Gabe’s grin was vicious. “Among other reasons.” He rose.
“What next?” I asked.
“Now that I know your ex’s connected to the Castillos, I’m going to do some digging in that direction.”
“Be careful.”
He bent over and, grabbing the front of my blouse, drew me close, practically nose-to-nose. “You’re the one who has to be careful, babe. I don’t want you sticking your head out of your office tomorrow.”
No one could tell me what to do. Not anymore. I narrowed my eyes. “There’s too much work to be done—”
His kiss was hot, searing, and mind-numbing. He took total possession of my mouth and before I could respond, it was over. I blinked at him.
“In case you haven’t gotten it through your thick skull, Kate, someone either wants you dead or scared off of this case. You’re a walking target. If the Cuban crime family is involved, they play for keeps.”
Gabe shook his finger at me. “I want your word or I’ll handcuff you here and now to the sofa.”
My mouth dried at the incredibly sexy image of Gabe having his way with me while I was handcuffed.
Something in my expression must have alerted him to the direction of my thoughts for he cursed a blue streak and hauled me close for another assault on my lips. “You keep that image in your mind, babe, for the next time.”
He gripped my chin. “Your promise, Kate.”
“I promise I’ll go into the office tomorrow.”
“Good.” With a heated look that stripped me bare, he was gone.
I dragged a shuddering breath into my heated lungs. Of course, what I hadn’t mentioned to Gabe was that I planned to make one or two stops on the way to the office. At max.
Eight-thirty the next morning found me in the outer office to Judge Winewski’s chambers. I had chosen that time because there were no motion hearings scheduled and the judge’s first case wasn’t until ten o’clock.
I had stayed up late, reading every newsletter article on my grandfather several times, so my system whined for another cup of coffee. The disgruntled judicial assistant, who had found me waiting outside in the hallway, also appeared to be in dire straits of caffeine so I went downstairs and bought two cups from the courthouse café.
Although somewhat mollified with a shot of java, Winnie, a huge black woman with long painted nails that could do some serious damage, kept shooting me glances. I wondered if the judge had few visitors or if Winnie simply had an antenna for trouble.
“You aren’t here to yell at him, are you?” She finally broke the silence.
“I don’t plan on it.”
“Because if you are, he’s been feeling poorly.”
“Do many attorneys yell at him?” I asked out of morbid curiosity.
“Oh sure, but usually right after motion hearings. They come up here to bitch their heads off over his rulings. Don’t do no good, I warn you. Once he’s made up his mind, it’s made until the appeals court overrules him.”
“That happens a lot?”
Her snort flared her nostrils quite a bit. “Does the sun shine, honey?”
I smiled and glanced around the office again. A framed document caught my attention. It wasn’t the usual diploma or certificate, so I rose and crossed the room to study it. Faded but preserved beneath the glass was a newspaper clipping about a murder trial. As I read the account I was startled to see both my uncle Colin’s and godfather Paul’s names mentioned. I looked for the date and saw that it was two months before my grandparents disappeared. My pace quickened.
I heard movement in the next office. Winnie must have heard it as well for she picked up her phone, murmuring that I was there to see the judge. She hung up and said, “He’ll see you in a bit.”
A bit could be a while but I’d wait all day if need be. I nodded at the framed clipping. “Was this a famous case of Judge Winewski’s?”
Winnie cackled. “You might call it that. The judge calls it the case that sent him to purgatory here on county court. He keeps it there to remind him of his downfall.”
From the inner office I could hear footsteps receding as if the judge had been at the door and then the sounds of a desk drawer opening and closing.
I glanced at my watch. It was eight forty-five. I took out my notepad and copied information from the article.
Bam!
Winnie and I looked at each other for one frozen minute and then she was on the phone, calling security. I swallowed and crossed to the door. Although I knew what the sound meant, I had to be sure.
Steeling myself, I slowly opened the door and looked in. Just as slowly, I closed it. The acid taste of coffee burned my throat and I swallowed. Hard.
Winnie looked at me, her brown eyes huge with horror, and I shook my head. The better part of Judge Winewski’s head was splattered behind the chair where he had sat and pulled the trigger. He was beyond any help.
Winnie pressed her lips together and then said, “He’s finally moved beyond purgatory. Maybe, with all his penance, he’s with the angels now. I can only pray.”
“You do that, Winnie.”
I walked out into the hallway to wait for the police and to drink a deep breath of air not tainted with blood and death.
Fifteen minutes later I could have smacked myself on the forehead, but I was too busy keeping my head between my knees as I sat in the courthouse corridor.
Why did I think I could get away with coming here without telling Gabe?
Two tall dark-haired men strode with purpose down the hallway from the elevator banks, and I didn’t need my twenty-twenty vision to recognize the one man.
Gabe.
Groaning, I flipped through a mental chart of excuses. No, I was rotten at being pathetic or forgetful. I was never any good at batting eyelashes and enchanting a man. I’d better suck it up and take it on the chin.
I sat up, ignored the queasy twist of my stomach and waited. First up was a man similarly dressed as Gabe but with the addition of a sport jacket. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place the context. Probably the homicide detective.
