For the Defense (16 page)

He knew. She’d kept him up for two nights in a row with X-rated dreams.

“You’ll feel more alert after we have something to eat,” he said. “Do you have a preference, or are you willing to let me choose?”

She laid her head on the seat rest. “I’m in your hands.”

Jack took the next corner fast, trying hard not to dwell on the literal image her words invoked.

He picked a French restaurant that offered seating on its
tree-lined patio. He hadn’t missed the fact that Diana had chosen to sit on the terrace of the first restaurant they’d gone to. Since the temperatures were mild, staying indoors seemed a waste.

Only too late did he remember that she was careful about what she ate and probably wouldn’t consider French food a good choice. But she surprised him by her enthusiasm when she ordered several items from the menu.

“Don’t tell me French food is healthy?” he asked when the waiter had left.

“I think the French have the right idea,” she said. “A small amount of something truly rich and satisfying is far superior to a large quantity of something that never satisfies.”

He’d always been a firm believer in that himself—and not only about food.

“Ah, so I might actually find a chocolate bar in your shoulder bag.”

She smiled.

The waiter delivered their food. Jack ate what was normally one of his favorite dishes, but it was the memory of her taste that filled him. He reminded himself that retreating from a physical pursuit of her had been the decent thing to do. But his body didn’t like the decision.

Their plates were clean and their coffee served before he broached the other subject she’d alluded to earlier.

“Tell me about the unsafe office problem.”

She took a sip of her coffee. “Gail Loftin was the woman who was with Staker in the park last Friday. She’s a lawyer at Kozen and Kozen.”

“And you think she might be telling her lover things she shouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to think that. But several of the firm’s lawyers have unexpectedly lost cases to Staker over the
past few months, and one is convinced someone at our law offices passed on privileged information to the prosecutor.”

She paused a moment to drink some more coffee. “We don’t always win, of course, but lately Gail is the only one who
has
won. Not that she isn’t a dynamite litigator. But even though her cases have been important capital offenses, Staker has assigned other people to prosecute them. Normally, he takes those cases on himself.”

“He doesn’t want to go up against his lover in court,” Jack said in understanding. “Does she know about Connie’s case?”

“I’ve told her very little and even partially misled her on my defense approach. Nothing she might pass on to Staker would matter.”

“Are your files safe?”

“What I don’t carry with me in my briefcase is on my computer. And, thanks to Mel’s expertise with password encryption, virtually inaccessible to anyone but me.”

She was being very careful. He expected nothing less.

“The thing is, I can’t bring myself to believe that Gail would do this.”

But the suspicion was eating at her.

“Diana, would you like me to find out if there is a leak?”

She looked at him in surprise as she put down her coffee cup. “I’ve already given you far too much to do on Connie’s case. I can’t ask you to—”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.”

“No, you don’t understand. I haven’t even told the senior partner at my firm about my suspicions, much less gotten funding for an investigation.”

“Consider it a favor from a friend.”

She rested her hand on his forearm. “Thank you, Jack.
But as a friend, I would never take advantage of you like that.”

She was giving him one of those smiles again. His hand closed over hers before he realized it. “Diana—”

He never finished the sentence, because the waiter appeared with the bill. Jack quickly released his clasp on Diana’s hand, wondering what in the hell he thought he was doing.

When they were back in his car, she asked him what he had begun to say to her back in the restaurant.

“Not important,” he said and then drove her straight to her office.

“H
AVE YOU SEEN
Jack lately?” Mel asked her mother.

“He’s been too busy trying to find a witness for me. Would you hand me that roller?”

Mel followed Diana’s pointing finger and passed over the paint roller. “So you haven’t seen him since the wedding?”

“We met briefly on Monday. Any reason you’re asking?”

“I just wondered.”

“About the kiss?”

Mel nodded as she pushed her paintbrush over the wall. “You really like him?”

