Shame on Him (3 page)

Kennedy lifts her head from the table. “Forget about the beer and the cursing for right now. The first part of this plan will be a piece of cake for you—research. Find everything and anything you can on the life and times of Richard Covington. And not just the typical stuff like who he was friends with and who had grudges against him. Even information like who he banged in high school and what his favorite foods were could be helpful. Dig up everything you can find and then start asking questions.”

“Are you forgetting the fact that we’re not being paid for this? And if Ted or Dallas finds out what I’m doing, I could get into serious trouble.”

Not that I really care what Dallas thinks, but I don’t want to shoot myself in the foot at the very beginning.

“Ted is too busy right now to worry about what you’re doing. And seeing you go against your good-little-lawyer role will throw Dallas off his game. You’ll be able to swoop in and save the day while he’s sitting there with his dick in his hand.”

I wince. I really didn’t need that mental image in my brain.

“You could even negotiate with him that if you solve the case, you get the fee,” Kennedy adds.

She makes it sound so easy. Being able to pay the electric bill next month relies on my solving a crime before Dallas.

“So, now that that’s settled, can we move on to something vitally important?” Kennedy asks. “Griffin wants to take me away for the weekend in a few weeks. And I’m pretty sure he’s going to propose.”

An earsplitting scream leaves Paige’s lips and she starts bouncing up and down in her chair.

Kennedy and I cringe until she finally calms down.

“Oh, my God! Are you serious? We have to go shopping!” Paige exclaims.

“How did I know you were going to say that?” Kennedy complains.

Paige pulls her cell phone out of her purse and clicks on the Internet icon. “We have to get you some sexy lingerie. I think there’s a sale at Victoria’s Secret tomorrow. How do you feel about spray tans?”

Kennedy’s eyes widen in horror.

“Nothing drastic, just a dusting of color. We should also get your roots touched up. Are you thinking dress or skirt for the actual proposal? I’m thinking skirt with a nice pair of Gucci snakeskin knee boots,” Paige continues, ignoring Kennedy’s disgusted expression as she searches the Internet.

“If she forces me to go shopping, you’re coming with me,” Kennedy demands.

A few hours later, I’m curled up on my couch with a fire in the fireplace, the file for this case and my laptop resting on the arm of the couch next to me.

I’ve always loved my home. My parents looked down their noses at it when I bought it, which probably convinced me even more that it was the perfect place for me. It’s a small Cape Cod in a development full of nice middle-class families.

When I graduated from law school, it was assumed I would take a position at my father’s firm in Indianapolis and continue living close to them. After being on my own for so many years at Harvard and finally being able to breathe without their constant interference in my life, I knew as soon as I received my degree that I couldn’t go back there. It was my one and only form of rebellion. Much to my parents’ dismay, I accepted an offer with a firm in South Bend, almost an hour and a half from where they live.

Unfortunately, it still wasn’t far enough away to avoid their judgment and the hold they continue to have on my life.

I want them to finally understand that I am my own person and I need to do what makes me happy, not what makes them look good. The idea of taking on a murder case and actually solving it thrills and scares me all at the same time.

Settling back into the couch, I begin searching the Internet for more information on Richard. I’m going to need to find out a lot more about this man than what I’ve read in magazines. Not only do I need to look deeper into Richard’s background, but also into everyone’s background associated with him. From the articles I’ve read in the past, I know he was married to Stephanie, a woman thirty years his junior
(eew)
. The spouse—especially a soon-to-be ex—is always the first suspect.

Thinking back over what Kennedy told me, I realize it’s inevitable that I’m going to need to get into Dallas’s head. What would Dallas do in this instance? He would probably do something illegal like search through sealed court documents or break into the ex-wife’s home.

I’m not ready to go to extremes like that. I’m smart and resourceful and I have tons of legal knowledge at my disposal. I can do this without stooping to his level. Pulling up PACER, the public-access website for court records, I type in Stephanie’s name to see if she’s ever had any trouble with the law or if Richard ever filed any complaints against her.

The ringing of my cell phone on the cushion next to me pulls my focus away from the screen of my laptop. Glancing at the display, I see that it’s an unknown number. Figuring I need to answer it in case it’s one of my clients calling from a different line, I grab the phone and bring it up to my ear.

“Lorelei Warner.”

There’s a snort on the other end of the line. “Wow, you even answer the phone all pretentious.”

Clenching my teeth, I take a deep breath before answering. “What do you want, Dallas, and how did you get my number?”

“Awww, don’t be like that, Lawyer. You know you’ve been waiting by the phone for my call,” he tells me with a clear effort to sound sexy.

No. There is nothing about Dallas Osborne that’s sexy.

“Sorry to bother you. I’m sure you’re quite busy sitting at home on a Monday night, thinking about how much you hate the male species,” he adds with a laugh.

“I’m hanging up now.”

Pulling the phone away, I hear him shout through the line and I slowly bring it back up to my ear.

“Look, I don’t like you and you don’t like me. Can we call a truce for just one second?” Dallas asks with a sigh.

Waiting for him to continue, I don’t say a word.

