Читать книгу Her Best Defense - Jackie/Lori Merritt/Myles - Страница 10

Lisa arrived at work at her usual time. Instead of going straight to her own office, though, she stopped by the research department to see what Larry had come up with on the Witheringtons. If she had to deal with those people, it was in her best interest to know as much as possible about them. Of course, if things went as she ardently hoped, the police would eliminate Glory as a suspect and Lisa wouldn’t have to deal with them ever again.

“Good morning, Larry,” she said as she entered his domain. “What did you find for me?”

“No time for chitchat? Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I guess maybe I did wake up a little cranky.”

“Rough night?”

Had she had a rough night? Not really. So why was she feeling so on edge this morning? Her date with Grant really hadn’t been all that bad. She knew she wasn’t attracted to him and that she probably wouldn’t be seeing him in that way again, but that wasn’t a reason for her to snap at people this morning. So why was she feeling this way? The Witheringtons, she almost said out loud.

Ever since she’d met them yesterday, she’d had a bad feeling. There was just something about those people that rubbed her wrong. Of course, she couldn’t admit that to Larry. She couldn’t even admit it to Pamela. It was her job to advise and defend her clients to the best of her abilities, no matter how appalling she found them.

“I had a lot on my mind,” she finally told Larry. “I guess I didn’t sleep well.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Larry replied, accepting her answer without question. “Here are my preliminary findings on the Witheringtons and that Ruiz fellow.” He then handed her a large manila envelope.

“Preliminary findings?”

“I’m on the trail of something,” Larry said with a gleam in his eyes that energized Lisa as no other segment of the morning had done.

“Like what?” she questioned with unconcealed eagerness.

Larry’s entire demeanor seemed to Lisa to shut down, an observation bolstered by the unreadable look he gave her. “I’d rather not try to explain at this point,” he said. “Not until I know more.”

What is this? Her ire rose at such unnecessary drama, though she kept a lid on it. “But it has something to do with this case? Surely you can tell me that much.”

“Lisa, that’s exactly what I’m not sure about.”

Mysterious remarks she didn’t need, she thought, and she couldn’t hold back a frustrated sigh. “This is damn confusing, Larry.”

“Let’s just say that I found some interesting history on the Witherington name and leave it at that for now.”

Lisa couldn’t imagine what Larry had run across, but obviously he wasn’t going to say any more than he already had and she might as well accept his attitude, even if it did chafe her nerves raw. Irritated, she couldn’t keep from saying, “Just don’t charge your time to this case until you do know for sure. You know how Ludlow is about that kind of thing.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Larry laughed, and laughed again when her face got red. “Don’t worry, Lisa, I’ll only charge related time.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, angry for embarrassing herself. “Try not to hate me for being a bitch today, okay?” She got to her feet.

Larry rose, as well. “Don’t worry about it.”

Lisa took the manila envelope to her office, regretting every bitchy word she’d said to Larry. He didn’t deserve that from her or anyone else in the firm. Without him and his computer brilliance—bordering on pure genius—everyone in the firm would be bogged down with his own research.

But what was the big mystery he’d apparently stumbled onto? Something to do with the Witheringtons, obviously, and it certainly had him intrigued. Well, it had her intrigued, as well, but all she could do was bide her time and try to keep herself on her own track until he was ready to explain.

Lisa began reading the computer-generated pages from the envelope. The first report was all about Mrs. Witherington. Glory had been born a Quenten, another very wealthy family, about forty-four years ago. She had grown up mostly in the Chicago suburbs, having left for several years in her early teens to attend school in Europe.

Lisa thumbed through the pages attached until she came to something a little more interesting than the background of a spoiled rich kid. The last few pages were police reports. Glory had been arrested several times for driving under the influence and drunk and disorderly conduct, and while the police had been called out to the Witherington home on several occasions for domestic disputes, no charges had been filed in connection with those incidents.

“Good job, Larry,” Lisa said out loud.

