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“What do you want to do with Davidson, terminate his membership?” Jameson asked.
“You should.” Anastasia looked me directly in the eye, a scowl on her face.
“Maybe. I still need to think about it.”
She added a smirk. “His absence would provide another place for a less than worthy yet highly qualified individual to join in our festivities.”
“Very funny,” I told her. “Incidentally, with that big brain of yours, see if you can cross reference female guests with the obvious list you found of the beautiful ladies working for Elite.”
“That will take hours,” she huffed.
“Which means hours you’ll stay off my back.” I grinned back at her.
Her harsh glare was followed by a military salute before she left the room.
“I can tell that big brain of yours is working hard for a change,” Grant teased. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure, but dirty little secrets are voracious in this town. Where one lie ends, another one begins.”
“When Mr. Cryptic rears his head, there’s usually dirty laundry to take out.” Jameson swirled his drink. The man knew me far too well.
And the bad feeling remained.
CHAPTER13
Lark
I’d probably just ended my career before it really began but I couldn’t represent Mr. Davidson with a good conscience. While Trent had seemed surprised, he hadn’t pushed me into reconsidering, even if he hadn’t agreed with me at first. His silence had troubled me, but no more so than the reason I’d pulled off the case. There’d been something odd in his tone of voice, but he’d told me I’d done the right thing expressing my concerns.
The call had been two hours before and I was still pacing the kitchen floor, wringing my hands and trying not to fret over my decision. While Marlow, Abbot, and Henshaw was considered the best law firm in DC, Virginia, and Maryland, able to blackball a misbegotten attorney with a single phone call, they weren’t the only firm in town. Right?
“Oh, God. What did I just do?” Groaning, I flopped down in the kitchen chair, staring at my laptop where I’d set up a temporary camp. If Lachlan cared, tough. I grabbed my bottle of water, taking a gulp and staring aimlessly at the limited information I’d been presented with by the police as well as the brief statement Ernest had made a few days before. At least he hadn’t lied about his relationship with the victim, insistent that he hadn’t strangled her to death.
While he’d seemed sincere, wasn’t every other heinous criminal facing prosecution? Granted, the man had a lot to lose, including his license to practice medicine and his social standing in the greater DC area. He was a powerhouse in the medical industry, which made it that much questionable as to why he’d asked for my services given my limited experience in front of a jury. And this case would definitely go to a jury trial. DC hungered for a juicy scandal.
Something else I found disturbing was that the official documentation didn’t reflect his membership in Carnal Sins. However, there’d been a handwritten note attached to the file Trent had provided with the name of the club and a question mark. Had that come from Trent or the detectives who’d investigated the murder?
More important, had it been left for me specifically? My mother would tell me I was making a mountain out of a molehill, but I refused to believe in coincidences.
I closed my eyes, a combination of anger and frustration coursing through me. Was I furious with myself or at the circumstances? When my phone rang, I was expecting Jackie’s call, answering without bothering to look.
“Why in God’s name did you sabotage your career?”
As usual, my father’s voice was terse, accusatory. “Because it’s a conflict of interest, Dad, but I guess that’s not something you would ever need to worry about.” Why was conversing with him always so disruptive?
“Because of that pig, Lachlan McKenzie?”
The day had proven to be wearisome, so much so I refused to listen to my father’s nonsense. “I’m sorry, Dad. I have some things to take care of.”
“You will call Trent and tell him you’ve reconsidered.”
“Why is it so important to you? Because it’s an election year and your good buddy Ernest Davidson is funding your re-election campaign?” I’d thrown a pitch out in the dark. When my father’s breathing became a fierce exaggeration of his nasty personality, I realized I was right. He had many ‘friends,’ many of whom enjoyed perks of my father’s stardom. Parties. Time spent on his yacht. God knows what else. I’d disavowed myself from the lifestyle the day I’d left for college.
“You will do as I say.”
“The last time I checked, I was no longer under your thumb.”
“Mark my words, Lachlan McKenzie will pay for disrupting my plan.”
