JULIA KEPT FORGETTING about Marie.
But when she pushed open her office door, there was her new intern, hunched over a mess of papers on her desk that destroyed the military precision of its original arrangement.
“Hey.” Marie held up a legal pad covered with scrawled notes. “I pulled the jackets on both the perp and the vic.”
Julia took her time removing her coat, stuffing the mittens in a sleeve, and stepping out of her boots and into the clogs she kept for working indoors. The files that Marie had taken from Julia’s cabinet remained untouched on Julia’s desk. Marie’s own files appeared to be stuffed into a couple of cardboard bankers boxes resting precariously on the shelf that had once contained Claudette’s law books.
Julia took a breath of very warm air. The ancient and unreliable heating system in the courthouse periodically kicked into overdrive, pushing the temperature toward eighty and tormenting people still bundled in winter clothing. This was one of those days.
“For God’s sake, drop the cop talk. For starters, you just convicted Mr. Belmar.” She emphasized the mister, then decided subtlety was probably lost on Marie. “We refer to all of our clients by honorific, as we do anyone else involved in the proceedings. Respect matters. Mr. Belmar is not a perp—no one is, unless and until they’re convicted—he’s the accused. And Mr.… ah, Billy … if this were a regular assault case, we’d refer to him as the accuser, not the victim, so as not to build sympathy for him with a jury. But since he’s dead, we’ll just call him by name every time. Respectfully.”
Marie made a note on her pad and for good measure read it aloud. “Always refer to victim as Mr. Williams.”
Julia forgot she didn’t want anyone to know that she’d never even learned Billy’s last name. “His name was William Williams?”
Marie smirked. Busted. “Appears so. And Mr. Belmar was really wasted. Point three oh.”
Julia shed her blazer. Her blouse stuck to her skin. She was glad she’d worn black, so at least the damp patches wouldn’t show.
“Pretty sure that’s a typo.”
Marie shook her head. “It’s not. I called to make sure.”
Julia sat down hard. “You’re kidding. That must have been one mighty tumble off the wagon. And that blood test wouldn’t have been done until after they arrested him at the courthouse. It would have been a lot higher earlier. It’s a wonder he’s not dead.”
The corners of Marie’s pale lips twitched.
“It’s a wonder,” she echoed, “that someone so blind drunk could manage to get in a single punch, let alone beat somebody to death.”
Their eyes met.
So there, said Marie’s.
Julia jerked her head toward the boxes on the bookshelf, then pointed to a corner of the room.
“Claudette used to keep a birdcage there. She had a canary, name of Pavarotti. Never mind about him. There’s just enough room there for a file cabinet. I’ll show you the stash in the basement. If you try to requisition one from Deb, you’ll be out of law school and on to your third job before she comes through. You’ll have to move it up here yourself after hours. It won’t be pretty—you’ll be lucky if the drawers work—but it’s a step up from a cardboard box.”
Tim Saunders, aka Adonis, strode through the halls of the Peak County Courthouse like a conquering hero.
Which he was, given his success rate in defending the wealthy among Duck Creek’s drunk drivers, bar brawlers, wife beaters and—by far the most common among his particular clientele—tax cheats and swindlers.
Also, if Deb’s always annoying but usually reliable gossip were to be believed, he’d conquered half the women who worked in the courthouse, all of them envied by the other half. Or the other 49.9 percent. Julia counted herself among the vanishing minority of those who remained unswayed by the abundance of chestnut hair that fell in a curl over his forehead (a dab of mousse would have kept it in place, albeit ruining the winsome effect, she thought whenever she saw him), the Kennedyesque dentition (really, he’d gone overboard on the whitening), the shoulders that strained at his Italian-cut blazers (how’d a soon-to-be partner manage to spend that much time in the gym?), and oh, that ass. At which even Julia had sneaked the occasional admiring glance.
But her icy heart refused to melt when he stood in her doorway and threw his most disarming grin her way. All those damn teeth. If she’d had sunglasses at the ready, she’d have put them on.
“So you’re the famous Julia Geary.”
Not working, pal. She granted him a frosty nod.
He waited a beat and flashed his teeth at Marie.
“And you must be …”
Somewhere, Marie had scrounged up a nameplate for her desk. Julia suspected she’d gone to the local office supply store and had it made up herself. Now she simply pointed to it, no more vocal than Julia had been. Julia resisted the impulse to raise her opinion of Marie a millimeter.
“I didn’t realize Bill had hired a new public defender. Good for him. You guys are way too overworked.”
“Marie’s an intern.” Julia wondered why the statement felt so defensive.
“Oh, good. Because I was wondering where I’d work, given the size of this office. But Marie can relocate for the length of this case. Don’t worry, Marie. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll get him to plead to negligent homicide, and you two can go back to the necessary and noble work of defending the indigent.”
He said it with a straight face, looking each of them in turn in the eye, his voice oozing sincerity. So why did Julia feel as though she’d just been slapped?
I’LL get him to plead …
That’s why.
“You’re right.” Julia spoke through lips gone stiff. “There’s barely enough room in this office for two people to work. Talk to Deb. Our receptionist.”
“Oh, I know Deb,” Tim interrupted.
Dear God. Had he slept with her too? Julia would have a very, very hard time erasing that particular image from her mind. She wondered what tidbits of gossip Deb had gleaned during their pillow talk. She shook her head, hard. “I’m sure Deb knows of a vacant office somewhere in this place. She’ll set you up.”
“Fine. But.” He turned to Marie and cranked the charm up to high, positioning one superb ass cheek on her desk and leaning toward her. “I’ll want you to work closely with me on this. I can’t imagine a better learning experience. As soon as I get settled, I’ll let you know where I am.”
And then, but for a trace of woodsy aftershave, he was gone.
Marie breathed a single word, and Julia experienced another split-second thaw toward her unsought intern.
“Dick.”
“What did you just say?”
But Marie turned to her with cold eyes—“Nothing”—and Julia decided she must have been mistaken.