She moved on to Chandler’s report, flipping quickly to the end to see what skeletons she might find there. But there weren’t any. Chandler had no arrest record. In fact, he was downright boring compared to Glory.

The other reports included their marriage certificate, hospital admittance forms for Glory for an emergency appendectomy, and a list of real estate holdings.

Then there was Mateo Ruiz. He was in his mid-twenties, mostly a drifter and by trade, it appeared, a drug dealer. His arrest record—most of it drug-related—had begun at the age of twelve and had continued throughout his entire life. Had he been using Glory for money? Possibly stealing small items from around the Witherington mansion for resale? Lisa made a note to ask Glory if she had ever noticed anything missing.

Just then her telephone rang.

“Lisa Jensen,” she said as she put the receiver to her ear.

“Kurt Sandoval is on line three for you,” Madeline’s rich voice told her through the phone.

“Kurt? Really? Thank you, Madeline.”

Kurt Sandoval was a homicide detective with the Chicago Police Department. He was tall, dark and handsome in a disheveled sort of way. His hair was thick, black and always attractively disarrayed. His clothes were rumpled and he always had a little dirt under his nails. But it was his wild blue eyes that attracted the most attention. Lisa had worked with him several times. She had gotten to know him fairly well over the past few years and felt she could justifiably call him a friend. She secretly wished she could call him more than that. Her heart raced anytime she came near him.

But he was a married man. Of course, he hadn’t ever shown her any interest beyond work-related issues. Not that he wasn’t a flirt; he just never took it too far and neither did she.

“Hey, Kurt,” she said, as she pressed the button for line three on her telephone.

“Hey, blondie,” he returned.

“What’s up?”

“I heard you have a new case.”

“Boy, news sure does travel fast. How did you hear about it?”

“Your client’s just been arrested. I thought you should know.”

Lisa barely remembered hanging up the telephone. Her blood was boiling. Why hadn’t Glory or Chandler called her? What was the matter with them? How did they think she was going to help them if they didn’t even bother calling when the police actually slapped on the cuffs?

She had her purse in her hand and was reaching for the telephone to call John Ludlow when it rang again. Surprisingly, the caller ID displayed Ludlow’s name. The Witheringtons must have called him instead of her! Lisa shook her head. She was their attorney of record, not John Ludlow. She felt like picking up the phone and telling Ludlow to get someone else, someone more suitable to the Witheringtons, to take her place.

“Yes, Mr. Ludlow?”

“Lisa, I just got a call from Chandler Witherington.”

“I figured you had. I just got a call from a source in the police station. I’m on my way down to the women’s correctional facility now.”

“Good, good.”

There was a brief and somewhat awkward silence, and Lisa was about to say that she needed to run when Ludlow finally spoke again.

“Lisa, I know the Witheringtons can be a little odd at times, but that was one of the reasons I chose you for this case. I felt you could handle them.”

Lisa wanted to question Ludlow further on that. Handle them? What was that supposed to mean? And if she did a great job would that guarantee a promotion? She was earning it.

“Thank you, Mr. Ludlow. I appreciate your confidence in me.”

“All right then. Call me later and let me know what’s going on. I want to be kept informed on this one.”

“Will do, sir.”

Lisa didn’t have time for the train or a bus, so she hailed a cab as soon as she exited the building. The distance to the women’s correctional facility was only a few miles, but with daytime traffic it would take at least twenty minutes. She pulled out her cell phone and began to dial. The first call she made was to the district attorney’s office to find out if Glory’s arraignment had been scheduled yet. Of course, she didn’t get an answer. No one seemed to know anything about it, and she was told someone would call her back with the information. The second call she made was to Chandler’s cell phone.

“Chandler, it’s Lisa Jensen,” she began once he’d picked up.

“Lisa, I thought I told you this was the very thing we wanted to avoid!”

