Read Online My Boss is a Serial Killer by Christina Harlin - Free Book Online

frown remained on her forehead, but this was
her typical expression. “That’s more romantic.”
    Hearing Charlene Templeton speak of romance
was odd. She was quite decidedly the most unromantic person I’d
ever known. Unlike Bill, who appeared ambiguous about all things
sexual, Charlene was borderline hostile with men. She was a good
match to Aven Fisher, the manically busy divorce attorney for whom
she worked, not only because she was Robo-Secretary and could keep
up with his demands, but because she gelled so well with his
pro-women attitude.
    I told her about Bill’s belief that he’d
brought it all about.
    “ Oh that’s sweet,” said Charlene. “Is
he being protective of you?”
    “ No, I don’t think we’re doing the
father-daughter thing. Really I think he just wants me to pump the
detective for information about the Adrienne Maxwell
investigation.”
    Knowledge of Adrienne Maxwell’s death had not
been a secret in the office since the detective had shown up at the
door. Particularly since Gus had said Adrienne’s name in front of
Lucille, any hopes of discretion on Bill’s part had gone flying
right out the nearest window. Everyone knew that the police were
investigating her suspicious suicide and about the witness and the
unsub, and the rumors were growing and becoming a little
assumptive. I say assumptive because people were taking it for
granted that our firm, and Bill Nestor, were in the center of an
investigation. As far as I could tell, we were no more than a
peripheral interview that was over and finished.
    Case in point: Here came Suzanne Farkanansia,
the pain-in-the-ass paralegal. She was a few inches taller than
Charlene, and I was seated, so she looked down her nose at both of
us. She asked me, “Why didn’t you tell me about the meeting with
the detective?”
    “ Because everyone already knows about
it.”
    My honest answer didn’t please her. She said,
“I am Bill’s paralegal; if the police want to meet with him about a
client, I should probably be there. Particularly if Bill can’t
be.”
    I couldn’t help but laugh. “That wasn’t a
meeting. That was me, trawling for a date.”
    “ Must be nice, to be so
self-confident.” Suzanne disliked me enough that I knew this was no
compliment. She glanced sideways at Charlene and then looked back
at me again. “I’d like to see your notes on what took
place.”
    “ I’ll get those typed up for you,” I
agreed helpfully. I didn’t have any notes from the meeting, so
typing them up would be a snap.
    “ And next time, I’d appreciate being
informed when client matters come up.”
    Charlene asked, “Why? Did you deal a lot with
Adrienne Maxwell?”
    Suzanne sighed patiently. “It doesn’t matter
if I never met the woman. What matters is that secretaries are paid
for typing and filing and keeping calendars, and paralegals are
paid to know what’s happening with the clients.”
    “ Okay, then.” I continued to agree with
Suzanne in hopes that this would make her go away.
    “ Anyway you’re not Bill’s paralegal,”
said Charlene, all earnestness. “Just because you’re the paralegal
he uses to do a Westlaw search once every six months doesn’t make
you his paralegal. You work for everybody here.”
    Suzanne shot a withering look at the shorter
woman but didn’t respond. She spoke to me instead. “How’s that
deposition summary coming along?”
    “ Great.” That was a lie.
    “ I’d really like to have that back by
the end of next week.” Suzanne turned to leave us and then added,
“And when you’re with the detective, I’d be careful about what I
said about our firm or about Bill.”
    I stared after her in puzzlement. “What do
you think she meant by that?” I asked Charlene.
    Charlene said, “She’s only jealous. But you
really do want to be careful about anything you say, so as not to
breach attorney/client privilege.”
    It was insulting when Suzanne suggested I was
that brain-dead, but Charlene was a