Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I keep my expression stoic. “I wouldn’t know.”
She laughs, the sound, tinkly. “Oh, honey, believe me, you know.”
Jaqueline crosses her arms. “Rosalie, you’ve slept with a client?”
I face her directly. “Of course not.” Apparently, I have no trouble lying to my boss. I’m not under oath, and if she finds out it’s true, she’ll fire me anyway.
I’ve known Alexei Sokolov for less than a week, and I’m already lying to people and changing my morals. I need to get him out of my life, and the sooner the better. “I think it would probably be best if we recommend that Mr. Sokolov retain outside counsel.”
Blythe chuckles. “I have a feeling he’ll decline that invitation. You’re quite beautiful and probably the perfect woman to have on his arm to look respectable.”
“Finding him alternate representation isn’t his choice,” I murmur.
“Ha. You have to know him better than that already.” She crosses her legs, hitching her gray skirt up higher on her toned thigh.
Jaqueline sighs. “If they agree, we can continue representing them both. It was a blow to the firm when we lost his case.”
I look from one to the other. “Did we represent Mrs. Fairfax at that time?”
“No,” Jaqueline says. “We’ve actually only represented Mrs. Fairfax for three years.”
Relief fills me. That would definitely have been a breach of ethics if the firm had represented the widow, most likely the estate, and the accused. I’m tired of these games. I look at Blythe. “How long did you and Mr. Sokolov see each other?”
“About three months. Like I said, he was hell in bed. Told me he was in love with me, that I was the only woman for him.” She smiles. “Has he told you that yet?”
I ignore her. “Who do you think killed your husband?”
Her eyes widen. “I think Alexei killed my husband. All of the evidence pointed to him.”
“I understand that,” I say. “But we have fairly good evidence that the judge and the prosecuting attorney were bribed, and the security disc from your home of the day in question is corrupt. Can you explain that?”
“Yes,” she says smoothly. “Alexei had access to the security system. He messed with it often, so my husband wouldn’t know he was there with me.”
Warning ticks down my spine. “How many people had access to your system at that time?”
She shrugs. “Just people who worked there. Of course, the police confiscated the disc after the murder. They were the ones who told me that all the data was corrupted.”
I still need to obtain a list of all the police officers who worked on the case. “How much did you inherit when your husband died?”
“Rosalie,” Jaqueline snaps.
Blythe lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know, just south of two hundred million.”
“That’s quite the motive,” I murmur.
She looks around my office and at the pretty mirror to the side before smirking. “Yes, except I wasn’t in the house when he was killed.”
“We don’t know that, do we?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Phone records show I called Alexei when I left the Pilates class.”
Sure, but she could’ve killed her husband and then gone to Pilates. “The murder weapon was a steak knife from a set?”
“It was a steak knife—we had many different kinds, most not a full set by that time. My husband liked very sharp knives, and he’d just throw one away if he couldn’t get it just right. I swear, I bought more knives for that man.”
I’d reviewed the crime scene photos, and somebody strong had killed David. Someone angry. Was she strong enough to have plunged that knife in so far? “If Alexei didn’t kill your husband and neither did you, who would you suspect?” I find hypotheticals often work best with clients.
She smooths her hands on her skirt, showing several beautiful amethyst rings. My gaze catches on them. She smiles. “These are gifts from Alexei. He loves amethysts, as you know.” She looks at my unadorned hands. “He hasn’t given you a gift yet?”
I’m about to punch this woman in the face. “You have no idea who else might’ve killed your husband?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She waves her hand in the air. “David was a stockbroker. He had happy clients, unhappy clients, but no one who would kill him in such a savage manner. Being stabbed to death like that required both anger and precision.” She smiles again. “Two words I think we both can associate with Alexei Sokolov. Don’t you agree?”
TWENTY-TWO
Rosalie
I finish the sandwich Ella has brought me for dinner and crumple up the paper to toss in the garbage can in my office. It’s embarrassing to admit that I couldn’t find enough money to buy pizza, and I’m afraid she knows it. Worse yet, she isn’t rolling in money right now, either. “Thanks for the food. You shouldn’t be spending your funds on me.” I feel a little hypocritical considering my belly is now full with turkey, Swiss cheese, and excellent sourdough.