“Oh! I’m sorry, she’s er…tied up in court and not back yet.”
Candy huffed on the other end of the line. “We have a call scheduled for two.”
“It’s not quite two yet,” Isobel said.
“Who is this?”
Candy on the phone was much more businesslike than carefree Candy from The Hostelry.
“This is Isobel, Sarah’s assistant.” A sudden demon possessed her, and before she could stop herself, she added, “Sarah wanted me to ask if you could stop by the office around four.”
“Why can’t I just call her at four?” Candy bristled.
“She has something to show you,” Isobel punted. “Are you available? I can text her and let her know.”
“Fine,” Candy said tautly. “I’ll be there.”
Isobel’s hands were sweating so much, the receiver practically slid back into the cradle.
“Do you have a plan?” she whispered to herself. “I hope you have a plan.”
She clenched her fists and brought them to her mouth. It had been a mad moment of impulse, the kind of free fall Isobel felt when improvising, which, she reminded herself, she wasn’t very good at. Maybe trusting her instincts was a bad idea. But she’d done it. She’d arranged for Candy to come in at four to meet with Sarah, who, Isobel felt certain, would not be there. How would Candy react when she realized who Isobel was?
“Okay, calm, calm,” Isobel panted as she paced the tiny space behind her cubicle. “Think about what you want to ask her. You have plenty of questions. You have to stop talking to yourself—you’re going to make yourself crazy!”
Could she be putting herself in danger with a face-to-face confrontation? No, Candy couldn’t possibly have shot the judge in the back while sitting across from him. Besides, even if by some stretch she had done it, she would hardly show up armed to meet her attorney.
Isobel forced herself to sit down and make notes as if this were a bona fide meeting. As the afternoon turtled by, with still no word from Sarah, Isobel distracted herself by organizing her thoughts on paper. At three fifteen, an email from Jack popped into her inbox.
“Hey. Here’s Andrew’s address: 139 West 19th Street, Bsmt. 10011. I tried to call him, but his mailbox is full so I couldn’t leave a message. Sounds like your best bet is def to pop the check in the mail. Hope this helps.”
She thanked him, saved the message as unread so it would show up on her phone, and reviewed her notes. There was one last thing to do. She entered Sarah’s office and removed Candy’s file from the cabinet. She wasn’t sure why, but it seemed important to have it at the ready for the meeting Candy didn’t know she was having.
Then Isobel returned to her cubicle and sat down to wait.
NINETEEN
Isobel heard Candy before she saw her. She must have been greeting every secretary in every cubicle, plus some of the lawyers, her repeated bright “hellos” echoing down the floor. Finally she turned the corner, dressed in a sleek black pantsuit and clutching a Chanel tote.
“Hello, I’m here to see—” Candy stopped in her tracks. “What are you doing here?”
A cascade of nervous giggles burst from Isobel’s mouth. “Yeah, me! Crazy coincidence, huh?”
Candy’s jaw flapped downward and then reset itself. “What the hell is going on? Where’s Sarah?”
“Do you want to sit down, and I can tell you the whole story?” Isobel gestured to a chair she’d pulled over for the purpose.
Candy’s gaze flicked upward in annoyance. “No, I don’t want to sit down. I want to see my lawyer, who I was told was expecting me at four o’clock.”
Isobel swallowed. “Yeah, the thing is…are you sure you don’t want to sit?” Candy glared at her and Isobel hurried on. “Okay, well, first of all, I’ve been working as Sarah’s assistant for several months. When I did the gig at The Hostelry, I had absolutely no idea that there was any connection between you two.”
“What’s your name? Your real name,” Candy demanded.
“Isobel Spice.”
“And where’s Sarah?”
Isobel tugged nervously on her ponytail. “Well, that’s the thing. I don’t know. I haven’t heard from her all day, and I’m starting to get worried. It’s not like her to not check in—”
Candy waved a hand in Isobel’s face. “Wait a minute, you said she wanted me to come by at four.”
