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Sherlock eyed her, drank the rest of her coffee. “That was very persuasive, Mia, and all right, logical. I’ll even say this for you—without more proof he’d try to get you blackballed. He’d certainly hound you, smear your name.” She sighed. “What you really want is to be bait, right?”
“Yes, if that’s what you want to call it.”
Sherlock took a deep breath, drummed her fingertips on the table, studied Mia Briscoe’s very serious face. “All right. We’ll see what Tommy has to say.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t act guileless, Mia, you can’t pull it off. I’ll be your bodyguard until Tommy ties up his case in Washington—he hopes to be here tomorrow. Then he can be your second skin.”
Mia would have shot a victory fist in the air, but she wasn’t a dolt. She said, “As you’ve noticed, my apartment is on the small side. Do you mind sharing a queen-size bed with me?”
Sherlock smiled. “Not a problem.” Then she took a deep breath, drummed her fingertips on the table, studied Mia Briscoe’s face. “You know after what could have happened to you last night, I hope Juliet will be willing to step up, show what kind of woman she is. I have an idea how she can help us and we can still keep her safe. Would you call her, then let me speak to her?”
When Sherlock ended the call, she slowly nodded. “We’ll see.”
