Spin Control

His tone was warm as he settled into the seat across from her. “I know you’re mad, but—”

She held up her hand to stop him. “I’ve adjusted, actually. Let’s just get started, shall we?”

“Great.” He motioned to a nearby waitress, who almost tripped over two other customers getting to him right away, then breathlessly introduced herself as Janet.

Gracing her with one of his sexiest smiles, he ordered a latte with an extra shot, plus a refill for Suzannah.

“Should we get something to eat, too?” he asked his new attorney. “It’s almost lunchtime.”

She hesitated but then remembered her policy of making him pay through the nose for ruining her vacation, so she nodded. “The quiche looks good. And a small salad?”

Justin nodded, then told the waitress, “I’ll have grilled cheese if you’ve got it.”

“It’s not on the menu, but I’m sure I can talk the cook into it.”

“That would be great, Janet. Thanks.”

Suzannah watched the woman hurry off on her mission. “I guess you get a lot of that?”

“Pardon?”

“Females falling all over themselves to do your bidding?”

“She’s just trying to do a good job. Anyway…” He exhaled sharply. “I know I screwed up your morning, to put it mildly. And I realize criminal law isn’t your specialty, even though you kicked some serious judicial ass on that appeal. So I just want you to know you’re off the hook as of now.”

“Pardon?”

“You earned your fee by getting me released on bail. That was my big concern this morning. Now I can take it from here. After tomorrow’s court appearance, you can just do whatever you were already planning to do this week.”

When Suzannah glared, he laughed and said, “I know, I know. The judge wants me to brief you, and I will. But take my word for it—this thing will never go to trial. I’ll conclude my investigation and find the real perp long before that happens. I promise you that.”

“Oh, you promise? Well, that’s a relief.” She glared again. “I’m the attorney of record in a murder case. I take that very seriously. I take everything very seriously—a fact you’d better start respecting. I’ve spent ten years building a sterling reputation and I don’t want this case to torpedo it.”

“I told you, it’ll never go to trial.”

“Because you’ll solve it first? No offense, but I’d rather not count on you. Especially considering you’re an accused murderer.”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. So how do you want to approach this? I can give you details or just the big picture.”

“Let’s start with the punch line. Who is it you’re supposed to have killed?”

“A woman named Gia Masterson. She was a witness in a case I’ve been investigating.”

“Gia Masterson?” Suzannah bit her lip. “In that case, I already have the big picture. From reading the newspapers. Not that I’ve kept up with it faithfully, but she was shot a couple of weeks ago, right? And a few weeks before that, she inherited a huge fortune from her father when he was murdered by the Angel of Mercy serial killer.”

When Justin nodded, Suzannah rubbed her eyes, acutely aware of the ache forming behind them.

The Angel of Mercy, as the papers had dubbed him, had been in the headlines for a couple of months. He apparently thought he was receiving psychic signals from vegetative patients who were begging him to free them so that they could go to heaven. Unable to resist, he had finally begun infiltrating nursing homes, using his position and training as a licensed vocational nurse to put the patients out of their misery once and for all.

Rallying herself, Suzannah asked carefully, “Any chance the Angel of Mercy killed Gia, as well? I mean, I know he usually goes after people in comas, but…”

Justin shook his head. “I’m not even sure the Angel of Mercy killed the father, much less the daughter.”

“Ooh, that’s new. The papers made it sound like a slam dunk.”

He nodded. “We tried to keep it quiet while we investigated. Horace Masterson was the fourth in a series of patients supposedly killed by the Angel—by lethal injection—in nursing homes. But given Masterson’s enormous wealth and the fact that his company handles top-secret government research, the possibility of a copycat killing with financial or political motives couldn’t be discounted.”

“Hmm…And since Gia inherited her father’s money, she was a suspect in his murder, even though the Angel of Mercy was the prime suspect?”

Justin hesitated. “Putting aside the whole mercy-killing angle, the Masterson case is pretty complicated. For one thing, Gia could have pulled the plug on her father any time she wanted. He’s been brain-dead and completely dependent on life support for more than three years because of a massive stroke and a slew of complications. Gia had a durable power of attorney over his health decisions. But she worshipped her father, almost to a perverse degree. She swore she’d never—ever—order life support removed, even though doctors said there was no hope of his regaining the slightest awareness. And since Gia had full authority to handle Masterson’s financial affairs, she was able to pay for endless excellent care.”

