This Case Is Gonna Kill Me (18 page)

“There’s a reason clichés happen,” my brother said.

“You don’t need to further them,” I said.

By the time dinner was ready the house was blocking the setting sun, so we decided to eat out on the deck. Cormorants, their long necks ducking and winding sinuously, uttered their soft grunts. While mallards quacked and splashed in the rippling water. At the lake’s edge blue herons stalked through the cattails and grasses like dowagers stepping over cow patties. Mother chattered nonstop about people I didn’t know, and events I wouldn’t normally care about. This time the inane babble was perfect, because it kept the conversation away from the office and the murder.

The chilled gazpacho was perfect at the end of a hot, muggy day, and I had to give my mother credit for being a really good cook. I finished off my last shrimp and picked up a handful of oyster crackers to nibble.

“So I said
to
her. You can’t be seriously
thinking
of using chrysanthemums on the
altar
in June.” Charlie’s eyes were locked on our mother’s face, his expression interested. I wondered where his mind really was, and how he managed to keep the appearance of total attention.

My father’s and my eyes met, and he gave me a rueful little smile. There was something very poignant about a sensible man married to a vastly silly woman. I choked on a cracker and wondered when I’d started to channel a poor imitation of Jane Austen.

And acknowledging that my mother was silly was not a comforting thought since daughters inevitably begin to resemble their mothers. I vowed to avoid that fate, wondering once again why on earth he and Mommy had ever gotten married.

“There’s homemade
peach
ice cream,” mother said. “
Who
wants some?”

“Everybody,” I said.

Charlie jumped up. “I’ll help carry bowls.” He and our mother disappeared through the French doors.

Daddy leaned over and rested his hand on mine. “How are you doing? Really?”

“I’m okay.” Irritated, I shook off his hand and pleated my napkin for a few moments. “I always wanted to be in a big firm, handling big cases, but I’ve got to admit it’s not what I expected, and I’m not sure I like it.”

“What would you rather be doing?” Daddy’s tone was carefully neutral, but I could hear the tension just below the surface.

“I still love the law. It’s just the atmosphere in these big firms, and I’m not sure how much opportunity there really is for advancement. Another associate and I talked about maybe opening an office together,” I said, joking.

It obviously wasn’t received that way. A strange expression crossed my father’s face. He took a quick sip of wine. “I think that’s a really interesting idea, but I also think it’s way too early for you to be thinking about setting up your own office. Work a few years, and then see how you’re feeling. You’ll also have a better reputation to attract clients. I really don’t want you coming home. So many of my friends have adult children who have crawled back into the nest.” He gave a small laugh. “And I’m rather afraid that Charlie is going to be one of those. After he’s done nine or ten years as a professional student. He doesn’t seem strongly drawn to anything.”

“Not true. He was pretty passionate on the subject of architecture during the drive home.”

“Architecture?” I was glad Charlie wasn’t at the table to hear the incredulity. “He hasn’t said anything to me.”

“He’s afraid to. He knows you want him to take over the company, and he doesn’t want to disappoint you.”

“If he’s found something that interests him, I’ll support him to the hilt.”

We heard Mother’s and Charlie’s voices approaching. I hurried to ask, “What would you have done if I hadn’t wanted to be a lawyer?”

“Supported your decision,” my father said. But I caught the minute hesitation before the answer.

*   *   *

I slept that night in what had been my bedroom up to the age of eight. Once I was sent to the Bainbridge house to live, it had been turned into a guest room. I looked around, trying to find a vestige of the child who had slept here. There was nothing.

The bookcase offered a selection of bestsellers placed there for the enjoyment of a guest. I wondered where my collection of children’s books had gone, and the collection of Breyer plastic horses. Over the years, as I’d outgrown childish things, my little treasures had been packed up by the servants in the Bainbridge house and sent back to my parents. My mother had probably thrown them away, or put them in the church rummage sale. Or perhaps my father had rescued them. I’d have to ask.

I really hoped the Breyer horses were still around. I had always planned to give them to my daughter someday. Though given the perversity of children, any kid of mine would probably end up hating horses.

