Her Best Defense. Jackie/Lori Merritt/Myles
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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