Suzannah frowned. “So that’s why you called her a witness, not a suspect, in her father’s murder investigation?”

“It’s complicated,” he repeated. “But yeah, I don’t think Gia killed her father. On the other hand, I don’t think the Angel of Mercy did it, either. My instincts are generally pretty good in these cases. That’s why the Bureau sent me in the first place. And right from the start I was sure a huge chunk of the puzzle was missing. Unfortunately I went off in the wrong direction.”

“How so?”

He hesitated, then explained. “Like I said, Masterson Enterprises handles top-secret government projects. At the time of Horace’s murder, his company was being considered as the contractor for a project known as Night Arrow. Night Arrow,” he added reverently, “is an amazing phenomenon. I’ll fill you in on the nonclassified details later, but take my word for it. It’s probably the biggest find—scientific or otherwise—of our lifetime.”

Taking a deep breath, he visibly checked his enthusiasm. “The point is, I focused on Night Arrow as the motive. I figured someone wanted to get their hands on the research—even take over Masterson Enterprises to do so—and the first stage was killing the old man.”

“But now?”

“Now I’m not so sure,” he admitted. “If Night Arrow was the motive, killing Gia was counterproductive. Because Masterson Enterprises lost any chance of getting the contract when Gia was murdered. Scandal and government research don’t go together. So,” he finished with a shrug, “I’ve put Night Arrow on the back burner for now.”

Suzannah wasn’t fooled. She had caught the gleam in his eye when he’d first mentioned the project, and it was a look guys usually reserved for sex and sports. There was no way he had truly abandoned his theory, but for the moment she would play along.

So she asked him, “Are you sure the same person who killed the dad killed Gia?”

“I’d bet my ass on it.”

“Okay…” She pursed her lips. “Gia was Horace Masterson’s sole heir. But Gia must have an heir, as well, right? So that person would have a motive to kill them both, right? First kill Horace so Gia would inherit his fortune. Then murder Gia and get everything—the whole Masterson estate—for himself or herself.” She gave him a hopeful smile. “So? You’re not Gia’s heir, are you?”

He laughed. “Hardly. She recently changed her will, but not to give it to me. Her sister, Mia, is her sole heir.”

“Mia and Gia?” Suzannah winced. “Cute. If they’re sisters, how come Mia didn’t get half of Masterson’s estate in the first place?”

“Horace Masterson disowned Mia about eight years ago. Kicked her out of the house, out of his life and out of the will—all for having an affair with the son of his archenemy.”

“He had an archenemy?”

“Cool, huh?” Justin grinned. “William Seldon and Horace Masterson were partners. Then William had an affair with Horace’s wife, Julia. Needless to say, the partnership ended. William is long since dead. So is Julia, for that matter.”

“But Mia had an affair with William’s son?”

“Correct. William’s son, Derek.”

“And then Horace disowned Mia.”

“Right. And since big sister Gia was such a slave to her father’s affection, she turned her back on Mia, as well. So Mia went to live with a cousin named Cynthia on the East Coast. Even after Horace Masterson had his stroke, Gia didn’t thaw out about her estranged sister. But then…” He gave an apologetic wince. “Can you handle more or are you overloaded?’

“You’re kidding, right? What finally made Gia thaw out?”

He chuckled. “Like I said, Mia had been living with their cousin. Apparently this Cynthia was something of a bridge between the sisters—she had visited them often as a child, and they both loved her. When Mia went to live with Cynthia, Gia turned her back on both of them. After Horace’s stroke, Mia wanted to come home to visit her dad at the nursing home. When Gia said no, Cynthia decided to intercede. She drove across the country and appeared on Gia’s doorstep to plead for a reconciliation between the two sisters. Gia sent Cynthia away. But Cynthia—who was exhausted and in tears—never made it home. She crashed her car into a power pole.”

“Oh, no.”

