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Authors: Linda O. Johnston
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why I wanted her baby this way. One that would be as close to being her as possible. Only . . . only . . . it didn’t work out.”
Which didn’t necessarily mean that anyone there had mishandled the ailing and aging pup. Yet Lois obviously assumed so. Were her accusations of their misdeeds spoken only in grief and not in threat?
“Why do the police think you might have harmed Earl? Did you go there today with some reason in mind?” My coffee was now definitely tepid, but I didn’t want to go purchase a refill in the middle of what I’d been hoping to learn for the last twenty minutes.
“I went because I wasn’t happy with how things went with you yesterday. No new information. I just figured I’d go there and say I had another Akita, a purebred, I was considering cloning, although I absolutely had no intention of bringing Ezekiel along and risking his life. And when I got to talk to some of the people again about what went wrong with Flisa—they’d seemed sort of willing to discuss it before—I figured I could offhandedly ask if they’d had anyone asking too many questions lately who didn’t seem interested in their services. Reporters, maybe. And, gee, any investigators?”
I wondered why she hadn’t done that before, instead of getting me involved. But I didn’t think now was the best time to ask. “And did anyone answer?”
“No one spoke with me, although there were other people in the waiting room. Earl came in and gave me one of his awful grins. I shouted at him when he started to shut the inner door in my face.”
“So you gave up?”
“No. I sat there for a while, thinking. A few people leaving the facility stared at me, but no one was around to see when I actually left.”
“And somewhere around that time—”
“Supposedly, not long after that, Earl was killed.”
“How?” I asked.
“They didn’t say.” And neither had the news. “The cops said they’re just looking at all possible suspects. Why they may have singled me out over, say, Mason, I can’t tell you. But—”
“But you think they have.”
She nodded. “Kendra, there’s some stuff I’d like to tell you, as an attorney. You see—”
“I’m not your attorney,” I interrupted immediately. “I’m not an expert in criminal matters, and if I don’t represent you, I might have to testify to stuff you tell me. But I happen to know of a really good criminal attorney. Would you like me to put you in touch with her?”
Lois nodded yet again. “Is she expensive?”
“She’s reasonable. Just talk to her about what you can afford.” And I gave her the contact info for Esther Ickes, the attorney who’d helped me through some awful times.
I would warn Esther, of course.
And I wondered when in the world—if ever—I’d stop being a murder magnet.
BY THE TIME we finished our coffee and conversation, it was late enough in the day that I decided not to return to my law firm. Sitting in the parking garage in my rental car, I called Mignon on my cell. Our receptionist assured me that no emergencies had occurred. Not that day at the office, at least. I promised I’d see her tomorrow, then hung up.
Next call, as I ignored a glaring guy who seemed eager to grab my space, was to Jeff’s office. I reached Althea immediately. “Hi, Kendra,” she said eagerly. “Any news?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you.” I paused. “Actually, there is something I’m looking into. I have a lead on what Jeff was working on when he vanished, but the person who hired him wanted strict confidentiality.” Did I have an obligation to Lois not to tell the person who just might have the best resources in the world to look deeply into The Clone Arranger and its reputation? Sure, Jeff might have been sworn to secrecy. Lois had asked me to step in and help find him. Did that mean I had to keep her secret, too, presumably to protect her with her church friends?
I supposed I’d better check with her. Or not. Turned out that
Which didn’t necessarily mean that anyone there had mishandled the ailing and aging pup. Yet Lois obviously assumed so. Were her accusations of their misdeeds spoken only in grief and not in threat?
“Why do the police think you might have harmed Earl? Did you go there today with some reason in mind?” My coffee was now definitely tepid, but I didn’t want to go purchase a refill in the middle of what I’d been hoping to learn for the last twenty minutes.
“I went because I wasn’t happy with how things went with you yesterday. No new information. I just figured I’d go there and say I had another Akita, a purebred, I was considering cloning, although I absolutely had no intention of bringing Ezekiel along and risking his life. And when I got to talk to some of the people again about what went wrong with Flisa—they’d seemed sort of willing to discuss it before—I figured I could offhandedly ask if they’d had anyone asking too many questions lately who didn’t seem interested in their services. Reporters, maybe. And, gee, any investigators?”
I wondered why she hadn’t done that before, instead of getting me involved. But I didn’t think now was the best time to ask. “And did anyone answer?”
“No one spoke with me, although there were other people in the waiting room. Earl came in and gave me one of his awful grins. I shouted at him when he started to shut the inner door in my face.”
“So you gave up?”
“No. I sat there for a while, thinking. A few people leaving the facility stared at me, but no one was around to see when I actually left.”
“And somewhere around that time—”
“Supposedly, not long after that, Earl was killed.”
“How?” I asked.
“They didn’t say.” And neither had the news. “The cops said they’re just looking at all possible suspects. Why they may have singled me out over, say, Mason, I can’t tell you. But—”
“But you think they have.”
She nodded. “Kendra, there’s some stuff I’d like to tell you, as an attorney. You see—”
“I’m not your attorney,” I interrupted immediately. “I’m not an expert in criminal matters, and if I don’t represent you, I might have to testify to stuff you tell me. But I happen to know of a really good criminal attorney. Would you like me to put you in touch with her?”
Lois nodded yet again. “Is she expensive?”
“She’s reasonable. Just talk to her about what you can afford.” And I gave her the contact info for Esther Ickes, the attorney who’d helped me through some awful times.
I would warn Esther, of course.
And I wondered when in the world—if ever—I’d stop being a murder magnet.
BY THE TIME we finished our coffee and conversation, it was late enough in the day that I decided not to return to my law firm. Sitting in the parking garage in my rental car, I called Mignon on my cell. Our receptionist assured me that no emergencies had occurred. Not that day at the office, at least. I promised I’d see her tomorrow, then hung up.
Next call, as I ignored a glaring guy who seemed eager to grab my space, was to Jeff’s office. I reached Althea immediately. “Hi, Kendra,” she said eagerly. “Any news?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you.” I paused. “Actually, there is something I’m looking into. I have a lead on what Jeff was working on when he vanished, but the person who hired him wanted strict confidentiality.” Did I have an obligation to Lois not to tell the person who just might have the best resources in the world to look deeply into The Clone Arranger and its reputation? Sure, Jeff might have been sworn to secrecy. Lois had asked me to step in and help find him. Did that mean I had to keep her secret, too, presumably to protect her with her church friends?
I supposed I’d better check with her. Or not. Turned out that
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