Damn, his acting skills must really be slipping if she could read him so well. When he glanced over at her and saw the good humor that lit her face, he suddenly found himself laughing.
“How were you going to approach the subject?” she asked.
“I was going to ask if we could be friends.”
“The old ‘let’s be friends’ routine? I thought that was the woman’s line.”
He tried to sound innocent. “Is it?”
She laughed again. “I guess the women you meet always want to be more than friends. Why am I not surprised?”
Her compliment was open, unexpected, nice.
“But using the ‘let’s be friends’ line is somewhat prosaic,” she said. “I would have thought that with your dramatic background and daunting communication skills you would have come up with something a bit more imaginative.”
“Imaginative, yes. Honest, no. After kissing you, no man with blood in his veins could go back to simply a business relationship.”
The playful look vanished from her face. She stared out the passenger window. This wasn’t so easy for her after all. That shouldn’t make him feel good. But it did.
“I’ve never had a female friend under fifty before,” he said. “We’re going to need to establish some ground rules.”
“Like what?”
“You have to promise to refrain from pulling me behind any more trees and letting your mother invite me to any more of her weddings.”
Diana’s lips lifted. “Anything else?”
“No, other than those, I’m pretty much a tower of strength. Anything you have to stay away from?”
She pretended to give it serious thought. “Champagne.”
“Domestic or imported?”
He could see her smile growing. “Both, I’m afraid.”
“Fear not. I shall slay any brute who dares to offer you either.”
Her laugh was lovely and deep.
They were telling each other bold-faced lies and having fun doing it. Being with her was special.
“What have you learned about Bruce?” she asked after a moment.
Jack stopped stealing glances at her and watched the road. “You wondered whether he had the sense not to drink and drive after his early DUI or simply hadn’t been caught doing so. The answer is neither.”
“Meaning?”
“Twice over the past seven years he was brought into the emergency room from injuries caused in driving accidents. Both times his blood alcohol level was far in excess of the legal limit.”
“You got that look at his medical records,” she guessed.
“And talked to the E.R. doctor who treated him. Bruce denied being the driver of the car. He was backed up both times.”
“By whom?” Diana asked.
“The E.R. doctor said it was his father the first time. But despite the fact that his father claimed that it was he and not Bruce who had been driving, Bruce sustained an injury to his chest that could only have been caused by impact with a steering wheel.”
“What did the E.R. doctor do?”
“Only thing he could,” Jack said. “Treat Bruce’s injuries and release him.”
“You said there were two times.”
“And the second one is crucial to our case. A woman brought Bruce in for treatment of an open gash on his forehead that required stitches. She told the doctor Bruce had hit a tree.”
“What did Bruce say?” Diana asked.
“Nothing at the time. He was too drunk. When a blood alcohol test came back showing Bruce was over twice the legal limit, the doctor called the sheriff’s office to report the incident and a deputy came down to arrest Bruce.”
“But there was no such arrest on his record,” Diana said.
“Because the woman pulled the deputy aside and changed her story. After talking to her, the deputy returned to the doctor and told him that the woman, not Bruce, had been driving.”
“Didn’t the doctor suspect something when the story was changed?”
Jack nodded. “Especially after having treated Bruce for that other accident the year before. But the most important thing about the second incident is the date and time it took place. The records show that the woman brought Bruce into the E.R. approximately forty minutes after Amy’s hit-and-run.”
Diana sat straight up in the passenger seat, her voice rising with excitement. “He must have driven to the E.R. afterward. Or been driven. Who was the woman who went with him?”
“The doctor didn’t know. Her name wasn’t noted on the medical record.”
“Could he give you a physical description?” Diana asked.
“It’s been nearly five years so the doctor’s memory of the woman is sketchy at best. All he could call to mind was that she displayed no signs of being under the influence of alcohol and he had the impression she was somewhere near Bruce’s age.”
“Does the doctor remember the deputy’s name?”
Jack shook his head. “The E.R. doctor is eager to testify for you, though. He’s rather upset that Bruce got away with driving drunk on those two occasions.”
Diana’s sigh was both frustrated and sad. “He’s not the only one. Bruce’s father covered for him in that first accident. If he hadn’t, Bruce could have been stopped, and Amy would be alive today. Hell, they’d probably all be alive today.”
Jack knew Diana was right.
“Bud Albright said Bruce was drunk at the ballpark that day,” Jack offered after a moment. “Someone must have had an old or classic car there that Bruce used. It might have belonged to the woman. She could have even been with Bruce when he hit Amy.”
In his peripheral vision, Jack could see Diana nodding. “I’ll get a subpoena for the E.R. doctor and Bruce’s emergency room medical records so they can be admitted as evidence. Unfortunately, this means I have to tell Judge Gimbrere how those records relate to Connie’s defense. Staker’s going to know the moment I do.”
“And Staker will also realize that we believe Bruce was the one driving the car that killed Amy.”
“Can’t be helped,” Diana said. “We need those medical records to prove Bruce’s involvement in Amy’s death.”
“Do you think Staker will give Judge Weaton a heads-up?”
“Probably. She’s been his chief supporter politically. But if it comes out that she knew her husband was keeping their son’s drunk driving a secret, Staker may want to distance himself from her. Otherwise, he’ll be tainted by association.”
“Can you put off requesting the subpoena until right before the trial?” Jack asked.
“That’s a thought. The judge knows I got the case late so he won’t be surprised at last-minute requests. Staker will be livid, of course, but who cares? The less time we give him to react, the better.”
She arched her back as she rolled her shoulders. Finding the motion too provocative, Jack wisely shifted his eyes back to the road.
“After talking to the woman in the E.R., the deputy must have written up an accident report,” she said after a moment. “Maybe even given her a ticket.”
“Jared’s going to check the computer for citations issued on that day. He’s agreed to give me a list of what he finds.”
She became quiet, and Jack glanced over to see a troubled look on her face. “Want to tell me about it?”
“The woman, Jack. I can understand a father lying in the mistaken belief he was protecting his son. But why would she lie about being the driver? Tina, Bud Albright, Lyle—all of them describe Bruce as going through women with little if any caring. Who was she that she’d lie to a deputy for Bruce and cover up his crime?”
“I’ll let you know when I find her.”
She sent him an appreciative look. “Yes, I do believe you will. For someone who’s only been at this private investigation stuff for a short time, you’re very good.”
“I may have only joined the firm a year ago, but I’ve been in training for the profession since I was a kid. When both of your parents a
re private eyes, the conversation around the dinner table is all about the best surveillance methods, interview techniques, tailing, disguise, equipment and how to gain access to the most reliable information sources.”
“I didn’t know your mother was a private investigator.”
“Before any of us. White Investigations was the name of the firm when she ran it with my grandmother. My dad became part of the business when he left the FBI and they got married. That’s when they changed the name to White Knight Investigations. Every Sunday we still get together for dinner at my parents’ place and discuss cases.”
“Has Jared mentioned anything about the materials collected from Bruce’s garage?”
“Only to say that the results could take a while. Unfortunately, this is not TV where by the next scene all the forensic fibers and fingerprints have been identified and the cops are hot on the bad guy’s trail.”
He heard her soft exhale.
“Something wrong?”
“Merely a little tired. You know how it is.”
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.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“HAVE 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.
W
hen 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.
For the Defense Page 17