Justin nodded. “That’s when Gia came to her senses. She told me she finally realized how isolated she had allowed herself to become, physically and emotionally. So she contacted Mia and they reconciled as sisters. Mia moved back home and started visiting the old man—and since he was in a coma, he didn’t object, obviously. The sisters became genuinely close again. Closer even than regular sisters in some ways. I can’t imagine Mia killing Gia. But someone did it, and it sure wasn’t me.”

“So besides you, the Angel of Mercy, and Mia, are there any other suspects? In Gia’s murder, I mean.”

“Well, like I said, it’s always possible—although less likely now—that some outsider wanted to gain control of the company for political or economic reasons. But, ironically, the series of scandals hitting that family has probably ruined the company’s reputation, at least temporarily. So if someone killed Gia for wealth or secrets, they grossly miscalculated.”

“Okay.” Suzannah held up her hand, palm forward. “I can’t absorb much more for the moment. But there’s one last thing I need to know up front. Why would anyone suspect you of murdering Gia?”

He gave her a pained smile. “Promise not to get upset?”

“Oh, God, let me guess. You slept with her? A suspect?”

“A witness,” he reminded her with another, weaker smile. “Anyway, no one really thinks I had a motive to kill her. She was found alone in her bedroom, shot by a gun with my prints on it, about an hour after I had dinner with her. The circumstances indicated that there was a struggle, so the consensus was that I must have shot her in self-defense.” His blue eyes clouded. “They offered me a deal right away. If I would admit that she tried to shoot me and that I just acted to protect myself, there wouldn’t be any charges. I’d keep my job after a perfunctory investigation. That’s what everyone wanted, because my career’s been solid up till now. No one wanted to see it end over this.”

Suzannah gave him a sympathetic smile. “But you didn’t shoot her, so you didn’t take the deal.”

“Right. Someone shot her, and I’d be damned if I was going to let them get away with it. Or have that kind of crazy shit on my record. Unfortunately the evidence against me is fairly strong.”

“Like the fingerprints on the gun?” she murmured.

“I helped her load it before I left that night. She was getting nervous—about the Angel of Mercy coming after her next. Poor kid.”

“That makes sense. About the fingerprints, I mean, not the Angel.”

“Right. But it ticked the D.A. off big-time when I wouldn’t take his deal. So he slapped a murder charge on me. I think they all thought that that would make me cave and admit it was self-defense for sure. But I didn’t shoot her. End of discussion.”

“And those two guys the Bureau got to defend you?”

“They wanted me to take the deal, too. To save everyone the embarrassment.”

She bit her lip, acknowledging to herself that Justin had done the right thing firing those guys. But hiring her was still wrong, wrong, wrong….

“You believe me, don’t you, Suzy?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I believe you.”

“Good.” He gave her a confident grin. “You’ve already been such an incredible help, making sure they didn’t lock me up pending trial. I knew the D.A. was going to make Armstrong go for the jugular on that. But you handled it like a pro. Now I can solve Gia’s murder, see? Not just to clear my own name but to get that last piece of the puzzle I need to solve the father’s murder, as well.”

Suzannah shook her head in protest. “I’m guessing you’re on some sort of administrative suspension, aren’t you? I don’t think they want you running around trying to solve either case. You need to stay out of trouble, especially because you’re in my freaking custody. I’ll handle any investigating from here on out.”

“Just like I told the judge—you’ve got guts.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “We’ll solve it together, then.”

“Are you nuts?” she demanded, pulling free, then glaring. “I don’t need to solve anything, and neither do you. The burden of proof is on them, and they don’t have a strong enough case to convict a respected federal agent. Fingerprints? A couple of hot dates? None of that adds up to motive, and jurors need a motive, not just evidence. Besides—” she settled down enough to give him a sheepish smile “—all I really have to do is load that jury with females and you’re as good as acquitted.”

To her surprise, the compliment seemed to rankle Justin. “I’d like to think it’s my professional accomplishments—not my sex appeal—that will give me credibility.”

“You’re charged with murder. We’ll use anything we’ve got. That’s my first strategy decision as your incompetent e-lawyer.”

He laughed. “Fair enough. Looks like we both have something to prove.” Pulling out his wallet, he dropped a handful of bills on the table. “So where do we go from here? Your law office?”