“No, I wanted you to come by.”
“What? Why?”
“So we could talk about the case.”
“About the…?” Candy sighed and sank onto the chair, resigned. “You’d better start at the beginning.”
“Sarah knew I was working the dinner at The Hostelry, and when she read about what happened, she told me she represented you. I signed her confidentiality agreement, so she’s able to talk to me about her cases. This is all legit.”
Candy eyed her suspiciously. “Go on.”
“I know about the judge’s will, and how he’s estranged from his sons, and that you get their share of the estate if they fail the drug test. Do you know where they are now?”
“No, I do not,” Candy snapped. “And I fail to see why Sarah felt you needed that information.”
“Who’s Angelina Rivington?”
Candy’s eyes blazed. “I don’t know why this is any of your business!”
“Because I’m trying to figure out who killed your ex-husband. My best friend was implicated, and I’m afraid that if the police don’t find the person who did it, they’ll come back to Delphi and bring her in.”
Isobel knew this was unlikely, since the gun had been cleared, but Candy didn’t know that, and she needed to justify her investigation in a way Candy would understand.
“Angie is a friend of Willard’s,” Candy said curtly.
A sudden memory stirred in Isobel’s brain. “Angie…you said something that night about a party at Angie’s house. Somebody asked where you’d done a murder mystery before.”
“It was a packaged game set that a friend bought her for Christmas. She invited eight of us over to play. Willard hated it, probably because he was the victim.”
“Who was the killer?”
A wry smile curled Candy’s lip. “I was.”
“Do you know why Angie missed the dinner? That was her seat I was sitting in.”
Candy uncrossed and recrossed her legs. “Don’t know, don’t care. We weren’t exactly close.”
Isobel detected a note of hostility that went beyond simple jealousy. “You didn’t see her lurking around the restaurant in one of the other rooms, did you? I mean, maybe she showed up, but not for dinner.”
Candy let out a snort. “That ruthless bitch?” She paused to consider. “Actually, I wouldn’t put it past her. But no, I didn’t see her or anybody else ‘lurking around.’” Candy gave her air quotes a vicious snap.
Isobel filed away Candy’s assessment of Angelina and pressed on. “What about Jemma Rhodes? Did you recognize her at The Hostelry?”
Candy grimaced. “You mean the slutbag from the opera who was in your show? I never knew her name, but I sure as hell spent plenty of time staring at that goddamn photograph. Of course I recognized her. Willard did, too. Did you see the look on his face?”
Could Isobel have misheard the judge? Was it possible he had said, “What on earth is she doing here?”
“I want to know how that little tramp managed to get herself hired for that gig,” Candy went on.
Isobel nodded eagerly, seizing a path to common ground. “Exactly! Because you realize she was ‘dead’ and out of the room when the judge was shot. She also knew when Delphi was going to fire. She could have killed him.”
Candy recoiled. “But why?”
“What were the repercussions of that photo for her?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, who do you think killed him?” Isobel asked. “You must have some suspicions. Maybe the person who sent the judge the threatening letter?”
Candy shook her head i
n amazement. “How do you know all this?”
“I ask a lot of questions.”
They stared at each other for a moment, each calculating her next move.
Finally, Candy lowered her eyes. “I have no idea who killed him. It’s obviously someone with a grudge. I did wonder if it could be the same person who sent the letter. Maybe someone he put away who was working there as a waiter.”
“Or even a guest. Could a person like that have wangled an invitation?” Isobel refrained from adding, “Like you did.”
“I suppose it’s possible.” Candy leveled her gaze at Isobel. “Willard was fierce. He made enemies, no question. Lawyers, defendants, court personnel.”
“Women?” Something Sarah had said came back to Isobel. “He was having an affair with someone long-term, wasn’t he? Someone other than Jemma?”
“Well, yeah. Bethany Balsam. But that’s old news.”
“What?”