I sat down on the edge of the four-poster bed. There wasn’t a scrap of warmth or personality in this room. It was like I had never existed. I realized that vampires had defined my life. There had been visits home during the holidays, when my human family was always distracted and never at their best. Because of their business ties, my father had been a frequent visitor at Meredith’s house, which meant I ended up closer to him than either my mother or my brother. I had tried to bond with them while I was in college and law school, but had I really succeeded?

I felt totally disconnected from all the relationships that should matter. Normally a rootless person builds relationships at work, but I was the dogsbody of Ishmael, McGillary and Gold. Sadness lay like a stone in the center of my chest. But slowly my spine began to stiffen. I was the lowest of the low at the firm, which meant I had nothing to lose. You can’t fall further than rock bottom. What was the worst that could happen? They could fire me. Big deal. I had a great education. I was a good lawyer, and I knew how to work hard.

I was going to figure out who killed Chip. And I was going to humiliate Ryan, if it was the last thing I ever did.

11

Back at work on Monday morning, I stopped in the bathroom to retouch my lipstick and found Caroline there. She whirled at my entrance, treating me to a ferocious frown that knitted her brows and wrinkled her forehead.

“What? What have I done now?” I asked, defensive and paranoid.

“What are you talking about?” Caroline demanded.

“The look.”

“Oh, it’s not meant for you.” She took a quick glance under the stall doors to make sure we were alone. “Ryan has put together one of his little luncheons,” she told me. “I realized after our talk that I’m sick of this, and I don’t want to go.”

“Then don’t go.”

“It’s not that simple. Every office has politics. We have to play by them. To just refuse would be completely in his face. I need an out. A prior engagement.”

“How about a women lawyers’ luncheon?” I suggested. “Do you think we could get every female associate?”

“Everyone but Jane. She’ll never stop kissing Ryan’s butt.”

“Wow, that’s cold. I thought she was like your best friend,” I said. “You’re always together.”

Caroline gave me a predator’s smile. “Just keeping an eye on her so I don’t find a knife in my side.”

“Keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?” I asked.

“Exactly. Why don’t we book our table at the same restaurant where Ryan will be entertaining the boys and Jane?”

“I thought you weren’t down with the whole in-your-face thing,” I said.

“I changed my mind. And nothing makes men more nervous then seeing a bunch of ex-girlfriends with their heads together. Especially if they’re laughing.”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side … again,” I amended. She headed for the door. “Will you pass the word?” She nodded and left. I pulled out my lipstick and lip pencil.
Warpaint,
I thought as I outlined my mouth.

In my office I pulled out the
May
file, made sure my pens worked, and gathered up a couple of yellow legal pads in preparation for the settlement meeting. Elizabeth May arrived twenty minutes late.

“I’m sorry. So sorry. My babysitter was late,” she said in harried tones, and pushed her hair back from her face.

She was a pretty woman in her late twenties with fine brown hair that lay limply over her skull. Her haunted brown eyes held that cringing expression you see in the eyes of abused dogs. Her features were round and soft, and in old age, with no cheekbones for support, her face was going to look like a wrinkled apple. She wore a pair of brown slacks and a pink shirt with a Peter Pan collar. None of it was flattering.

“No problem,” I said, as I stood and came around the desk to meet her. “Sometimes life just intrudes. Please, sit down. I’m Linnet Ellery. I’ve taken over Chip’s cases.”

“I was very upset about Mr. Westin.” But she didn’t sound like it. She sounded beat down, as if any emotion was an effort. “But I’m glad you’re a woman. I think I’ll be more comfortable with a female lawyer. But Jake is going to hate you.”

“Because I’m representing you?”

She shook her head. “Oh, that’s part of it, but he’d say you were taking a job from a man who has a family to support. He hates uppity women.”

“I take it you didn’t work during the marriage?” I asked.

“No, Jake would have gone ballistic.”

“Have you ever worked?”

“No, we got married right out of high school.”

