The Law And Lady Justice

“Hi.” Jessica shoved her hair out of her face, grimacing as she felt the tangles a night rolling around had caused.

Doug sat down on the bed and she rolled against him, the bump of their hips making her body kick into lust overdrive. She put her hand on his thigh to steady herself, and his leg clenched.

“I have to go.”

She frowned at the distance in his voice and his eyes. “I understand.”

“Call you later?”

Jessica nodded. Every woman’s nightmare—I’ll call. Yeah right!

“Sure,” she answered and took her hand from his leg. He kissed her, but she could tell his mind was already somewhere else. The next time she saw Doug McGuire, it would be in a courtroom.

A night spent on the couch, and the floor, and the bed—and hadn’t there been a wall in there somewhere—made Jessica fall back asleep, even when she should have gotten up as soon as the door closed behind Doug McGuire.

Instead, the phone shrilling in her ear brought her awake with a gasp to bright sunlight across the bed. Her pounding heart leaped at the sight of her clock reading 8:15 a.m.

Using some of the colorful curses she’d heard McGuire use that morning, she found the phone amidst a tower of law books on her nightstand.

“So how was your night with the real man?” Her father’s voice boomed in her ear.

“What?”

For a moment she thought her father knew everything, and even though he was her best friend, and she was an adult, well, everything that had happened here last night was for no one’s ears but her own. Not even Liz’s this time.

“What happened with that cop who dragged you away the other night?”

“Nothing, Dad,” she lied as her gaze took in the state of her room. She was certain her living room looked even worse than her bedroom. Thank God her father hadn’t come over, as she had wished last night.

“Nothing! I’m disappointed. A man like that…a woman like you? In my day—”

“Dad! I’m sorry but I’m late. Where have you been anyway? All I get is your machine these days.”

“Just busy, sweet cheeks. You know how it is.”

The teasing lilt to his voice disappeared, and Jessica frowned. Was he working too hard? Should she push him about selling Water Street Bistro and moving on to something new? It wasn’t like him to keep a place so long, to be late for dinner, or to—

“That’s why I called this morning. I can’t go with you to the Bar Association Ball.”

—not take your loving daughter to important dates like the Bar Association Ball, Jessica thought, but said, instead, “What? Dad, you can’t back out on me now. The blasted thing is tonight.”

“I know. And I’m really, really sorry, honey, but this is unavoidable.”

“What is?”

Jessica frowned when her question was followed by a long silence. Finally, she asked, “Dad?”

“Why don’t you ask Detective McGuire?”

“To the ball? Oh, that would really work. I can see McGuire at a formal event for lawyers. He hates lawyers.”

“I don’t think so. I read a lot into his body language the other night.”

“I think you need glasses.”

“What’s the harm in asking him? It would be worth it just to see Wolcott’s face when you show up with a real man.”

“Dad!”

Her father started laughing, sounding more like himself at least, and Jessica smiled. “See you Thursday,” he said and hung up.

As she lowered the phone to her lap, she realized he had never explained what was so unavoidable.

Doug hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. Another dead end. Ninety percent of murder investigations were spent on the telephone following up worthless leads.

Earlier that morning, he and Vic had checked Gilbert’s old rooming house and the landlord had told them Gilbert hadn’t even shown up to claim his belongings. They got the same story at his favorite bar. Nothing. No one. So they’d returned to the station to start making calls. He glanced over at Vic, who’d been working the phone, too, in time to see him slam it down and shake his head.

“No luck,” he said.

“So what else is new?” Doug grumbled.

In most cases, the murdered victims are killed by someone they know—a family member or a friend. It appeared that LeRoy Gilbert had neither.

As if Vic had read his mind, he said, “Guess when Gilbert killed his girlfriend he knocked off the only friend he had. You have any luck?”

“Nothing. Nobody claimed they saw him.”

“I’m having the same luck finding anyone connected to Cindy Fires. The girls she worked with all claim she never spoke of any family—but they’re threatening to start a defense fund for whoever did whack Gilbert. What about the autopsy report?”

“Couple days, but the M.E. said there’s no sign of a head contusion or any skin abrasions. And no neck bruises to indicate he was strangled.”

“Well, it’s for sure Gilbert didn’t tie that plastic bag around his head himself.”

“Maybe he wanted to keep his hair dry when he went swimming.”

“This job’s making you jaded, partner,” Vic said.

Yawning, Doug shoved back his chair. After the last few hours spent on the phone, he had begun to feel the effects of last night’s missed sleep. He walked over and refilled his cup. He sipped the hot brew as he stared out the window and thought about Jess.

Lord, what a night! In the twenty years he’d been having sex, he’d never gotten into it like he had with her. The two of them couldn’t get enough of each other.

Jess. His body responded to just the thought of her name. He’d never known a woman like her. She gave as much as she took. The thought of her flooded every one of his senses: the image of that long hair of hers fanned against the pillow as she reached for him, her eyes full with passion. He could still taste her, hear her throaty groans of pleasure and feel the satin and heat of her. And he could smell that hundred-dollar perfume she wore.

Sweat tickled his palms. He wanted more of her. God, he was screwing himself up royally. He had no business messing with a woman like her—she was no one-nighter. What had he gotten himself into?

Spinning on his heel, he tossed the paper cup into the waste can. “Let’s get out of here, Vic.”

“You forget we’re due in Judge Kirkland’s court in a couple of hours?”