She studied him carefully, impressed by his enthusiasm, openness and clear desire to get to the truth. He was innocent—she’d stake the Twelve-Year Plan on that. And he needed more than a quick consultation under the dubious eyes of her senior partner.

He needed a lawyer.

“We’ll go to my apartment. I’ll wait while you get what you need from your room, then you can follow me in your car.”

His blue eyes widened. “You want me to move into your place?”

“I’m not that convinced you’re innocent,” she said, shaking her head in amusement. “Just bring what you need for the rest of the day. We can work at my kitchen table. It’s not as ritzy as this place, but it’s comfortable.”

“I’ll bet it is. And this hotel isn’t so great, believe me. The only thing it has going for it is a state-of-the-art fitness center.”

“You’ll be able to get a good workout in my bedroom,” she assured him, then she grimaced when he arched a playful eyebrow. “There’s a treadmill in there and some free weights, smart-ass.”

“Nice to know you’re getting some action at least,” he said teasingly. Then his smile softened. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Suzannah. I promise you won’t regret it.”

He followed her to her redbrick apartment house, parking in one of the visitor spots behind the four-story building, then catching up with her at the elevator. In some ways, it felt more like a date than a business meeting, which made a certain kind of illogical sense to Suzannah. Justin was sexy and charming and single, and while she rarely brought men home with her for any reason, she definitely never brought clients or associates to her apartment.

The reason was simple: this place was her sanctuary. Her refuge. An integral part of the Twelve-Year Plan. Knowing from the start that her decision to focus on her career might get out of hand, she had done virtually all of her law work downtown, even though it meant late nights and weekends at the office, returning home only when she was exhausted and depleted. Home was reserved for relaxation—watching movies and reading.

Fortunately her firm’s building had a guard in the reception area for anyone working late, and the office parking lot was well lit, courtesy of the all-night market adjacent to it. So all in all, the system had worked well for her.

Until today.

Opening the front door, she entered the apartment ahead of him and smiled proudly, reminded of the other reason she loved coming home to this tiny place. It was simply beautiful, with its gleaming hardwood floors, built-in shelves and cabinets and magnificent bay window in the eating area.

She had kept the living room furniture simple—two overstuffed chairs facing a matching sofa in front of a small brick fireplace, a brass trunk that served as a coffee table and additional storage and a pair of stained-glass floor lamps. Everything else, from the TV to the small desk accommodating her laptop and household files, was hidden behind cabinet doors.

“Nice place,” Justin murmured. “Sorta like a hideaway.”

She bit her lip, pleased by the description. “You can set up camp in the kitchen. I don’t have an office here, unfortunately.” Remembering the jigsaw puzzle scattered across the tabletop, she added quickly, “I’ll just clear my stuff away first.”

“I can work around it. Plus, when I want to take a break, I’ll do some of the easy pieces.” Still scanning the environment, he set his briefcase and duffel bag on a kitchen chair. “You’ve got yourself a busy schedule for a girl who’s supposed to be on vacation.”

“Pardon?”

He pointed to the large wipe-off board next to her refrigerator, where she had scribbled the date followed by a list of chores and appointments:

Court with Tony

Research, two hours

Confirm HA reservations

Reread P&P

Bubble bath

RS marathon

Call M&D

She knew her cheeks were flushed as she grabbed an eraser and got rid of the evidence. “Thanks to you, this list is irrelevant now.”

“M and D? Mom and Dad, right?” When she nodded, he smiled. “P and P?”

“Pride and Prejudice.”

“Are you running a marathon this week?”

Suzannah wasn’t about to admit that she had planned on watching at least a dozen episodes of Remington Steele. “RS is a guy I know. I wanted to remember that he was involved in a marathon.”

“And you actually schedule your bubble baths ahead of time? That’s kind of sad.” Justin’s finger tapped a piece of paper attached to her refrigerator by a magnet. “What’s this? More chores?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s my shopping list.”

“Looks more like an anti-shopping list.” He began to read aloud. “‘No cookies, No candy, No ice cream.’”

“Never mind.” She snatched the page, crumpled it and threw it into the trash. “I’m going to change out of this suit. Make yourself comfortable, but no snooping. I mean it,” she added over her shoulder as she strode into her bedroom.

