”

“I’m staying while you give your statements.”

“I have nothing to state,” I reiterated.

“Deputy?” Tony called. And a uniformed cop stepped inside.

Tony said, “Tell the detectives Miss Tanner and Mr. McGarrity are available.”

The officer spoke into the radio clipped to his shoulder.

Much to my displeasure, Metcalf and Wells arrived a few minutes later. Wells looked sympathetic, while Metcalf was his usual churlish self.

“We’d like to interview them separately,” Metcalf said.

“Then you’ll have to do it one at a time,” Tony said. “I represent
Mr. McGarrity, and Miss Tanner is my employee, so I need to be sure you don’t ask her for privileged information.”

Metcalf sighed. “Fine. Miss Tanner, you go first. Can you describe what happened in the parking lot?”

“I dropped my keys. I went to pick them up and then I heard a whoosh and Liam pushed me to the ground. We were showered with glass. That kinda all happened at one time. Then I heard a ping. Then nothing.”

“So you didn’t see the shooter or where the shots came from?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t even know they were shots. It all happened too fast.”

“So you don’t know whether the person was shooting at you or Mr. McGarrity?”

“No.”

Metcalf turned his attention to Liam. “Are you going to tell me the same story?”

“Pretty much. I didn’t hear the shots, so I’m thinking it was a sniper rifle.”

“I’m not interested in your theories. Just the facts,” Metcalf chastised.

“The facts are that someone was shooting at one of us. Or both.”

Wells cleared his throat. “Any idea why?”

Liam took in a breath and let it out slowly. “It’s the second time in a week someone’s taken a shot at me.”

“Miss Tanner?” Wells prompted. “Anyone angry at you? An ex-boyfriend? A client?”

I looked up at Tony. He gave me a nod. “Not that I know of. I did get a threatening e-mail about a week ago.”

“From?”

“The best I could do was trace it back to an Internet café. I have no idea who sent it or why.”

“What did it say?” Metcalf asked, actually sounding curious.

“ ‘Wanna die, bitch?’ ” I quoted.

“Did you report this incident?”

“It didn’t seem important. I assumed it was just some jerk I’d met at a bar with too much time on his hands.”

“Do you often aggravate men in bars?” Metcalf asked.

I gave him a screw-you look. “No. But if I sense a guy is a jerk, I don’t encourage him.”

“Do you have any names for these men?”

“Of course not. That’s the point in blowing someone off. And before you ask, no, I don’t know how anyone would get my name, let alone my e-mail address.”

“We’d like to take a look at your computer.”

“Not gonna happen,” Tony said. “Miss Tanner often works on her laptop. That makes it attorney work product and therefore privileged.”

“Don’t you want to get the guy who shot at you?”

“No,” Tony said. “She wants you to get the guy.”

“What about you, Mr. McGarrity? Piss anyone off lately?”

“Um, you.”

Wells fought back a smile.

“Aside from me?”

“I had a little talking to with—”

“Privileged,” Tony cut in. “Mr. McGarrity is under no obligation to tell you what he’s been doing to aid in his defense of
the bogus charges against him. Since he’s been shot at a second time, perhaps you’ll want to rethink the charges.”

“That’s Garza’s call,” Metcalf said. “But I’ll pass along your request.”

“If we have any more questions, where can we reach you?”

Liam and I both provided our cell phone numbers and the detectives went on their way. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t to be left hanging, knowing someone wanted me dead.

“What do we do now?” I asked Tony.

“It would help if we knew which one of you was the target.”

“My money’s on me,” Liam said. “It would be too coincidental for Finley and me both to attract a gunman in the space of one week.”