Her Best Defense

Lisa sucked in an irritated breath. “What time are you leaving? I can be there in twenty minutes.” A definite exaggeration. She couldn’t possibly get across the city in twenty minutes.

“Well, honestly,” Glory said impatiently, as though no one had ever opposed her on anything before. “I’m not leaving for another hour or so, but this whole thing is a terrible bother and an intrusion on my life. I’m already so tired of it I could spit.”

“Spit a bucketful if it makes you feel better, but I’ll be at your house very shortly.”

“Couldn’t you interview Maria at her home and then talk to whichever part-time maids she digs up for you to question without my being present?”

“No, Glory, it doesn’t work that way. I’ll see you soon. Goodbye.”

Unnerved and perplexed by Glory’s head-in-the-sand attitude, Lisa left her office and headed for the research department. She walked into the place and saw that Larry was the only employee working at a computer today.

He got up when she approached and moved a chair close to his desk. “Have a seat. Is that steam I see coming out of your ears?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Lisa plopped down. “Glory Witherington just may be the death of me. I can’t tell if she’s simply stupid or so damned spoiled that no one has ever said no to her.”

“How about a soft drink or some coffee? Maybe some nice herbal tea?”

“If you had a tranquilizer, would you offer that?” Lisa drawled. “It would probably do me more good than all the tea in China.”

“No drugs in here.”

“I know, I’m just kidding. Okay, whiz kid, what did you dig up?”

“You know I’ve been coming up with bits of information that I hadn’t wanted to pass on without confirmation, but what I’ve found is some very interesting data on criminal connections to Chandler Witherington Sr. The apple doesn’t usually fall far from the tree, and maybe that murder had more to do with Chandler’s activities than with Glory’s.”

Lisa sat very still and absorbed the implications. If Chandler were connected to mob activities—hiding behind a legitimate import-export business—maybe he’d been the intended victim that night instead of poor Mateo Ruiz.

But wasn’t that theory just a little too farfetched to even consider? Chandler Witherington might be a total jerk in person, but around Chicago he was regarded as an upstanding member of society.

“Larry, I think that’s really reaching,” she said.

“Yes, I know it is. But it’s not impossible, either, Lisa.”

“No, nothing’s impossible. But have you found one single thing that links Chandler to the wrong side of the law?”

“No, but I have this gut feeling…”

Lisa got up from her chair. “Sometimes gut feelings are nothing but gas, my friend. But you’ve definitely piqued my curiosity…and my imagination. Dare I request that you continue searching and keep me informed? I have to run, Larry. I told Glory Witherington that I was on my way to her house, and I don’t want to disappoint her by being late.” Lisa smiled wryly. “I’m sure she would much rather that I disappear from the face of the earth than show up at her front door to ask more questions. Thanks for everything. Talk to you later.”

Her smile faded as she walked from Larry’s domain to her own. As she entered her office, the phone began ringing. She picked it up and said, “Lisa Jensen.”

“Well, and how do you like being the center of attention?”

It was John Ludlow. Lisa’s heart sank. “I had nothing to do with that article, Mr. Ludlow.”

“From its tone, I’m sure you didn’t. Do you have any idea who did?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Journalists are persistent busybodies, Lisa, but they can also be extremely helpful at times. The byline on the article is the name J.D. Fields. Do you know him or her?”

“No, but maybe I should meet him or her. What do you think?”

“In good time, Lisa, in good time. Leave it lie for now. It’s too soon. You don’t have a solid case for your client yet. When you do, perhaps before trial, perhaps immediately following, the opportunity will arise for you to set your worth before the public.”

“My worth?”

“Don’t sound so down in the mouth, Lisa. The firm knows your worth, and so should you.”

She felt the burden of her job suddenly increase tenfold upon her shoulders. Had Ludlow intended to remind her of her responsibility to the firm, or had his compliment been genuine?

God, did she know anything for certain anymore? Everything and everyone seemed to have a dozen sides.

She chose to accept Ludlow at face value. “Thank you for the call,” she said quietly. “I have an appointment with Glory Witherington and must leave soon if I’m to be on time.”

“Good, glad to hear it. Forget that article and have a good day, Lisa.”

She put down the telephone, took her things and departed her office, the firm and the Ridge Building. A long breath of fresh air helped clear her head, and she set off for the Witherington mansion with renewed determination.

Chapter 5

At the Westbrook Depot, Lisa detrained and hailed a cab for the rest of her journey into the land of wealth and privilege. She was amazed at the size of what people called houses in this neighborhood. Each estate she passed seemed grander than the last. Each “house” was surrounded by tall rock or block walls covered in greenery, with only the roofs showing above them. The actual homes could only be glimpsed through security gates that allowed visitors access to the grounds—by invitation only, of course. The Witherington mansion was no exception. The only difference between that stunning property and others in the neighborhood was the herd of reporters camped out on the street in front.

“Does someone famous live here?” the cab driver asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” Lisa said dryly. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The cab driver pulled up to the gate so that Lisa could speak through the intercom system that was connected to the house, her picture being snapped all the while her head was stuck out of the backseat window. Soon the gate swung open, and the drive up to the main house began. Lisa, trying to ignore the barrage of flashes and reporters shouting questions, took note of the absence of a keypad anywhere near the gate so that a code could be entered to gain entrance onto the estate grounds. That meant that each car coming in either had to be admitted by way of the intercom or had to be outfitted with some sort of device similar to a garage door opener. She made a mental note to ask Glory how many of these devices they owned and in whose possession they might be. Did she pass them out to prospective and current boyfriends, for instance?

The driveway was long and U-shaped. Near the house, the place where Mateo’s body had been found was cordoned off by yellow crime scene tape, and a chalk outline was still visible on the pavement and grass. What appeared to be bloodstains also remained.

“What the hell happened here, lady?” the cabbie asked. “Hey, is this the place where that rich broad murdered her boyfriend? Is that why all those reporters are out there?”

Oh, the power of the press, Lisa thought. To the driver she said nothing. She just threw some money at him and climbed out of the backseat.

“You want me to come back later and get you?” he asked, as she walked up to the large, elaborate front doors.

“I’ll call if I need you,” Lisa threw over her shoulder.

“Ask for Danny White,” he yelled out the window.

Lisa nodded but didn’t turn around. She was too interested in the crime scene at the moment and she certainly didn’t want the cab driver hanging around any longer than necessary, asking her questions she wasn’t going to answer. Soon she heard the cab moving back down the driveway.

Lisa rang the bell. In moments, one of the ornate doors opened and she found herself looking at a young Hispanic woman who appeared to be still in her teens.

“Are you Maria?” she asked.