“I’ll just work the puzzle,” he promised.

She closed the door behind herself, then leaned against it and sighed. He was a little too observant and way too intuitive. What was it the prosecutor had said? That he had “made a career out of seducing and conning people”?

She definitely needed to stay on her toes. And she didn’t dare leave him alone for too long, so she quickly peeled off her clothes and wriggled into a pair of soft, faded jeans. Then she added a hooded sweatshirt of soft pink cashmere, zipping it halfway to partially obscure a white lace camisole.

Her pink fluffy slippers seemed a little much, so she put on pale blue socks instead. After checking her hair and makeup, she opened the bedroom door and stepped back into the living room, then froze as the sound of her best friend’s recorded voice greeted her.

“…and she says the killer’s gorgeous, but the little creep didn’t give me any other details. So call me! I’m supposed to be your best friend, but you’d never know it from the way you act. Sheesh!”

Sprinting for the answering machine, Suzannah punched the stop button, then turned to glare at her houseguest. “What’s your problem?”

“She sounds like fun. What’s her name?”

“Never mind.” Suzannah grimaced. “Was that the only message?”

“She left two. The first one was about the Sperminator. You’ll never guess what he did.”

Suzannah stared into his laughing eyes, muttered, “You must have a death wish,” then rewound the recorder and pushed Play.

The machine announced, “Message number one,” then Noelle West’s voice began again: “Hey, it’s me. You’ll never guess what the Sperminator did last night, so I’ll just tell you. He proposed again. For real this time. He said, and I quote, ‘I know we were only getting married because we thought you were knocked up, but I got kind of used to the idea.’ Romantic, huh? So where the hell are you? We need to talk.”

There was an emphatic click, then the machine announced, “Message number two.”

It was Noelle again, saying, “Hey, what’s going on? Why aren’t you answering your cell? I’m dying over here. First the Sperminator, now this hot new rumor about you. My cousin was in the courtroom and she said the hanging judge almost locked you up. But instead he hooked you up. With some killer. And she says the killer’s gorgeous, but the little creep didn’t give me any other details. So—”

Suzannah stopped the tape again, shaking her head in amused disbelief. The Sperminator had actually re-proposed? That was big, big news. It was a little embarrassing that Justin had heard about it and downright mortifying that he had heard himself described as a gorgeous killer, but it could have been worse.

“If you’re going to be spending time here, you need to respect my privacy.”

“The light was flashing,” he explained. “So? What’s your buddy’s name?”

“Noelle. And obviously I need to call her right away. Excuse me, please? Just for a few minutes?”

“Sure. She sounds great. Best friends? For how long?”

Suzannah hesitated but could see he wasn’t going to let it go. “Her family lived next door to my grandmother. Every time my parents got divorced, I went there to live for a while. So we’ve been friends, off and on, forever.”

She liked the fact that he was speechless, at least for the moment. Not that she blamed him. She didn’t usually share her parents’ bizarre marriage history with strangers, but she had a feeling Justin would run a background check on her anyway, so he’d eventually find out about the divorces.

“How many times—”

“Twice. Which means I got to attend two of their three weddings.” She smiled in wry amusement. “If my mother were here, she’d tell you it’s romantic. That’s how nuts my parents are.”

“But they’re set now?”

“God, I hope so.” She rolled her eyes in mock frustration. “Anyway, living with Grandma next to Noelle’s family was crucial to my sanity, so in a way, it’s a good thing they were so…so whatever. They’re fun,” she added quickly. “And lovable. But they got married when they were just crazy kids and they’ve somehow managed to keep that childlike quality right into their fifties. Anyway…” She backed toward her bedroom. “I’ve got to get the details on this Sperminator development. And you need to work on clearing yourself of murder charges. So why don’t we both get busy?”

True to form, Noelle had Suzannah laughing within seconds as she recounted the Sperminator’s beer-induced but still amazing proposal. More stunning still was the fact that Noelle seemed to be considering it!

“We’ll have to start calling him Steve, you know,” Suzannah told her friend. “Just in case you guys go through with it.”

“Speaking of men, I need details. About the murderer.”