He flashed a killer smile. “Katherine, I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Lieutenant Sam Bowie.”
Uh-oh. Of course. Texas drawl, dangerous looks. It had been over a year since I’d last seen him. My law partner Nicole wouldn’t like this run-in with Sam one bit. The mere mention of his name in her presence was forbidden. The two were like oil and water.
“Lieutenant.” I acknowledged him with a slight nod.
“Brr.” He faked a shudder. “Dang, it’s cold in here.”
I suppressed a smile. If you gave Sam an inch, his humor would take a mile and then some.
“You’ve become quite the topic of conversation at the station.” He rubbed his chin. “I took this call because I had to see the infamous Katherine Rochelle.”
“Infamous?” I asked.
“You’ve become the crime-scene queen lately.”
I flushed and cast a guilty glance at Gabe. Uh-oh. He had on his cop face.
“I may have a few questions for you,” Sam said amiably. “Can you stick around?”
“Of course.”
He nodded and went inside the chambers.
Ignoring Gabe as he sat beside me, I stared at the opposite wall. “How—”
“I was having breakfast with Sam when the call came in. The moment I heard Winewski’s name, I knew.”
Hmm.
“Why did you lie to me, Kate?”
That got my attention. Indignant, I swung to face him. “I-did-not-lie,” I enunciated each word carefully.
“Really? Didn’t you promise to go into the office?”
“I was. Right after I stopped here. I simply omitted this little detail.”
“Not telling me something isn’t lying?”
“No, it’s the fine art of lawyering.”
“What you’re telling me is the next time you promise me anything, it’s meaningless.”
My temper flared. �
�How many promises have you broken as a cop or a P.I.? How many lies have you told?”
A deep red flush stained his cheeks. “That’s different.”
I poked his chest. “No difference. Omissions, misstatements, misdirection. In our professions, we both must use them to at times to accomplish the end.”
“This is different.”
“Baloney. It’s not. If you were hot on the trail of the Castillo family, I bet you would do anything to bring them down, correct?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. No out clauses between us, Gabe. You were trying to keep me from doing my job, which is proving my client innocent. I won’t stand for it. You want me to be honest with you, then stop trying to put me in a corner like a bad little girl.”
The thing about stress, it can trigger the stomach, and mine had had enough. Nausea slammed into me. I lurched to my feet, barely muttered an “excuse me” and ran to the ladies’ restroom by the elevators.
Inside I made it to the first stall only a second before I prayed to the porcelain goddess. Ten minutes later, after rinsing out my mouth and taking a good dose of breath mints, I emerged. Gabe stood right next to the door, his shoulder propped against the wall.
“Feel better?”
I nodded. “Do you ever get used to it?”
“Used to seeing dead bodies? No, but you build up defenses to deal with it.”
“I need those defense mechanisms. Fast.”
He looped his arm around my shoulders. “Since I can’t stop you, I’ll tell you about them.”
“Thanks.”
We walked toward Judge Winewski’s chambers and saw Lieutenant Bowie waiting, his sharp gaze taking in Gabe’s arm around me. He grinned and in that moment I realized how similar both men were. Dark, fit and edgy tempered with a sense of humor, albeit at times perverse. I wondered how deep their friendship ran.
“It’s about time you got it right, Chavez,” Bowie commented. “Katherine, are you ready to answer some questions now?”
“Sure.” I was already running through what I could say and couldn’t say.
“Uh-oh.” Sam’s brow arched. “I can see the lawyer in you already strategizing.”
I lifted my chin. “Damn straight.”
Gabe gave me a warning squeeze and then dropped his arm. “I have to go.”
I turned and planted my hands on my hips. “Where are you going?” If I had to account for my actions then so should my private investigator.
Gabe’s eyes darkened and he lowered his head to whisper in my ear, “Remember? I’m undercover. I have to change before returning to the construction site. I’m already late.” Then he nibbled my ear, slowly, deliberately.
My breath shortened and adrenaline-fueled lust spiked through me. It was all I could do not to reach out and grab him.
Sam drawled, “I think there’s an unoccupied broom closet down the hallway.”
My bones jelled. I pulled away from Gabe and shot Sam a glare glacial enough to freeze the Texan out of him.
“Ouch!” he said, rubbing his chest. “I’ve been shot.”
Gabe tugged my braid. “Be nice, Kate. Sam here can’t handle a real woman.” He then hooked his hand around my waist and drew me close for a quick, mind-numbing kiss. “I’m off. Look after her, Sam.”
Gabe and Sam exchanged one of those mysterious male glances, and Gabe sauntered off. Although my brains were a bit scrambled by the kiss, they weren’t so fogged that it didn’t strike me how odd it was that Sam and Gabe had been having breakfast this morning.
Secrets. Ones I held, ones he held. Weren’t they an intrinsic part of both our jobs? Mine because of the attorney-client privilege, his because of the life-and-death dictates of his former job?
You could slap the title private investigator on him but at heart Gabe was still a cop. How could two people with so many secrets build a bridge of trust?
As I watched Gabe disappear around the corner, I asked quietly, “You’ll watch his back while he goes after the Castillos, won’t you, Sam?”