Diana watched the groove deepen in her daughter’s brow. The frown had become a frequent feature this week. Mel always got nervous when Diana showed interest in a man.

“I wouldn’t have kissed him if I didn’t really like him. You know that about me, right?”

Mel’s nod was grave.

“Jack’s a good guy, Cute Stuff. But he’s not my guy.”

“Looked like you two were fitted together.”

That’s exactly how Diana had felt being in Jack’s arms.

She gave herself a mental shake as she concentrated on edging her roller against the door trim. “Attraction between men and women is a natural part of life. How we handle that attraction reflects our emotional intelligence or lack thereof.”

“How are you handling it?”

Diana picked up a brush to paint what the roller had missed. “Jack said he’d like to be my friend. I like that idea as well.”

“What do men and women friends do together?”

“Don’t know. Never had a male friend before. I doubt we’ll be getting together to braid each other’s hair or do any body waxing, though.”

Diana sent her daughter a smile. Mel didn’t smile back. This wasn’t going well.

“The Hound and I have successfully applied the third coat to the kitchen,” Shirley said suddenly.

Diana looked over to see her aunt standing beneath the arch that led into the living room. She brandished a wet paintbrush in one hand, a can of paint in the other and a big smile on her face. The enormous black cat stood at her feet.

“What’s next?” Shirley asked.

“Sit down for a while and let me get you something to drink,” Diana offered. “I have a thermos of hot tea, one of milk and some cold drinks in the ice chest.”

“First the work, then the refreshments!”

“Okay, Holmes. The upstairs bathroom needs a second—and let’s hope final—application of white.”

Her aunt beamed as she marched toward the stairs. “I’m your man. Come, Hound.” The black cat swished its crooked tail and followed in her wake.

When Shirley had disappeared up the stairs, Mel asked her mom, “Why is she so excited about painting?”

“Makes her feel needed.”

“We’re just painting.”

“One of the great things about Shirley is that she never
just
does anything. Hang around her long enough and you might even learn to appreciate that.”

Mel didn’t look convinced. For the umpteenth time in
the past week, Diana reminded herself that emotional maturity took time.

The familiar sound of the William Tell Overture rang through the empty room. Diana stepped over the drop cloths to get to her shoulder bag, dug out her cell phone and answered with her name.

“It’s Audrey Weaton. I can’t make our appointment tomorrow.”

This was the third time Audrey had called to cancel her scheduled deposition. Diana’s long pause must have conveyed her annoyance because Audrey’s voice held a contrite tone as she rushed to fill the ensuing quiet.

“It’s a busy time for me and a customer called a moment ago to say she’s flying in tomorrow. I have to meet with her early.”

“A customer of the real estate agency?” Diana asked.

“No, I don’t work with my husband. I have a business of my own making jewelry. I can talk to you at my home now. Lyle will be at the office late with some clients, and my oldest son is spending the night with a friend. It’s the best I can do.”

Diana knew getting a court reporter on such short notice wasn’t going to be easy. Or inexpensive. But maybe worth the try to get this matter resolved.

Putting Audrey on hold, Diana punched in the number of one of the single moms she knew could use the extra money. When the court reporter agreed to come, Diana went back to Audrey, telling her she’d be arriving in forty minutes.

After hanging up the phone, Diana turned to Mel. “I have to go out. I’ll leave the cell phone and a number where I can be reached with Shirley. This shouldn’t take more than an hour or two.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to see someone regarding Connie’s case.”

“Jack?” Mel said, another furrow appearing on her forehead.

“No, a witness,” Diana corrected as she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the stairs. She was getting a little concerned about Mel’s worries over Jack. Normally her daughter accepted her assurances.

Looked like you two were fitted together.

Maybe that was why Mel wasn’t convinced. And maybe that’s why Diana hadn’t been too convincing when she told her daughter that she and Jack were only going to be friends.