“That had been going on for years. I never minded, because…well, you met her. I never exactly considered her competition. But Jemma…”
“What did Harrison see in Bethany?”
Candy pulled on the gold button of her suit jacket. “Willard’s job caused a lot of tension. He found one way to cope with it was to…to…during the day…”
Isobel held up a hand. “Okay, I get it. She basically serviced him is what you’re saying?”
“She was more of an escort than the escort, in a way,” Candy admitted. “That’s part of why Jemma threw me. She’s beautiful.”
“But so are you,” Isobel said sincerely. And since you probably could have anyone you wanted, she thought, what were you doing with that power-hungry narcissist?
As if reading her mind, Candy said, “Willard was magnetic. I have a pretty high-powered job. Sometimes it’s nice not to be the one running the show.”
“What about Angie? Were they ever a couple? They must have been close if he left her a third of his—” Isobel’s eyes went wide.
Candy sat up straight. “Oh, my God, what? What is it?”
Isobel leaped to her feet. “Sarah! You’re all right?”
Sarah was standing behind Candy, her eyes flashing fire. “Of course I’m all right. Didn’t you see my note?”
Isobel blanched. “Note?”
“Would you like to tell me just what is going on here?” Sarah spat.
Candy turned around in her chair. “When you weren’t here for our two o’clock, Isobel told me to come by at four.”
Sarah whirled on Isobel. “You didn’t cancel the call like I asked you to?”
Isobel felt her stomach plummet. “I’m—I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t…there was no note…”
Sarah pushed past Candy and riffled the folders and papers on Isobel’s desk until she came up with a yellow Post-it. She shook it at Isobel. “You didn’t see this taped to your computer when you got in this morning?”
Isobel read the note silently, choking back a lump in her throat.
Unexpected court all day with Whitmans. Pls resched Candy H for tomorrow. Any time is good.
Sarah turned to Candy. “I’m so sorry about this.”
“It’s all right,” Candy said, affecting breeziness. “We’ve been having a very interesting conversation.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed at Isobel. “No doubt.”
“I was so worried—” Isobel began.
“Since you’re here,” Sarah said to Candy, “we may as well do our business now, if you can stay.”
“That’s fine,” said Candy, rising. “It shouldn’t take long.”
“Why don’t you wait in my office?”
Candy bared her teeth at Isobel. “What a nice surprise to see you again. Good luck with your investigation.”
Isobel returned a sheepish smile, but as soon as Candy was out of sight, the tears that had been building up flooded her cheeks.
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry,” she said hoarsely. “The note must have fallen. I had no idea. I was afraid something had happened to you!”
Sarah gaped at her. “I don’t know what to say. I am absolutely astounded that you would take such liberties.”
“But the confidentiality agreement—”
“Does not permit you to invite my client—my client—to a meeting with you, for your own purposes. It does not permit you to interrogate my client, or share confidential speculations that you and I have made. And it certainly does not permit you to remove this from my filing cabinet without my express permission!”
Sarah snatched up Candy’s file from the desk and thrust it in Isobel’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Isobel croaked.
“No, what you are is dismissed. I no longer require your services. Please gather your things and don’t come back. I like you, Isobel. You’ve got a lot on the ball. But you abused my trust, and I can’t have that. Case closed.”
TWENTY
“Come on, it’s not the end of the world.” Delphi rubbed Isobel’s back as they sat on her daybed. “It’s a temp job, for God’s sake. It’s not even what you came to New York to do.”
“But it was perfect! I could come and go whenever I wanted. Sarah was so cool, the work was interesting… And how am I going to keep investigating the judge’s murder?” Isobel burst into a fresh volley of tears.
“Okay, you’re right. It is the end of the world. Feel better?”
“I’ve never been fired before,” Isobel choked.
“So now you have a new experience to draw on in acting class. Honestly, it’s not that big a deal.”
“I feel like a complete failure.”