“I’m going over Ted’s notes from your statement and I can’t read a damn word of his chicken-scratch handwriting. I just need to know whether or not you noticed the front door had been tampered with when you entered Richard Covington’s house,” he explains.

He wants my assistance with the case that should have been mine. This jerk actually thinks I’m going to help him?

“You’re absolutely correct. It
would
probably be the best thing for this case if we put our differences aside. After all, the goal right now is to find out who did this.”

I hear Dallas sigh in relief. “Exactly. It’s good that you can be the bigger person about this, Lorelei.”

Hearing my name fall from his lips gives me pause. He’s never said my name before, just variations of insults. I ignore the tug on my heart that it gives me and remember Kennedy’s words: shock him so much that it will throw him off his game.

“Oh, I’m definitely the bigger person in this instance, Dallas,” I tell him sweetly. “Grab a pen and jot this down.”

I can hear him rustling around through the line.

“I’m ready. Go.”

Channeling Kennedy, I toss aside my uptight nature for just a moment. “I’m going to wipe your ass with this case, Dallas Osborne. When I find out who killed Richard Covington, and I will, I’m going to point and laugh while you’re busy sitting at home on a Monday night with your dick in your hand.”

Ending the call, I toss my phone onto my coffee table and smile to myself.

Getting inside Dallas’s head might just be the best advice Kennedy has ever given me.

CHAPTER 4

I
don’t know why I’m even shocked that you carry tools with you for breaking and entering,” I tell Kennedy as I watch her crouch down in front of Richard Covington’s door.

It’s been a week since I walked in this house to find Richard shot dead on the floor of his library. I had two cases to try and spent the rest of my time pulling up as much information as I could find on Richard and Stephanie. I probably never should have told Kennedy that I wished I could have an hour inside of Richard’s house to see if I could find anything that would help with the case. An hour later she knocked on my door and told me to wear black and bring a flashlight.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this. You know I could be disbarred for this, right?” I complain to Kennedy as I turn my back on her and stare out over the dark lawn. If I’m not watching it happen, I can just plead ignorance if we get caught.

“I thought you were going to quit. Who cares if they fire you?” Paige whispers as she aims her flashlight at the door so Kennedy can see.

“There’s a big difference between being fired and being disbarred, Paige. If we get caught, I could lose my license and never be able to practice law again.”

I should really be more concerned about the ramifications of what we’re doing right now. I shouldn’t be standing here while my friend breaks into a crime scene. At least one problem would be solved—my parents would finally know what I’ve been doing when they have to bail me out of jail.

“First rule of thumb if you’re going to make it in this business, Lorelei: always carry a paper clip and a torsion wrench in your back pocket and stop being such a candy ass,” Kennedy explains as she carefully sticks the tools into the lock with the precision of a surgeon performing open-heart surgery.

“I thought the first rule of thumb was to stick it to the man?” Paige says with a laugh.

“What the hell are we going to do if the alarm goes off?” I whisper, glancing behind us nervously.

“The alarm isn’t going to go off because Ted told me they had it disabled for the next few days so detectives can come and go whenever they please,” Kennedy says, her eyes never leaving the door as she fiddles with the lock.

A few seconds later, I hear a loud click.

“Got it!” Kennedy cheers.

She pulls another tool out of her back pocket, this time a Swiss Army knife, and slices through the police tape stretched across the door. She stands up, pushes open the door, and we follow her into the dark house.

“I’ll replace that when we leave. Keep your flashlights low to the ground. We don’t want anyone driving by to see the light bouncing around through the windows,” Kennedy warns.

We all turn on our flashlights and aim them at the ground.

“You’re sure the guard at the front gate won’t tell anyone we were here?” I ask her nervously as we step into the foyer.

“Positive. I went to high school with the guy and a few months ago his ex-wife had me confront him about wearing her underwear and heels. I told him I would send out a mass e-mail to everyone he knows,” Kennedy tells us.

“Oh, my God,
that
was the guy who pranced around his kitchen in fishnets and stilettos?” Paige asks in shock as I close the door behind us.

Kennedy nods as she shines her flashlight from left to right. “That’s him. The ex came home early from work to see him doing the entire final dance sequence from
Dirty Dancing
.”

Paige and I stand behind Kennedy while she looks around and decides which direction to head.

“This place is really creepy. Someone died here,” Paige complains quietly as we inch slowly through the foyer and toward the library.

Even though it’s dark and Kennedy has her back to us, I can tell she’s rolling her eyes. “Oh, stop being such a baby. It’s not like his body is still in here.”

“You can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out a little bit. You just stepped over the exact spot where his body was. That’s just gross,” Paige says with a shiver as we all walk around the bloodstain on the cream carpet.

Kennedy ignores her and makes her way over to the giant oak desk on the far side of the room. “I’ll start with this room. Lorelei, you check the rest of the first floor. This dude has a house the size of a small country. He could have ten offices in a house this large, but instead, he uses the library right on the ground floor. Obviously he’s weird. Paige, you can start going room to room upstairs and see if you can find any other file cabinets or some place where Richard would keep paperwork. He’s got to have a safe in this house—see if you guys can find that too.”

“Why the hell do I have to be the one to wander through the upstairs by myself?”