Courthouse Steps

“I don’t have a police record.”

Carlos, who had exited the car as well, smiled as he leaned lightly against the front fender. “It is true,” he said. “He is not a wanted man.”

Amanda sent Carlos a look that made his smile grow. Ethan saw that while fright warred with anger in her expression, humor at the situation was beginning to dawn. Her undecided gaze returned to Ethan, and once again he felt himself physically stirred. He was aware of everything about her. The way the beige slacks fitted her slender hips and legs; the way her ribbed scoop-necked top, dyed a dusky rose and worn beneath a casually loose beige jacket, settled against small, but nicely rounded breasts. The way her bright chestnut hair shone in the sun...her flawless skin, the beautiful blue of her eyes, her soft, kissable mouth. He jerked his thoughts away from such undisciplined chaos.

“You stepped out in front of me!” he accused.

“I did no such thing! Look where I am. How did I get this far across the street if I’d just stepped out?” She was standing in front of the driver’s side, not the passenger side closest to the sidewalk. “You were speeding,” she countered.

Ethan shrugged the logic away. It was important for him to keep the upper hand. He had to stay in control. “No, I wasn’t. I never speed. Not in a town.”

“Then you admit you sometimes speed on a highway.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“And if you speed on a highway, it means you might drive over the limit elsewhere...like in a town!”

“Check the skid marks,” Ethan parried. “They don’t indicate high speed. No, you didn’t look. You were in the park, probably distracted—you do have certain things to be distracted about. You decided to go back to your office...” He indicated the sign on her office directly across the street. “So you started off without looking. You were probably walking rather quickly, thinking about all the things you had to do. You didn’t see the car.”

Again, a blend of emotions crossed Amanda Baron’s pretty face. For an instant she looked as if she were about to confess, but her fighting spirit returned, and she taunted, “Prove it!”

Ethan had sensed victory, but before he could return her taunt, a series of claps came from the man who had witnessed their exchange. Ethan looked around. He had forgotten that Carlos was there.

The investigator smiled broadly. He straightened away from the car even as he continued to clap his hands. He looked first at Amanda Baron and then at Ethan, his dark eyes dancing. “Bravo!” he approved. “Magnifico! A wonderful performance! But you are both forgetting. There was a witness, a highly experienced observer—me! I saw everything, and I say you owe each other an apology.” He pointed at Amanda Baron. “You stepped out.” And at Ethan. “And you were not watching where you were going. No one wins, no one loses, no one was hurt. No debate.” Carlos shook his head. “Lawyers,” he grumbled amusedly to himself. “You will argue with a tree!”

Amanda Baron stared at him for a few seconds, then she, too, started to laugh. She was beautiful when she laughed, Ethan thought. Her entire face lighted up. He continued to hold himself stiffly. A smile never cracked his lips.

“I suppose,” she said, “since we do have a highly experienced witness, I’ll have to admit to some responsibility. I was thinking of something else, and I didn’t see the car.” She looked at Ethan, waiting for him to make a similar concession.

Ethan felt Carlos’s eyes come to rest upon him, too. Finally, he allowed, “I agree. It was my fault as well.”

Carlos approved. “Ah, that is good. An understanding!”

In the silence that followed, Amanda Baron shifted slightly and glanced again at Ethan. All Ethan wanted to do was get back behind the wheel and drive away. He was uncomfortable standing in the street with her. Uncomfortable with the unexpected strength of his feelings. All he could think of was that it was a good thing he had filed a challenge against her as defense counsel. He would have hated to go to trial and try to maintain an adversarial role. It would have played havoc with his concentration.

Because he had confidence in the justness of his argument to Judge Griffen, Ethan let a tight smile slip into place even as he maintained, “But I wasn’t speeding. I hold my ground there.”

Several cars passed them and then paused, drivers and passengers curious about what had happened. Amanda Baron returned the salute of one group and called hello to another. She glanced toward her office.