“Chandler, I—”

“We pay your firm a lot of money annually, not to mention a large retainer for your services. The least you could have done was warn us that this was coming.”

“Chandler, I—”

“And another thing, where the hell are you?”

Lisa couldn’t take any more of this man’s verbal assault. “If you’ll shut up for thirty seconds, I’ll tell you!”

Chandler began to sputter so Lisa took that opportunity to let him know she was on her way to the women’s facility and that she had only been informed after the arrest was made. She also told him that she didn’t appreciate being the second person in the office to know what was going on, not if they wanted adequate representation from her.

She also told him to be at the arraignment, which she would do her best to get scheduled for that afternoon, and to be prepared to put up a large bail bond. She also asked him to bring Glory’s passport in case the judge wanted it.

“I’ve just arrived at the women’s correction facility, Chandler, so I’ll speak to you later.”

“Very well, but please keep me informed.”

“And I would appreciate it if you would do the same.”

Lisa had been to this building several times over the past few years, but it never ceased to give her chills every time she walked through the front doors. The simple truth was that she could have very easily ended up on the wrong side of these bars had it not been for her mother.

Lisa had been only twelve when her father had been gunned down, shot in an alley, murdered for no apparent reason. The toll on both her and her mother had been monstrous. Her mother had fallen into a deep depression that had lasted for months. At the time, Lisa had felt as though she’d lost both parents that fateful night, and in a way she had. With no one left to turn to, she had turned, as so often happened with children growing up in Wellston, to the streets. Her friends became the kids who lived and worked in the neighborhood as lookouts and runners for drug dealers and usually ended up in the life themselves.

What had finally snapped her mother out of her depression was the night Lisa came home with a pocketful of money. She had worked as a lookout all night and was given a small percentage of the take. It was a fortune to Lisa and she thought she’d found her calling. Claudia thought otherwise. And after making Lisa return the money, she began taking a strong and parental interest in whatever her daughter was doing.

At first, Lisa hated it and hated her mother for watching every move she made. Later, she loved her mother more than she could say and thanked her with her nightly phone calls.

“There but by the grace of God and Mom go I,” Lisa whispered as she passed a group of young women, obviously prostitutes, waiting to be booked.

Lisa showed her identification and bar association card to the guard at the front desk. “I’m here to see Glory Witherington,” she explained. “I’m her legal counsel.”

The guard directed Lisa down a long corridor. There were several small rooms on either side for attorneys and clients to use for consultations. She had been told that Mrs. Witherington was in the third room on the left.

A guard was posted at each end of the hall behind a wall of bars. A third guard followed the attorneys to their rooms to unlock the doors from the corridor side. Apparently this was a vulnerable spot in the correction center, being the last chance for anyone wishing to make a break for it, so every precaution was taken to ensure that didn’t happen. All the guards were armed, and none of them looked the least bit interested in playing games. Lisa could only imagine what these men and women, after working here for several years, had seen, and she could honestly say she didn’t envy them their jobs. However, she did respect them immeasurably.

Glory was seated at an old wooden table wiping her hands with a tissue. Lisa guessed she was still trying to remove the ink from the fingerprinting that had occurred earlier. Either that or she was just trying to wipe away the day.

“It’s about time!” Glory snapped as soon as she saw Lisa. “Can I go home now?”

Lisa bit her tongue. How was she ever going to get through an entire murder trial with this self-centered woman and her condescending husband?

“You won’t be able to leave until after the arraignment, and only then if the judge agrees to bail.”

“The what?”

“It’s called an arraignment and it’s where we tell a judge what our intentions are.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s where we plead you guilty or not guilty, Glory. If it’s not guilty—”

“Of course it’s not guilty!” Glory shouted.

“Glory, please, I’m simply trying explain the procedure to you. We’re not holding the trial yet.”

“All right then, explain it to me.”

“When we tell the judge that you are not guilty, the district attorney will make a motion requesting your incarceration until trial and—”

“What! Are they insane?”

