Due Justice by Diane Capri Read Free Book Online Page B

a house counsel position with a small medical device manufacturer a few weeks later.
    That’s one thing about Carly; no matter how offensive she’s been to me, she continues to act as if she has some sort of God-given right to keep coming back for more favors.
    Of course, I gave her what she wanted.
    Maybe because of what she thought of as her disgraceful termination, and maybe because she was still jealous of my relationship with her mother, until yesterday, I hadn’t heard from her in over a year, when she was in trouble again.
    Maybe George is right. Maybe our relationship is seriously co-dependent. I need to rescue her as much as she needs the help.
    Knowing that doesn’t change it.
    My thoughts started to wander down the well-trodden path of my feelings for Kate, who had been my mother’s best friend and like a mother to me since Mom died when I was sixteen.
    I jerked myself back to the present.
    No point in going over that ground again.
    Wherever my relationship with Kate’s daughter had gone wrong, rehashing history wasn’t going to change it. The only reason to relive history is to avoid making the same mistakes. Otherwise, you’re just wallowing in the past—an indulgence I know from experience won’t get me anywhere.
    If I had back all the hours I’ve spent trying to figure out how to make Carly stop acting like a spoiled child, I’d be at least three years younger.
    I picked up the phone and dialed Carly’s office number.
    â€œGood morning, MedPro,” the receptionist answered the phone. I asked for Carly Austin and was put through to her office. Carly picked up on the first ring.
    â€œCarly, its Willa.”
    â€œJudge Carson! I’m so pleased you called me back.”
    â€œDid you think I wouldn’t?”
    Some hesitation. Then, cryptically, “I’d like to see you for an hour or so. Would it be possible for me to meet you somewhere?”
    I felt the frown lines between my eyebrows, and consciously tried to relax them. I remembered Dr. Aymes’s comments on age lines. No point in getting needles punched in your face before you have to.
    Carly sounded cheerful, almost normal. Not the nervous, timid woman who sat across the table from me yesterday. She’d always been confident and self-assured. Even when she was fired by the prosecutor’s office, she hadn’t seemed cowed. Yesterday, she did. Now, she didn’t.
    Confused, I wanted to strangle her and put us both out of my misery. “Look, about Dr.—”
    She jumped in. “Let’s talk when I see you, shall we? How about your office? Maybe three o’clock? Thanks.”
    My protest fell into empty space.
    Annoyed, I dialed Frank Bennett. If they’d identified the body, I could put Carly’s mind to rest this afternoon and bow out completely. He answered after the first ring.
    â€œFrank, Willa Carson here.”
    â€œWilla! How nice to hear from you. What’s up?” Frank has a nose for news, obviously. I’d never called him before. The direct approach wasn’t always best.
    We talked about the fund-raiser, Senator Warwick, and George’s disappointment that Elizabeth Taylor no-showed last night. Frank was covering the Warwick campaign, and asked if I knew when the senator would be in town again.
    Finally, I worked into the real reason for my call.
    â€œFrank, since our talk last night about that body they pulled out of Tampa Bay, I’ve been curious about something, and I haven’t seen anything on your newscasts about it.”
    â€œWhat’s the problem?”
    â€œYou said something about the guy being dead already when he hit the water—” I tried to sound tentative, unsure. Not easy for me.
    â€œYes?” He volunteered nothing. Rather unlike Frank, I thought. Maybe he’d been told to report anyone asking questions about the body. I wished I’d thought of that before I called him; too late