Ethan took the onus onto himself. “If you’re sure you’re all right,” he said, “we’ll be on our way. I’m sorry for any fright you may have experienced.”

“So am I,” she said. Then, surprising him—actually, surprising both of them—she thrust out her hand. She looked down at it blankly, as if the appendage weren’t hers.

Ethan took it. Her hand felt warm and capable, very feminine, very soft. He held it a moment before letting go.

Amanda Baron threw Carlos a quick smile, murmured goodbye to both of them, then hurried the rest of the way across the street and disappeared inside her office.

Ethan had no idea how long he stared at the closed door, how long before Carlos called him back to awareness. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Yet from the way the investigator grinned once Ethan had resettled in the driver’s seat, it might have been hours.

“I think you have noticed her, my friend,” Carlos teased, referring to his earlier comment.

“I tried to kill her, you mean,” Ethan corrected.

“And I think she noticed you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Even, white teeth flashed. “I only say what I see. I make nothing up.”

Ethan started the car. “She hates my guts. I’m here to send her grandfather to jail.”

Carlos’s shrug was expressive, silently holding to his statement.

“Naa,” Ethan denied.

Carlos’s answer was another shrug.

Ethan laughed shortly. “I think you’d better have your eyes examined when we get back to Madison. Now, to return to business. This Joe Santori, the building contractor who found the body and the bullet—is he willing to see us tomorrow?”

“I arranged a time in the afternoon. I thought you would want me to do a little more digging around here in the morning.”

Ethan nodded. “You’re right. Besides doing a little more probing about the ring, check into Judson and Margaret’s marital troubles. They fought about her having affairs with other men, but see if there was anything else. Also, nose around about the possible police cover-up, both then and now. Let’s see where we stand in that regard. We don’t want any surprises.”

“Do you think any evidence might be tainted?”

“It’s doubtful in this case, but witnesses might be. Who are the two ex-police chiefs? Zachary Phelps and Paul Schmidt?”

Carlos nodded.

“We may need to have both testify. If we do, I want to know which way they’ll go. Also, I’d like you to do a little checking on Philip Wocheck. See what people have to say about him. You might try your postmistress again on that.”

As Carlos nodded again, he started writing reminders to himself in his notebook.

Ethan carefully checked the street for both traffic and inattentive pedestrians before he accelerated. As he did, he glanced across the wide street toward the office that had Amanda Louise Baron, Attorney-at-Law emblazoned on the door. He had known from the beginning that this was going to be a difficult case. Forty-two years had passed since the murder occurred, the accused was a well-respected, wealthy, influential man in the community and the evidence was mostly circumstantial...all hard enough strikes to overcome. But he hadn’t counted on having to deal with someone like Amanda Louise Baron, or her unwanted effect on him.

* * *

AMANDA WATCHED the car pull away. It certainly had taken them long enough! What were they doing? What were they talking about? Her? Her grandfather? The case?

She moved away from her spy’s perch in the corner of the room, letting the vertical blind swing back into place. As usual, Tessie had made the necessary adjustments to keep the afternoon sun from interfering with her computer screen.

Tessie sat at her desk, a silent witness to her employer’s antics from the moment she’d entered the door and scurried to the corner. At last the secretary’s silence came to an end. “We had a call while you were out,” she said. “Judge Griffen wants to set the disqualification hearing for tomorrow morning. You know him—he doesn’t like to let grass grow under his feet. They want a callback as soon as possible.”

Tomorrow morning! Amanda thought of her laden desk. Could she possibly be ready by tomorrow morning? She checked her watch. She had the rest of the afternoon and tonight, and if she made judicious use of every second... “Tell him I’ll be ready,” she said. “What time?”

“Eight-thirty. He has a trial scheduled at ten.”

“Right,” Amanda said. “I guess I’d better get going.” As she started into her office, she felt her secretary’s eyes follow her. Pretending to an innocence she didn’t feel, she paused to ask, “What is it? What’s wrong?”