“Glory, it’s part of the procedure. It doesn’t mean they actually expect you to go to jail. They know Chandler will put up a bond and since you don’t have a…” Lisa paused for a moment. She had wanted to say that since Glory didn’t have a record, there would be no reason for the judge to even consider putting her behind bars. However, Glory did have a record and even though it was for drunk and disorderly conduct, it would be considered and brought up. But did she really want to tell Glory about that now and have her fly off the handle again? “Since you have never been arrested for anything serious before, there shouldn’t be a problem with your going home as soon as Chandler writes a check. It’s possible that you will be home by this evening.”

“I can’t believe this is happening at all,” Glory said under her breath, almost to herself. “Chandler said he could fix anything.”

“What did you say?” Had she heard Glory correctly? And if she had, what had Glory meant by it?

A funny look crossed Glory’s face briefly before she spoke. Lisa likened it to a child being caught telling a lie or swiping a piece of candy he had been told he couldn’t have.

“You know men,” Glory finally said with a laugh. “They think they can fix anything.” She then went back to wiping her hands. “But even the great Chandler Witherington can’t make the world stop turning.”

Lisa studied her client for a few moments. The woman’s hands were perfectly clean; the tissue she was using was nothing more then a small wad of cotton, crumpled and torn and barely recognizable. What had just happened here? Had Glory just admitted something?

For the first time since their initial meeting, Lisa detected a touch of vulnerability in her client. Lisa’s heart softened. She certainly didn’t know Glory well enough yet to judge her harshly or otherwise, but it was strangely satisfying to realize that even though Glory Witherington brimmed with better-than-thou eccentricities, she also had a human side.

Still, she was a strange one, Lisa had to add to her adjusted understanding of Glory. Most people—men and women alike—just arrested for murder were emotional, showing it in varying ways, of course—some weeping, some angry and cursing. The only evidence she could see of what Glory might truly be feeling was that ragged piece of tissue in her hands.

She got to her feet. “Glory, you will be informed of the time for the arraignment and delivered to the scheduled courtroom. I will be there, as will Chandler.”

And then Glory destroyed all of the softness Lisa had just felt toward her by speaking like a queen to a lowly subject. “Be sure and get me out of here,” she spat. “This place is a sty!”

The arraignment was held late in the day. The courtroom was packed and they had to sit through a dozen other criminal indictments before Glory Witherington’s name was called. Lisa took over and handled the proceeding like the pro she was. Although the prosecutor argued against bail on the basis of the defendant’s past record, and her wealth, which would permit her to easily leave the country, Lisa beat him at every turn. Glory’s arrest records were ancient history and should not be permitted to taint this case. The judge ruled in her favor after asking for Glory’s passport to be surrendered. Just as Lisa had expected.

As for bail, the evidence provided by the prosecution was circumstantial at best, and Lisa put it before the court that Glory could easily be an innocent woman. The state’s case was not strong enough to deny bail, and again the judge agreed. Bail was set at a million dollars, and Chandler wrote a check for that amount. His expediency at this juncture made a good impression on Lisa; he must truly believe in his wife’s innocence. The final task was to set a date for the preliminary hearing, which the judge did without preamble. It was over. Chandler escorted his wife out and Lisa followed them into the corridor.

Not that Lisa expected any great gestures, but neither Glory nor Chandler thanked her, so she spoke coolly and professionally to them. “We have about six weeks until the prelim, and I will be investigating every nook and cranny of your lives during that time. Expect to see a lot of me and possibly Hal Hannigan, an investigator who works for the firm. I intend to interview everyone who works in your home, your friends, along with close friends of the victim’s.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Chandler said sharply.

“No. If you want your wife free instead of growing old in jail…or worse—Illinois has a death penalty, you know—then nothing or no one is off limits to me. If there’s anything at all about that night that you haven’t told me, please give some serious thought to doing so right away. I’m prepared to listen at any time, and you have my phone numbers. We’ll talk again soon. Goodbye.”

