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“I’m sorry, but the Benton killings give me the creeps. WCF. What’s that? It’s crazy. Sinister crazy. Mystery gunpowder stippling. Mystery motive. Dead baby, shot execution-style.
“So let me be clear: I don’t care whose case it is, and I know it’s not right to care more about one murder victim over another. I said I’m sorry, and I am, but this dead baby hurts me. Deeply. And now I’m going home to my man and my little girl.”
Chapter 23
YUKI PAID THE tab and told Lorraine to keep the change. She realized suddenly that she’d never given the others her news. Usually girls’ night out at Susie’s was laughing and venting and dinner. But tonight everyone got intense and then—they were gone.
Yuki stood up, buttoned her jacket, and walked past the kitchen and into the main room. Her hand was on the front door handle when, on impulse, she turned and walked back to the bar.
The bartender had dark curly hair, an easy smile, and a name tag stitched onto the fabric of his wild-printed shirt.
“Miles?”
“That’s my name,” he told her. “Wait. I’ve seen you before. You and your friends—beer and margaritas, right?”
“I’m Yuki Castellano,” she said, shaking his hand. “What do you drink to celebrate a good day in court?”
“You beat a traffic ticket?”
Yuki laughed.
“Do that again,” Miles said. “I think the sun just came out.”
“I’m a prosecutor,” she said. “Things turned out fine for the good guys today. So what do you think? What am I drinking?”
“Classic. Traditional. Always in style.”
“Perfect,” Yuki said as Miles poured champagne. “You know, today was stupendous, except for the one stone in my shoe.”
“Tell me about it.”
Yuki ordered a spicy crab salad, then told Miles about the case against Jo-Jo Johnson and how the victim, the dead Dr. Harris, was a very bad dude but that Jo-Jo was worse. He’d let the man die in his own vomit over the course of fifteen hours.
“Should have taken the jury about five minutes to find Jo-Jo guilty,” Miles said.
“Shoulda, but it took a day and a half. Jo-Jo’s lawyer is very smooth, and Jo-Jo is disarmingly simple. Like, you could believe that he really didn’t know that Harris was dying if you totally squinted your eyes and put your common sense in the deep freeze.”
“So it’s terrific that you won.”
“Yeah. I’ve been at this a couple of years. I’ve had a lot of losses.”
“So you didn’t say. What’s the stone in your shoe?”
“His name’s Jeff Asher. Opposing counsel. He came up to me after his client was taken out in handcuffs and said, ‘Congratulations on your win, Yuki. What is that? One in a row?’”
“He’s a sore loser,” the bartender said. “You hurt him, Yuki. Definitely. Guess what? Your champagne’s on the house.”
“Thanks, Miles. Yeah. You’re right. He’s a sore loser.”
“Bartenders never lie,” Miles said.
Yuki laughed.
“Here comes the sun,” he said.
Chapter 24
CINDY’S BLOUSE WAS a cloud of silk chiffon in the rear foot well of Rich Conklin’s car. Her skirt was rolled up to her waist, and her panty hose dangled from one foot. She was damned uncomfortable, but she wouldn’t change a thing.