J
ACK WAS BLEARY-EYED
after going over the reports that Jared had secured for him. Thirty-two women drivers had been cited for traffic violations in the county on the day Amy was killed. Jack had compared the women’s last names with those from the softball teams. None of the names matched.

If Bruce had driven away from the game with a woman, she wasn’t one of the other guy’s wives. That meant she might have been another guy’s date. Or a sister or daughter with a different last name.

Including the three Weaton men, there were sixty guys who’d played at the park that day. It had taken Jack four days to track down and interview the seven men who had been on the guest list for Bruce’s memorial service. They all told the same story about Bruce’s drinking before AA, his killer business instinct beneath a charming façade and his womanizing ways. Jack had learned nothing knew from them.

There had to be a quicker way of locating the woman Bruce had been with and the car he’d been driving on the day of Amy’s hit-and-run.

Jack punched in Jared’s cell number. His brother answered after two rings, the background music telling Jack
that Jared was out somewhere. He checked his watch. Eight o’clock. He hadn’t realized it was that late.

“I need a favor,” Jack said.

He heard a woman giggling in the background as she asked for another drink. “You’d better not need that favor now,” his brother warned.

Jack grinned. “Bright and early tomorrow will do. Vehicle registration checks on sixty names.”

“You’re joking.”

“Current records aren’t as important as what they were driving five years ago.”

Jack could hear his brother’s irritation over the phone. “Do you have the foggiest idea the amount of time it would take to check on that many vehicles belonging to that many people over that period of time?”

“Give me your access to the Department of Licensing records and I’ll be happy to search them myself.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

No, Jack was sure he couldn’t. Jared would bend the law but not break it. “I hear the county commissioners have finally agreed to add a Chief of Detectives to your unit. When you solve Amy Pearce’s hit-and-run, you’ll be a natural for the new position.”

An exhale of frustration came through the telephone line. “If you weren’t my brother…”

Jack grinned. “I’ll drop the names off at your place tonight. I’ll even bring over a chilled bottle of imported wine and a box of chocolates for the lady.”

“Your tail better be out of there in forty minutes. If tonight’s going to be my last free night from work for a while, I’m damn well going to make the best of it.”

Jack laughed as he disconnected the line. The thought occurred to him that there was still time for him to make a call and spend the night in the same kind of fun as his brother planned to engage in.

Except that he’d lost his taste for that since he got this case. Or, more accurately, since he got a case of Diana Mason.

He’d stayed away from her all week, diligently rejecting all the flimsy excuses that came to mind to see her. Except every time he remembered the taste and feel of her, she was right back in his arms, melting into him. And he was—

The ringing phone jarred Jack out of his fantasies. With the conflicting emotions of relief and irritation, he answered with his name.

“Glad I caught you in, Jack,” Shirley’s voice said. “Need some help here.”

Diana’s aunt was the last person Jack expected to receive a call from. He sat up, feeling a sharp stab of unease. “What’s wrong?”

After listening to Shirley’s explanation, Jack relaxed back in his chair, wearing a big smile that should have bothered him. “Sure, Holmes. Happy to be of service.”

T
HE
W
EATON HOME WAS
on the end of a cul-de-sac in a hilly part of the city, sheltered beneath four-hundred-year-old western hemlocks. Plush honeycomb-colored carpet, crisp white linen drapes and spotless glass shelves full of lovely handpainted Lenox vases reflected a carefree woman with relentless good taste and ample time for housecleaning—not a harried working mother with two young boys.

Diana always wondered what genes enabled some women to pull off such feats.

Audrey showed Diana and the court reporter into the living room where an assortment of delicate finger-sandwiches waited.

At least she was being civil. That was a nice change
from her husband. Still, she was clearly tense as she sat on the couch, bouncing a two-year-old boy on her knee.

While the court reporter munched a sandwich and wrestled with her uncooperative machine, Diana took advantage of the delay to try to relax Audrey.

“Is that a sample of the jewelry you make?” she said, pointing to the bracelet that the woman was wearing, a delicate gold filigree with turquoise and diamonds.