During the time he and Nicole had circled around each other, I had often thought Sam had been the master of being immutable, but he looked at me with a stunned expression. Then he laughed. “Boy, you’re one sharp lady. Gabe’s going to have his hands full with you and it serves him right.”
He cupped my elbow. “Don’t you worry, honey. Gabe was the best cop I’ve ever known and he knows what he’s doing. Now,” he opened the chambers door, “I do have a few questions for you, lady lawyer, such as how come in recent weeks every time there’s a dead body in West Palm Beach, you’re involved?”
An hour later I entered the offices of the circuit court clerk. Since technically I was still in the same building, I didn’t see the point of calling Gabe.
After studying the index of court documents, I filled out a request form, took a number and waited for a harried clerk to call on me. Years ago when the paper volume had grown overwhelming, and storage and maintenance of court documents had become a real problem, the government, at enormous taxpayer expense, had undertaken the massive project of copying all old court filings onto film.
The young, overweight clerk huffed her way to the microfilm bank and punched in a sequence of codes. The machine growled as the bins spun. Finally, one bin opened and the clerk flipped through the stack of microfiche.
Pausing, she frowned. “Someone must have misfiled it.” She kept flipping through the rest of the film and then went through the section one more time.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry but the film you wanted isn’t here.”
What were the odds that film for cases thirty-five years ago would be misplaced? Slim to none.
“Do you have a record as to who last requested it?”
“Yes, but I can’t give out that information.”
I gave her my best pleading smile. “Please.” I handed her my business card. “It’s important. I needed that information for a murder case I’m defending.”
On a hunch, I added, “I suspect that the film was taken out within the past month.”
She looked doubtful but then she shrugged. “What can it hurt? If you find the film—”
“Of course, I’ll notify the clerk’s office and return it.”
I followed her to the desk where she flipped through the record of people who had requested film. She ran a pudgy finger down the column of film numbers. Her lips moved as she silently read the numbers. She flipped through a couple of pages and then stopped.
“Here it is.” She scrunched her face as she tried to read the handwriting. “The last person who looked at the film was Grace Roberts.” She closed the book. “I’m sorry, I can’t give out her phone number, but I’ll call her about returning the film.”
“Don’t bother calling her.” I hiked the strap of my tote bag over my shoulder.
“Why on earth not? There’s a fine for taking the film.”
“She won’t be able to return it. Grace Roberts is dead.”
I left the office with the clerk staring at me with her mouth open.
Chapter 12
At the family mansion, Edwin let me in with only the merest lift of his brow. I told him in the iciest Rochelle tone that I would announce myself to my uncle. At this time of the day there was only one place he would be.
I walked down the hall and paused outside the den that also served as his office. Startled, I heard through the thick carved walnut-paneled door my uncle arguing. I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’d heard him speak in a raised voice. Was he fighting with my aunt? Maybe I’d better eat crow and return to the foyer so Edwin could announce me.
Then I heard the muffled sound of a phone receiver being slammed down. Counting to ten, I rapped on the door. “Uncle Colin?”
I heard the sound of a desk drawer being shut and then the door swung open.
“Katherine! What an unexpected surprise.” Looking unruffled except for the ruddy tint of his cheeks, Colin kissed
my check. “And to what do I owe this honor of a visit by our town’s illustrious defense attorney?”
I rolled my eyes and followed him as he led me into his office. Although my uncle hadn’t actively practiced law for nearly twenty years, not since his stint as the state’s attorney general, he used this room to run his various business interests, including his duties as consulting counsel to Rochelle Enterprises. Out of the twenty-six rooms in this mansion, this one room was his alone. Privately I had always thought he had latched onto the excuse of this office to keep Hilary at bay. It had worked. We all had honored his retreat.
I took one of the worn burgundy club chairs while Colin sat in his custom-designed black leather chair behind his desk.
“How goes Lloyd’s case?”
“It’s taken some unexpected turns.”
Colin chuckled. “They always do.”
“Were you friends with Kurt Winewski?”
His smile faded. “Hardly friends. I had trials before him when I served as a public defender.”
“Have you heard that he committed suicide?”
Coin’s face whitened. “That’s terrible, but hardly unexpected. I had heard through the years how despondent he had become due to being passed over for promotion.”
“I was in his outer chambers when he did it.”
With an expression of half horror, half concern, Colin rose. “Are you all right?”
I motioned for him to sit again. “I’m fine, Uncle Colin.” I wasn’t about to tell him that dead bodies were rapidly becoming a way of life for me.
“You say that now, sweetheart, but being in the presence of violent death can often come back to haunt you. Promise me you’ll come to me if you start having problems. I know a superb psychiatrist.”
I wondered how Colin would know about this aspect of life, but then I realized he must have seen quite a bit during his days as a public defender. Were those horrific images the reason he started down his drinking path?
I managed a reassuring smile. “Of course, I’ll call you.” Not. But I didn’t want him to worry about me.
“All right, my dear.” He leaned back in his chair.
“Up on the wall in the outer chambers where I was, Judge Winewski had a framed newspaper article about a case you were involved in before him.”
Courting Danger Page 15