Great
, I thought.
That means she has no social security built up, and zero job skills.

“When did Jake get infected?”

“He did ten months in jail. He said the only way to stay safe was to join a gang. So he picked the meanest gang he could find.”

I had heard that werewolf infection rates in prison were on the rise. Short of putting everyone in solitary, it was tough to prevent. It also meant that most of the guards had to be werewolves too.

“What did Jake go to jail for?” I asked.

“Assault and battery. It was a bar fight,” she added, as if that made it better.

“And you didn’t think you should get away from him right then and there?”

She gave me a wounded look. “You’re not as nice as Mr. Westin.”

I clutched a handful of my hair. “No, I’m probably not, but I know that men who use their fists to solve problems always take that problem-solving method back home. So, when did he start hitting you?”

Elizabeth flushed. “Last year. After he lost his job.”

“Because of course that was your fault,” I said acerbically.

“Ms. Ellery, I’m really scared. Jake said he’ll infect the boys if I don’t stop the divorce proceedings. And if I do go ahead and divorce him, is the court going to make me share custody with him after what he said?”

“Normally a court will opt for joint custody. My job is to make sure the court realizes how dangerous that would be for your children. Especially given Jake’s gang involvement. Once in, never out is the general rule with those guys.” I picked up my pen and beat a tattoo on the top of the legal pad. “There’s another issue. You need to get out of the tristate area. We’ve established that Jake is watching you.”

At this news, the woman went so white I was afraid she was going to faint. Alarmed, I keyed the intercom. “Norma, please bring me a glass of water.”

“Oh God, what am I going to do?” She clasped her hands over and over, knuckles whitening with strain. “Maybe I should forget this. Just go back to him.”

“No! If you go back the abuse will just get worse, because then he knows it works. I’m going to ask for a large settlement, but you’ve got to help me by moving away.”
And I’ve got to get her sole custody of the two boys.

“I don’t know. My friends, my family—”

“Your children’s safety.”

There was a quick knock, and Norma entered with the water. Elizabeth took the glass and gulped down a few sips.

“Mr. May and his attorney are here,” Norma said.

“Okay.” I gathered up the file, the pad, and my pen. I looked down at Elizabeth. “You ready?”

“I guess.”

We headed upstairs to a conference room.

We had been given the smallest room, which meant we were all breathing each other’s air, and my knees came perilously close to touching Jake May’s. I had taken one look at his twisted face and made sure Elizabeth wasn’t seated across from him.

I could see how May might have swept a young girl off her feet. He had red-gold hair, blue eyes, and a fit, trim body. He also had one of those complexions that went blotchy red when he was angry. He was angry now, and his eyes kept switching from blue to the wine red glint of the werewolf.

May’s attorney, Kevin Phenrod, was sweating, and he kept looking at his client instead of meeting my gaze. That seemed odd, so I took a long look at the man. May’s hands were balled into fists and pressed against the table—and the reddish hair on the backs of his fingers was slowly thickening and lengthening. No wonder Phenrod was sweating.

I introduced myself to May and Phenrod. The other attorney shook my hand. I had to force myself to extend my hand to May. He didn’t take it. He muttered something that might have been words, but seemed more like a growl.

“If there are no objections, I’d like to tape this meeting so we can be sure we have an accurate transcript for the court,” I said.

“How do I know you won’t doctor the tape and make up some bullshit?” May asked.

“How about if we use my phone? It’s got video recording.” Phenrod said hurriedly.

“I have no problem with that,” I said.

Phenrod set his BlackBerry in the center of the small table “First, I’d like to say on behalf of my client that he opposes this divorce. He loves his wife and children, and he feels counseling and mediation would resolve their problems. He’s willing to do both.”

Elizabeth stirred in her chair. I didn’t want to be one of those lawyers who ramrodded people into divorces, but I also knew Elizabeth was an abuse victim, and if they don’t have help, they have a hard time breaking with their abusers. I hurried into the conversational break.

“Noted, but my client is resolved to move ahead with the divorce.” Elizabeth retreated to the very back of her chair.