Audrey nodded. “Yes, it’s one of my designs.”

“It’s beautiful,” Diana said.

Audrey picked up a brochure from the end table. “This is the latest catalog, hot off the press.”

Diana accepted the catalog with the name
Farrell’s Originals
embossed on the cover, flipped through the glossy pages. The pictures were professional, highlighting the delicate intricacy of design and pleasing symmetry of an assortment of beautiful rings, broaches, pendants.

The prices weren’t listed, but Diana was certain that whatever they were she couldn’t afford them. “Very nice,” she said.

“I make most of the jewelry right here,” Audrey volunteered proudly. “Lyle had the attic converted into a workshop when we moved in here after the wedding.”

“So jewelry making was your business before you married?” Diana asked, as she took a bite of one of the finger sandwiches. It was also very good.

“My mother’s and mine. Still is. We’re co-owners, although she relies on me to make most of the jewelry now that her sight isn’t the best. Our clients are from all over the world.”

Diana could believe it after seeing the beautiful bracelet on Audrey’s wrist and the samples in the catalog. “A successful businesswoman, a perfect housekeeper and a full-time mom. If you tell me you made these sandwiches, too, I’m going to start hating you.”

Audrey laughed, a nice sound. “My cook made them before she left this evening. I also have a housekeeper. Am I forgiven?”

Diana smiled. “Your membership in the ‘real woman’ world has been reinstated.”

Audrey’s shoulders relaxed as she rested back on the sofa. “This week has been a madhouse because my sitter quit,” she confessed. “Can’t watch the kids and get anything done. But Jason is a good boy. He’ll be quiet while we talk. Won’t you, honey?”

Audrey’s voice was a hopeful plea. Jason squirmed on her lap and stuck a chubby finger up his nose.

The reporter nodded to Diana that she was ready. Diana acknowledged the message and beckoned for the court reporter to swear Audrey Weaton in. The chitchat was over. Time to get down to business.

“Please tell me what happened on July 27 of last year,” Diana began.

“Bruce invited all of us for a barbecue at his place.”

“All of us?” Diana repeated.

“Lyle, me and the boys. And his parents, of course. Bruce said it was so we’d have a chance to get to know Connie.”

“Had he done this with other women he dated?”

“No, that was a first. Family get-togethers were always restricted to family.”

So much for Lyle’s earlier contention that Bruce had included other women he’d been seeing.

“Had you met Connie before this, Mrs. Weaton?”

“None of us had.”

“When did you arrive at Bruce’s that day?” Diana asked.

“Little before noon, I think. Connie was already there and Philip, Lyle’s dad, arrived soon after we did. We were all standing around the barbecue. Lyle Jr., my oldest, was
playing catch with Connie. When he dragged Connie into the garage to see the bike Bruce had got for him, Lyle told me to take Jason into the kitchen and start getting the salads and drinks ready while the men of the family made the fire.”

“Real caveman approach, huh?” Diana coaxed when Audrey paused.

“I wanted to wait until Barbara got there,” Audrey said. “But Lyle obviously wanted to talk to his father and brother alone.”

“Was that usual behavior?”

Audrey shrugged. “When they talked business or shared dirty jokes, they generally made sure the kids and I were elsewhere.”

Diana nodded. “What happened next?”

“I was in the kitchen a few minutes later when I heard shouting outside.”

“Could you tell who it was or what was said?”

“No. I looked out the kitchen window, but the shrubbery hid the view of the street. Then Philip burst through the back door and said a car had hit Bruce. He ran over to the phone and dialed 911.”

“And what did you do, Mrs. Weaton?”

Audrey’s eyes seemed to glaze over. “I picked up Jason and hugged him.”

Like she was hugging him now? So tightly that the little boy was wiggling and starting to complain?

“Sorry, honey,” Audrey said, as she seemed to come to her senses and loosened her hold on her child. “I guess I was in shock.”