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“Discounted rate, discounted services,” he finally muttered.
“Jane,” Beau said, even while offering a cold smile to the other man. “Why don’t you explain to good ole Tony that he’ll work for the money as if his very life depends on it?”
“Oh. Well. Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I need you to help me prove my innocence, Tony.”
“Mr. Miller,” he corrected, flashing a toothy smile-nonsmile.
Whatever. “I’m a single cat mom, and I’m unwilling to go to jail until Rolex is dead. And he’s never going to die.” His hatred for humanity would pickle him and cause him to live forever.
“No one is going to jail,” Beau remarked, his irritation clear. His temper remained on a short fuse today.
She reached over and patted his hand.
Tony—Mr. Miller—ugh, no, she’d stick with Tony. It was too late to change the way she thought of him. Anyway. He scrubbed a palm over his face before grabbing the crystal decanter on his desk and refilling his glass, grumbling, “What does it matter? I’ll take the case.”
He would? “Oh, that’s wonderful! Thank you.” She grinned and clapped. Then frowned. Why had he given in so easily? The guy wasn’t her biggest fan. And he’d just agreed to accept an obscenely low paycheck. What if… no, no. He wouldn’t dare.
Unless he would.
No. No way. Tony hadn’t arranged Ana’s death simply to strike at Jane.
Unless he had. He did bear a major grudge against Jane. How best to hurt her than to frame her for murder? And what could be more satisfying than tricking her into hiring the actual murderer to defend her?
Well, more reason to hire him then! What better way to study him and learn his motives?
Or he was simply a halfway decent guy under a tremendous amount of stress because his marriage had just fallen apart.
“Tell me again. What happened? Start with the thorn apple,” Tony requested, leaning against his seat, and linking his hands over his middle.
Like Hightower, he questioned her for over an hour. After tossing back another glass of scotch, he sat up. “All right. I’m ready.” Spine ramrod straight, he lifted the agent’s business card and dialed the number.
Jane perched at the edge of her seat during the entire conversation, clutching Beau’s hand. The sweet guy let her do it, never complaining.
Tony asked the agent far more questions than he answered, his expression unchanging. His aggravated tone never faltered. After hanging up, he exhaled a heavy breath, dosing the air with the pungent sting of alcohol. He appeared more stressed than ever, but also weary.
“Well?” she demanded, nearly snapping Beau’s bones. Still, he didn’t complain.
“You go in for questioning in two hours,” Tony stated. “They have questions about a series of bizarre voicemail messages.”
Oh...no.
CHAPTER THREE
“Meet and repeat!”
Love, Texas - Meet ’n Greet
1 Match Made
Jane and Tony sat on one side of a cold metal table, with Agent Hightower and Special Agent Barrow on the other. The small, sterile “interview” room boasted only the table and a camera. Its glass eye glared malice at her.
Conrad stood behind the two-way mirror, she just knew it. His searing gaze had already burned two holes in her brow. She straightened in the uncomfortable crossback chair and fiddled with the angle of her hat. Surely, he believed in her innocence.
“Remind me what happened with the jimsonweed,” Hightower said, making her jump.
The agent offered the words like a suggestion, an invitation, but Jane knew she’d just received a command. So far, she’d been forced to outline the day’s events twice and explain the thorn apple thrice.
Suspicions danced at the back of her mind. On the camera feed, Ana had seemed drunk or high. What if she’d been drugged by her killer?
“Well,” Jane began, and cleared her throat.
“No,” Tony burst out, silencing her. He banged a fist on the table, all drama and flare. Was he trying to impress someone? “She’s done explaining the weed. Move on.”
She glanced at her lawyer, impressed by his vehemence on her behalf. Maybe he didn’t hate her after all.
Wait, how silly of her. Of course, he hated her. He simply adored her payment.
Hightower appeared none too happy with the refusal, but she nodded. “Very well. Why don’t we listen to the messages you left for Miss Irons?”
Must we?
Jane didn’t remember exactly what she’d said, but it couldn’t be that bad. Right?
Please be right.
Suddenly her frenzied, manic voice spilled from a speaker. “Hi! Hello. This is Jane. Jane Eleanor Ladling. The cemetery girl. I just wanted to touch base with you. Remember our double date? I mean, I know you haven’t agreed to go or anything, but you will. Or else.” She laughed with diabolical glee. “I kid, I kid. You’ll agree just as soon as I tell you how wonderful Beau is. So wonderful! Call me back for once. Or else. I might be serious this time. This is Jane.”