“I wouldn’t say complete…”
Isobel gave Delphi a reproachful look. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”
Delphi threw up her hands, letting the movement propel her up from the bed. “Okay, honey, reality check. You were out of line. No employer in their right mind would keep on a temp who took a confidential file from her office and called a meeting with a client for personal reasons.”
“I guess when you put it like that…” Isobel sniffed.
“There is no other way to put it. You fucked up. End of story.”
Delphi was right, of course, just as Sarah had been right to fire her. Isobel knew she’d been foolish to think a few confidences legitimized her actions. She’d allowed herself to be lulled into an illusory sense of equality.
She wiped her face with her sleeve. “Lesson learned. Never forget that you are the employee.”
“That’s exactly it,” Delphi said more kindly. “Although Sarah forgot, too, in a way, and it’s hard to resist when your boss is the one to cross the line. Believe me, I know how tempting it can be to take their hand and step over with them, but that way danger lies.”
“Bosses should learn their lesson, too,” Isobel said.
“Ideally, yes, but they don’t have to. If it’s their business, you’re expendable. Sarah, Carlo… They’re in charge, and we shouldn’t forget it, even if they do.” Delphi sat down again and patted Isobel’s knee. “So tell me about Candy. She must have been shocked to see you there.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Isobel thought back to their conversation. “I actually did learn a few things of interest.”
“Like what?”
“Remember I told you Harrison had a mistress who was not the person in the photograph? I found out who it was.” Isobel allowed the eager look on Delphi’s face to linger, which boosted her mood a bit. “Bethany Balsam.”
“That harpy?”
Isobel sat up straighter. “Oh, and get this! Apparently, the Harrisons once played a murder mystery dinner game at Angelina Rivington’s house. I remember at the table Candy made a reference to it, and Harrison looked furious.”
“So that’s why he wasn’t into us?”
“More than that. In the game, Harrison was the victim.”
Delphi raised an eyebrow. “Really? Who was the murderer?”
“Candy.”
“And she was the one to suggest a murder mystery to Maggie.” Delphi wound a curl around her finger and released it like a spring. “Maybe Candy masterminded this whole thing and got someone else to pull the trigger.”
“It’s possible. At the very least, it seems like she was trying to send him a message to watch his back with that comment at the table.”
“What about the letter? Do you think she sent it?”
Isobel chewed her lip. “That doesn’t quite feel right to me. She thinks the letter came from someone who held a grudge from one of his past cases. We’ve been so focused on his personal life, we’ve ignored his professional relationships.”
“There have to be hundreds. Is there a way to check the judge’s conviction record?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Probably. Except I don’t have any idea where to look, and I don’t have a lawyer to ask anymore.” Isobel growled in frustration. “Why didn’t I think of that before I got fired?”
They sat in glum silence. Suddenly, Isobel sprang to her feet. An idea had taken hold, but it made her feel squirmy, and she wanted to walk it off. But the more she paced, the more agitated she became. She groaned and clenched her fists.
“What is wrong with you?” Delphi jumped up.
“I can’t!” Isobel stopped in front of the kitchen counter and leaned both hands on one of the stools.
Delphi grabbed Isobel’s shoulders. “What are you talking about?”
“James. He’s at John Jay. He could look for me. Except that he’ll only talk to me under duress. Or under an umbrella.”
Delphi released her. “Maybe you need something like this to mend your fences.”
“But I’d have to explain why I was asking for his help,” Isobel said, a pained expression on her face. “Can you imagine what he’ll say when I tell him I got fired?”
“Well, it’s up to you. If you want someone to search Harrison’s records, you’re going to have to call him. And tell him the truth. And maybe apologize along the way.”
“For what?” Isobel asked, indignant. “I haven’t done anything!”
Delphi flung her head back. “Let’s see…stringing him along, giving him the wrong impression, dating someone else. I think a blanket ‘I’m sorry I hurt you’ would cover all necessary bases.”
And Justice for Some Page 11