She walked away with her back straight and her head high. She was outside when someone called her name. Turning, she saw Kurt Sandoval heading toward her. Her mood changed drastically, although deep down she wondered if she would ever be the same after being forced to huddle for several hours in a crowded courtroom with two snobs like Glory and Chandler.

“Hi,” she called before he reached her. “I saw you in the hallway, but everyone was so lost in the crowd there wasn’t an opportunity to say hello.”

“Yeah, I’m here on the Garrow case. You know, the one where the guy killed the three hookers?”

Lisa nodded. “How’s it going?”

“We’ve got him. By the way what’d you think of the ME’s report on the Witherington case?”

She had received a copy of the autopsy report from the prosecutor’s office. “It seems pretty straightforward to me. The vic was shot once and killed.”

“Shot in the back, Lisa.”

She frowned. “Yes, in the back. That could mean he never saw or even knew his killer, Kurt.”

“It could also mean that he trusted whoever pulled the trigger.”

“I’ll tell you what it does mean to me at this juncture…that both the prosecution and defense teams have a lot of work to do before trial.”

“She did it, Lisa.”

“You have absolutely no proof of that, and you definitely shouldn’t be talking that way to me. It’s not even your case.”

Kurt grinned, and he looked so damned cute that Lisa felt sexual tingles moving around in her body. “I shouldn’t be talking to you at all,” Kurt said. “This is war. You know it, I know it, and we’re on opposite sides. But how can I resist your many charms?”

She felt her face color and become warm. “You’re really full of it today, Sandoval. Maybe you should figure out why a courtroom full of alleged criminals and legal types turn you on.”

He laughed. “Long legs and blond hair turn me on, sweetheart.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Really. Now that you mention it, I did see a lawyer that fits that description very well. I believe his name is Aaron Richardson.” She tossed her head at him and walked away, listening to him chuckle all the way to the curb, where she hailed a taxi.

What a cad he was! Married and coming on to her. Well, she’d handled him well enough, hadn’t she? But damn him, anyhow. How dare he be the only man who could thrill her with a look when he had absolutely no right to even cast his eyes in her direction?

She leaned forward, gave the driver her home address and fell back against the seat. God, she was tired, she thought, and by the time she got home, she faced total exhaustion. A leisurely hot bath helped and so did some hot food, although it was a chore to even enter the kitchen knowing she had to cook something.

Still, she was thinking more clearly and feeling much better when she finally climbed the stairs to her home office. First, she retrieved voice mail messages from her phone at the firm. There were three: one each from Grant Gowan, Pamela and Larry. She listened to each and made notes. Grant’s words were flirtatious and suggesting another date, Pamela had merely wondered what was going on with her, but Larry’s message got her blood pumping.

“Lisa, I know you’re in court so I’ll skip a call to your cell. I just wanted to bring you up to speed on what we discussed this morning…you know…Witherington history? Well, it’s like this. I believe I found proof of a connection between the Witherington name and some of Chicago’s underworld figures. Chandler Sr., especially. I know the old guy is dead, but I can’t help wondering if his son has carried on a family tradition. I’ll let you know what I turn up.”

With her heart beating a mile a minute, Lisa dialed her mother’s number. “This is just a quick call tonight, Mom. I’m truly done in, but I never could have gone to sleep without hearing your voice first.”

Claudia understood and they only said a few words before signing off. Lisa doused the lights and crawled into bed. Her pulse was still racing from Larry’s message. My Lord, she thought, was Chandler Witherington connected to the Chicago mob? And if so, had Mateo’s death been set up by Chandler, even though he had the perfect alibi of having been hundreds of miles away? Maybe he hadn’t liked a gardener sleeping with his wife?

It was a theory with teeth, she realized, one that could not be discarded without further investigation.

“Thank God for Larry,” she murmured, her last words before sleep took her.