Page 88 of Booked for Murder

“No.”

I wrinkled my nose but kept quiet.

“Does anyone else need to be told no regarding unethical politicians?”

Every hand in the room went up, mine included.

“However much we don’t like these politicians, there is no justice in murder.” Before anyone could voice their complaints, my mother snapped her fingers to maintain control over everyone. “That does not mean we cannot ensure they get a serving of just desserts, but we need unassailable proof. We can ruin them in other ways. And I don’t even care if this serial killer—or killers—might be doing the world a favor. There is no justice in murder.”

As I agreed with her, I would limit my disgust to thinking about it. However, as she’d raised me to voice my opinion a little too much for my own good, I kept my hand raised, waving so she’d pick me.

“You’re not a child anymore, Janette. We are not in elementary school. Put your hand down.”

As librarians understood solidarity, my co-workers joined me in raising the hand to be called on.

“It’s like raising an entire room of children, except they’re adults, so I can’t send them out back to pick a switch,” my father complained.

My mother scowled. “I’d let you get away with it just once, too. Janette, why did you teach your nice co-workers such bad habits?”

“She’s incorrigible, that’s why,” Bradley’s mother said. “What do you want, Janette?”

“What if someone started looking into these bills and started a murder spree because of what they learned?”

My mother frowned, although she narrowed her eyes, which told me she put some serious thought into my question. My father worried, which didn’t surprise me. Any time I used my head and came up with a disconcerting possibility, he worried about what I might do about it.

“It’s not impossible,” my mother said. “But unlike them, we will not stoop to such measures. There are legal and ethical ways to deal with this problem.”

I wondered about that. Could people who worked so hard to take away the rights of everyone actually be defeated through legal and ethical methods? “That may be so, but what if there aren’t?”

Bradley’s mother sighed. “Nothing about these murders has been even remotely justifiable. Nobody has claimed the killings. Nobody has given a reason why. If they truly believed they were working for the better good, they would not hide their activities. So, as such, I do not believe there’s anything good or even remotely ethical about those behind these murders. I’m with your mother, Janette. There’s no justice in murder. Not like this. We’re just going to have to take the high road, no matter how much harder that road may be. Now, I’m not saying we can’t take a vigilante approach to it. We’ll have to in some ways. We’ll just be taking the ethical approach to our actions. Now that said, should you witness a murder in process, I’ll certainly be inclined to look the other way if you violently correct them about their poor life choices. I’ll even defend you in court.”

“Are you even allowed to defend me in court? You’re biased.”

“Yes. I’m biased in your favor. Now, if I were engaged in a relationship with someone on the prosecution, there might be an issue. But as I’m biased in your favor, and my job is to defend you, our relationship would be admissible in court. There are rules regarding relationships between clients, attorneys, and judges, though. Our relationship is fine for you using me in your defense. My job is to be biased in your favor.”

“There better not be any more damned loopholes,” I muttered.

“You’re going to have to deal with loopholes, Janette.”

I stared Bradley’s mother in the eyes and replied, “Like fucking hell I do.”

She raised a brow. “Did I not give you enough pancakes this morning? You’re grouchy.”

I slumped in my seat and sighed.

Bradley reached over and gave my shoulder a squeeze and a pat. “It’s the painkillers, Mom. They suck. Her foot is probably throbbing, and the doctors don’t want to give her anything stronger until her lungs have had a chance to heal. Just let her complain and think about torching politicians. I mean, who here hasn’t indulged in thinking about torching politicians?”

My mother was the only one to raise her hand, and we all stared at her. As I’d seen how badly giving me a spanking had unsettled her, I believed she wouldn’t think about anything like that no matter how poorly a politician behaved.

Bradley gaped at her. “Never?”

“Just tell him about when you gave me a spanking, Mom.”

“I cried for a month,” she confessed. “Her father had to handle any stern disciplining because I just couldn’t. She’s too cute. Look at her. You can’t just spank her.”

“Don’t you say a word, Bradley Hampton,” his mother warned.

Beatrice snickered, Jezabella gave Bradley a hefty dose of stink eye, and everyone else took their time staring at the paintings on my mother’s wall, a wise choice all things considered.